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A BLUNDERING BOY.

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

Jl l^tinwrotia §liat^.

BRUCE W. MUNRO.

PUBLISHED BT

BBUCE W. MUNRO,

TOBONTO.

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TO THAT 8UPREHB AUTOCRAT,
THE SMALL BOY OP NORTH AMURTOA^

THIS BOOK 18, WITHOUT PSBMISSIOIT, MOM *

BBSPKOTFDLLT DBDIOATID.

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NOTE.

It wu my intention this winter to re-write this book, micI
present it to the reader in somewhat different shape. AH
redundancies were to be struck oat, and sundry striking and
extraordinary imprcvements were to be made. No new
*' features " were to oe introduced, none of the heroes were to
be dropped out or eventually killed ; but by some means or
other the story of "A Blundbrino Bot" was to be yastly
eivilized. But the temptation to condense was never stronff
in me, and perhaps, instead of curtailing the book, I shoula
rathor have added to its bulk ; and, far from improving it^ I
might have spoilt it. It could be spoilt.

When I came to review the book, however, I found that I
had not the heart to write it over, or in anywise change iti
As it reads, it is the exponent of certain opinions and theories
of mine which are eternally dispelled, but which were pleasant
ones, and of which I wish to keep a remembrancer. For the
book is mino^ not the reader's, and it shall suit me if it does
no one else.

Such as it is, the book was written while I was twenty
years of age, being finished before I completed my twenty*
first year. The exuberance of twenty is stamped on every
page. Some day I shall not be sorry that I left the book just
as it was originally written. For the book is mine, the ideas
are mine. That is one point on which I have always felt
great satisfaction : every line in the book is original.

My ideas have changed ; my manner of writing has ebanged ;
but this book shall be what I first wrote it, and what I intended
it to be. As I still survive, I may some day write Another
bode, but I am resolved not to change in any way this book,
now, or at any future time. Such as it was written at twenty,
it is and shall be.

I here wish to acknowledge my indebtednes to one gentle^
mrin, whose friendahip and counsel have been of the greatest
moment to me^ and to whom my sincere thanks are doe.

February 2nd, 1886.

B. W. MUNRa

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CONTENTS.

Ptafftoe. zi.

' OBAnau Vmu.

I. The Story Opened IT

II. WiU't Lucky Blunder 2&

nt WUl'a Native VUlage 81

IV. The Heroei of this History $9

Y. An Unpl<9aMnt Ride for Will.... 44

VI. Steve's Retaliation 64

VII. The Young Moralist.— A Clever 6chem^ . 64

YIII. <»carge Comes Out Ahead 76

IX. "Three Wise Men Went to Sea in a bomV* 88.

X. The" Bowl" Ck)mes to Grief 94

XI. A Talented Lecturer 106

^ XIL An Extraordinary Mad Dog. . ... . . 113

Xin. The Six go to a Picnic 136

XIY. Disaster Rather Than Fun 137

XY. A Lesson in Ballooning 149

XYI. Unheard-of Adventures with Balloons . . 166

XYII. They Prepare to " Giantize " 163

XYIII. The Cousins )9ee More Than They Bar-
gained for : . 169

XIX. Within and Without the Demon's Cave. . . 178

XX. A Glorious Triumph 186

XXI. Uncle Dick Himself Again 197

XXII. Uncle Dick Evolves His Story 204

XXIII. The Sage's Experiment 213

XXIY. The Sage Unearths a Treasure 2

XXY. The Bitten Boy Takes Revenge

XXYL Bob's DownfaU 249

>. ■'.'

Obaytbb.
XXVII.

XXVIII.

, XXIX.

XXX.

XXXI.

' XXXII.

iKXXIII.

XXXIV.

' XXXV.

XXXVI.

kxxvir.
itxxviii.

XXXIX.

XL.

XLl.

XLII.

' xLiii:

' XLIV.

XLV.

XLVI.

CONTENTS.

They Propose to Turn the Tables 24fi

The Tables Tuirned with a Vengeance. . . . 261

A Horrible Plot.— The Haurted House . . 260

The Bluhdierer at Work Again 271

Will Mends His. Ways 276

The Arch-plotter Arrives ....-...., •• 28ft

"A Lesson in French '* : . : 387

Henry Takes His Bearings. — A Stampede. ' 298

Marmaduke Grasps the Situation ....... 307

To thel Rescue ! 319

Marmaduke Struggles with Il6raance . . . . 325

The Startlers Themselves are Startled 335

Repentant Plotters. — The Heroes Re-united 349

The Heroes Figure as Hunters .......... 348

How Will Lost His Deer 355

What Curiosity Cost the Hunters ...... . 362

Things Begin to Qet Interesting : . . . . 370

Is the Mystery Solved 7 37*

The Last Blunder.-^ A Last Conversation. 382

The Story Closed ............' 390

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''^ SittT as this story maly seem, thcfre ' id a 4x<ed ptirpc»e iii
lifting it ; and, like water in a godse-pohd, it is de^p^ timn
it fit first appears. .. i

>''; The intention chiefly is to be absurd; to ea^t ridicule
oil certain pedants and romanceris ; and to jeer at the ridiiculous
JBOIeinriity, mystery, and villaihy, that hedge in works of fietittnl
Dii^^sted with taleis which cause exceedingly g6od hbi'dita'anj^
sbisroines to live a life of torture, oiily to fiAd a~havieti of'pe^
amd security in the last line of the last chapter, 'tlie writer
determined to go over the old ground in a ditfeeent wajr. Kow
t^at the story is written, however, he has a horrible su^icioti
that in some measure he has totally failed in his dcHsign^and
t&at more often than he cares to own, he has ov^sHbithd
Koark.

Ir Having etideavdred to make the intehtiob tolerably clear^
the reader may now be able to get mbre etijoyment from^thiil

tal6: ' ■ '.■

The tale aims to attack so-called " vagaries," as w^Il as great
and- contemptible follies. It attacks the frailties'of the school-
boy with as much gusto as it attars the foibles of the
romalicer. In fact, from first to last, in almost every chapter^
the writer rushes gallantly to attack something. Not Satisfied
with' attempting to ridicule other people*s tales, he often indi-
rectly, but not the less insultingly, attacks this on^' as th'ti>
oardtful reiider will doubtless observe. This was begun in jest,
perhaps;. but it soon became a fixed purpose, carried Out in
owrn«at< Even a boy can generally see the drift of oui^ nartii-
tive ; but it is often hard for the writer himself to see its'tnii^
meaning — harder still to appreciate it. Nevertheless, there ii
a good deal to be seen in the story ; aud dottbtlets ' there lkfi>

t>y

JP^tEFACE.

mauiri^ vUl see mors in it than ^fras dorigned to be pat
Again, '<tiie tticnry ia not mtten to iiutnict 8ta<li5«yf aiA

lolwrnn boys, who mope about the house with grave biographidb
'iindhewvy ancient histories in their hands, while without, tiie
"auki ia ' shining bright, birds are warbling their exteiiipoi^
.^Dbelodies in the fruit-tzees, squirrels are frisking aorosH tHe
^gardenrwalks, and all Nature is smiling. Such people are net
^oy« / they are but figure-heads in creation, who, though they
4 nay, pe^hapst find a place in so-called " literature," will nev^r
>find one in the history of nations. This story does not inform,
- those itrhp arave for knowledge, and yet more knowledge, that
^the elephant is a pachydermatous native of Asia and Africai nor
i'thatthe monkey is a quadrumanous animal, with prehensile tail,
whctse habitat is in tropical regions. Still, the attentive reader
,', will, in all probability, gather from it that an ass brays, that a,
,V iH:|nt^eak8,thata school-boy's pets are mortal, and that gunpowder
is liable to explode when fire is applied to it. It is not witten ,
^,.|iil9 a guide and instructor to youth. Its heroes are deplorably
/. depj^ved ; they love to plot mischief. Yet a boy may possibly
^ jlearii something from our work. He may learn that tha ^y.
^^,^ who, plays practical jokes on his school-fellows generally ^Vgets.
, .the i worst of it," that he often sufiers more than the intended
^^yictijOQ. ,He may learn, also, that a boy's wickedness bri^gaits
|. ^wn pi^nishment. (The writer takes great pains to correct ijbhe
^^ ^i^prits— ii^ fact, he never fails to do so after ea^h o^ence.)
^: ^f jpourse, every boy has learned all this before i probabljt in
^..^fyyer^, book he ever read ; but as it is a fundamental priufyipla
^..m romance jbo enforce this doctrine, it is here enforiped., ; [ .

.^«v . Mai^y A writer wishes to make assertions for which' ho : does.
«;^.ipiot always c^ioose to be responsible. In such caae^^heoputa
1, 1^ aP»<^i^i<^n ^nto the mouth of one of his characlecsi) an,
01 *^ ]tffff{i3af9,h]9 gentiemaoi'^ fathering it sometames, 4 '^eonaum*
.v;'l9s^^i;(yijp^" 4^ <>|!hei' times. In some inataaca^^ywo'hAve

''"

B0T8 ANS B0T8.

4n:f

The writer dere modesttj lays dali)t%' # MHH, iili»»^RlwBi*
^t^^W^lted vii*tue : though he excels in Wegotism, h» tsemUt
^Cfklh hiipself an authdr ! Tet if he irere vtltiiig mkeimii&ai^ri
.ff^mpaar, he saighi indol^ in such expMsidoat M^fFherfw^lMr
J^tfj^O: l)9g8 to differ firom Mr. ^urfby f cur, <*TlMi vauthwfsiilliii
,.qi^ %c|jectj ves inay be increased by tixe teaeher, ad Ubiiurm IS^t
^l^iq^s^jiy is intended for youths of a reaiKmingage. In^irriltii^
,for, jviv^ciles of tender year^ it is well to w«igh Aurefallyrto^'s
„. expressions, and to use only choice and elegtmt expletives,, t,^

; . ; y^derstand, gentle reaMler, that man onlyis attacked in. this
•tory. Though the fair sex are occasionaUy and incidentally
introduced, th^ writer has too ni,uch rtei>ect for them to: go
]beyoi(id the introduction, in this book. Even whto HettTy
personates '^Sauter^e " the motive is good. Understand i4ll
this) and read accordingly. :v

' The .moral of this story is intended to be good'; but itf a
story of its light and fickle nature, the less said iabout a ihoial
the better.

The writer has great affection for boys ;. he respects th^,

iind loves to see them enjoy themselves, but he is liot prep&fed

to' say that he fully understands them. A BOT is a cre^t to

i neighborhood — till he hangs a battle-scarred cat to the

chief citizen's flag-staff, or destroys a milltdaiu by tunnellin|; a

bole through it, when, of course, he is a disgrac^ to the race.

Though it is uncertain who is the hero of this Story, Blieve ibd

Henry are the favorites. Steve is more or less a boy yl>nt as the

story advaUices the reader will perceive that he improvei im

both wit and wisdom. Qeorge 'jt one of -the tx>yB %bo " Ibve

*^^'' boc^s ; ** but he tempered c(Humon sense with study, and il^er

^^'pefiued to join, with his companions in their firolics or '^ expe-

«'^^^ dittolML^' With little or no benefit to himsdf, or, for thai

ni matter, to anybody else, George, like most studious you^ of

JiisAgs^ nsid Jbopks entirely beyond his obmppeheiisioh. Ia

one hundred pages of scientific readiiigj he probabljl' umuler-

itood and retained ons fact; the other fa^tH were either

ii\

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ipSiSFACE.

I ■

hi:

ttittinderstood or fcorgotten; or mi^ht better liAve btoen. Yean
ago, when tke writer used to wear out hia pockets with bulky
jack-knives, and quarrel with other youngstem about ike
«agaei*y of bis «irii»d«g, Jm koev a boy who, Kke 'Jkn^^^iis^
subject to " the ohilk.'' But the writer was probably too youAg
at that tinie to have an insight into another's character, and
l^e only affinity between that boy and Jim 4s that both iwm ' a
a prey to " the chills." It may be objected that it is atran^
that Oharles should be able to work on the other boys' leeiii^
•0 well. Very true ; soit ia Stilli he could not have slain a
robber-knight, nor outwitted an, Indian scout. Henry is not
oiie of the original heroes,, but as he is necei^sary to the «tory
he^ is intR>duced. « . ,

Th» writer, disgusted with books in which the ho'oes are
treated with much respect, endeavours to heap every indignity
upon these foolish' boys. In a word, he has no apparent respect
iof any one, big or littlOi old or young, in this volume. To go
still further, he has no respect for himself.

in the case of the blue-eyed heroine and each boy's mother,
hoWever, there is an exception, a^d exceptions prove the rule,.
„ As for Mr; Lawrence's " mystery," it does not amount to
ittuch, though it is intended, like everything else, to serve a
purpose. Look at it as it appears, and in ten minutes a IhU-
atioker could hatch. a better plot. Look at it as it appears, and
it is idiotic, yet perfectly harmless ; look at it in its figurative
meanii^g, and, though it is not so good as was intendiB4* it
yetf-T-buti we are top discreet to say more on this .head,

The- writer respectfully observes that his maniao is .xu>t
dirawn from nature, but from romance. He never informod
hiukstilf of tJie habits of those unfortunate people— ^neyor had
thi0|>leaBure'Oi even, a slight acquaintance with thaia'^*<b)it
dtvir UacIo Diioh's history blindly from romance.

A« lor the' vUlain^B confession, it- is thrown in gratuiiouB^*
aa> iMkUavt. ite itha • story^ aod . to- mcify %h^;:mtA^ -af hamj
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A DISCKEIT JlFfilTEB.

When finA we practise to Jeceive,"

•1 many a writer^ oonftised plbt bears w i t nW M L Hav^manjf
' objects in view in writing this story, the reader must ima)c49 ti&o
best of It, if it tometimiBS seems disjointed Still/ if the astiiifr,
r^er thinks he detects a place where thiis history cloes not
hang together, let him not be too much elated, for the' writer
believes he could point o«it several such places himself.

Of course, no boy will read this preface ; it would, therefore,
lie a waste of time to address a discourse to boys in i^. Reader,
•did yon ever observe the manner in^ wbich a boy ignores the
preface in hfe «chool-%odks t If not, you do not know hnw:
much scorn a boy's face is capable of displaying.

^^vartheless, this preface may be of use to a bojr. Supposa.
that an indcdgent uncle «hoidd be jockeyed into buying a copy
•of .this- book for his little nephew. In such a case, would Aot
this pre&ce make an admiraible ^' flier " for the little nephew's
dart t Certainly it would ; and the next morning the little
nephetir's mamma would find a picturesque dart, with thia
elaborate preface fluttering at the end, adorning a panel of the
parlour door.

^' Perhaps," sneers the reader of mature years, " you think
to have a fling at the almost antiquated custom of writing
prefaces?"

Perhaps so, kind reader, and why not t

It seems natural for some writers to wish to display their
wisdom : some mak»-a.show of hammering out tropes that no
one can appreciate ; others, in coining new compound words
that won't find a place in the dictionaries of the future ; still
others, in inserting such foreign words and phrases as may be
found in the back of a school-boy's pocket dictionary. (To do
them justice, however, the latter geniuses, careful not to offend
our taoble English, considerately write such words and phrases
in italics:) This writer, on the contrary, displays his ybo^uAtiM*

XYt

FStlFACX.

hy tacMing things that he affcerwardi leMni» mr6 out of hSi*
reftoh.

The writer aeemft most at home when attempting to poke fun
'at ro^nknoe; yet he is tormented night and day, so much
' so that he has no peace, with romance. In fact^ gentle reader,
'if any human being suffers more in tiiat way than he, pity him
' with all your heart, for he must be a wretch indeed.

Oannot this be explained logically t Perhaps so ; but it isi^t
worth anybody's while to do it.

Notwithstanding that our preface is so grandiloquent, the
story opens, the reader will observe, very modestly. But if he
should persevere a little way, he will find that the writer soon
strikes out boldly. .

Of course this preface was written after the story ; but, let
the reader be entreated, if he will excuse the Hibemicism, po
read it first. If he does not^ we are only too confident he will
never read it. This is not prophecy, but intuition.

BRUCE W. MUNRO.

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.ti?fltn-.

A BLUNDERING BOY. -

Chapter I.

Tr^ •?<'

The Story Opened.

WILLIAM, baptized William, but always called . WUl,
was a bay who had a habit of committing bluiid^rs
— a habit which, as will be seen, occasionally led hjin
into deep disgrace. When a mere, boy, his blunders vere
of little consequence; but when older they"asisumec| a
more serious form. Most of them arose,from Want ^f
care, as he did everything without considering what the
end might be. Doubtless, he ought to have been reproved
for this ; but as he was onhr a boy, and as many of hi^
blunders pai'took of the ludicrous, his parents laughed at
him, but seldom took pains Jlo correct him.

Will's father owned a highly cultivated farm, near one
of the great lakes, and was a man of means. He indulged
freely m dignified language, in illustrated magazines and
weeklies, in frequent pleasure trips by land an4^ water,
and in gilded agricultural machines, fragile and compli-
cated, but quite as useful as ornamental.

Will's mother was an amiable lady, who accompanied
her husband on every alternate pleasure trip, and who, by
the help of an able housekeeper and a fire-proof cook,
spread a table that excited the admiration or envy of ^i^l
who knew her, the housekeeper, or the cook.

Such were Will's father and mother, who generally^ as
he was their only child, suffered him to havo his ow^
way, took notice of all his 3ayings and doings, and occa:
sionally jotted them down in a disused diary. But he
was not the kind of boy to be spoiled by such usage;
on the contrary he wa^ a very good boy.
2

A BLUNDERING BOY.

l I

He was an athletic little fellow, able to undergo great
fatigue, and endowed with so much perseverance and
hope that he would fish all day for trout, and return at
dusk with nothing but a few expiring mud-pouts and
two or three forlorn fish worms. He was known to all
the villagers, respected by all his school fellows, and was
involved in all their troubles. But his school fellows did
not regard him as a hero; in their expeditions he was
seldom chosen leader ; in their " trials by jury " he was
frequently a juryman — in time of need the entire jury —
but only occasionally the judge.

Will attended school regularly and learned his lessons
carefully, whether he understood them or not. His
appetite for learning was keen, but his appetite for sport
was insatiable ; no boy, on being set loose from school,
was more demonstrative than he.

When old enough to be out with his father, lie followed
him constantly. About the whole farm there was not a
hole into which he had not fallen, not a stone of any size
over which he had not stumbled, and no danger of any
kind, from animals or macMnes, from which he had not
narrowly escaped. He was dt'ten carried bruised, wet and
tearful into the presence oKhis terrified mother, who
vowed that he should never again leave her sight. But
as soon as his wounds were dressed and his wet, muddy,
and sometimes blood-stained garments were changed, he
would Silip away, to invite new dangers and contend with
old ones. Even when sitting quiet in the house, learning
his lessons, his ink-bottle would unaccountably pour its
contents over his books, his papers, or on the carpet.
Yet Wills father declared that the boy was neither awk-
ward nor stupid, but only " inconsiderate " and " head-
long.' In proportion as he grew older, Mr. Lawrence
hoped that he would grow wiser, and less " headlong."

Having thus touched upon Will's characteristics, it is
now in order to begin at the beginning, when he was a
small b )y.

One day, when the boy had arrived at the age of seven
yjars, a strolling and struggling newspaper genius was
mvited to spend thti afternoon and evening at the farm

A SLIGHT MISUNDERSTANDING.

house. At the supper table this gentleman interested
himself particularly in the boy, and the mother, pleased
with this attention, began to enlarge upon her darling's
talents and cleverness, till, warming with maternal prids,
she became quite eloquent.

" What do you suppose he did the other day ? " she
asked.

Will's face suddenly became red. His mother did not
notice this, but the newspaper genius did ; and while he
answered politely, he muttered to himself, " Hanged some-
body's cat, I should infer from his looks."

" Why, he — " began the mother, when she was sud-
denly interrupted by Will's saying, " Please don't tell,
mother ! "

" This remark, of course, drew the attention of all
three to the boy, and they saw that he appeared ill at
ease, and that his face was painfully flushed.

Mrs. Lawrence looked surprised. " Why, Will," she
said, " I'm sure its greatly to your credit." Then turning
to the guest : " Mr. Sargent, the other day he gave his
papa the boundaries of every country and continent on
the globe; and he did it all from memory, n9t looking
once at a map ! " Mr. Sargent was a polite man ; he
now expressed the liveliest astonishment.

" Oh ! " burst from Will's lips, followed by a sigh of
relief, " Is that what you wanted to tell ? "

" What did you suppose your mamma intended to tell
me?" basely inquired the newspaper man, quickly recover-
ing from his astonishment.

Will hesitated, but finally answered, " I thought it wss
about the fire-crackers."

The guest's curiosity was awakened. "What about the
fire-crackers ? " he inquired, so courteously that no ono
could take offence.

" Oh, he had a bad time with them ; that's all ; " said
Mrs. Lawrence, coming to the rescue.

But Will, who was plainly dissatisfied with his mother's
version of the affair, explained, with an effort that proved
him to be a hero, " I had some fire-crackeis, and they set
the chip yard on fire, and nearly burnt up a cow in tli^
cow-house I "

A BLUKDBBIKO BOT.

Having thus eased his conscience, he relapsed into
silence. But it was evident that his nerves were quite
unstrung ; the visitor was therefore not taken wholly
unawares when Will, in passing him the " preserves," spilt
them on his pants.

With a si^h of resignation the unfortunate took the
mishap as a joke, and asked, as they rose from the table,
if Will would bring out some of his toys.

" Get out the gun you made yourself," Mr. Lawrence
su^ested.

jHie boy left the room but soon came in with a rude
weapon— which boys would call a sijuirt-gun, but which
Mr and Mrs. Lawrence, from ignorance or flattery, called
a gun. But time is precious to some people ; perhaps
they called it a gun to save breath.

The errant newspaper man took up the squirt-gun, to
examine it at his convenience, but lo ! another mishap !
The infernal machine, or whatever one may call it, had
discharged a black and muddy fluid over his spotless
shirt front.

Another involuntary " Oh ! " broke from poor Will's
lips. " It^must be the poison we had for the red currant
bugs ! " he groaned. " I thought I had squirted everj'^
drop out of the gun, but — "

" This is an extraordinary little gun, I've no doubt,"
said the unhappy man, in a pet, " but T don't wish to
experiment with it at present. I should prefer to see
some harmless toy, such as a wooden top or a horse-hair
watch-chain. It is always dangerous for me to meddle
with guns, anyway."

For once, the newspaper man's suavity had failed him.
' But Mrs. Lawrence, in her heart, thought that a judg-
ment had overtaken him for ferreting out Will's secret.

The owner of the gun took it and gladly left the room.
fie did not return with his wooden tops, but climed up
on the roof of the stable, where he whiled away the rest
of the evening with his new jack-knife and a piece of
cedar. He did not cut his fingers very badly, however.
. The distressed parents were placed in a very embarras-
sing situation, but the sufferer's equanimity soon returned,
and the conversation again flowed on smoothly.

will's littls trap.

When the visitor took leave, it is to be hoped that he
took with him a due appreciation of Will's talents and
cleverness.

Next morning Mr. Lawrence called his son and ad-
dressed him thus : " My son, you are a very heedless boy.
Reflect on the sad results of your heedlessness, and en-
deavor to use the faculty of reason before you act in any
matter. Think of the annoyance you gave us last night !
You ought never to interrupt your mother, for you may
be sure that she would never tell a stranger anything to
your discredit. Will you bear thiB 1.1 mind ? "

" Yes, sir," muttered the boy, trying to understand the
meaning of the big words. " feut," anxiously, *' will he be
scolded and whipped, as Jim was when he got his clothes
spoiled ? "

" Are you speaking of the gentleman who passed the
evening with us ? "

" Yes, sir."

" Then don't grieve about that, for his parents will not
harm him," Mr. Lawrence replied with a smile.

A short time after this occurence. Will informed his
father that a muskrat had built itself a home by a stream
which ran through their farm.

" Should you like to catch it in a trap ? " Mr. Lawrence
asked.

The boy, of course, said yes. Immediately the fond
father bought a strong little trap and presented it to the
would-be trapper. The trap cost ninety cents ; a wander-
ing tin-peddler might perhaps be generous enough to give
Will fifteen cents for the pelt of the muskrat. In that
event everybody would be satisfied. But the home of
the muskrat would be made desolate.

Mrs. Lawrence beheld this trap with horror, and not
without reason, for, within the next two hours. Will con-
trived to imprison in it several of his fingers.

After repeated warnings from his parents, the young
hero set out for the stream, trap in hand. Having success-
fully achieved the feat of setting it, he returned and gave
his father the particulars

" I fear that some more historical animal than a musk-

A BLUNDERING BOY.

rat will come to an untimely end in that trap/' Mr. Law-
rence said dolorously.

His words were prophetic.

In the morning, full of hope, Will hurried to the home
of the musk rat. Beyond a doubt, the trap held an
animal. But it was neither a musk nor any other kind
of rat ; it was a beautiful little greyhound, fast in the
jaws of the trap, and stone dead.

Will's tears flowed freely at this pitiable sight, and
fear was added to his grief, when, in the greyhound, he
recognized the constant companion of Senator Murdock.

" roor little Pet ! How often you have played with
me ! " the trapper said, in the interval of his sobs. " Oh,
what shall I do, and what will Mr. Murdock say to me ! "

Just as the boy spoke, the Senator was approaching in
his search of the dog.

"Ah, my little man," he said, as he drew near the
sorrowing trapper, " can you tell me where to look for
Pet ? I've lost him this morning, and I thought you could
help me to find him, if any one could. We live so near
that you and Pet are always together. Why; what is the
matter ? " he asked, seeing that the boy was crying bit-
terlv.

" Oh, sir ! " was all Will could say.

But the Senator was now beside him, and, taking in
the matter at a glance, he exclaimed angrily, " What is
this I see ? Have you, whom I always considered a moral
little boy, have you entrapped my dog ! I am amazed !
Poor Pet! Poor little dog ! "

" I didn't mean to catch him" Will pleaded, " and I
am very sorry."

" Well, I shall not blame you," the Senator said slowly.
" Your father ought not to let you set traps so recklessly,
and I lay the blame upon him."

" Don t blame my father, for it is my own fault," Will
replied, ready, at all times, to defend his father. " I will
never do it again, Mr. Murdock ; indeed I won't."

" Hardly, seeing that the poor beast is dead. But help
me to get it out of trap, and ] shall take it home and
bury it.^'

YKBT GREAT DANOKR.

Then the two, man and boy, lej^islator and trapper, fell
to work, and soon liberated the dog from his prison.

If the Senator could have known what danger his white
and dainty fingers were incurring, that is, how narrowly
they escaped being pinched, he would have kept them
away from that trap. In fact, considering the state of
excitement into which any mishap threw Will, it is strange
that they were not cruelly mangled. But they escaped
without a scratch.

Mr. Lawrence was deeply grieved when he heard the
ignominious fate of, the Senator's dog. Probably he felt
that he himself was blamable.

But the affair was soon all but forgotten by Will, be-
cause,at his age, such misdemeanors are generally forgotten
OS soon as the offender repents of them and is pardoned
by the sufferers.

This chapter, like all the others, is intended to serve a
purpose; yet, lest the reader should fancy that we are
writing for the entertainment of juveniles, we shall relate
but two more incidents of Will's childhood.

Chapter II.
Will's Lucky Blunder.

Some two years after this incident, when Will's parents
announced one fair morning that he was to accompany
them on a trip to the city, many miles distant, far from
being in the mood to remember his father's injunctions,
he was in the humor to commit the most atrocious
blunders.

He was full of eagerness to be off, and his beaming
face bespoke his joy. At his tender age, all the help he
could give was of little moment ; but yet, in his eagerness
to get ready for the journey, he threw the household into
such confusion that he and his harassed parents barely
reached the platform in time for the train.

The day was fair, and the prospect from the car window
delightful. The scent of new mown hay (it was thQ

ill

i' '-

A BLUNDERING BOY.

month of June) rendered the trip as pleasant as an east-
ern ruler s dream. (The deeds of eastera rulers, however^
should not always be provocative of pleasant dreams.)

It was morally impossible for Will to sit still in his seat
For once the good little boy was regardless of his parents'
wishes ; and in spit ot mamma's entreaties and papa's
commands, he persisted in thrusting his head out of the
window.

How fortunate it is that wrong doing inevitably leads
to punishment ! On this ocassion, however, the boy's
punishment was so long delayed that the sanguinary
sword of justice seemed to be rusted fast in its sheath.
But that sword was drawn at last.

After riding for ten minutes with his head far out of
the car, with an involuntary " oh " he abruptly drew it
in, but — hatless.

The boy's gestures of excitement and his parents' evi-
dent vexation attracted every one's attention. Truly, the
parents suffered equally with the child. It is always
thus.

" I'd put my present for Henry in it, and now il's gone ! "
groaned Will, unmindful of the fact that every one in the
car could hear him.

" It serves you right, little boy," observed a pious but
melancholy looking old lady, who occupied an adjacent
seat. " Now you'll have to ride bareheaded ; " she mut-
tered. " That's what comes from disobeying your parents!"

" For shame ! " whispered a humane, but characteristi-
cally lank, Down-easterner to this meddlesome dame.
" Just you let the poor little fellow alone."

Then, noticing Will's sad condition, he began to search
his pockets. Will saw this and guessed what was coming,
for he had often remarked that that movement on the
part of those interested in him was usually followed by
the bestowal of sweetmeats or other good gifts.

It may here be boldly stated that our hero was not
above eating candy, which he devined was what was
coming.

Will was not mistaken in this instance, for his humane
friend soon approached him and put something round and

THE BULL S-EYE.

hard into his hand, saying, " Don't fret, little man ; here's
a bull's-eye for you."

Quietly as this kind action was done, it did not escape
the old lady's sharp eyes, and she thus gave vent to her
indignation : " dear, what are we coming to ! Here's a
man rewarding, actually rewarding, a boy for being
wicked ! "

However, neither Will nor his parents overheard her
virtuous comments. Will was wholly engrossed with his
bull's-eye, which was about the size of a ten-year-old
boy's marble. Though originally white and striped with
red bands, it was now more or less discoloured and very
sticky.

Will slipped the bull's-eye into his mouth, but immedi-
ately spat it out.

" All covered with dirt and sweat, and as hard as an
iron button," he muttered. " It v^ras kind of the man to
give it to me, but L can't eat it."

But what should he do with it ? Clearly, the floor
would be the best place for it ; and so, while his father's
attention was engaged with a cartoon, and his mother's
with a wayside chapel, he stooped and laid it softly on
the floor, unseen and unheard.

Then he chuckled, admiring his great sagacity, not
knowing that an ordinary bull's-eye may be dropped in
aliiiost any part of a railway carriage in motion without
arresting attention.

Would that a novelist who regularly " anticipates "
were here ! How he might expatiate ! Beginning thus,
he might go on exhausting ink-bottles and filling pages
at pleasure : —

" Ah ! little could Will dream, little could any one
present dream, what destiny ha^l in store for that bull's-
eye ! How diflerent was its fate from that which the
benevolent gentleman supposed it would be ! "

But it is cowardly and wicked in a writer to anticipate.

The kind hearted Yankee left the car soon after giving
Will the bull's-eye, so that he was not a witness of what
was to happen.

The rejected bull's-eye, set in motion by the car, gradti-.

A BLUNDERING BOY.

tiXly made its way into the middle of the passage between
the two rows of seats, where it stopped. If noticed by
any person, it was not coveted, but was suffered to lie
there in peace.

Yes, there it lay ; its locomotion arrested'; its wander-
ings brought to a close.

But hist ! who enters ?

It is the " Student of Human Nature."

A gaunt yet spiritual-looking man opens the door, and
slowly and pompously, he marcnes towards the other end
of the car.

His air, his gait, his costume, even to his boots, his
cane — all were peculiar.

His object in life was to rove hither and thither, study-
ing that grand theme. Human Nature. Although above
conversing with his fellow creatures, excepting when
obliged to do so, his delight was to find some quiet spot
from which he might form opinions of them without beiag
disturbed. Whether he makes this employment " pay "
by writing treatises on the subject, is a question which
only he himself can answer. What he pretends to com-
prehend may be, and doubtless is, a noble science ; but in
his hands it is only a mockery.

Only two or three persons in the railway carriage
knew the man or his employment, but his demeanor could
not fail strongly to impress the looker-on.

His intention, on this occasion, was to take a seat in
some dark corner, from which he might observe the oc-
cupants of the car. With stately tread he approached that
bull's-eye, placed his foot on it in such a way that it
rolled, and with a crash the student fell headlong, with
anything but " studied grace."

He was on his feet again before assistance could be
offered — this, however, was not remarkable, as nearly
every one present was convulsed by laughter — and, after
glancing malignantly at the cause of his fall, he scowled
horribly on two or three of the loudest laughers, and
then tore his hankerchief out of his pocket. Too late !
A flow of blood was streaming fast from his nose, which
organ had apparently been bruised in his fall.

"THE NOSEBLEED."

A boy with the *' nosebleed " is an object alike of
laughter and pity ; but a man with a bleeding nostril !
Certainly his situation is ignominious. And the situation
of the student on this occasion was more than ordinarily
ludicious.

How blind and wilful, how paradoxical men are ! What
a favorable opportunity now offered for observing the
various emotions depicted on the faces of those people !
Some were expressing their feelings by their rapidly-
working features ; others by their waggish gesticulations ;
still others by half suppressed interjections. While some
looked merely amused, others looked awe-struck : only
two persons seemed sympathetic. The more solemn
passengers looked on with dignified serenity ; but a smile
of savage delight, indicative of innate depravity or blasted
hopes and bitterness of heart, played over the wan faces
of certain jaded and woebegone book agents. A few
paid no attention whatever, while a great many made
praiseworthy endeavors to keep their facial muscles from
twitching.

But the Student of Human Nature left this vast mine
unexplored, and hurried out of the car, hiding his bleed-
ing nose in his handkerchief.

The now notable bull's-eye was still in sight, and it
was plain to all that it had caused the mishap. The old
lady looked at it intently, and was heard to mutter that
she knew no good would come from rewarding the boy
for his wickedness.

A tender-hearted person is severely punished when his
own wrong-doing subjects another to pain or annoyance.
Now Will was tender-hearted : he lay nestled in a corner
of his seat, almost hidden from the occupants of the car,
doing penance by heaving dolorous sighs and shedding a
few remorseful tears.

His father and mother seemed ill at ease. Presently
the former stooped over him with awful solemnity, and
whispered, " Oh, Will ! why did you drop that on the
floor, when you could just as well have thrown it out of
the window ! Your blunders are sufficiently bad when
they affect yourself alone ; but they are lamentable When

A BLUNDERING BOY.

, I

their results are disastrous to others. You are old enough
now to behave like a little gentleman ; promise me that
you will be a good boy."

On the instant Will ceased both to heave sighs and to
shed tears, and he earnestly promised to do better for the
future.

In his way, Mr. Lawrence was a philosopher. He
knew that any boy on being addressed in such terms and
forgiven, instantly dries his tears, breaks into smiles, and
promises to do great things. He reflected on this, and
spoke as he did because he did not wish his son's eyes to
be red and swollen with crying when he should reach his
destination.

Soon after the train slowed into the station at which
they were to alight. The good old lady softened so far
as to bid the bearheaded boy good-bye as he stumbled
out of the car. The first thing to be done was to buy
him a hat, since his parents had not been so provident as
to take along'an extra one. This was managed by leaving
him and his father at the depot, while Mrs. Lawrence
went to the nearesthat store. The good soul also bought
some sugar-plums to replace thfe present which Will had
lost.

As soon as the novelty of Will's new hat had worn off, so
far, at least, as to allow it to remain quietly on his head,
he and his mother went to spend the rest of the day at
the house of a relative, while Mr. Lawrence made his way
to a law office.

About nightfall the three returned to the depot, took
passage by the cars, and were soon on their way home-
ward.

It was still early in the evening, but the family party
did not expect to reach home till past midnight.

Will was thinking — not of his latest blunders, but of
some second-hand presents that he had received from his
cousin, Henry. Mr. Lawrence, who was accustomed to
travel, seemed inclined to fall asleep — in fact, they had
not proceeded far on their way when a gentle snoring
evinced that he was indeed asleep. Will fancied that his
mother also seemed tired and drowsy, and he hastily

WILL ON GUARD.

concluded that his parents would have to depend upon
him to be awakened when the train reached their station.

This thought kept the boy on the alert, and he took
pride in the confidence thus placed in him. To him, how-
ever, the time passed much more slowly than when going
to the city in the morning. This was only to be expect-
ed. Then, the sun was shining bright, the car was full of
people, and his parents were wide-awake and in a humor
to talk to him ; now, it was night, — calm and starlit, but
night, — the three M'ere almost entirely alone in the cAr,
and his parents were tired, sleepy, and silent. '

Nevertheless, much as he wished to keep awake, he at
last fell into a doze, from which he was aroused by the
train's coming to a stop and the brakesman's shouting out
the name of a station. The name seemed familiar, and
Will, rubbing his eyes and yawning, at once began to
reason, aloud : " Our station ; I must wake pa and ma, or
the train will go on."

Both were awakened without delav.

"What! is this our station already?" Mr. Lawrer'^
asked, with some surprise. " You must be mistaken.
Will — or have I really been asleep ? "

" Yes, sir, you have been asleep ; and this is our
station."

" Then there's no time to be lost, I suppose " ; and Mr.
Lawrence snatched up his valise and started towards the
door, followed by his wife and son.

" I almost wish we had stayed at Aunt Eleanor's," he
muttered, as he helped them off the train. " But I must
attend to that business in the morning ; and, fortunately,
our house is not far from the depot."

They stepped out on the platform and the train was off
on the instat)t. Mr. Lawrence went into the ticket-off.ce,
to speak to the night operator, and, to his consternation,
found that instead of being his own village, he was at
another, full twenty miles away.

His first act was to rush outside and make a vain at-
tempt to signal the engineer to stop the train. Too late !
It had already left the station, and was moving faster
and faster

A BLUNDERING BOY.

That hope blasted the unhappy man did not know
what course to take, and he strode up and down the plat-
form like a mad man ; while his wife and son stood meek-
ly by, the one filled with deep displeasure, the other with
agonizing grief and despair.

Presently Mr. Lawrence halted before the boy, with
these words : " Oh, Will ! How could you have made such
a blunder } I fail to trace a striking resemblance be-
tween the name of this place and that of our own. You,
who know so much about geography, you to be so gross-
ly ignorant respecting your own county ! Jn an hour from
this time wo should have been at home. — Never mind,
Will," he added in softer tones. " Come, don't cry ; I
suppose you, too, were asleep."

" Yes, I nmst have been asleep," Will acknowledged.

The writer does not entertain much respect for Mr.
Lawrence, because he was a man who alternately checked
and indulged his son. But, on the whole, he was a dis-
creet and affectionate parent — at all events, Will loved
and honored him.

" I say," Mr. Lawrence cried to a man with a Itintern,
" I say, when will the next train going west be due ? "

" Next train for you, sir ? In just three hours," was the
cheering answer.

"Then my business is ruined!" groaned the unhappy
man.

However, this f retfulness at length wore away, and the
three resigned themselves to wait, as patiently as might
be, for the arrival of the next train. Mrs. Lawrence went
into the waiting room, while Mr. Lawrence and Will
spent most of the time out on the platform, gazing at the
stars and the signals along the railway -track.

After Mr. Lawrence had talked himself hoarse about
the signs of the zodiac, the perfection of signals used on
the railways, and the stupendous power of steam, he de-
termiTje'^ to improve the remaining time by reasoning
V :t[ tV' s a on the sin of carelessness. Will — whose
■'.cT- > e ;iV>ging with such terms as spherical bodies,
e;>/..'. ''■>''/■■'■ nsity, eternal revolution?, average mo-
m^ m^.i., ^ i .lernatural velocity, lunar cycles, seriiophor-

UNCLE DICK.

ot know
the plat-
ed rneek-
her with

)y, with
ade such
ince be-
1. You,

gross-
ur from
r mind,

cry; I

dged.
'or Mr.
checked
fl. dis-

1 loved

ntern,
?"
^as the

mppy

id the
Inight
Iwent
Will
It the

|bout
on
de-
ling
lose
lies,

10-

lor-

ical warnings, and planetary systems — sighed on this
change in the conversation, for he loved sonorous phrase-
ology, but listened humbly. After a long lecture, in
which he touched upon various matters not pertinent to
his subject, Mr. Lawrence made a dark allusion to his
" ruined business," and tnen wound up with these words :

" Will, if you continue in your present course, I am
afraid your end will be as terrible as your uncle Dick's."

" What became of Uncle Dick, pa ? " eagerly inquired
the boy, thinking that the subject would again be
changed.

Poor boy ! he felt his guilt, but he winced under his
father's polysUabic reprimands.

" Listen, Will," said Mr. Lawrence, " and I will give you
a short account of your uncle. Uncle Dick, my brother,
was an eccentric man ; good-natured, but credulous, and
always making blunders. In that particular, he was not
unlike you ; but his blunders were far more serious in
their results than yours. Early in life he made a large
fortune by lucky speculations. One day he drew all his
money from the banks and collected all that he could
from his debtors — for what purpose I never knew ; for,
no sooner did he get his wealth into his own hands, than
both he and it vanished, and nothing has since been seen or
heard of either. Some suppose that he was robbed and
murdered in the appi'oved way ; others, that he left the
country, to return unawares at some future time ; while
a few unprincipled barbarians maintain that he has lost
his mind. I, myself, think that by some great blunder,
or unlucky speculaticm, he lost all his wealth, and prefers
to stay awa^ till he can return worth as much as, or more
than, he was before. Poor Dick ! his fate is wrapped in
awful mystery. '

Mr. Lawrence considered himself an apt story-teller,
and delighted in his own narratives. But Will, to whom
this story was new and almost unintelligible, strove to
discern even the faintest resemblance between Uncle
Dick s doinjifs and his own.

" 1 do not often speak of my poor brother," Mr. Law-
rence said sadly, " but I think of him and dream of him,

A BLUNDERING BOY.

always. But, Will, I know you are good and sincere in
your heart of heart ; this misfortune was only a blun-
der ; and so let us think no more of the matter."

Gentle readei*, observe that the mournful story of Will's
uncle is told on the thirty-first page. Observe this care-
fully, as in the future you may wish to read it again.

At that instant, news that nearly made Will a hero
was flashed along the wires.

Voices, loud and eager, were heard in the office. Mr.
Lawrence went in to make inquiries, and learned that an
accident had happened to the train from which he had
been so abruptly hurried by his son.

The car in which thev had been riding had broken
coose, been hurled down an embankment, and wrecked.
Only two or three men were in the car at the time, and
they, being awake, had sprung nimbly and saved them-
selves, though almost by a miracle. A few persons in
another car were jolted and disconcerted, but no one was
hurt. The train was thrown into disorder, and part of
the track torn up ; so that the railway would not be
passable for a few hours.

It was evident to Mr. Lawrence that, had he been in
the car with his wife and child at the time of the accident,
they must have suffered a cruel death, or else have es-
caped horribly mangled. Suppose that they had not been
asleep, he would still have met with great difficulty in
saving them before the doomed car went to destruction.

They owed their preservation then, first, to Divine
Providence ; secondly, to Will's blunder.

Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence were not slow to acknowledge
this, and the boy perceived that, at last, his worth was
appreciated.

In process of time the night wore away ; the road was
repaired ; and father, mother, and son, pursuing their
journey, reached home early in the morning.

Mr. Lawrence's business was not " ruined," after all ;
for the man whom he wished to see was also detained by
the accident, but finally made his appearance ; and the
business, which was really of importance, was soon con-
uluded. ^

tl
hi

WHEREAS.

The three slept peacefully and soundly afterwards, for
the occurrences of the last twenty-four hours had ex-
hausted them.

From that time forward Mr. Lawrence generally passed
by Will's blunders without rebuke ; for he had determin-
ed not to reprove the boy again, unless it should be a
vital necessity.

In this wav it chanced that Will's childish blunder
happened for the best, after all.

Whereas these two chapters are merely expletive, —
that is, are as useful as the word it in the following
verse :

*' For the deck it was their field of fame," —

it would be better to say no more about this blunder of
Will's, but commence the story proper.

Chapter III.
Will's Native Village.

Anothkr period in Weill's life has come. He is no
longer a little boy, but an agile, robust, crop-headed
youngster of fourteen. He has by no means outgrown
the eri'ors of his childhood : on the contrary, they stick
to him more closely than ever ; and to speak of Will
without referring to them is — well, is merely a matter of
courtesy. His parents have given up all hope of his ever
ceasing to make blunders — in fact, they have come to ex-
pect nothing but blunders from him. They are no longer
surprised at whatever he does, or at whatever happens to
him ; they would be more surprised to see him live with-
out making blunders than at whatever might befall ; and
remembering how fortunate was his blunder on the train
a few years before, they no longer find fault with him.

It would be foolish, however, to detail all the minor
adventures through which he passed — foolish and tire-
some to the reader. Still, it must not be taken for

A BLUNDERING BOY.

granted that all Will's troubles rose from blunders, as
many of them rose from such mishaps as might happen
to any boy.

In order to make the incidents related in this story
perfectly intelligible, it will be necessary to give a rambl-
ing description of the neighborhood in which they took
place.

Mr. Lawrence's farm was a short distance out of a busy
and flourishing village, built on one of the great lakes of
America. His home, as well as a few cottages belonging
to him, was within the limits of this village. His farm
was highly cultivated and full stocked, and a railway
ran through it and then on through the village. To
these natural advantages add that Mr. Lawrence was an
intelligent man and practical farmer, knowing how to
improve his opportunities, and it will be seen that he was
well situated.

As for the village itself, it contained the ordinary num-
ber of inhabitants and hotels. Here lived " the most
skilful dentist in the state "; but so modest was he that
what was formerly a barrister's office (this will define the
size of the apartment) served him admirably for a
" dentistry "; while an upper room in the same building,
" artistically fitted up," served him for a " photographic
gallery." Here lived '' the most expert ball-player out of
New York." But his business was not to play ball ; —
rather, he did not follow it as a profession ; — he kept a
" Yankee notions store," with a hanging aquarium in the
window, and brewed soda-water and ice-ci-eam. In this
gentleman's " salon " many a rustic indulged with his first
dish of ice cream, eating it at the rate of two exceedingly
small spoonfuls a minute. His actions and the expression
of his countenance declared that it was monotonous, cold,
and doubtful enjoyment ; but the village papers, the
expert ball-player, and public opinion, told him that it is
an extraordinary delicacy, and he tried hard to believe
so. The rustic would sometimes bring along his sweet-
heart. Then he ate his ice cream still more slowly ; but
probably it tasted better. Two newspapers (so-called)
were printed here, and the villagers could tell you that

■'.

EX-EDITORS.

each one had hec^n the pecuniary ruin of six or seven
editors. These ex-editors still lived in the neighborhood,
— some as bookkeepers, others as insurance agents, — a
warning to all right-minded men to soar higher (or lower)
than the editorship of a village newspaper. But no one
heeded the warning, and no sooner did an editor become in-
solvent or entangled in a libel suit than somebody else was
ready to " assume the arduous duty of conducting the
publication." So long as the new editor had means, ex-
celled in bombast and calumny, was sound in his political
creed and could make vigorous attacks on his " contem-
porary," wh'/ supported the doctrines of the other party,
all went well for a time ; but t-ooner or later the end
came and then one more ex-editor was thrown upon the
people of the village.

Ihe principal buildings were the bank, the churches,
the town hall, the livery stable, the fulling-mill, the chair-
factory, the fork -factory, the Columbia foundry, the
hotels, and several private residences. The village had
also its harbor, where vessels plying their trade on the
lakes might worry through the roughest gale that the
most talented writer of nautical romances ever conjured

But there was nothing remarkable respecting either
its site, its size, the regularity or magniticence of its
buildings, its commercial importance, or its antiquity.
Fui ther, it was not known to history.

A very large stream, or small river, flowed through the
village, emptying into the lake. (To be still more accur-
ate : the people of this particular village customarily
called it " the river "; while the base and envious inhabi-
tants of the neighboring villages — through which flowed
no such stream — took special pains to call it " a creek.")
Several mills of different kinds bordered this river,
adding to the credit and vigor of the place. About three
miles up from its mouth there was a large and natural
waterfall, a favorite resort of the villagers and country
people. The current above these falls was not very swift,
but it would be perilous indeed to be swept over them
Shrubs, and at intervals, trees; gay little boat-houses,

A BLUNDERING BOY.

f
I' ^

li i

where the ground sloped gradually to the water's edge ;
in the background couimodious, ornamental, and preten-
tious dwelling houses, habitations, or villas ; — such dotted
the right bank of the river above the falls, presenting a
fine appearance from the left bank.

This stream affording good fishing, sportsmen often
came to it from a distance. But they generally lost more
in cuticle, clothing, and valuables, than they gainedin fish,
sport, or glory ; and it was remarked that they never
returned after the third time.

There were many considerations why the water below
the falls was not the principal play -ground of the juven-
iles. Being within the village, swimming was out of the
question ; on account of sundry sunken logs and other
obstructions, they could not paddle about secure and
tranquil on the crazy old rafts and scows ; and lastly,
almost the whole stretch of water below the falls lay
open to the mothers' watchful eyes, and the boys did not
feel inclined to jeopard their lives within sight of those
mothers. To some fastidious youths the water, perhaps,
was too dirty, or " roily."

Above the falls, however, all was different. On the
upper part of the river no one ever molested the young-
sters, unless they did something atrocious ; here they
might swim and paddle up and down the river as much
as they pleased ; for, in general, the banks were high, and
bushes, rank grass and reeds and other screens intervened,
shutting them off from outsiders.

The river was wide and deep at tlie falls, but above
them it grew narrow and shallow littl.: by little. Five
miles up it was a mere brook. Throughout this long
stretch the water was so clear that the most fastidious
did not hesitate even to drink it ; and there were secluded
places that as swimming-places could not be equalled.
At the falls the water was so deep as easily to float over
any log or brush-wood that might come into the river
from its banks, its source, or other streams.

One particular spot — a clump of evergreens, where
forget-me-nots sprang up in all their beauty, and where
Nature was seen at her best — was held sacred to lovers,

A PAxUDISE FOR BOYS.

's edge ;
d preten-
2h dotted
renting a

3n often
ost more
(Jin fish,
y never

ere
ere
irs,

But there were many parts of the river to which the
boys stoutly maintained their claim and of which no one
was so hard-hearted as to dispossess them. And oh !
crowning joy ! there was an island in the river I

At this the reader may thliik that we are trifling with
liis feelings ; imposing on his credulity ; — he may even
refuse to believe in the existence of so extraordinary a
river. Never mind. But if the reader wishes to enjoy
these pages he will refuse to listen to the dictates of
reason, and look on this story as an orthodox romance.

In winter there was another attraction, that of skat-
ing, the danger of which was a continual source of
uneasiness to parents whose youth, agility, and frolic-
someness had long before given place to gray hairs,
clumsiness, and sober-mindedness.

As the proprietors of the land along the river were
generous hearted men, the river was free to all people,
and was an actual paradise for boys and picnickers.

Although further remarks might be made about this
river, it is not necessary to make them here. It is suffi-
cient to add that as the reader proceeds, he will observe
how admirably this river is adapted to the exigencies of
the story.

This was the state of affairs in Will's boyhood. But,
alas ! all has changed since that time. A foreign aristo-
crat has bought up all the land along the river, which he
has fenced in, stocked with fish and beautified — perhaps,
disfigured — with sundry little wharfs, capes, bays,
stretches of " pebbly beach," and floating islands. In
conspicuous places notices may be seen, beginning with
" No Trespassing " and winding up with the amount of
the fine imposed on all persons " caught lurking within
the limits." Consequently, the urchins of to-day, de-
spoiled of this haunt, have to content themselves with
damaging the notices and slinging stones at the swans
that sail gracefully up and down the river.

There were also smaller streams in the neighborhood,
one being in Mr. Lawrence's farm.

To the left of the village stood an extensive grove,
swarming with Fcjuirrels, birds, iiisects, and, of course.

i •!

i i
i •

! ' ,. ■
'; ; '■' i

1 -i

i ;

!:'

A BLUNDERING BOY.

mosquitoes. Jn this grove the heroes of this story whiled
away many a happy }iour ; and when not on the river
tliey might generally be found here.

The lake also was a favorite resort, and on its broad
surface they sailed or rowed hither and thither ; always
getting wet, often narrowly escaping death. Sometimes
their joyous hearts were elated with a ride on a tug ;
but when hard pressed they made almost anything serve
them for a boat. As naturally as a duck takes to water.
Will and his associates took to making little ships, which
excited the admiration of all beholders — sometimes on
account of their beauty, but generally on account of their
liability to float stern foremost, with the masts at an
angle of twenty degrees.

Then there was the school-house, — a fanciful, yet im-
posing edifice, the grained and polished jambs of whose
muUioned windows had suftered from the ravages rather
of jack-knives than of time, — built in a retired quarter
of the village, and to the boys' entire satisfaction, quite
close to the river.

If Will wished to go to the wharf he could walk thither
in less than half-an-hour ; to the depot in ten minutes ;
to the school, — well, in from twenty to forty minutes.
To Mrs. Lawrence's delight, it was nearly two miles from
their house to the falls. She had not the heart to forbid
Will's going thither, but she fondly hoped that the dis-
tance would not permit him to go very often ; for,
according to her view of the matter, water and danger
are synonymous.

But what are tw^o miles to a boy, when a waterfall, a
limpid ai. : gleaming river, boats, crazy rafts, plenty of
fish, and other boys, are the attractions ? In fact, the
time was never known, not even to that venerable per-
sonage, " the oldest inhabitant," in which a boy might
not be seen about those falls.

It is not strange that the youth of this village were
happy, when Nature had done so much for them.

BUFFOON.

Chapter IV.
The Heroes of tfis History

Having given this slight and imperfect description of
Will's native place, his school-fellows must now be intro-
duced.

The boy whom he liked best was Charles Growler ; a
youth of his own age, but possessed with greater abilities,
and a universal favorite in the village. Charles was
nimble, strong, and good-natured ; ready for any adven-
ture or exploit, and the very soul of drollery. No matter
what might happen he never lost his temper, his presence
of mind, or his keen humor. He was a very brave boy,
rushing headlong into every kind of danger. In fact, the
boys admitted that they had never known him to be
afraid.

He and Will entered school at the same time and had
kept together in all their studies. There was no jealousy
or rivalry between them, nothing but a quiet and laud-
able competition, which stimulated each one to do his
best. When one could assist the other he did so willingly
and gladly. No boy ever had a more sincere friend than
Will in Charles or Charles in Will. And yet this boy
Charles was nicknamed " Buffoon." Not, however, on
account of clownishness or monkey tricks, but simply on
account of his love of fun.

George Andrews was another boy of the village, asso-
ciated with Will and Charles. He was a good boy, smart
and shrewd, Vjut too much disposed to display his abilities
and his knowledge. In his tender childhood he had
overheard a weak-headed fellow dra wl out, " Yes, George
will make an excellent scholard ; I guess he's a good
scholard a' ready." This so tilled the young hero with
self-conceit that he really believed that he, a mere boy,
was indeed a scholar ! Firm in this belief, he never let
slip an opportunity in which he might avail himself of
his superior knowledge ; and having read a great deal in

A BLUNDERING BOY.

.1 Mi !

I i

i; ill I.

all sorts of books, — particularly in certain musty and
ponderous volumes that treated of everything under the
sun — he was able to have his say, it made no difference
what subject was being discussed. But, alas ! he was
just as apt to be wrong as to be right ; and worse still,
his information, like the Dutchman's wit, generally came
too late to be duly appreciated. He i/s as a few months
older than Will and Charles, and outstripped them both
in his studies. The boys always rejoiced to have him
accompany them — partly because of his actual cleverness,
partly because of his immoderate self-conceit, as it was
very amusing to hear him hold forth on a subject of
which he really was totally ignorant. Not at all to his
disinclination this boy was dubbed " the Sage."

Mamiaduke Baldwin Alphonso Fitz-Williams was a
youth, the grandeur of whose name drove abashed Johns
and Thomases almost to phrensy. But the name befitted
the boy, for even at his tender age his mind was occupied
with strange thoughts. He delighted in the romantic ;
indeed, he had lived in an atmosphere of romance from
his baptism. This heavy cloud of romance obscured the
boy's ideas, and sometimes caused him to speak and act
more like a hero of fiction than was seemly. When alone
he would slide his hand into his bosom over his heart,
whenever the weight of romance and mystery was more
than ordinarily oppressive, and if his heart beat fast he
was satisfied with himself.

The boy who detects the conception of a nocturnal
robbery or murder in a stranger's eye, simply because he
[the cautious stranger] slips his hand stealthily into his
" pistol pocket," — in this case the breast pocket — to assure
himself that his watch is still there, is a remarkably
shrewd member of the human race, whose genius and
acuteness should be diligently fostered. And such a boy
was Marmaduke. But it was neither fear nor idiocy that
caused him to think thus ; it was only an extravagant
imagination.

Marmaduke and George resembled each other in many
particulars : each one was prompt to arrive at startling
conclusions ; each one believed himself equal to any

A BOY WITH A LONG NAME.

emergency ; but George was far more practical than
Marmaduke. Each of these boys took pleasure in learn-
inor, and each one manifested a puerile eagerness to let
people see how well informed he was. For instance,
they flattered themselves that they were accomplished
grammarians, and when any reference was made to
grammar both looked very knowing, as much as to say
that they apprehended what was meant.

Marmaduke had a strong will of his own, but, by
manoeuvring artfully, Charles could generally make him
look at things from his point of view. The boys took
advantage of his love for the marvellous to play mean
tricks on him ; but when he found that they were mak-
ing game of him, he flew into a passion, and made himself
ridiculous.

Poor boy ! Though he is called Marmaduke in this
book, his poetic names were too long for everybody
except his parents ; and while his teachers called him
Mark, the school-boys called him '• Marmalade," or
" Dreamer," or something else quite as appropriate and
scurrilous. Some envious little Smith's and Green's did
not scruple to call him " Fitty."

Next on the list is Stephen Goodfellow, one of the
the most important characters in the tale. He was a
fun-loving-fellow, fertile in devices, an adept at repartee,
and too light-hearted to be serious for more than five
consecutive minutes. In a word, he was the most nimble,
sprightly, ingenious and good-natured boy in the village.
At the same time he was the most reckless of all boys,
taking pride in rushing blindly into danger. Indeed, he
artected a stoical contempt for every kind of danger;
jumped backwards off empty schooners with his eyes
shut ; made friends with the most unamiable and untract-
able bull-dogs in the place ; lowered himself into deep,
dismal, and unsafe old wells to wake the echoes with his
bellowing voice, and busied himself about the punching
and shearing machine, the steam engine, and the circular
saws in the Columbia foundry. He knew every sailor
of all the vessels that put into the harbor ; knew every
engineer and brakeman on all the trains that passed

A BLUNDERING BOY.

•i i

1 i

fi«

ill

i'li

through the village ; knew the name and disposition of
every respectable dog within the corporation ; knew just
where to look for the best raspberries and the most desir-
able tish-worms ; but he didn't know an adversative con-
junction from an iambic pentameter.

To be acquainted with this boy was to like him. By
Will and Charles he was actually beloved, and there was
a mutual and lasting affection between him and all our
heroes. He w^s always ready to lend them his counsel
and assistance when agitating their dark schemes, and
when any waggish trick was m view, or when anything
ludicrous was going on, his approval and support were
the first consideration. Some of the urchins tried to
equal Stephen's feats of dexterity and to ape his sallies
and w himsicalness ; but it could not be done, and they
only exposed themselves to his derision and made them-
selves more envious and unhappy than before. Stephen
was familiarly known as "Stunner"; which, being offen-
sively vulgar, we, out of respect for the reader's feelings,
have transposed into Steve.

If this were the history of a sailor-boy, Steve would
assuredly be the hero ; and we should eulogize him so
unweariedly and enthusiastically that the heroes of
romance, goaded to frenzy by the praise thus lavished on
him, would commission their ghosts to haunt us. But
Steve has nothing to do with sailor-boys ; and as we do
not wish to incur the displeasure of such heroes, — much
less the displeasure of their ghosts, — or to compel any-
body to fall in love with him, it will be the wisest course
to leave it for impartial readers to praise him or to con-
demn him, to love him or to detest him, as their judgment
may determine.

George and Marmaduke, to the best of their ability, cul-
tivated the science of graynmar ; Stephen cultivated, the
art of disTtiemberiiig grammars, and of blazoning their
fly-leaves with hideous designs of frolicsome sea-serpents ;
wrecked schooners ; what seemed to be superb pagan
temples suffering from the effects of an earthquake ; crazy
old jades painfully drawing along glittering circus vans,
with coatless little boys-^some took them for monkeys,

DRAWING EXTRACilOINARY.

but probably they were Circus prodigies — sitting in the
roof and driving ; and all sorts of monstrosities. We say
grammars : Stephen's designs were to be found chiefly in
them. But he was no niggard of his illustrations ; for,
to his noble nature, it mattered little whether the book
which he illuminated belonged — so long as it was old and
dilapidated — to himself or to somebody else.

Last and least was James Horner. He was an infam-
ous coward — in fact, so infamous that although fifteen
years old, even a sudden and loud sound would unstring
liis nerves and twitch his facial muscles. As a natural
consequence, he very often heard sudden and loud sounds
— in fact, he heard all sorts of hideous and unaccountable
sounds. But the boy was by no means an entire fool ;
and he made greater progress at school than might be
expected. It is a lamentable fact — which, however, must
be chronicled — that his playfellows studied to excite his
fears, and played off some of their most farcical, sly, and
atrocious tricks on him. Will and Charles had too much
self-respect and sound moral principle to snub the boy ;
but Steve seemed to take a savage delight in snubbing
him and in turning him into ridicule. But, though many
a sportive trick was played on him, his confidence in man-
kind was still so great that he was very easily deceived,
it made no difference how often he was mocked. In this
confidence the others might well have copied after him.
On the other hand, his disposition was unamiable, and
under undue provocation he was a dangerous boy, who
could harbour revenge. Nevertheless, he hardly ever
ventured to interfere with the boys' schemes, but blindly
and humbly followed wherever, they might lead. Why
our heroes tolerated his company can be explained on
only two grounds : first, because they liked to play tricks
on him ; secondly, because this history requires such a
character. When not called Jim, this abused lad was
branded " Timor," which shows how notorious he was for
cowardice. But in process of time this classical gem
became corrupted by the ignoiant into " Tim."

These five were the school-fellows and associates of
Will, and generally the six might be found together. It

A BLUNDERING BOY.

was only natural that they should quarrel sometimes ;
but, for the most part, they were at peace with themselves
and all other boys. They were all full of mischievous-
ness, but taking everything into consideration, were as
free from sin as boys can be.

There is another youth that figures in this tale — Will's
cousin Henry. He is perhaps the most distinguished
hero. However, it is not yet time for him ; and as it is
dogmatically and impolitically observed a few pages back
that it is cowardly and wicked in a writer to anticipate,
he must not yet be introduced.

l-^ 1

Chapter V.
An Unpleasant Ride for Will.

One bright morning Will mounted a frisky little pony
which had been reared on the farm, and had always been
considered Will's own — not till Mr. Lawrence might see
fit to sell it, but for all time. The pony was young and
unaccustomed to a rider; but Will and his father thought
it would be prudent to ride it on the road.

In this belief, however, they were mistaken, for the
horse no sooner found himself on the open road than he
set forward on a wild gallop. At first this was very
pleasant, and Will enjoyed it heartily ; but when he at-
tempted to check the animal's speed a little, he became
aware that it was past his control.

"Whoa,CioIt! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!" Will screamed
beseechingly.

This only incited Go It to greater efforts, and he re-
doubled his speed ; while Will collected his wits, stopped,
shouting at the refractory animal, and exerted all his
strength and dexterity to maintain his equilibrium in the
saddle. The mettlesome horse was soon galloping at a
furious rate ; and the luckless rider seeing no one to whom
he could appeal for help, gave himself up as lost, and
endeavored to prepare for the worst.

IDLE DECLAMATION.

Very soon he drew near a company of little ragged
orphan boys, squatting in the imperfect shade of a rail
fence that boarded the road, gingerly sticking pins into
their ears and assiduously polishing their war-worn jack-
knives in the soil. These heroic little ones involuntarily
dropped their instruments of torture and diversion, and
beheld horseman and horse with ecstatic admiration and
delight. Then they collected themselves and cheered —
cheered so lustily that the horse snorted with fright,
wheeled to the }eft, and vaulted over the fence at a single
bound — a feat which called forth a roar of acclamation
from the delighted juveniles.

" Can't he jump ! " chuckled the sharpest one.

" Jump ? " echoed another. " Guess he can ; beats dT
circus horse all hollow ! "

" I wihh he'd jump again," sighed the smallest one.

" Ah," exclaims the punctilious penman of romances
which have lofty and sonorous titles, becoming solemnity,
inflated and funereal style, and blood-freezing adventures
— which, alas ! too often end in smoke, or at most, in a
marriage that any fool could have foreseen — '• Ah, how
can this paltry scribbler, this ' we,' discouri?e with this
shameless levity, when his hero is face to face with
death ! "

Instead of evading the penman's intended question, the
following significant and sapient comments are oti'ered for
his leisurely consideration :

It is sheer nonsense for a writer to work himself up
into a state of mad excitement about the "imminent
dangers " that continually dog the foot-steps of his perse-
cuted heroes. So long as the hero is of the surviving
kind, he will survive every " imminent danger," no matter
how thick and fast such dangers may crowd upon him.
No assassin was ever hired that could kill him for any
great length of time ; no vessel ever foundered that could
efi'ectively swallow him up ; no bullet was ever run that
could be prevailed on to extinguish the spark of his life.

After making such comments, for the reader's peace of
mind we deliberately affirm that ever man, woman, and
child figuring in this tale, is equally imperishable. Hav-

'■I'.t .

A BLUNDERING BOY.

1 '
' >

■1 (

ill

'^'

ing made this candid remark, ttie reader cannot impute
it to us if he spend a sleepless night while perusing this
tale.

But it would be wiser to drop idle declamation for the
present, and return to Will and his frisky pony.

When the horse so nimbly cleared the fence, Will's feet
were torn out of the stirrup, and he was thrown violently
off the animal's back. As he lay sprawling on the ground,
he looked as little like a hero as can be imagined. As
may be supposed, however, when he struggled to his feet
he was as sound as ever. On casting a glance around
him, he found himself in a field of ripe grain, through
which the riderless pony was rushing madly.
• Perhaps a good romancer, regardless of reason and
effect, would have made the boy " heroically " stick to his
horse through thick and thin. But a more careful
romancer, like a good physician, would have aa eye to
the boy's system and feelings, and not suffer him to be
tortured any longer.

Will carefully rubbed the dirt off his clothes with the
palm of his trembling right hand, while his eyes darted
tierce glances at the gaping and grinning juveniles out-
side of the fence, and despairing glances at his horse
within the field. This nice operation consumed three
minates, and might have consumed many more; but a man
who was at hand flew to the rescue.

A blustering old harvester, the man who worked the
field, saw the forlorn young cavalier standing dejectedly
by the fence, and the frolicsome pony plunging through
the ripe grain, and straightway fumed with awful indig-
nation. His first proceeding was to catch and stop the
pony, after which he turned his attention to Will. Will
advanced a step or so to meet the puffing farmer and the
quaking horse, and was about to mumble his thanks,
when the farmer snappishly cut him short, crying
hoarsely :

" You miserable scamp ! How dare you jump into my
fields like this ? See, will you, what damage your beast
has done ! "

"But, sir," said Will, " it is not my fault at all ; it is aa

WILL S AGE,

accident. The pony ran away with me, as you yourself

can see."

' Accident ? What have I to do with your accidents ?
Don't you know better than to ride runaway horses ?
Don't you "

"Course he tlon't; don't know beans;" yelled one of
the little gamins, euv-^ouraged by the farmer's bullying
words to speak his mind. Or perhaps he thought to win
favor with the farmer by reviling the hapless horseman.

" Course," chimed in the one who lost and found the
most jack-knives. " Course, what business did he want
to git on to a runaway horse for anyway ? "

"I wish I had a horse, too," whined the most "in-
genuous " one.

"Guess he aint — "

" Stop that!" thundered the farmer. " Stop that, and
get away from this!"

The little coves snatched up their jack-knives, but did
not stop to look for their pins, and darted off without a
word. They ran a few yards and then squatted in the
shade of another fence corner.

The incensed farmer, also, meekly followed by Will
leading the horse, moved farther up the border of the
field.

When they halted. Will a second time said it was all an
accident.

" Accident or not, I'll put the law on your track, I will
you awful sneak ! See here, how old are you ! "

" I shall be fifteen in September," said Will, with boyish
eagerness to appear as old as possible.

" I didn't ask how old you would be in the future, nor
how young you were in the past," snapped the furrow-
faced chuff.

Will always kept a careful account of his age, and
consequently was able to answer promptly : " My age,
then, is fourteen years, ben months, and seven days."

" Very good," said the farmer. " Well, I am only
calculating," he added slowly and coolly, " whether you
are old enough to be sent to jail."

Doubtless, the hard-hearted wretch expected to see

A BLUNDERING BOT.

■I

yi -

■i I

|i I

Will blanch at this implied threat. But, if so, he was
wofully disappointed, Will having his own motives for
maintaining his equanimity.

" You shall be punished, that is certain," continued the
farmer. " Come along, now ; don't stand there like a
stationary scarecrow ; come along."

Even as the violent old fellow spoke, he made a move-
ment to seize Will by the coat-collar. But this was more
than human nature could bear ; and with a nimbleness
that defied capture, Will sprang back, stood his ground
within nine feet of his persecutor, and began boldly :

" If you mean for me to leave this field, sir, I am quiU
willing to do it ; but it is not necessary for you to be so
rough with me. Because my horse jumped over the fence
and trampled the grain a little, you needn't treat me like
a convict. You yourself have trampled nearly as much
as my horse ; and the whole put together doesn't amount
to much."

" Stop there ! " cried the farmer. " I was obliged to
tramp the grain to catch your horse. I didn't wait for
you to do it," insultingly.

" Yes, sir," Will said humbly, " my head was bumped
pretty hard. My father will settle your account, but
if you would like to put me into prison, don't let my
youth interfere with that "

Meanwhile, Will was leading his pony towards a gate
in the fence, which he reached as he finished speaking.

The farmer, who followed close behind, said sharply,
" You are a pretty fellow to use such language as all this
to me ; and it is only a waste of breath for you to speak
at all. According to you, it was great bravery to jump
my fences and rush through my oats ; but the law will
think otherwise, and as certainly as I live, you shall be
clapped into prison, or else pay whatever sum I may
choose to fine you. I swear it."

" That is only what I can expect," Will said resignedly.

" Oh, you think I am not in earnest, perhaps, but you
will soon find that I mean exactly what I say. What's
your name ? " he asked, abruptly and uaeasily, ai^ if struck
with a Sudden suspicion.

" William Lawrence."

■

A LITTLE JOKE.

The questioner was literally stupified. A look of dis-
may overspread his grim visage, and he stared helplessly
at Will, as it' the boy had been metamorphosed into a
devouring monster.

For a full minute the jurist was mute, and when he did
speak, meekness had entirely taken the place of bravado.
" You'll excuse my little jest, won't you, Mr. Lawrence ?
It is a shabby trick to joke so seriously, I know ; but it
was only an idle joke, and doesn't signify anything. I
}V(ts some vexed' to see the horse racing through the grain,
hut only for an instant. How thankful we ought to be
that you escaped unhurt ! To be sure, it was rather
venturesome for me to rush forward and stop the furious
horse," he said, guilefully. " but that is nothing compared
with your gallantry in keeping your seat so heroically.
In fnct, Mr. Lawrence, I may say, without flattery, that
you are a real hero, and that this agilelittlepony of yours
is the most spirited that I ever saw. Indeed, he's worth
his weight in gold ! Why, he vaulted over this fence like
— like —like a bird ! "

In spite of himself, Will, nearly laughed at this labored
simile. But he was a strange boy, ami enjoyed the faculty
of suppressing his laughter till he pleased to discharge it.
Then he would laugh so uproariously that whoever
chanced to overhear him took him for a merry lunatic.

But there were other considerations why Will did not
laugh at the suppliant joker. In his turn he was as-
tonished, astonished at the reckless indifference with which
the man could lie. But he was not to be cajoled so easily ;
boy though he was, such oratory made no impression qn
him, and he continued unmoved, even when deferentially
addressed as " Mr. Lawrence."

Seeing that Will made no reply, the depraved wretch
pursued in the following strain : " I should like you not
to mention this joke of mine, for already I have the name
of being an incorrigible practical joker. Besides," sub-
tilely, " you would not like the boys to taunt you about
this runaway."

" Oh, I think I saw several boys looking at me as I
flew along," Will, replied carelessly, " and before this they
3

A BLUNDERING BOY

must know all about the runaway. Very likely the little
boys that moved up towards the village have spread the
news, and perhaps they have told the beginning of your
joke," artlessly. " At any rate, I must tell my father of
this capital joke, Mr. Jackson, for he likes nothing better
thon a good joke."

The farmer now began to suspect that Will was nearly
as shrewd as he himself; and seeing how useless it was
to pahn off his threats as a little joke, he abruptly took a
different course, and said, with marked and significant
emphasis, " See here, Mr. Lawrence, I do not wish to
frighten you ; but promise not to mention this, and I will
let' the matter drop."

Will believed that he, also, could use emphasis ~nd said,
with what he meant to be great significance : " l?ou have
not frightened me, Mr. Jackson, because I knew you as
soon as you came up to me. It isn't worth while for me
to promise anything, for there is my father climbing the |
fence up near the little boys, and they're speaking to him. *
This way, pa," the poor boy shouted, with exultant and
heartfelt thankfulness.

Mr. Jackson looked hopelessly in the direction pointed
out by Will, and muttered doggedly, " Baffled by a boy 1 1
He didn't believe in that kind of a joke, eh ! Yes, that's |
where I overshot the mark."

How it was that Mr. Lawrence so seasonably hove in
sight will be explained further on. The writer, in common
with all staunch romancers, bears a rooted and virulent
hatred to villains, and wishes to dismiss this one as soon I
as possible, though he (this villain) is to appear again in |
the next chapter.

Mr. Jackson blanched when Will gave his name, but!
now he grew black, and seemed to be overwhelmed with |
consternation. He felt too cowardly even to run away I

Mr. Lawrence soon joined them, and his first question]
was, " Will, are you hurt? "

" Only a very little, pa," said Will.

" How thankful I am for that ! " Mr, Lawrence exclaim- 1
ed fervently. "You must have had a narrow escape,
however."

THE PRACTICAL JOKER ILL AT EASE.

y the little
jpread the
ig of your
' father of
ling better

pvas nearly
less it was
ptly took a
significant
)t wish to
, and I will

8 and said,
" "Vou have
lew you as
lile for me
mbing the
ing to him.
ultant and

on pointed
by a boy I
Yes, that's

)ly hove in
in common
d virulent
:>ne as soon i
ar again in |

name, but
elmed withj

run awav
'st question

ce exclaim!
•ow escape,

" A very narrow escape," Mr. Jackson echoed tremu-
lously.

Mr. Lawrence, assured of his son's safety, now directed
his attention to the farmer. " Well, Mr. Jackson," he said
suddenly, " what seems to be the matter ? "

This blunt question so unsettled the practical joker's
mind that he faltered, and at last said, v'ith much emotion :
"Matter, Mr. Lawrence? — Why, it, it was — you see — I
mean, he came, — that is, the horse — the horse — the horse,
the horse, the horse, the horse "

Seeing that the embarassed man was likely to continue
repeating these two words till delirium set in, or till his
t< )ngue whizzed equal to the fly-wheel of a powerful steam-
engine, Will cut him short by saying, with pardonable
spite : " Pa, he's trying to tell you that he wants pay for
the damage that Oo It did."

To many pei*sons this might have been unintelligible,
but not so to Mr. Lawrence. Gathering a hint from the
little boys' gibberish, at a single glance he had taken in
xll that had happened, and knowing the violence of Jack-
son's temper, he could gue.ss at what had passed between
him and Will.

" Let us have a settlement, Mr. Jackson," he said.

The farmer seemed to have lost his wits ; he could not
carry it high, as he had done with Will. Mistaking the
tone in which Mr. Lawrence spoke, and impelled by a
guilty conscience, he dropped on his knees and said plead-
ingly, "Oh, don't turn us all out; don't turn us all out!
Don't sue me ; I'll — I'll pay all the rent ! "

Further comment is needless ; the reader will now
readily understand why Mr. Jackson's roughness gave
place to humbleness and wheedling when he heard Will's
name, and why he so dreaded an interview with Mr.
Lawrence.

The latter gentleman spoke kindly to the supplicant.
"Come, come, Jackson," he said, "don't behave like that.
In this free country you shouldn't play the spaniel to any
man. I promise that I will not bring an action yet ; I
will grant you one more chance. But come to the house
to-morrow, and we can talk over the matter at leisure.

A BLUNDERING BOY.

i f

l> I

Don't explain ; I see just what lias happened to my head-
long boy ; but so long as he is not hurt, I am satisfied. As
you hardly know him, I can, from your looks and his,
figure the scene you have had. Now, I don't like him to
be abused by — but no; nevermind that; it can be pocket-
ed. As for the actual damage done, I think you will
admit that ten dollars will settle your claims, and I am
going to pay it to you."

Mr. Jackson gathered himself up, looking crestfallen
and foolish, and was so penetrated with gratitude that he
refused the money, till forced to receive it. According to
Mr. Lawrence's notions the man would now be induced to
make strenuous exertions to pay all that he owed.

Father, son, and pony, now started for home. Having
made their way out of the gate into the road, Will foun '
the forlorn little gamins, hungering for even a glimpse
of the frolicsome leaper, still lingering in their second
position. Poor little fellows, they had not ventured even
to climb the fence. They knew Mr. Jaijkson — and Mr.
Jackson knew them. They cast reverent glances at Go It,
but they beheld Will as one might behold a traveller re-
turned in safety from a voyage to the planets.

" I'll bet he ketched it ! " muttered a light-legged
member of the group, with a chuckle that disclosed ho
spoke from bitter experience. " Won't the rest of 'eni
wish the}'' 'd seen this show ! "

The horse Mr. Lawrence had )"idden was tied near
these urchins. Both mounted him, and then, leading the
runaway and headstrong horse, the picturesque cavalcade
set off*.

" Pa," said Will, " I'm sorry this happened, and that you
had to pay out that money."

" No, Will ; say nothing about that. I blame myself
for letting you mount the half-broken nag; I should
have had more prudence. But tell me how it all w^as,
and just what Jackson said to you."

Will did so ; and in the recital he waxed so eloquent
that the rogue wf'Z set forth in his true colors, and ap-
peared so frightful a monster that Will himself shivered
with horror.

MORE DECLAMATION.

ny head-
fied. As
and his,
:e him to
J pocket-
you will
nd I am

estfallen
e that he
3rding to
iduced to

Having
ill foun '

glimpse
r second
ired even
-and Mr.
; at Go It,
seller re-

lit-legged
osed he
t of eni

;ied near
iding the
avalcade

that you

B myself
[ should
all was,

eloquent
and ap-
shivered

Mr. Lawrence groaned, but, with great presence of
mind, said instantly : " Don't shake so, Will, or you will
lose your balance. Oh, if I had known this sooner, I
should have dono differently ! But it is too late now to
punish the unprincipled wretch."

The reader, perhaps, is curious to know how it was that
Mr. Lawrence arrived so opportunely. When too late to
call him back, he saw that Will was utterly unable to
manage the pony. IS ot stopping to answer any questions,
he hastened to the stable, threw himself on the fastest
horse, and gave chase. Will, of course, was far in ad-
vance, but Mr. Lawrence easily ran him down, and found
him in Jackson's field, as related.

Mr. Jackson made his appearance at the time appoint-
ed ; and although he brought only a part of the rent due,
his deportment was so humble and respectful ; his pro-
mises were so fair and encouraging ; and hisapologies were
so ingenious, yet in reality so hollow and ridiculous, that
Mr. Lawrence's indignation was softened ; and the wretch
was heard and dismissed with a mock and stiff politeness
that galled him.

Mr. Lawrence was very forbearing with such of his
tenants as were hard pressed ; but this man's threats to
Will had provoked him extremely, and now, as he brood-
ed over his wrongs, he determined, as soon as the change
could be effected, to lease the farm to a more honorable
man.

When a romancer reaches the colophon of his book, he
is the most virtuous of men, the most impartial of judges,
parcelling out reward and judgment with superhuman
justice. Now, according to the laws of romance, Mr.
Jackson, in cutting that field of oats, ought to be thrown
from his reaping machine, and so cruelly mangled that
his most implacable foe would melt into tears of anguish.

But, alas ! it cannot be, as unkind fate compels us to
bring him once more before the reader.

n I

A BLUNDERING BOY.

Chapter VI.
Steve's Retaliation.

The news of this, Will's latest exploit, spread among
the village boys, and reached Steve's ears. This worthy
felt sorry for Will — so sorry that a bright idea struck
him.

" Here's a fine chance to show Will how much 1 think
of him ! " he mused radiantly. " Yes, I'll get a whole
gang of us boys together, and we'll swoop down on the
old villain, and we'll do it ! Oh ! what roaring fun it
will be ! I guess it'll teach the old loon to leave honest
boys alone ! "

Steve began to work with a will, and soon mustered a
squad of idle and saucy little wretches, who sported Guy
Fawkes' head-pieces, and were not overstocked with
either virtue or clothing. Nevertheless, their apparel had
at least one merit — it could be slipped on or stripped off
in a trice.

Moonlight would be too bright for his dark schemes,
and he waited impatiently for a starlight night. Three
days passed with unheard of slowness. Then Steve con-
voked a council of his satellites ; and after having en-
joined a promise of secrecy, he laid bare his plot in all its
details, and asked if they would stand by him.

" Guess we will ! " they chorused, mad with delight ;
and Steve needed no further assurance of their co-opera-
tion and fidelity.

About seven o'clock this worthy young avenger set
out, his " gang " at his heels, and one of the heroes who
had seen Will taken over Jackson's fence bringing up the
rear. This warlike company had no drums, but their
fast-beating hearts served instead ; and they marched in- \
trepidly onward, measuring three miles an hour. Some
were burdened with sundry stout cords, ropes and straps ;
others were sweating under armfuls of pine and cedar I
boughs, which Steve had gathered that afternoon ; one

rei

iil

AT THE SEAT OF WAR.

3ad among
lis worthy
Jea struck

eh 1 think
it a whole
ivn on tlie
ing fun it
Eive honest

[nustered a
)orted Guy
eked with
ipparel had |
stripped off

k schemes,
ht. Three
Steve con-
having en-
ot in all its

delight ;
r co-opera-

venger set
leroes whoi
ring up the

but their!
larched in-
jur. Some
md straps ; ;

and cedar]
:noon ; one

lank stripling was poising a couple of wooden levers on
his grimy palms ; Stephen himself was freighted with a
clumsy engine, which he fondly imagined was a piece of
wondrous mechanism — in fact, one of the six mechanical
powers.

Having left the village, they struck out for a pasturage
about a mile and a half to the right. Captain Stephen
directed his forces to march in single tile. In vain : they
were but raw levies, and in spite of all his discipline, would
persist in straggling or in huddling together. But in
I good time they drew up at the seat of war, with every
regiment intact, and eager to engage the enemy.

As the atrocities they practiced there are unworthy
of the most abandoned renegate, it would be more seem-
ly to lay aside martial idioms, — particularly, as we do
not wish to commit ourself, — and speak of them as Steve's
minions.

They peered warily — perhaps, quakingly — to the
{right and left, but not seeing any bugbears, human or
otherwise, they boldly and jauntily flung themselves over
[the fence of the pasture field.

Steve advanced a few steps, then halted, laid his bur-
Id en gently on the ground, and whistled a sigh of relief.
His followers threw down their burdens ; and, after hav-
ing ejected a great deal of spittle — purposely on their
jhands, accidently on the ground, — they raised a grating
rye-oh-heave er," that reminded the "mournful whip-
Ipoor-will " of a rooster's first crow. Now they were
jready to go to work.

In front of them was an old well ; disused, perfectly
Idry, and partly filled with rubbish. The top was covered
pvith two layers of bulky and heavy planks, so that the
'ell was safe. Notwithstanding the number of workers,
lit was no easy task to remove these planks ; but the
Lvenger and his " gang " griped their handspikes, and
[toiled, groaned, and pufted with a will.

What is toil to a boy when mischief is on foot ? In
lay there are no difficulties that a boy cannot surmount.
lIi ! if he would only do his duty as willingly and effi-
Mently as he builds a dam, how much happier he and
)thers would be ! .

'ii

A BLUNDERING BOY.

As soon as the planks were removed, the boughs were
dropped one by one, so evenly that they formed a soft
couch, only twenty feet from the mouth of the well.

Then Steve took up the engine he had constructed, and
set it up over the well. This engine was neither more
nor less than a thick and roundish bar of tough wood,
with each end playing in the apex of a rude and frail
scalene triangle. To impart strength and dignity to this
contrivance, the triangles were connected at their base by
a long and stout fork-handle ; but whether this fork-
handle served to keep the triangles apart or to hold them
together, Steve did not know. A triangle was placed on
each side of the well's mouth, over which the bar and
fork-handle directly passed. Steve pinned his triangles
fast to the ground, but finding them still unsteady, he
had them propped with the planks. Then he announced
that it was ready for use. The bar revolved, it is true ;
but somewhat reluctantly, and, alas ! it wabbled !

We have said that Steve considered his contrivance
one of the six mechanical powers. Let us examine it
further and see if he was right. It might have been in-
tended for the wheel and axle ; but, if so, it lacked the
wheel. Or perhaps it was the pulley, with an extremely
elongated wheelless axle, the triangles taking the place of
the block.

" Now, boys," said the deviser of this novel engine, "see
what comes from knowing science ! I learnt how to make
this from George's Philosophy. It tells you all about
powerful mechanics — no, mechanics powerful — no, — well,
I guess it's all one in meaning. Now let us go to work."

With a Zulu holloa they rushed towards a couple of
donkeys that were grazing peaceably in the inclosure.

It will not require a particularly long-headed reader
to guess that these boys were trespassing on Mr. Jack-
son's domains, or that the avenger sought to retaliate on
him by means of the innocent donkeys.

Steve endeavored ^o ward off the stings of conscience
by telling himself that he was avenging Will ; while in
reality he was indulging his love of fun and mischief.
His warty and freckle-faced followers were actuated by
the same motive.

THE CAPTURE.

They surrounded the donkey nearest them, resolved to
take it prisoner. After a violent conflict and four or five
barked and bruised shins, — for the beast was agile, as
well as headstrong, and resented this nocturnal abduc-
tion, — the seizure was effected, and Stephen adroitly
slipped on a halter. While some tugged at this halter,
others pushed warily and perhaps bootlessly ; still others
noisily threatened ; one entreated ; but, in compliance
with their leader's instructions, none belabored. The
school-boy avenger did not wish the poor animal to suffer
'• more than was necessary ! "

In a short time the donkey was brought close to the
abandoned well. Then the cords, straps, and ropes were
picked up, and so securely bound on the poor animal that
it was utterly helpless, and at the mercy of Steve's youth-
ful desperadoes. This was a hazardous attempt, consid-
ering all things ; but again, what does a properly
organized boy care for danger, when bent on mischief ?

Stephen, weltering in sweat and already smarting from
blisters and bruises, then called a halt and addressed his
" accomplices " in the following approved strain : " Well,
boys, we've nearly done it ! Oh ! won't Mr. Jackson be
mad when he finds his donkey in the well ! Won't he
dance and holler ! I know it's a scurvy trick ; but then
he is so scurvy a man, it serves him just right. I guess
he won't know what to say to himself when he sees the
ass here ! At any rate, it will take him all the forenoon
to get him out ! "

Gentle reader, please to observe how rich that harangue
is in notes of exclamation, and ask yourself if they were
not invented as a safety-valve for the emotions of over-
joyed schoolboys and bloody-minded or weak-headed
romancers.

While speaking, Steve had run his hands into the
pockets of his most serviceable garment. He now drew
his hands out of those pockets and took up a strong rope,
one end of which he made fast to the donkey, and the
other end he passed over the bar of his engine. Then,
the rest helping him, the donkey was slowly and care-
fully lowered into the well. Poor beast, how foully it
was degraded !

A BLUNDERING BOY.

Then those wicked boys laughed — laughed till the tears
came.

All but Steve. He could not laugh. The core of an
apple that he had eaten seven years before rose in his
throat and choked him — him ! the most uproarious and
unconscionable laugher in the village !

But the truth is, Stephen was beginning to relent.
Now that the deed was actually done, he saw his trick in
a different light and conjured up all sorts of horrors.
What if a frightful thunderstorm should come on during
the night, and the donkey should be struck by light-
ning ? What if the sides of the well should cave in and
fossilize it ? Or, what if Jackson should discover the
guilty ones and transport him, as " ringleader," to Botany
Bay?

These and many other disquieting thoughts rose in the
boy's mind. He bitterly repented of his folly, and no
longer considered himself a hero. He pitied the don-
key with all his heart ; and if he had not shrunk from
provoking the derision of his uncivil and hardhearted
minions, he would have drawn it out of the well and
turned it loose.

Thus we get an insight into Stephen's nature. His
love of fun often ran away with his better judgment;
but as soon as the mischief was done, he suffered, more
than any one believed, from the agony of remorse.

But he roused himself and said, " Now, who will slide
down on the rope and set the donkey free ? Of course
we mus'n't go away and leave the poor beast tied fast ;
for it might get sick and die if it couldn't move. You
agreed to do it, Pat Murphy."

" I reckon we want our ropes and things back again,
anyway," growled a practical strap owner.

" Certainly," Stephen assented, with a faint smile.
" Well, Pat ? "

" Shure an' I'm willin' to stick to my bargain ; only
make haste, for mebby the old feller '11 be after prowlin'
around to look to his beasts."

This was enough to disquiet every member of the
"gang." One excitable boy, a famous seer of ghosts,

A PANIC.

instantly beheld a myriad of Jacksons, hobgoblins, and
banshees, hovering dangerously near. In his terror he
uttered a cry of deprecation — which so dismayed little
Pat, who was then in the act of descending, that he lost
his hold on the rope and had a fall of several feet. But
the soft boughs and the ass so broke his fall that he re-
ceived no hurt.

Honest Pat's mind must have been disturbed by a
presentiment; for, just at this conjuncture, Mr. Jackson,
who was taking a by-path to the village, entered the
field from another direction. Being still at a distance, he
could not make out the boys clearly, but he could hear
their voices. Now, this Mr. Jackson was not famed for
liis discretion ; and instead of creeping upon them
slyly, he hallooed at them from the place where he stood.

Then, for the first time, the boys caught sight of him,
and a panic, which soon became a stampede, ensued.
Setting up a dismal shriek of consternation, the whole
" gang " dashed to the fence, squeezed through it, and in-
j^doriously fled.

Little Pat heard the hurly-burly, and, clutching the
rope, attempted to scramble out of his narrow quarters.
But, alas ! no one was holding the upper end of this rope,
and it had not been made fast ; consequenth/, it rattled down
into the well, leaving Pat a prisoner. Poor little Pat ! Be-
lieving he was deserted, he gave way to despair, yelled
like a fish peddler, and frisked about like an untutored
(lancer, now on the boughs, now on the donkey, beating
time to his piteous yet horrible screams for mercy. This
loosened the strap round the donkey's snout ; and an
horrisonous bray of righteous indignation smote upon the
night air, lending variety to a scene already sufficiently
ludicrous. But one bray was not enough to relieve the
donkey's pent-up emotion, and between its bellowing
j^roans Pat might be heard vociferating shrilly, "Tain't
inie 1 I ain't done nothin' ! I never did ! It's him ! It's
ISteve! It's Ste-e-e-ve ! "

A swarm of outraged hornets could not have hastened
[the flight of Steve's redoubtable desperadoes more than
[the united exertions of Pat and the donkey. They flew

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towards the village as if hounded by demons, and were
speedily out of sight and earshot.

But where was Stephen ! On the impulse of the mo-
ment he also took to his heels ; but when he reached the
fence his native courage and honor returned. He stopped,
sighed profoundly, and nervously broke a splinter off
a loose rail. He did not know whether this splinter
would be of any service to him, but he mechanically car-
ried it in his hand as he slunk back to the well. There
he sank down in a heap, and awaited Mr. Jackson's coming
with much perturbation. However, he retained sufficient
presence of mind to pluck a tawdry feather out of his
hat band.and then set the hat fairly on his head. Wretched
trickster ! he did not consider how dusk it was, or that
Mr. Jackson would probably be more concerned about the
donkey than about a rattle-pated schoolboy's headgear.

Now, if ever, he should have indulged in laughter, for
the scene was risible in the extreme. Ah ! if he had
been an innocent bystander, he would have overnoised
even Pat and the donke^'. Alas! he felt his guilt, and
was more inclined to cry than to laugh.

" Oh," he groaned, " why did I mix myself with such a
pack of nasty little cowards ? I knew all the time that
I had no business to meddle with that ass. Ass ? — why,
I've made an ass of myself ! Where will it all end, and
what will Mr. Jackson say to me or do with me ? —
Well," with a sigh of relief, " there's one good thing :
the ass will be let loose again ! "

Stephen's gloomy surmises were cut short by Jackson
himself. " What does all this mean, you scoundrel ? " he
roared. " What are you doing here ? Where are those
boys ? have they all gone and left you ? "

At that instant another hideous bray, followed by a
moan of mortal terror, reverberated in the well, and the
new-comer turned and looked in. A boisterous laugh
burst from his lips when he discerned the occupants of
the well. " Oh ! this is rich ! " he exclaimed, so jubilant-
ly that Stephen was stupified with amazement.

Encouraged by Mr. Jackson's merriment, timorous Pat
began with redoubled energy. " It's him ! I hain't done

DEMORALIZKD STEPHEN.

nothin' ; so don't tetch me, Mr, Jackson, for I ain't had
nothin' to do with it. Lemme go, 'please ! "

Turning to Stephen, Jackson again demanded an ex-
planation. Stephen did not give a " succinct account of
the whole proceeding"; but Jackson fathered from his
faltering confession tiiat a trick lay at the bottom of the
afi'air.

"Yes, I understand it all," Jackson replied; "but I
don't see your motive. Well, little boy, I might put you
to considerable inconvenience ; but it's so capital a joke
— so deep, so surprising, so silly — that I will let you off.
The grudge I owe Lawrence is paid now ; paid in full."

This last expression was probably not intended for
Steve's ears ; but he overheard it, and asked, with a start,
" What about Mr. Lawrence, sir ?"

" 'Lawrence,' eh ? Nothing about him ; except that he
must settle with you. That's one reason why I'm letting
you off. Yes, just take your bill and your story to him ;
for its his place to deal with you."

" I — I don't know what you mean," Steve made answer,
becoming more and more perplexed.

" I see that we don't understand each other very well.
/ don't know why you put his donkey into this well ;
and you don't know — well, what ? You seem puzzled
about something ; but when I refer the matter to Mr.
Lawrence, I think you'll Und that he will understand it
well enoagh to ^nd for a magistrate. Then come a law-
suit and all sorts of good things."

When a youthful offender or an ignorant person was
the object of his resentment, this man loved to enlarge
on the terrors of the law ; but when he himself was the
culprit, he shrank from the bare mention of the word.

" His donkey, did you say ? " Steve .said, utterly con-
founded. "Oh ! please to tell me what you mean 1 "

" I mean what I'm talking about. You know, of course,
the donkey in that well belongs to Mr. Lawrence ; you
know, of course, he pastures both donkeys in this field,
which is leased to me. He will show you that you can't
make a plaything of his donkeys, and to-morrow you
will be wanted. If this maltreated beast belonged to me,
I would have ample satisfaction ! " savagely.

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

" I see your mates have left you," he continued.
" Well, I hope you will enjoy yourself here with the
donkeys. I should like to stop and see the sport ; but I
can't, I must go on. You had better haul the donkey
out — if you can. Of course, I've no time to help you ;
and it's no concern of mine, anyway ; so, good night !
Hurrah ! your rope is out of your reach ! Th' is an
interesting case indeed ! Well, you and your little friend
there can amuse yourselves by endeavoring to adjust
matters. You won't be entirely alone ; for the quadru-
peds grazing in this field will occasionally come and gape
at you. The moon will soon be up ; appeal to it ! "

Then, with a mocking bow, he turned on his heel and
made ofi*, leaving Stephen alone with his troubles.

And this was the retaliation which Steve had planned
so craftily ! How wretchedly his scheme had failed !
Instead of imprisoning Jackson's donkey, he had im-
prisoned that of his friend Mr. Lawrence. Truly, here
was a case that called for many interjections — for more,
in fact, than hapless Steve could muster.

And he had been detected in the very act. What
would be the consequences ? Would those* dark threats
of Jackson's be put into execution ? What penalties
might the law inflict on him ? What did the Law say
about feloniously dumping another man's donkey into a
disused well, anyway ? Alas ! Steve did not know.

But, oh ! comforting thought ! Jackson plainly did not
suspect anybody of playing a trick on him. And it was
well for Stephen that it was so, as a suspicion of the truth
would have stirred up the waspish old blusterer's fury.

" O dear ! " groaned Steve, " I wish I was at home !
I wish I hadn't done it ! I wish — dear ! Well, I will
never have anything more to do with those mean sneaks.
Why couldn't they have stuck by me ? Now they '11 go
and spread it all over, and what will people think of me ?
What will become of me ? Well, I shall be laughed at
for a month, that's very certain."

This doleful soliloquy manifests that Stephen was but
a boy, and that he was but human. A man's great care
is (or should be) to guard his reputation ; a Iwoy's great

WHAT PAT "ALAYS KNOWED.'

care is to keep from becoming a laughing-stock. This is
a bug-bear which haunts him (the boy) from the day
when masculine apparel is first girded on him, and which
prompts him to do many things that, to his elders, are
foolish and incomprehensible. It is for this reason that
a well-organized boy, however learned he may be, prefers
to use simple words of Anglo-Saxon origin, when he
knows he could make his meaning clearer by using Latin
polysyllables.

But Steve's disquieting speculations were interrupted
by Pat, who whispered warily, " Is he gone ? "

Now, Steve did not know that this is a polite expres-
sion, and he answered snappishly, " Yes, he has gone."

This was good news to little Pat. Forgetting that he
had just been accusing Stephen to Mr. Jackson, he began
beseechingly : " Lemme out, Steve ! Lemme out, that s a
good boy. I al'ays knowed you was a good boy, Steve,
didn't I ? Lemme out now, and I'll do anythin' fur you."

This reminded Stephen of the labor that lay before
him. How was he to get hold of the rope ? The one
could not climb up the sides of the well ; the other could
not climb down ; all the cords were bound on the ass.

However, Stephen searched his pockets carefully, and
lighted on a new and strong fish- line, with a fish-hook
affixed. The fish-line was not long enough to reach down
to Pat ; but by noosing the end to one oi the handspikes
that difficulty was removed. There was now direct com-
munication between the two boys. Pat was rather
fidgety when he saw the fish-hook dangling under his
nose, but he caught it fast to the rope, which Stephen
carefully and fearfully drew up.

If that fish line had parted, those boys and the writer
would have been placed in a sorry plight.

The rope was no sooner made fast than Pat scrambled
up it, caught up his shabby coat, and exercised his limbs
of locomotion so nimbly that he was nearly out of sight
before Steve could recover from his amazement. This
was a whimsical way of manifesting gratitude !

" How he scampers ! " Steve muttered. " What a pack
of little wretches, and what a mean man Jackson is ! I

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wanted to slide down into the well myself ; and those
boys know I aj^n-ccd to let Pat do it on purpose to please
him. Well, I've done wiiyli rnj^annitfins ! — I say," he bel-
lowed to the nindile runaway, " you needn't run so fast ;
/ don't wan't you ; you're no ^ood, anyway."

Pat knew that Stephen longed for his help ; he knew
that a boy, when left in the lureh, speaks somewhat as
Steph(!n had spoken, and yet Pat hurried on.

Poor Pat ! he was not aware that his unique and valued
button ring, the fruit of several hours' toil with boiling
water, a broken-bladed knife, and a spoilt file, had been
fractured in the well. Unconscious of his loss, he clapped
his hands over his mouth, and bleated playfully and
hideously.

Stephen now racked his brains to hit upon some
feasible plan of takintj^ the donkey out of the well. Sud-
denly a happy thought sti iick him. His eyes sparkled
with joy. "My stars!" he exclaimed, "I seethe very
way to do it ! I can manage it after all."

Then he mused on Jackson's beliavior, and another
thought occurred to him. " I suppose he believed I
couldn't get either of 'em out of the well. Yes, of course
he did ; and he thought I should have to go to the vil-
lage for help. And then I wonder if he'd have set the
magistrate and folks after me ! Ten to one. Well, I can
beat 'em all, and keep out of trouble, too."

Yes, that was the point. If he had been necessitated
to seek help, he would have been taught a wholesome
lesson ; but when his own precocity suggested a way out
of the difficulty, he was only hardened in his mischievous-
ness, and he admired his great cleverness.

Without further deliberation the deserted and frus-
trated avenger slid down the rope, took the halter and a
few straps oii* the donkey, coiled them around his own
neck, and then clambered up.

This was a foolhardy thing for him to do ; for if the
fastenings of the rope had given way, he and the donkey
world have been left to their own resources. But the
generality of boys delight in doing such things. With a
careless " I'll risk it," they rush headlong into danger, day
after day.

STEPHEN AND THE

DONKEYS.

Then Steve set about caiTying his plans into effect.
He sidled up to the other donkey and chased it over the
pnsturage till the moon rose. This was weary work for
iiiii), but ut length he caught the donkey, slipped the
lialtor over its head, and led — or rather coaxed — it up to
the well.

" Well, old fellow," he said, addressing his first captive,
" I didn't make any preparations to haul you out, but so
much the better. Now, keep your mouth shut, and don't
Ui afraid, and you'll be kicking around this field before
no time. Now, heave away, boys ! Ho ! Heave 'er ! "

He then pitched on the two lightest planks, exerted all
his remaining strength, and placed them so as to form a
Hoor or platform, extending from the transverse bars of
liis engine to the curb of the well. Thus half the well's
mouth was covered.

Next, the donkey last caught was hitched to the rope,
and by dint of entreaty, induced to draw its yoke-fellow
out of the gloomy prison.

" Saved ! " cried Stephen, in tragic accents, as he turned
both donkeys loose. " Saved ! And I have saved you ! "

And then he fell to turning summersets, chuckling, and
disporting himself like a noodle. " Oh ! this is fun ! "
he said.

A heavy fall brought the boy to his senses ; and with-
out more ado he gathered up his belongings and began to
whistle " Yankee Doodle," as only a boy whose conscience
is ti-anquillized can whistle it.

The would-be avenger had expended so much of his
strength that he was not in a condition to attempt to
"place the rest of the planks, or to carry home his beloved
pulh'y.

" Mr. Jackson may arrange those planks himself," he
uiu ered. " As for the pulley — well," with a last fond
backward glance, " I suppose he'll knock it up into
kindling-wood."

It was latr when Stephen reached home that night.
Notwithstanding his proneness to be mischievous and to
play monkey tricks, he was free from deceit and he was
not deficient in moral courage. As soon as he and his

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mother were alone, he made a clean breast of it, then
walked off to bed, with tears in his eyes, but loving his
mother better than ever.

Although Mr. Jackson, while returning through the
field that night, should have precipitated himself into the
half-open well, there to perish miserably, yet he did not.
The writer does not thirst for the blood of his villains ;
but — lest he should be accounted utterly devoid of common
sense — the following statement is offered, by way of
consolation, for the punctilious reader's perusal: —

Whilst replacing the planks, v/bich were permeated
with humidity, he contracted a catarrhal cold, which did
not yield to the apothecary's patent medicines till the
next spring.

When Mr. Lawrence heard the particulars of Stephen's
prank, and the " motive," he laughed heartily.

Of course the peace-oflScers did not gain or lose by the
affair ; and Steve observed oracularly, " I knew he was
only fooling. He didn't scare me a bit !"

It is not necessary to waste time in tracing Jackson's
career further — in fact, as he never annoyed our heroes
again, he may as well be formally thrown overboard now.

It was hoped that this experience would have a whole-
some and lasting effect on Stephen. Alas, no ! Stephen
Goodfellow was one of the many irrepressible incorrigibles
that flourish in this country.

Chapter VII.
The Young Moralist— A Clever Scheme.

As the school was now closed foi " summer holidays,"
the boys were free to do whatever they pleased.

One bright forenoon the heroic six, full of merry jokes,
set out on a stroll to the woods. Charles and Will led
the way, and why they made for the woods will be seen
further on.

" Now, boys," said Charley, " wouldn't it be fun if we
should have a real adventure today ? something ro-
mantic ; something worth while — eh, Marmaduke ? '

CHARLEY WILL PLAY A TRICK.

Marmaduke's eyes flashed like a persecuted hero's
whose case appears hopeless. However, he did nothing
desperate, he simply said, " Boys, some day or another we
shall light on something romantic — something awful !
I've always felt it. " Then we will pry into the mystery
until we unravel it."

Will, Charles, and Stephen, furtively exchanged glances.
If their designs should succeed, Marmaduke would have
a mystery to pry into sooner than he bargained for.

Just as they entered the woods they heard voices ; and
on looking about they caught sight of three little boys
sitting astride of a decayed log. One seemed to have a
paper of rasins, from which he was helping himself and
the other two.

" Hush ! " Charley whispered. " They haven't seen us
yet ; so hide behind the bushes, and I'll play a pretty trick
on them."

Without the least hesitation, without looking to see
whether they were sitting on grass or thorns, they crouch-
ed down. Charley " knew himself," and the boys obeyed
him promptly.

Seeing that they were all concealed, he advanced boldly
towards the three small boys.

" Hollo, Tim ! " he exclaimed. " What have you got
there ? "

" Raisins," Tim answered laconically.

" Where did you get them 1 " was the next question.

" Maw sent me fur 'em."

" Oh, I thought so. Now I can go to work," Charley
muttered, in a theatrical '* aside."

" What do you want of me, and what are you a-saying
to yourself ? " demanded Tim, becoming questioner in his
turn.

" I'll give you a whistle for one of them, Tim," Charley
said, so eagerly that the boys in hiding wondered. Why
should such a boy as Charley wish to purchase a single
raisin ? Was this a mystery ? It seemf i so mysterious
that they pricked up their ears, and impatiently waited
for further developments.

Tim's thoughts are unknown. He replied indifferently,

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" Well, if your whistle's a good one, I guess I don't mind ;
but I've give these here boys so many raisins thatMaw'll
think that there new store-keeper cheats worse 'n the old
ones. Let's see yer whistle, anyway."

Charles turned his back to Tim, and searched his
pockets for the whistle, a scrap of paper, and a forlorn
lead pencil that had once done duty as the bullet of a
popgun. Having found these articles, he scrawled a few
words on the scrap of }")aper.

" Can't you find the whistle ? " Tim inquired unsus-
pectingly.

" I'm coming," was the answer.

Then the gaping ambushed five saw him slip the bat-
tered pencil into his pocket, take the paper in one hand
and the whistle in the other, and step briskly up to Tim.

Tim reached out the bag, and Charley ran his hand
which secreted the paper far into it. Then he drew out
his hand — empty.

" No, Tim," he said, " I think you have given away
enough already. But here's the whistle, all the same.
Now, run home, like a good boy.

Young Tim tried his whistle somewhat doubtfully, for
he was at a loss to know why it should be given to him
for nothing. Big boys did not make a practice of throw-
ing away good whistles on him, unless they looked for
some return. Generosity so lavish astounded him.

But the first toot assured him of the soundness of the
gift ; a smile of pleasure flitted over his grimy face ; and
he exclaimed joyously, " Man ! It's bully, ain't it .? "

" Oh, it's a good one," Chf^rley averred.

" I — I was afraid p'r'aps it was busted," Tim acknow-
ledged.

"Then young Tim rose to his feet and wended his way
homeward, piping melodiously on his whistle, unconscious
of the bomb-shell hidden in the bag ; while hard behind
him, licking their daubed lips as they went, trotted the
two parasitical boys who had been junketing on his
mother's raisins.

Charley, grinning and chuckling, hurried back to his
comrades.

Charley's "moral trick."

" I hope I've taught that thieving little sneak-thief a
lesson he will remember," he said, with a smile intended
to be exceedingly moral.

" Why, what did you do ? What on earth's the matter ?
Tell us all about it," cried a chorus of voices ; " we could
see something was up, but we didn't know what."

" Well, boys," Charles began, " I have often caught that
rascal feeding little boys, and big ones, too, from parcels
of raisins, sugar, and other things ; and I thought I would
make him smart for it some day. So to-day, when I saw
him at it again, I thought of writing something on a scrap
of paper, and getting a chance to slip it into his bag.
You saw me do that, perhaps. What I wrote was, ' O,
mother ! please to forgive me ! I stole your raisins and
things, hut I won't do it no more.' When his mother
empties out the raisins, she will find that, and it will be
enough for her. Then she'll put two and two together,
and then, most likely, she'll put Tim and his skate-straps
together. That is all, boys."

" Good for you, Buffoon ! " exclaimed Stephen, to whom
this knavish trick was highly amusing. " Mr. Tim will
' pay dear for his whistle ' this time — unless your confes-
sion should slip out of the basr ! "

" No, I put it down nearly to the bottom," Charley re-
plied. " He won't be likely to open his bag again, either,
for he has eaten and given away about half of the raisins."

" I say, boys," said Stephen, " isn'l that what they call
philanthropy ?"

" What ? " Charles asked eagerly.

" Teaching a boy that it's wicked to steal."

" No ; it's the vice of perfidy ! " George replied, so
promptly that a keen observer would have said, " This
boy is impelled by envy ; he wishes he had been guilty of
the same vice."

But George was in the right ; Charley's trick was in-
humanly treacherous.

" Did you intend to take one of his raisins ? " Jim
faltered, a wolfish look in his eyes.

Charles' lips curled with disdain ; ]\is nostrils dilated ;
virtuous indignation strove for uttoiauce. But he knew

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that he could not look so injured that the boy would hang
his head in shame ; so he resolved to annihilate him by a
single word. To gain time to hit on an expression suffici-
ently awful, he demanded threateningly :

" What do you mean, Sir ? "

Jim's nerves were always weak, and this jeering ques-
tion so unstrung them that he spoke the first words that
occurred to him. (By the way, the phrase was a favorite
one of his, one that he used on all occasions ; and according
to the tone in which he said it, it implied either doubt,
indifference, petulance, fear, or profanity ! ")

" I don't know, I'm sure," is what he said.

" You hadn't better ! " Stephen thundered with lower-
ingbrow.

The reason why Steve espoused Charley's cause so
readily was because the boys still teased him about the
donkey ; and he rejoiced to f nd that another — that other
his schoolfellow Charles — could be guilty of the mis-
demeanor of playing tricks. Truly, the abusive adage,
" Misery loves company," is right.

" It is bad enough for the store-keeper to handle the
poor woman's raisins ; and Charley's fingers don't look so
clean as a store-keeper's, even ; " George observed taunt-
ingly.

" I guess Charley's fingers are cleaner than Tim's "
retorted Stephen, always eager to play the part of cham-
pion to some aggrieved wight, especially so now.

But Charles perceived that his joke was not appreciated
as it should have been ; and he turned beseechingly to
Will, his firm upholder in all things. " Will," he said,
" what do you think about it ? Did I do wrong ?"

Thus appealed to. Will made answer : " Capital joke,
Charley ; but you have begun your career as a reformer
rather early in life."

This did not satisfy Charley, and he took to his last
expedient.

When a renowned general becomes entangled in a
snare which he himself has spread; when he is caricatured
and lampooned in all the newspapers, and without a friend
in all the world, he makes an impassioned and well-

ON HIS DEFENCE.

|)unctuated declamation in his defence, in which he sums
up the difficulties that lay in his way so eloquently ; sets
forth the rightfulness of his cause so manfully ; repre-
sents the disinterestedness of his actions so carefully ;
discourses on the purity of his designs so volubly ; har-
rows up the feelings of the audience, and the disguised
editors so subtly ; exposes the fallacies under which his
defamers labor so jocosely ; and reiterates his asservations
so persistingly, that all except the most malevolent and
perverse are brought to coincide with his views.

Charles was now " on his defence."

" ' The end justifies the means,' you know. Now, — "

" That's what the Jesuits profess, and they are — "
George interrupted. But, not knowing exactly what the
Jesuits are, he stopped short, and Charley went on with-
out further interruption.

" Now, that Tim was a rascal, but this will reclaim him.
He has been cheating his mother on a small scale for
more than a year. She has sent him to all the different
stores for her groceries, but with the same results. He is
the only one she has to send, and he has a chance to steal
at his leisure. Now, if I had informed her that her son
does the cheating, what would have become of me ? Ten
to one, she would have called me a sneaking talebearer,
and told me to march oft' home and get my father to be-
labor me. As it is, Tim will probably get the drubbing.
There now, wasn't my ' confession ' plan just the thing ?
Of course it was. You boys must be blind, or crazy, or

silly."

No oratory here, gentle reader. But the speaker was
only a boy ; if he had been older and more experienced,
he would not have omitted to remark, incidentally, that
he had acted " on the impulse of the moment."

However, his reasoning, especially the latter part of it,
was conclusive. " Quite right :" said all the boys. Then,
as time is very precious to a schoolboy during the holi-
days, Stephen added, " Now let us go on ; we've fooled
away too much time domg nothing."

Will and Charles taking the lead, the explorers advanced
deeper into the woods ; and taking an obscure pathway,

A BLUNDERING BOY.

soon found themselves in a quarter scarcely known to
some of the boys. Heaps of brush-wood blocked up the
way, making their progress very slow. But this only
exhilarated their adventurous spirit ; and they tore
through the brush with smiling contempt for sundry
bruises and scratches.

All except George, whose mind was still exercised
about Charley's " vice," and who took no interest in
squeezing through underwood, and stumbling over heaps
of loose and rough brush-wood.

" Look here, boys," he said, " why should we overstrain
our limbs and muscles here, when a little way to the
north there is a capital spot to rest ? We can learn noth-
ing here, and by floundering about like top-heavy
goblins we shall improve neither our minds, nor our
morals, nor our garments. At any rate, / am going back ;
/ am not going to make an Amazon of myself."

Sooner or later, the most inattentive of readers will be
struck with admiration at the artifice which Charles dis-
plays in working on the feelings of his comrades.

In this instance, though George had actually turned
back, he paused irresolute on hearing Charles exclaim
sarcastically, " George, I'm afraid you will never become
an explorer. Why, if you only knew it, we are penetrat-
ing a jungle now ! Think of that ! TTe in a jungle ! "

Though coaxing would not have influenced the sage, this
happy expression did. He cast a sweeping glance in
search of Charley's "jungle," and then went on with the
others.

Charles was satisfied, for he knew that however much
the boy might grumble, he would not turn back again.

A certain word George had spoken, excited Steve's
curiosity. False pride never restrained Stephen from
asking for information, and he said eagerly, "George,
what's a namazon ?"

George's smiling face discovered that the right cord had
been struck at last, and, always willing to enlighten the
ignorant, he answered benignly, "Steve, an Amazon is a
West African woman warrior, who fights instead of men.
And she fights with a vengeance — harder than a sea-

" what's a namazon ?

serpent that I read about the other day. Why, she wears
a sword called a razor, and it's so strong and heavy that
she can chop off an elephant's head at one blow with it ! —
At least" truth obliged him to add, " I guess she could, if
she chose. And she will scale a rampart of briers and
thorns, — no, hraynbles the book said, — of brambles, all in
her bare feet, and come back all covered with blood and
chunks of bramble, but with her arms full of skulls ! "

Steve's look of horror only encouraged George to make
greater exertions. But he was forced to pause for want
of breath, and his hearer inquired in alarm, "Where do
they get tho skulls ? Do they kill folks for them ?"

Now, it was very inconsiderate, very disrespectful,
very wrong in Stephen to put such a question. George
was wholly unprepared for it ; and it rather befogged his
loquacity. After a doubtful pause, he began blundering-
ly : " Why, as I told you, they scale a rampart of bri —
brambles, — sixty feet high, sometimes — and come off with
those skulls. I — I believe they are put there beforehand ;
and the feat is to pounce on them. — I mean, the feat is to
scramble over the brambles barefooted. It is a valiant
achievement ! "

Then a bright idea occurred to him, and he continued
impetuously, " Why, Steve, you must be crazy, crazy as an
organ-grinder ! You don't know what a skull is ; you
don't know a skull from a dead-head. Why, I'm aston-
ished at you ! "

" Oh, of course. I see what you mean now ; yes, of
course they do ; " Stephen assented with alacrity.

" I might lend you my book about all these things,"
George graciously observed.

" Oh, thank you ! " said .Stephen, with sparkling eyes.

Meanwhile, the heroes had been pressing deeper and
deeper into the "jungle," and would soon be at their jour-
ney's end. But at this critical juncture the sage's evil
genius again preyed upon his spirits, and he muttered with
nlial concern : " A boy's first duty ought to be to take care
of his clothes, and — "

" But it never is ! " Steve broke in.

" — and here we are destroying ours ! " the sage con-
tinued, disregarding Steve's impertinent interruption.

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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"I5«ver mind the 'garments,' George," Charles replied.
" Your old coat looks as if it might survive the frolics of
a hurricane ; so, 'banish care and grim despair,' as the sec-
ond page of our new copy-book says."

This was indiscreet in Charles. The aggrieved George
was but a boy, and, naturally, he was angered. " Look
here," he exclaimed, " what is your object in dragging us
through this dismal place ? Where are we going ? If you
should lead the way to a python's lair, should I be bound
to tag blindly after you ?" ,

This reasoning was forcible, ard for a schoolboy, poetic-
al. Will — knowing that their scheme would be discon-
certed if George should turn back, and fearing that he
would — bounded forward a little way, and then flung
himself plump into a certain pile of brush.

" Oh! " he screamed. " Come here ! Boys, hurry! Some-
thing rattles all around under me !"

The others quickly urged their way towards him, some
in real, some in pretended alarm.

George now proved himself a hero. The vigour of his
intellect overawed the others, and they made way for him
respectfully. At length, he was about to derive some ad-
vantage from the ponderous tomes whose pages his grimy
thumbs had soiled so often.

"Yes," he said, "I know just what yoa heard. Don't
be excited. Will ; keep very cool. It's a rattlesnake !
The great naturalist says they skulk around brush-heaps
and tangled bushes, ready to pounce on their prey. I
know, for I've read all about it; and luckily, I am pre-
pared for the worst. Now, where are you bitten, and I'll
cauterize it."

And the speaker busied himself by stripping his pockets
of their treasures, which he dropped on the ground at
random.

Jim, however, did not view the matter so philosophic-
ally. At the bare mention of the word rattlesnake, he
turned and tore wildly through the "jungle," crying
piteously : "Oh ! I've got the chills ! I've got the chills !
the chills ! the chills ! awful chills ! "

PREPARED FOR THE WORST.

Chapter VIII.
George Comes Out Ahead.

Meanwhile, Will stepped out of the pile of brushwood
and said, somewhat foolishly, " Now, George, don't be
foolish ; you know well enough there are no rattlesnakes
in this part of the country. Put up your instruments of
cauterization, and let us all take a squint under these
' brambles.' "^

Poor George looked so crestfallen that Will almost re-
lented. " Didn't you get bitten ? " the former asked
blankly.

" What could bite me, George ! " Will asked mildly.

" Well, / don't know what," George said savagely, " But
Charles Goodfellow declares this is a jungle ; and we all
know, I hope, that poisonous lizards, and reptiles, and
centipeds, and tarentulas, and all hideous creatures, live
in just such a place as this — I mean in jungles. So, what
disturbed you in that brush-heap ! Answer that ques-
tion ! — Botheration!" he continued furiously, " here you've
led me into this horrible place, made fun of me, and con-
tradicted me — you, who have no practical knowledge.
And now, to cap it all, I've lost my jack-knife, the best
jack-knife in these regions, and I got it only yesterday !"

Poor George ! One thing after another had happened to
irritate him, and he was now in a savage mood. In fact,
he was really angry, and the boys had never seen him
angry before.

Charles felt a pang in the region of his heart, and
Stephen was very uneasy.

" Never mind George," Will said soothingly. " I'll help
you to look for your knife as soon as we see what is under
the brush. "

He stooped over the brush-heap, groping, and then said
with awe, as he supposed : "Boys, here are bones ! It was
bones that rattled under me! — George," conciliatingly,
"what does that mean ? "

A BLUNDERING BOY.

l! f

" Well, I (lon'fc care what it means. My knife is
worth more than all the bones you can find in a whole
summer ; and I intend to look for it in spite of every-
thing. You boys may squabble over those bones till — till
— any time you choose."

Charley was dismayed. George was too sullen to catch
at the bait, and their little scheme seemed likely to end
ingloriously. Was it for this that they had toiled and
plotted?

But Marmaduke, who had hitherto held his tongue, now
came to the front, saying eagerly, " Bones ! Bones ! Let
me see ! "

He rummaged among the branches, and while Will,
Charles, and Stephen, crowded around him, George looked
on '* askance."

" 0-o-h ! " gasped Marmaduke, " what a horrible dis-
covery we have made ! Bones ! Bones of a mortal !
Boys," with emotion, "Some one was Foully Mur-
dered Hkre. "

"0-o-h! " echoed all the boys, as in duty bound.

But Steve gave a horrible chuckle, and whispered to
Charles, " It works already with him ; and," pointing his
elbow at George, " he'll come around."

The pain in Charley's heart was not very deep-seated,
and it now mnle room for exultation. The searcher was
left to his own musings, and the rest were absorbed in the
discovery.

Marmaduke paused a moment, to realize the awfulness
of the word murder; then, snatching up the branches, he
nervously tossed them out of the way.

A little heap of white substances was disclosed which
— to Marmaduke's heated imagination — were all that
remained of a human skeleton.

Now, the writer has so much respect for the feelings
of his readers that he herewith warns them, in all honesty,
that what is immediately to follow, borders upo>2v the
grisly ; and that consequently it would be well for ilie
queasy reader of fashionable fiction to skip the resl; of
this chapter and all of chapter the twelfth.

Marmaduke was now in his element; he felt somewhat

MARMADUKE 1% BLOOD-THIRSTY.

as a philosopher does when a new theory in science
bursts upon him ; he was happy. All boyish bashful-
ness forsook him, and he began rapturously : —

" Yes, boys, we have made a great, an appalling, dis-
covery ! We have certainly stumbled on a dreadful
mystery ! It now remains for us to solve this great pro-
blem, and gain immortal renown. In the near future,
I see us sitting in the courts of law, with the ferret-eyed
reporters ; the grim lawyers ; the shrill-voiced foreman
keeping order among the honest and eager jury ; the
gaping multitude ; the venerable judge ; and the quak-
ing murderer, found at last, and his crime unearthed and
fastened on him by lis. Then the grand old judge, in
solemn tones, will turn to us and say. "You are now
called upon to give your conclusive evidence, and charge
the crime — long hidden, but brought to light at last—
upon the trembling, cringing wretch — this murderer !
Oh ! what a proud day it will be for us ! Now, boys, an
unpleasant duty lies before us, and if any of you wish to
withdraw, do so at once. As for me, I will not drop the
matter till the mystery is cleared up, and the murderer
gibbeted. But who ever wishes to take a bold part with
me, must continue in it till justice is satisfied. Then
together we shall reap the fruits of our zeal."

This neat little speech amply repaid the boys for all
the perils they had encountered in penetrating into
Charley's jungle. Their delight is beyond our descrip-
tion. Charley, Will, and Steve, exchanged winks most
recklessly.

Marmaduke, however, paid no attention to them, but
drew a scrap of paper and a lead-pencil, which he always
carried, from his pocket.

" What are you going to do now ? " Steve queried of
the romance-stricken boy.

" I am going to make a memorandum of this affair,"
was the answer.

" Where is Jim ? ' Will asked,, thinking that youth
would enjoy the scene.

" Oh," said Steve, " his old and convenient disorder
seized him when George spoke of rattle -snakes, and he
skedaddled."

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

gfi:

" Yes," supplemented George, wlio was recovering his
temper, " there Js a good deal of philosophy in his com-
plaint ; for, like most things cold, it vanishes away when
heat is applied ; and, to generate heat, Jim sets out on a
run."

" Good for you ! " Charley said promptly, hoping to
induce the boy to examine and pass an opinion on the
bones.

But George still felt too sore —perhaps, too obstinate —
to yield.

" Look here, Marmaduke," he said, "how are you going
to prove that somebody was murdered here ? Perhaps
he was gobbled up by an unprincipled and broken-down
quadruped — say, a shipwrecked gorilla."

"Yes," chimed in Steve, "perhaps a devouring monster
of a famished sea-cow fell on him, and gnawed him, and
wallowed him around, and extinguished him ! "

Marmaduke was now being j erred in his turn. Con-
sidering that he was only a boy, he put up with their
banter with stoical unconcernedness ; but his quivering
lips and humid eyes betrayed that he felt it, and turning
to Will, he said, " In such a case as this, you always find
something to discover the guilty one, — a pet dog's collar,
a monogrammed metal tooth-pick, an old card case, a
seal-ring, a gold watch-key, a book-mark, a — a — or
something else."

" Why, have you found anything ? " Steve asked
quickly.

No answer. Silence, in this instance, was peculiarly
golden ; more, it was sufficient.

" Then how do you know, and how are you going to
prove it was murder ? "

Then Marmaduke's indignation was roused, and he
scowled upon Stephen so malignantly that this worthy
quailed, unable to bear up under that " steady gaze of
calm contempt."

Turning to Will and Charles, the persecuted boy thus
explained himself : " Not long ago, I read in a story how
an awful murder was cleared up, simply because a cast-
ofF wig, that had fallen into the murderer's pocket by

HE DISCOURSES "ABOUT LOST TRINKETS.

accident, and belonged to nobody in particular, fell out
again at the fatal moment, and proved the whole crime.
You boys might read about such things from to-day till
your hair turns gray ; and you would find that some
little trinket, some trifle, turns the evidence one way or
the other, and decides the verdict. Why, where would
the romance of romances be, if it wasn't so ? " excitedly.
" I mean to hunt for that lost trinket when I get ready ;
it has been here all this time, and it isn't going to disap-
pear forever now."

" How long has it been here ? " asked George, laying
stress on the word how.

" When we stumbled on this mystery," pursued Mar-
inaduke, too much absorbed to regard George's incivilities,
" it was about ten o'clock."

Having made a note of this, he went on, " the scene
was a tangled glade in a thick jungle."

Another note.

"Fit sc6ne for such a tragedy!" Charles commented.

" The bones were hidden under brush-wood, which /
removed," and again his pencil was heard to scribble a
note.

We say, scribble. The boy intended to " polish " his
notes at a more convenient season.

" I say," interrupted Stephen, it isn't your place to
take all these notes ; you ought to inform a constable, or,
a bailiff, — or, better still, a detective !"

Marmaduke scowled at him again, but held his peace.

" Oh, I see," continued Stephen, bent on teasing the
poor .boy ; " you'll hand your notes over to some detec-
tive, so that he'll see how clever you are."

Then Marmaduke spoke. ** Boys," he said, " I'm as-
tonished at your levity and indifference in such a case
as this."

With that, he laid down his pencil and paper, and
again examined the bones, handling them with reverence,
and muttering what he supposed to be their names.

For some time a fierce conflict had been raging in
George's mind — curiosity battling with wounded vanity
Which would iriuir"' ?

A BLUNDERING BOY.

1^
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While Marmaduke mumbled, George took mental notes.
Soon a broad grin spread over the latter's face, and he
said, " Look here, boys ; Marmaduke has named five
thigh-bones, and thirty-one ribs ! I know, for I've kept
count. Nofsr, the skeleton of a common man has no
business with so many thighs and ribs ; and Marmaduke
isn't supposed to know the name of a bene as soon as he
sees it. Now, I've studied into the matter, and I ought
to know something about it. I'm just going to see them
for myself."

Curiosity had triumphed!

This disconcerted poor Marmaduke. He made room
for George, and sat down beside Charles. A look of dis-
may appeared in his face, and he pondered deeply.
" Boys," he sttid, " did you ever hear that anybody was
ever murdered in this neighborhood ? "

" Never ! " shouted all four in a breath.

" I don't care ; it is a skeleton ! " doggedly. " I know
as much about it as he does," glaring at George, " and
I will stick to it, it was a skeleton."

" Whatever it was it's not a skeleton now ! " roared
George.

Do not take alarm, gentle reader : this history is not
the register of any squabbles among savants : the writer
is too tender-hearted to inflict such a punishment on you.

Goorge resumed : " That is a foolish conclusion ; for
thpre are no human bones here at all ! Not a skull, nor
a radius, nor a — , a — "

At this point Charley interrupted the osteologist by
saying, " George, don't tell off the parts of a skeleton
with such disgusting gusto ; have a little respect, even
for bones."

" Well, I will ; George assented — the more willingly
because he found himself less versed in the matter than
he had imagined. " But it was very foolish to think of
murder. Boys, do you want to knovr what it is ? I
know ; I've solved your mystery ; I'll reap all the
glory ! " he cried, so excited that he lost control of his
voice,

" EH ?

nor

" Well, what is it ?" Will asked sharply, perhaps afraid
that George had detected the fraud.

Groundless fear ; George was quite as credulous as
Marmaduke.

Wild with excitement, his voice rang out loud and dis-
cordant. He shouted, at the top of his voice, " Boys, it'a
a fossil ! "

"A what ?" Charley demanded.

" A fossil ! An extinct animal ! A mastodon ! A gyasti-
cufus ! (If this word is new to the reader, let him raise
liis vrice and pronounce it according to the accents.)
Yes ; here is a field for a geologist or naturalist ; not for
a humdrum, cigar-puffing, bejewelled detective ! "

And the Sage's form dilated with pride and compla-
cency. His day had come. He could have it all his own
way now ; for what did the others know about geology ?

Poor George ! his imagination was as powerful as Mar-
inaduke's ; but he could not equal him in oratory.

As for the boys, they were thunder- stnick ; this ex-
ceeded their utmost expectations.

Steve was the first to speak. " Don't yell so loudly,
George ; there are no geologists near to hear you" ; he said.

Tlien again the boys, Marmaduke excepted, huddled
around the bones, and expressed unqualified astonishment.

" What will you do about it, George ? " Will inquired.

" Travel them around the country for a show ; " Marma
duke sneered.

But George was too much elated to regard such gross
indignities. Let the envious little simpleton rave ; hadn't
he read that every great man has his enemies and detrac-
tors ? He would ignore the mean wretch and his insulting
words.

But for all his philosophy, the words did rankle in his
i)reast.

" Well, what will you do ? " Will inquired again.

" Ship them to a geologist, I suppose " ; George said
jocosely.

" Excuse me, George," Charles broke in, " but I always
used to think thev found those old mastodons under
ground ; and these bones are on the ground."

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

"EH?"

"Yes ; don't they dig all those horrid old telegraph poles
of bones out of the ground ? "

George rose, looking very black and wretched. That
important fact had escaped him. His castle in the air
toppled down as Marmaduke's had done, and all his grand
ideas were buried in its ruins.

" Perhaps I'm wrong," Charles continued ; " but,"
proudly, " I've read a little about such things, and I be-
lieve they come out of the ground. But you know better
than I do, George ; so, which way is it ? Which of us is
right ? "

It was cruel for him to ask such a question. George,
however, was not a boy obstinately to persist that he was
right, when common sense said that he was not. Injustice
to the boy, it must be observed that, although he was fully
aware of his own cleverness, he did not consider himself
infallible, but was at all times open to reason. To be still
more explicit, he was apt to change his opinions very
ab^-uptly.

" No, Charley," he said, " you are right enough. But
I'm astonished to think we should take those paltry bones
for a fossil ! Why — "

" I never did ! " Marmaduke interrupted furiously.

" Why," he continued, " of course not ! A real fossil
would be ashamed to look at such bones ; they would be
to him what a min. ow's bones are to ours. I — I didn't
think, boys ; I know what a fossil is, of course."

George was miserable if lie fancied an3/ one thought
him ignorant in any mutter ; and he was about to give
the natural history of the mastodon, when Steve diverted
the train of his thoughts by asking, " If it ain't a fossil,
what is it ? "

" Well, it's part of the remains of some very rare ani-
mal, I should say, — a bison ; or a wolverine ; or a jackal ;
or — or "

It is the needle that breaks the camel's back. Will,
Charles, and Stephen could suppress their laughter no
longer ; they shouted and guffawed like a desperate vil-
lain who fancies that he has married the heroine and
lodired a bullet in the hero's heart.

SOUND ADVICE.

" What's the matter ? " George asked in astonishment.

Another roar of laughter was the only answer vouch-
safed. Steve lay on the ground, and enjoyed the joke
heartily; Charles and Will endeavoured to take it more
moderately.

Then George's suspicions were excited. " You boys are
fooling me ! " he cried angrily. " Why did you coax
Marniaduko and me to look at these bones ? Why did you
make us speak about tnem ? Why didn't you have any-
tliing to say about it ? Boys, why did we come here at

all ^ " .

Vttcr these direct questions an explanation could be
tlclayed no longer. The three looked guilty and ceased
from laughing. " We never coaxed you to look at them ;
and you ;nrived at your own conclusions. You know
you did, George," said Charles.

WiH explained as follows: "George, wo fixed those
l)ones ourselves, on purpose to draw you and Marmaduke
out. \Vn gathered up a heap of bones of all kinds, from
all ov\.r, and brought them here, and covered them up
with boughs. Then we six came here to explore the
jungle — we found them — and you did the rest."

The victimized boys did not swoon away, but they
were more or less exasperated. That was the worst
f(!ature in the " trick " — it provoked anger in George and
Marmaduke, and lessened their faith in human nature.

'' What a mean, hateful, nasty set of fellows ! " was
George's natural comment. " They must be fond of
prowling around bone-heaps ; and handling them ; and
carrying them up and down the country ; eh, Marma-
duke ? They ought to be told of — clapper-clawed —
bastinadoed — soused in hot water ! We'll fix them some
(lay ; won't we ? "

" Only," Steve observed, " ive didn't finger the bones
as you two did ; we put them into a basket, and then
brought 'em here, and dumped 'em out — without once
touching 'em ! Therefore^ I advise you both to lather and
scrub your paws with all the soap you can find. Scrub
'ein hard, boys, if you know^ what is good for 'em."

" Yes," put in Will, " it is polite to handle skeletons and
fossils, but not vulgar bones like these."

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

\ -

" Oh ! what scurvy boys ! " was all poor George could
say.

As for Marmaduke, he held his tongue, being too sulky,
too horrified, to do more than gurgle out a few dismal
moans.

" Well, boys," said Charley, " it will soon be dinner-
time ; so let us cover up these mysterious old bones, and
start for home and the soap-barrel."

But George was recovering his equilibrium, and he
thirsted for revenge. A light that boded no good to his
deceivers shone in his eyes ; he was bent on mischief.

" Look here, boys," he began, " hovv do you know these
are the same bones you accumulated ? We stumbled
around in the woods just as it happened ; we found our-
selves here ; and Will suddenly found himself floundering
in this brush-heap. Can you prove this is the place you
think it is ? "

" It is not likely that there are bones under all these
bushes, George ; " said Charley. " Besides, we took notice
where we were going, and we've often been here. I'm
certain it's the place."

"No; you can't be certain; absolutely certain-/'
George replied, so positively that Will, who lacked firmness,
wavered, and helped George's cause by saying, " Well, the
place has a different look, I believe ! But these must be
the bones, surely ! "

" It looks different, because we generally came in from
the south;" Steve returned. "Any boy with two eyes
isn't going to get so far astray in these woods."

" Well, what if it isn't the place we think it is ? " Will
asked.

" Oh, you will have to give in that it's murder," Mar-
maduke said. "I knew it was murder all the time. How
do you know that nobody was ever nmrdered here ? You
don't know anything about bones ; George is most likely
right."

" Don't make a fool of yourself again, Marmaduke ; let
us go home," Steve growled, and he had taken a step
homeward, when a long and doleful cry, followed by a
hideous and piercing scream, electrified all the boys.

THE HEROES ARE ALARMED.

They conjured up ail sorts of horrors, and the bravest
turned pale with fright. Suddenly the " glade " became
gloomy and awful ; bugbears lurked in the shadows ;
ghost stories flitted through their heads ; the " Phantom
Ship " loomed before them.

" Don't talk about murder, boys ; I can't stand it so
coolly as you can," Will entreated, with a quavering
voice that told of abject terror.

" Oh, what is the matter ? " Steve gasped. " What could
yell like that ? "

At that instant another shriek, more appalling than the
first, rang out, rose and fell in grating discord, and then
died away in the distance.

It was sufficient ; Charley himself believed that they
had made a mistake, and had been desecrating a human
skeleton. Was this the ghost of the murdered one, or was
it the perpetrator of the deed ?

Instinctivelv the demoralized heroes huddled together,
and Marmaduke found comfort in whispering hoarsely,
" Now the mystery is going to be solved. I knew it was
mur — "

One more shriek ! The ghost was very near them now,
and its lungs were strong. But it labored under the dis-
advantage of a cracked voice ; or perhaps it was not " in
practice." At all events, the sound was so wild, so awful,
that they shuddered with horror — they felt their flesh
crawl — cold chills ran down their back.

This is not exaggeration; the boys were not easily
frightened ; but the ghost — who was at an age at which
the voice is subject to changeable and discordant utter-
ance — was exerting h.imself to the utmost.

" I won't budge, no matter what happens ! " Stex*© de-
clared heroically.

" No, we must stick by each other, boys," Will added.

Once again the ghost found voice This time, how-
ever, it spoke — spoke in tones ol' fury. "Who dares to
say there was not puuxler here ! " was thundered forth.
" Who dares to touch my bones ! Let — him — be — ware I "

This was too much. With a yell of horror nml dismay,
four bovs started to their feet and tore out of the

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A BLUNDERING BOY

"jungle," morally certain that a band of furious demons
was hard behind them.

" It's dangerous to stay," Marmaduke said, " for that
is poetry ! "

Four boys fled ; George lagged behind. " They've
caught Jim's disease ! " he chuckled ecstatically. " I'll
teach 'em not to palm oft* old bones on me ! Perhaps
they'll tind that I can play a trick that knocks theirs all
hollow ! " . ^

He performed a jig, and then set out in mad pursuit of
his comrades.

We assign no reason for this act ; but if the reader was
ever a l)oy, lie will understand.

George gave a yell of triumph ; but it savoured so
strongly of fear that Will, who had gained an open space,
called out cheerily, " Don't be afraid, George, if it's you.
Come straight ahead ; here we are."

" What im earth made such v rumpus ? " demanded
Stephen, already recovered from hi.> fright.

" It must have been something ; but of course we were
not f j'ightened ; " said the others, whose fears the bright
sunshine and the twittei-ing birds had dispelled.

" The idea of saying 1 was afarid ! " George roared. " I
did that myself."

" You made that noise .'* " gasped the four, in one
l)reath.

" Yes, boys ; I was the ghost ; " George said com-
placently,

" And the murder — ? " Marmaduke began.

" Never was ! " George declared. " Boys, last night I
was reading about ventrilixjuism ; and I set to work and
practised it. The man that wrote it said, ' After five
minutes' practice, the vene.st tyro will And himself able to
rout a coward ; ' an<l I ji-uess ht' was right."

" Botheration ! we are S(itkl I " Charles exclaimed, in sur-
prise and mortification.

" Yes ; you fooled me, and I fooled you all. We're
even now."

Steve winced when the Sajpe again made reference to
the learned ventrilocjuist's wta^i^y ol»servation, and de-

JIM ONLY.

inanded indignantly, " Why didn't you tell us all that
hefore ? Why didn't you ventriloquism as we came
along ? "

" I was only waiting ; I intended to do it before night,"
George said honestly.

" You read too much, George ; " Will commented sor-
rowfully. " We won't try to fool you any inore."

" The worst of it is," Charles said, with a droll smile,
" is that one of us can't make fun of another, for we all
made fools of ourselves."

" There's Jim," Steve suggested.

" So there is ! Well, what about the murder ? "

" It certainly is a skeleton," Marmaduke said grumly.

" Well, to please you, let us call it an ' open question, ' "
George, who was now in jubilant spirits, observed.

" Let us go back and look for the lost trinket ; that will
solve the problem ; " Stephen proposed.

" Never mind the trinket, boys ; " said Charley ; " it
will keep till another day. But give me a scrap of paper
and a more respectable pencil than my own ruinous one,
and I'll write something worth while."

Wonderingly, Marmaduke handed out the articles asked
for, and Charley wrote as follows : —

ONE SLATE PENCIL REWARD.

DEAD OR ALIVE !

This reward will be given to anybody who revives a
ghost, dead or alive, to claim these bones and solve this
mystery. C. Goodfellow.

Then, to prove his fearlessness, he retraced his steps to
the bones, looking as brave as the hero of an orthodox
love story ,and pinned his notice to a scrubby tree hard by.

Tracking his way back to his schoolfellows, he said,
' Boys, I'm hungry."

Without more ado the heroes turned their faces home-
wai\ls, each one except Marmaduke satisfied with his own
exploits. Marmaduke jogged on ahead in sullen silence ;
and while the sage held forth, with schoolboy oratory, on

A BLUNDERING BOY.

anatomy, astronomy, geology, navigation, jugglery,
osteology, whale-fishing, and ventriloquism, the other
three amused themselves by carving baskets out of peach-
stones, and wounding their index fingers in the hazardous
attempt.

Chapter IX.
" Three Wise Men Went to Sea in a Bowl. "

A Few days later the boys gathered together and
strolled down to the beach, hoping something there would
turn up to amuse them.

Two or three schooners and a steamboat were moored
at the wharl' ; but to-day they excited only a languid in-
terest in the boys.

" If we could only go out on the lake," Will murmured,
" it would be fun."

" Why, where should we go ? " inquired one.

" Oh, just out on the lake for a mile or so; or perhaps
we might round the point and have a swim in our swim-
ming-place."

" Well, then," said Jim, always with an eye to safety
and comfort, " why not get out your father's boat ?
Wouldn't it float us all ? And it's so safe ! "

" Yes, " said Will, " it's pretty safe — very safe in the
boat-house. And the key of the boat-house is safer still,
at home ! That's the way it goes, boys ; and when I want
a boat ride, I generally struggle around the best I can.
It isn't worth while to trudge home for it ; because, most
likely, we should find something else to do when we got
there. But I think we can light on a craft of some sort
if we scratch around a little."

Although Will's father owned a boat, the key of his
boat-house was always kept at home ; and poor Will was
about as much benefited as are most boys whose fathers
own boats, and ponys, and carriages.

" I hanker for a boat ride, " Charley said. " Let us take
the punt."

GEORGE PREDICTS A STORM.

" The punt, of course ! " Steve chimed in. " The punt
is just what we want."

" Oh," groaned Jim, " the punt is dirty and worn out ;
and it leaks ; and it tips over ; and it won't go ; and an
awful storm is going to come up ! "

" Look here, boys," the Sage began, " Jim's half-way
right about that punt ; it's vulgar ! And besides, it isn't
so safe as it ought to be. Only the other day, I read about
some boys that went out in a cockle-shell of a boat, — I
suppose it meant a punt ; only, as I told you, punt is very
vulgar, too vulgar for this author, at any rate, — and all
got drowned ! And another thing ; I've been reading
about the weather lately, and I understand just how it
goes now."

And the Sage looked so knowing that it was difficult
for the boys to suppress their laughter. He was now
casting intelligent glances at the sky, the birds, the
grasshoppers, the lake, and even the ground. Soon he
spoke.

"Boys," he said, as impressively as he knew how, " I'm
saying nothing rashly, but deliberately and — and — cor-
rectly. I've observed the weather indicators, and a
dreadful storm is coming up fast ! A storm that will
stun an equinoctial, and tear Germany all to pieces. "

And the meteorologist's form swelled with science and
satisfaction.

" Whereas, on account of these gloomy auguries,resolved:
that we go home and hide in the cellar hatchway till the
storm is over," Charles commented.

" No, boys ; I'm in earnest, and I 'a't care to go out
in the punt," George said firmly.

" I want to inqure into this drowning affair," Steve said,
" Didn't you read about it in a little gilt-edged story-
book ?"

" Well, yes, I did, " George reluctantly acknowledged.
" But, what of that ? "

" Only this, were they all bad boys ? "

" Come to think, they were. "

" That accounts for it then. They always put those
solemn tales in books for little boys that get sick, and

■ !)

3 1

'I 'til

'"'I

A BLUNDERING BOY.

can't jL(ot out doors, to make 'em think that a sound boy is
always had, and that it's better to be sick. But somehow
tlie superintend.ants always make a muddle of it, and give
all those books to little ^irls. My little sisters have got a
big cigar box chock-full of 'em, endwise up, and I never
got one ! "

" Yes, I know them ; each nine chapters and a preface
long, " said Charley.

" They're the ones," said Steve.
" What do your sisters do with them ? " Will asked.
" Oh, they mostly build houses with 'em on rainy days,"
Steve answered. " Now, we are not bad boys — never
were. We are a first-rate crew, so let us go. But to
please you, George, I'll go and ask that sailor about the
weather. I guess he ought to know, if anybody's going
to."

Without loss of time, Steve went up to a sailor a little
way off, and inquired, " Bill, what sort of weather are we
going to have to-day ? "

" Weather, " echoed Bill, grinning good-humoredly.
" Well, look out for a rough gale ; pretty rough and pretty
long. Yes, there'll be an awful blow — a hurricane — a
typhoon ! " he added, remarking Steve's dissatisfied looks,
and mistaking their cause. " Why, who knows but that
there'll be a zephyr that'll swoop the hold clean out of
a vessel and carry a door-knob clean over a flag stafi". "

Stephen appeared more dissatisfied than ever ; and the
jocose sailor, who wished to please him, was about to give
a startling account of what the weather might be ; but
more than satisfied, Steve thanked him, and returned to
the expectant five.

" Well, what does he say ? " Will demanded.
Stephen dejectedly repeated what the sailor had told
him.

George was not in a humor to say, " I told you so ! " On
the contrary, he was furious against the sailor. He al-
lowed his indignation to boil for a few moments, and then
exclaimed, haughtily, " What does that man know about
the weather 1 Why, he doesn't know any more about it
than a caged dromedary. Why, he's nothing but a lubber
— a fresh-water sailor — a stone-boater — a — a — "

I»

A WAR-WORN CRAFT.

" And, besides, " chimed in Marmaduke, " that isn't the
way a genuine sailor talks. He must be some dis-
guised — "

"Yes, of course it isn't ; of course he is ; " George broke
in. " He is some disguised vagabond, trying to humbug
us fellows. Come along, boys ; I'm going with you in
that punt, through thick and thin, in the teeth of every
lubberly sailor, and wishy-washy weather indicator,
and high toned thunder-storm, that ever astonished any-
body!"

This strikes the key-note to the Sage's character.

But Stephen was angered. " See here, George," he ex-
claimed, " that man is an honest sailor and a decent fel-
low, and you just let him alone ! "

The boys, thinking time enough had been fooled away,
then made a rush for the punt. This punt was an old
derelict, heavy, unwieldy, full of chinks, and boasting of
only two crazy poles, called " oars, " or " paddles, " or
" sculls, " according to the humor of the wretch who gal-
lanted them. No one could step into this craft without
getting wet ; and why it was kept there, or what use it
was to the community, was unknown ; for no one, except
a few freckled and grimy street urchins, ever shoved off
in it. Perhaps it was kept for them !

The six, however, had urged their way round the
wharf in it.

" Come along, Jim !" Steve shouted, seeing that Timor
lagged behind.

" Such a dirty boat to get into ! " Jim objected. " And
I've got my good clothes on, too! "

" Come, now, Jim, you and George are altogether too
careful of your clothes. If they are so new and good, or
so old and rotten, that you can't go with us, then stay
at home. Hurry up, you've got to go witli us, " and
Steve forced him in — an unwilling passenger.

And so the adventurous boys embarked in this dirty
and dilapidated craft, with which Time, so to speak, had
worked wonders.

"How are we to make the crazy thing go?" Will
asked, when fairly afloat, looking around in vain for any
motive power. ^

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a' blundering bot

It is always thus with boys. Not till their own im-
prudence plunges them into difficulties, do they pause to
consider what it all means, and what they had better do.
When a boy is small he clambers upon the roof of his
father's barn, enjoys the perspective for one brief mo-
ment, and then ruminates as to how he shall get down.
His mother sees him, and with tears in her eyes and dis-
may at her heart, tears out of the house, and exclaims,
" Oh, Johnnie, why did you get up there ? " Then the
little innocent answers stoutly, " Well, ma, I reckoned if I
could get up, I could get down again. Now, you jest
watch, and I'll climb down like a spider. Don't lie afraid,
ma, it's nice up here ; I can 3«je M.*. Morley's shed, " (the
object which bounds his view.) V/hen older, he " volun-
teers ; " girds on his uniform with swelling heart ; breathes
the word patriotism with lov»3r-like tenderness, — and
then ! Ah ! then he fears to confront his father.

" Botheration ! " cried Stephen, " we've left those oars
on shore ! " There they are ; behind Reichter's boat-
house. Back her up, boys, and I'll jump out and get 'em. "

Poor sea-farers! In their eagerness to be off they had
" set sail " without the " oars. ' After a great struggle,
they succeeded in urging the punt back so that Steve
could jump ashore. Then the dauntless young voyagers
told otf the crew, and struck out gallantly.

" Now, Tim," said Stephen, "if you'll take that old
oyster-can, and bale out this vesssel, you'll feel so much
at home that you'll be happy ; and bye-and-bye I'll help
you. "

" It has no business to leak, " Jim grumbled. " But I
told you it did! " he added, triumphantly'.

" Of course it does ; what's a boat, if it doesn't leak ? "
Steve snorted.

On they went ; drifting, paddling, and sculling ; laugh-
ing and joking. It seemed so joyous and secure that
even Timor lost his uneasiness. Before they had deter-
mined whither they were going, the abutments of the
wharf were passed, and they were fairly out on the lake.
The farther they went, the higher their spirits rose, and
the more jocose they became. Not one of them troubled
himself about a storm.

A JOLLY CREW.

" Well, boys, we can round the point, and have ourswim
right along. Let us do it," said Will.

" Yes, I haven't had a swim in the lake for three weeks! "
Jim solemnly declared, as he rested a few minutes from
baling out the punt.

The others were duly astonished at this (we say it
boldly) neglect of duty.

Steve, who was tugging lustily at his oar, called out to
George, the helmsman : " Fetch her around, there, old
fellow ; brace about for the shore, will you ? Don't be so
lubberly, now, or you'll keel her over. Hug her up for
the shore, I tell you ! "

" Look here, Stephen Goodfellow, I can navigate this
dingy without so many orders ; so, let me alone ! " the
helmsman retorted, indignantly.

" Now, boys, " said Will, " if we are mariners, let us be-
have ourselves. A captain and his crew always act in
harmony, like a drummer's drum and a tooter's horn. "

" Of course, " chimed in Charley. " They don't wrangle
like a couple of bumpkins of boys in their collarless shirt
sleeves. "

" What's a dingey ? " asked Jim.

" I — I believe it isn't in my dictionary ; but it's a good-
for-nothing craft, that is always an eyesore to the noodle
that harbors it, " said George.

The punt was headed for the beach ; but a decided
swell, which had hitherto been in their favor, was now
against them, and progress was slow. By dint of exertion
however, in the course of time, they grounded their craft
at the water's edge, and sprang out to enjoy their bath.
The gloomy speculations about the weatherwere forgotten,
and not one noticed the threatening clouds looming up in
the west.

The old sailor had not trifled with them ; a storm was
brewing.

Although their swimming-place was somewhat difficult
of approach, it was retired and delightful, the great resort
of all the swimMers in the neighborhood. That was the
only drawback ; it was too much resorted to by swim-
mers. But to-day the boys had it all to themselves.

A BLUNDERING BOY.

■>:\ t

l>t

" Well, " said Marmaduke, as he plunged into the water,
" we boys and the rest of the folks are acquainted with a
good place to swim in, as the Frenchman would say. "

" Never mind the Frenchman now, Marmaduke ; " re-
plied Will ; " English will float you through the world. "

Jim had hardly stepped into the water when he cried
out, " Oh, boys, the water is too cold and nasty ; I'm shi-
i-ivering ! "

*' Well, then," sang out Steve, whose head was bobbing
up and down some thirty yards from the shore, " bundle
on your clothes, and play the anchor to that punt. It'll
drift across the lake, if somebody doesn't take charge
of it."

But it was cold and disagreeable, and their swimming
was of short duration. They waded ashore with chatter-
ing teeth, and huddled on their clothes as quickly as their
shivering limbs would permit.

" Boys, suppose that we go home by land ? " Steve pro-
posed. ' It wouldn't be so very far, and then it would
be a change. "

" That's a capital idea, Steve ; but what would become
of the dingey ? We mus'n't leave it here," said Will.

" Then, let us make off."

Without delay the six took their places in the punt,
and shoved off.

There was now not only a perceivable swell, but also
a perceivable breeze. In a word, the scullers found that
it was unnecessary to handle their sculls, for the punt
drifted merrily seaward without a stroke from them.

" Look here, boys," cried the Sage, prefacing his re-
marks, as usual, with his darling expression, " we could
hardly make the shore a while ago ; and now just see
how fast we are drifting out ! I don't believe we could
get back to our swimming place ; let us try it."

" Let us l)e glad that we are getting a boat-ride without
work," was Steve's foolish comment.

But his fellow -voyagers consic?3red the matter in a
different light, and tried to back the oars. They could
still do so, but only by putting forth all their strength.
Their situation was now so critical that they turned pale
with dread.

THE STORM BREWING.

" dear ! " gasped Timor, too frightened to say more.

" Why didn't we go home by land ! " Steve ejaculated.

" Pity we didn't do that," Will said. " Before' we could
row ashore, the swell would be too much for us, wouldn't
it ? "

" Of course it would," George answered.

" And we Vc almost too far from shore to swim to it,"
Charles asked, rather than said. •

" Couldn't swim there without getting the cramps,
Charley," Will replied, in a hoarse wnisper.

" Look to the west ! " Jim cried in terror. Oh, boys !
I've got 'em! got the chills! dreadful chills! awful chills!
boys! we shall all be drowned ! We'll perish ! We'll be
drownded ! drownded to death ! Oh ! what a dreadful
storm ! "

All looked towards the west, and saw that a storm
was almost upon them. The black clouds piling up were
certainly ominous ; the breeze was getting stutter every
minute ; the lake was getting rougher.

"Well boys we 'fft caught ! " Stephen said gravely.
Poor boy ! all his mirth had forsaken him.

But it was now convenient for George to remember
that he had prognosticated a storm ; and, forgetting the
incident of the " disguised " sailor, he exclaimed, " Yes
Steve, we 'Tfc in a tight place. But I was right about
the storm, boys."

Steve was too much flurried to remind the boy that he
had arrived at a different conclusion, scouted the idea of
a storm, and determined to accompany them.

" Well, boys," said Marmaduke, " this is a storm at sea :
let us enjoy i^ while it lasts."

" No, Marmaduke, let us be thankful that it is not a
storm at sea," Will replied. " As for enjoying it, that
would be pretty hard work. Don't you know that we
are in danger ? "

" dear ! what will become of us ! " Jim groaned.

The shock was wearing off now ; and Charley found
courage to ask, jocularly, " Is that all you have to say,
Marmaduke 1 I expected something better from you."

Steve put in promptly, though he was still very much

i S.I

U \

A BLUNDERING BOY.

discomposed : " Oh, Marmaduke's mouth is full of words ;
he's only puzzling which to say first."

" Look here, boys," said the Sage, " how far astray was
I about the weather ? "

" Very far, George ; nearly as far as that miserable
stone-boater," Steve answered maliciously.

This nettled George, and he asked testily in a grum
voiee, " What about the little books now, Steve ? Don't
you tMnk they were right enough ? "

" Well, George, it seems like it, surely enough," Steve
acknowledged.

"Don't say spiteful things when we are in such
danger," Charles here interposed. "And besides," he
added, " we are all in the same scrape, and no one is to
blame for it. So, let us lay our wise heads together, and
try to save ourselves."

Chapter X.
The "Bowl" Comes to Grief.

The first shock had now passed away, and the foolhardy
scullers were beginning to recover their spirits. Al-
though each one was still almost quaking with dread,
yet each one believed that they would be rescued ; and
each one — except, perhaps, Jim — had a theory of his
own as to how it would be effected. They viewed the
matter logically. To them, it did not seem possible that
six clever boys, determined, true, and good, (the writer
and the reader may not agree to this) could perish so
near home They searched their minds diligently, con-
science helping them, and many little things that made
them uneasy were remembered; still: they woidd be
reftcued, they knew it.

The punt was now a long way out on the lake ; the
point was passed ; looking longingly towards home they
could discern the vessels at anchor, the wharf, and several
buildings in the village.

In the confusion cf the momentj they had left off bail-

EMACIATED FISH-WORMS.

inrr out the ramshackle punt, in which there were,
consequently, three or four inches of water. A dead fish
and half a dozen emaciated fish-worms — abandoned, a
tew days before, by an amateur angler of ten years —
were carried hither and thither over the bottom of the
punt, adding to the ghastliness of the scene.

Jim was the first to discover the water washing over
his boots. Here was a new source of distress. Forget-
ting the storm, which was still more or less in the dis-
tance, his attention was centred upon that water. To
him, in his " goo<l clothes," it was more to be dreaded
than the bellowir.g waves, or the approaching storm.
Tims, gentle reader, we get an insight into the boy's
cliai'acter.

" O dear ! " he said piteously, " my feet are soaking
wet in the bottom of this nasty boat ; and I'm cold ; and
I'm catching cold ; and I've got the chills."

" Well, then, set on to your feet and bale her out," Stevt
growled. " I guess we don't want to drown in this old
c(ml-slide of a punt."

Heaving an agonizing sigh, Jim snatched up the float-
ing oyster-can, and fell to work. Poor I oy ! his toil was
monotonous and painful.

" Is it worth while to row ? " Charley asked, not hope-
K'ssly, but speculatively.

"Perhaps not, but it will keep up our spirits, anyway,"
Will said. " Steer it, George,' he added. " It would
seem like giving up all hope, if we don't do something to
help ourselves,"

Foolish fellow ! he could not realize that it was out of
their power to help themselves.

" This is a sorry ending for our little trip, and things
look pretty black for us," George observed, "Charley,
liovv do you suppose we can be rescued ? "

Thus appealed to, Charles assumed an air of impor-
tance, and said knowingly, "If this wind should get much
worse, we shall be driven away out into the lake, and
perhaps lost ; unless — " here he hesitMed.

" Unless what ? " Jim demanded, with much emotion.

" Well, a passing schooner might pick us up, but there
is none in sight."

"..

A BLUNDERING BOY.

This was his theory. Nothing would have pleased
the young Argonaut more than to be picked up by a pass-
ing sailing-vessel ; and for this reason, he was morally cer-
tain that, sooner or later, such would be the case. Why
he chose to speak so doubtfully about it, is best known
to himself. Probably the sharp young reader can guess.

" Or, they might send for us from home ; but I can't
see anybody coming along in a life-boat," Will said, giv-
ing his particular theory.

" Haven't any life-boat to send ; and I guess they
won't telegraph for one ! " Steve exclaimed rudely.

" Oh, you mean fellow ! " Jim broke in, apostrophizing
unpoetic Stephen. You made me come, and you've got
to get me home ! "

" The truth is, we may as well prepare for the worst ! "
George said, deliberately and with seeming sincerity.
But the grin on his face belied his words. He was only
waiting for a fit time to pronounce his opinion — the most
extravagant of all.

" George, how long could a fellow live on the water
withoui any food?" Steve inquired, not at all awed by
George's lugubrious asseveration.

" Oh, how long ? " said George, so pleased to have an
opportunity of drawing on his extensive and miscel-
lanoous reading that he lost track of his own pet theory.
" Well, boys, a shipwrecked sailor once lived twenty-two
days without food ; but he was a fat old fellow — a cap-
tain, I think he was. Now, in our case — "

" Don't talk nonsense, George ; " Will interrupted at
this point. " We are not going to experiment in that
way ; for on the lake^ with significant emphasis, " we
shall not have a chance to see how long we can live
without food, as it's either saving or drowning with us.
Look at those clouds again. It will rain in a few min-
utes. But cheer up ! I think we shall be safe at home
within three hoi;rs ; and then this storm will be an epi-
sode in our lives as long as we live. If we could only
let the folks on shore know, they'd soon come along."

" Yes, if we could open up communication with the
people at home ! " Charley sighed.

STEPHEN S ECLIPSE.

they

"Boys," said Marmaduke, with great animation, "I
can tell you how to do that; tie a handkerchief, or some-
tliing else, to one of the sculls ! "

" Good for you, Marmaduke ! " Charles cried, with de-
light. " You are a genius ! "

" Yes, Marmaduke, you've hit on the very thing ! " said
Steve. "Now, whose is the largest? — Mine is;" and
two minutes later Steve's handkerchief was fluttering as
a flag.

"I — I was just thinking about that, too ; " Jim stam-
mered.

A hearty laugh — the first since they had left their
swimming- place — burst from the boys at this.

The little white flag on the oar was romantic ; it in-
spired hope in them ; they became fearless, even merry.
Each one was sufficiently susceptible of romance to place
the greatest confidence in the saving powers of that little
handkerchief. It was medicine to Jim's troublesome dis-
order, while to Marmaduke it was everything. He sat
iKjlt upright, devouring it with his eyes, his heart going
at high pressure. Environed with romance, with danger
on every side, he made an idol of the little square of
linen, which, but for his sapience, would not have left its
owner's pocket. What did he care for danger ? Though
they should float for hours, this would eventually save
them. Thus he sat, gazing eloquently and lovingly on
the white flag.

Did we say white ? Alas ! it was not white ! Two days
previous to this, Steve had made it serve him for a towel.

Meanwhile, the breeze increased to a gale, and the punt
was tossed about in a manner to make even Steve fidgety,
while it made pigeon-hearted Jim draw groans expressive
of unutterable agony. The sinking sun was hidden by
black clouds ; the storm was upon them. In fact, their
situation was really becoming desperate.

" Why is it so dark, boys ? " Jim articulated faintly.

" Why, surely enough, it's so dusk, so hazy^ that we
can hardly see the harbor ! " George said.

" My stars, boys, it's an eclipse ! " cried Steve, for-
getting his peril in the excitement of his astounding dis-

100

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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covery. " An eclipse ! The down-rightest eclipse that
ever was! George," banteringly, " don't you wish you'd
brought in something about this eclipse when you wcic
foretelling the weather ! "

The Sage experienced some of the emotions of a huffish
philosopher when floored by a hulking lout from tlic
copper regions.

George's words had directed Charley's attention to-
wards the harbor. " Oh ! Look ! look ! " he cried.
" They're coming ! coming at last ! "

" Where ? where ? " cried the others eagerly, stretchin<,'
over the gunwale of their crazy craft and peering into the
darkness.

The water-loving boatmen soon descried a long-boat
drawing towards them.

•' Help at last ! " Will ejaculated thankfully. " And it
will reach us barely in time to save us."

" The signal has done it, boys," Marmaduke observed
with complacency.

" Let us yell ! " said Will.

How they shouted ! Their pent-up woes found vent,
and they shouted till hoarseness necessitated them to for-
bear.

But the manager of the signal had not shouted, an<l
when the voices of the others finally died away in a dis-
cordant murmur, he said snappishly, " You needn't yell
like an hobomokko ; this flag will guide them to us."

" Yes ; but it's better to yell," Steve panted. " In fact,
I couldn't help it!"

" I wish we could stop this punt till they come up with
us," Will said, " for we are drifting farther from them all
the time," sighing to hear the water plunk against the
punt with remorseless and dreary monotony.

" Well, we can't anchor ; but they're rowing hard and
coming fast," Charles replied.

" Will, it's your fault that we came ; you proposed it ; '
Jim said.

" That may be, Jim," the standard-bearer replied ; " but
I think we all had a hand in it— except, of course, you.
But / am the one who has saved you, and saved us all.

A PRACTICAL MAN.

101

This signal of distress has been sighted, and then immedi-
ately thev made ready *x) rescue us," and he looked tri-
umphantly at the boys, defying a denial.

"Oh, yes; I know it's^all right; I ain't afraid;" Jim
said quickly.

Stephen spoke next. " How everybody will lau^h at
us ! " he said, elaborating a dolorous sigh and putting on a
hideous grimace.

Now that succor was at hand, this thought began to
depress his mind.

The approaching long-boat was a fascinating sight to
all, to Marmaduke especially. As it drew nearer, the
latter suddenly and most unwarrantably struck the impro-
vised flag and stuffed it into Stephen's coat-pocket. Had
he become ashamed of it ? Could he be so base ? No !
no ! but it was not needed now !

In good time the long-boat came within hailing
distance.

" Hollo there, you lubbers ! " a voice bellowed. " You're
a pretty lot of fellers, ain't you ? "

" Why didn't he say, * Ship, ahoy ! ' or ' Boat, ahoy ! ' "
Marmaduke murmured.

" You mean, why didn't he say, ' Punters, ahoy ! ' "
Steve corrected.

George felt it incumbent on him to make some reply,
so he called back feebly, " All right ! "

Each boy now began to " feel like an idiot," as Steve
put it. Each one experienced the feeling that any boy,
caught in a similar predicament, would experience. The
writer has suffered in that way, and consequently knows
how to pity those miserable boys.

The long-boat was soon alongside. It contained several
men, — among them. Will's and Jim's father, overjoyed at
this happy meeting, — and the sailor whom Steve had
(questioned concerning the weather appeared to be leader.

The rescue came about in this way : When the storm
was seen approaching, the boys were found to be missing,
and inquiries for them were at once instituted. For some
time these were fruitless; but at length Mr. Lawrence,
guessing shrewdly that they would be on the water at

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102

A BLUNOERINQ BOY.

such a time as this, went down to the wharf, and came
upon and interrogated the old sailor. " Well," said the
latter, " one of em asked me about the weather, and I
expect they all went off on the lake, but I don't know ; I
saw em poking around for a boat, I guess it was, and
then I went into the hold of the schooner, and didn't sec
'em any uiore. We can overhaul them. Sir, but it will be
a lonff and hard pull."

This clue was sufficient ; a good glass was procured,
and the boys were descried far out on the lake. Then a
boat was manned in hot haste, and put off to the rescue.

" Well, younkers," said the old sailor, " you must hurry
up, for there's no time to be idled away." Then, with a
sportive wink, (which the gloom made invisible) he added,
" I guess you fellers will believe me next time I warn you
to look out for blows."

" Yes, boys, you've done a foolish thing, but your
mothers will be so glad to see you that they'll forgive
you," a good-natured sailor observed.

The transfer from the punt to the long-boat was soon
made, and then one of the rescuers demanded, " What
about this craft ? Shall we cast it off, or tow it into har-
bor for another set of boys to drown in ? "

But a practical man, who made it an established prin-
ciple of his life never to lose anything that came in his
way, passed his dictum that the punt must be preserved
at all risks.

" Of course this will be a warning to all the boys," he
said, " and it would be a sin to lose a ship-shape craft like
this. Just see how well it floated them ! No boy is so
wrong-headed that he won't profit by experience."

So, much to the chagrin of the boys, who now regarded
the punt with deadly hatred, it was hitched to the long-
boat, and the flotilla set sail for home.

" Speaking of experience," spoke up a furrow-faced
rower, who plied his oars lustily, " I never knew but one
boy that profited by experience, and he never did it but
once, when he couldn't help himself, so to speak."

" What are the details of the particulars, Tom ? " asked
one.

A HEAVY LOSS. 103

" Well, the boy went tishing with a tinker, against
onlcrs."

" Anil he profited— ? "

" 'Cause he caught cold, and died of too much cough-
syriip and remorse."

" Boys," said Mr. Lawrence, seriously, " you have risked
your lives for a moment's pleasure, and even yet we are
in some peril. I do hope, I sincerely hope, that you will
profit bv this lesson."

The toys turned pale. A second time they realized
their danger, and they breathed a silent prayer of thank-
fulness for their deliverance.

" What were you doing to help yourselves ? " Mr.
Horner inquired.

" We were trying to steer the punt as well as we could,"
Will answered.

" What ? " cried the f ur^ov. -faced sailor in astonish-
ment. " Steering ? how ? where "^ why ? whew ! where
on earth were you steering to ? "

" Well, we thought we'd keep it as straight as wfe
could," W^ill said, apologetically.

" Well," gasped the sailor, not at all awed by the presence
of Messrs. Lawrence and Horner, " that beats me ! To
think of a pack of noodles trying to save themselves by
steering, wnen their craft is going the wrong way ! "

To return to the punt. When Jim saw help approach-
ing, he did not bale the punt so carefully ; consequently,
at the time of starting for home, there was considerable
water in it. duller and fuller it became ; not only did
tlie water leak in through the cracks, but volumes of it
poured in over the stem. When almost filled, the lum-
bering and w ater-soaked craft quivered a moment on the
surface of the waters, then suddenly sank, snapped the
rope by which it was tacked to the long-boat, and dis-
appeared forever.

The practical man sighed meekly ; the sailors grinned ;
the rescued heroes chuckled audibly.

So trifling an incident may seem a blot on these well-
written pages, but it is related because it discovers the
characteristics of boys.

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

Will and Jim, awed by the parental presence, said but
little durinjij the voyage homev/ards. Stephen, however,
— whose spirits neither strange gentlemen, nor blustering
seamen, nor chilling rains, nor raging seas, could damp, —
soon recovered his sprightliness, and demanded : —

" Why didn't you come for us in the steamboat there
at the wharf ? It would have taken so much less time to
reach us. "

" The steamboat ! " echoed a sailor, wondering more
than ever at these boys. " Well, that beats all ! A steam-
boat ! You must be a goose ! You live beside the lake,
and I've seen you poking about the vessels and steam-
ers, as smart and pert as a homeless peanut boy ; and
yet you ask me such a question ! Don't you know, from
watching the engineers, how long it takes to get on a
good head of steam ? And, s'pose we had come for you
in the steamboat — why, it would have knocked you and
your ragamuffin's punt endwise ! "

Steve fetched a hollow and piteous sigh, and mumbled
something about knowing something.

" Yes, of course ; but if you had brought along a few
gallons of oil," suggested the sage, rejoicing in the oppor-
tunity afforded for holding up his knowledge, even in so
hopeless a cause, " you could have calmed the water,
stopped the steamer, and picked us up without any
trouble.

" Exactly — if you had been worth afeir gallons of oil !"
was the crusty blue-jacket's cutting reply.

" The life-boat is the right thing to go and save people
in," Marmaduke commented.

" Yes, of course it is ; " the sage hastened to observe. "I
only made the remark."

" I think you are very remark-able boys, " put in Mr.
Lawrence.

" What made you think we were on the lake ? " Will in-
quired.

" I suppose you caught sight of my — our, I mean, —
signal ot distress ? " Marmaduke said placidly.

" Your what ? ' Signal of distress ? ' Well,that knocks
everything else on head ; that is most extraordinary!"
the scandalized tar ejaculated.

CONTINUAL BEWILDEREDNESS.

105

Poor fellow ! The boys' observations and inquiries had
kept him in a state of continual bewilderedness. It was
lie who had expressed his astonishment so huffishly
every time.

" Yes, " rejoined Marmaduke, " the handkerchief on the
oar. That brought you, didn't it ? "

" I don't know anything about any handkerchief on any
oar ; and you must be crazy to think we could see one in
this darkness, " was the depressing answer. " But, to be
sure," the sailor added, "I did notice that a pole with a *
rag on it seemed to be lowered just before we came up to
you ; was that the signal ? "

" Boys, I knew how fond you are of endangering your
lives, and when you were nowhere to be found, I shrewd-
ly suspected that you had found your way out into the
storm — and surely enough, you had ! " Mr. Lawrence ex-
plained.

" Marmaduke, don't meddle with romance again ! "
Charles whispered.

" I never did like sailors, except in stories, " Marmaduke
muttered ; " they are always a mean and sneering set of
fellows, except on the ocean. "

" I never knew such fellows, " muttered the sage ; " I —
I shouldn't be surprised if they turn out to be ex-pirates ! "

" I'll bet they are!" said Steve, who took kindly to this
brilliant idea. " Jim, I say, Jim, " he whispered slyly,
" it's too bad you *re in your good clothes ; for you'll have
to change 'em for the old ones ! Now, we can change for
our best. "

" Let me row ! " he said suddenly to the furrow-faced
rower, so coaxingly that the row-locks creaked in sym-
pathy.

" No, I came to save you, and I'll be hanged if I don't, "
tlie man said roughly. " You did the punting ; just leave
me alone for the rowing. "

Poor Stephen ! He long'^d to take a turn with the
sailors in rowing, but this crushed him, and he was mute.

" They're not a bit like sailors, " he mumbled to himself,
drawing his water-soaked hat down over his gleaming
eye-balls.

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106

A BLUNDERING BOY.

The men's surliness, on this occasion, was because they
were disgusted with the worthies whom they had come so
far to save. •

Soon afterwards they reached the wharf, where a knot
of people had assembled to welcome them. A hearty hand-
shaking followed, and then the six, mighty heroes, in their
eyes, were marched off home in triumph.

At least six families were made happy and thankful
that night, for the boys had had^a narrow escape.

Chapter XL
A Talented Lecturer.

A few weeks later, the holidays, like all other good
things, came to an end, and the six returned to school.

On the opening day a certain great man — great in
his own estimation, at least, — was to deliver a speech to
the school children. This notable gentleman bristled with
facts and figures ; but, alas I he had acquired so much
erudition that he had lost all sense of the fitness of things.
Having learned all that is possible for one mortal to
know,and yet live, he now made it his pursuit to journey
through the country, delivering lectures at the different
colleges, and sometimes, as in this instance, at the public
schools. There was nothing wicked about this most pecu-
liar man ; but, with all his learning, he lacked one thing
— practical wisdom.

He was of " slender bulk, " — that is, short and gaunt —
saffron-faced, and had a pugilistic and threatening man-
ner of poising himself while speaking, his hands, mean-
time, describing geometrical curves that were picturesque
in the extreme. His eyes were sharp and prominent ; his
nose followed suit : and his cane, which was stout and
elaborately ornamented, was worth, to descend to a hack-
neyed comparison, an emperor's ransom.

He employed the same technical terms that he did when
addressing the most polished audiences ; and, for that

HAZARDING AN ASSERTION.

107

reason, the younger children looked upon him as a sort of
liero, while to George and Marmaduke he was a full-
fledged derai-god. The former (George) listened attent-
ively to the lecture, and took mental note of the big
words, with a view to explain their import to his less
learned schoolfellows, should an opportunity offer for do-
ing so without too much ostentation. But, alas ! poor
youth, many words which were strange to him rolled
glibly from the professor's tongue.

Here we pause — not to make a "digression," but a vul-
gar harangue.

The writer has the temerity to hazard the assertion
that there might be, in some lone corner of the world, an
Engl ish -speaking romancer, iis familiar with a foreign lan-
guage as with his own, who could write a tale about peo-
ple speaking that language, and yet have his tale so pure-
ly and thoroughly English that the most neuralgic critic
could not cavil or repine. But this is only a rash surmise,
and is probably fanciful.

Or is it only those who have acquired a smattering of
another language that are so eager to lug in words and
phrases peculiar to that language ?

When will the mediocre writer of English come to under-
stand that his meanest, as well as his sublimest ideas,
way be manifested with as much force in English as in
any other language ? Alas, never ! Instead of saying
" such a man is a sharper, " he says, " such a man is a
chevalier d'induHtrie. " What could be more expressive
than " he is a devil of a fellow ? " And yet our learned
penmen prefer to say, " he is iiomo stupendo ! " It is a
notorious fact, that whatever language a writer is most
conversant in, he draws upon oftenest. ^lappiiy, the
reading public are not nmch bored with scraps from the
Escjuimau.

But, protests the reader, there are certain terms, and
entire phrases, that are not yet Anglicized, but that are
in everybody's mouth.

Very true ; against the proper use of such terms and
phrases, in moderation, no objections can be raised.

Having thus prated nonsense enough to incur the

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108

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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deadly hatred of every sentimental scribbler to the
weeklies of rural towns, this interesting argument may be
dropped, particularly as it only heads up to the following
observation : —

Our circumforaneous holderforth was one of those who
cannot make a speech without " borrowing from the class-
ics ; " but (for the best of reasons, gentle reader) we kind-
ly suppress his redundancies in that respect.

After a few introductory remarks, he cleared his throat,
and in sonorous tones began to speak of — hydrophobia !
Why he should pitch on that as a subject of discussion is
as great a marvel as the man himself. Possibly, he had
been bitten by an exasperated mad dog at some period in
his life, and could not overcome the temptation of speak-
ing of it now. But the probability is that he considered
himself the fountain-head of all sciences and theories, of
physics and etiology. At all events, whatever the wise-
acre's motive may have been,it is certain that he spoke of
hydrophobia.

" My dear little children, " he began, affectionately, " it
is of the utmost importance that you should be made ac-
(juainted with the latest discoveries that science has made
with regard to that most subtle distemper, learnedly called
lycanthropy. To those among you who intend to become
physicians on attaining majority, this subject will be ab-
sorbingly interesting. It is not my purpose to trace this
dread distemper from the first mention we have of it down
to the present time, but merely to give you a concise de-
scription of its operations in the human system, from its
incipient stages to the final paroxysms, and also to touch
upon the various methods of treatment in repute among
those who have conquered immortality by their researches
in that field.

" Probably none of you ever beheld a rabid canine.
When fleshed in the blood of his victims, he presents one
of the most appalling sights that the imagination can
conjure up, and rivals in ferocity the fabulous monsters
of the ancients. But in good time I shall discourse more
at large on his appearance ; for the present it is sufficient
that I make apparent the — But," breaking off abrubtly,

in<r

DEPLORABLE IGNORANCE.

109

" it is well that there should be a thorough understand-
in*; V)etween a speaker and his auditors."

Then, with that benevolent smile, peculiar to instruc-
tors oi juveniles when propounding their knotty ques-
tions, he demanded, " Little ones, can you define hydro-
phobia for me ? "

The " little ones " stared stolidly and helplessly, but
said nothing. The teacher, Mr. Meadows, looking en-
couraging — then, beseeching — then, mortified — then, irri-
tated — then, wicked. Still the " little ones " maintained
silence, both the scholastic and his lecture being unin-
telligible to them.

He repeated his (question ; and George — who, although
lu' (lid not wish to be ranked with the " little ones," yet
tVared that the learned man might consider him equally
ignorant it' he did not speak — rose prepared to give a
precise and lengthy definition.

This strikes the key-note to the Sage's character.

But a mischievous little gum-chewer, who doubtless
could have answered with tolerable correctness, if he
had chosen to do so, forestalled him by shouting, af the
top of his voice : " Burnt matches and water. Sir ! "

Now, it is probable that the juveniles had a chaotic
idea of the signification of the word, though unable to
define it ; and as the youngster just cited was generally
correct in his answers, they jumped to the conclusion
tiuit he was correct this time ; therefore, with a deafen-
inr? shout, some fifty "little ones" yelled: "BURNT
MATCHES and WATER, SIR ! ! ! "

Poor Teacher Meadows ! The emotions with which his
bosom glowed, were written on his face; and he hitched
uneasily in his seat, with that look of grave displeasure
supposed to be peculiar to aggrieved persons.

Tiie professor, probably seasoned to such rebuffs, soon
recovered his ecjuanimity. and turning to the older
scliolars, asked, " Cannot yov^ give me a satisfactory
answer ? Come ! Anyone ! What is hydrophobia ? "

Again an answer quivered on George's lips ; but now
Cliarles forestalled him. Taking his cue from the gum-
cliewer, Charley said, " Excuse me, sir, but you ad-

110

A BLUNDERING BOY.

dressed the little folk, and we, quite politely, left it for
them to answer. We know what it means, sir. Hyster-
phostia is a sort of influenza that yellow dogs catch when
they're fed on too much picnic victuals and spoilt
molasses. Then they're turned loose, with tin cans on
their tails, for policemen to shoot at ; and everybody that
sees them rushing along the street is sure to inhale
quinine hyster — "

At this point the speaker's voice was drowned by roars
of laughter from the astonished and delighted boys
and girls, and ho sat down " amid thunders of applause."

They, at least, appreciated his absurd reply, his pre-
tended ignorance, and his unblushing ettrcmtery in thus
wantonly insulting the august professor. They had
evidently taken a dislike to the scientific gentleman, who
was altogether too knowing for them, and, idiot-like,
rejoiced to see him thus grossly inslted.

The teacher looked stern and furious, and endeavored
in vain to stop the hubbub. Was his noble patron
to be thus shamefully treated by a mob of ignorant and
gooct-for-nothing school-children, supposed to be under
his training, and control ? Must not the offenders be
made to smart for it ?

The professor himself was electrified. However, he
had too much self-respect to regard anything that a
school-boy might say, and after shooting Charles a look
of calm contempt, he resumed his discourse, and pro-
ceeded to enlighten Teacher Meadows' brazen-faced
blockheads. He spoke long and earnestly on all things
relevant to canine madness, and mad dogs, and at length
ventured to propose another question.

" What should you do," he asked, " if a mad dog
should burst into this apartment — his bloody eyes start-
ing from their sockets — his mouth wide open, reeking
with its lethal venom, and disclosing his cruel, hideous
fangs — he himself dashing headlong hither and thither,
in his ungovernable fury remorselessly laying low victim
upon victim — we ourselves imprisoned here, utterly un-
able to extricate ourselves ? — Ah ! you may well shudder
at the frightful picture ! I forbear. But I repeat, what
should you do ? Boys and girls, listen : —

HE CHALKS OUT THE COURSE TO PURSUE.

Ill

" All that is necessary is sufficient presence of mind,
together with firm reliance on your nerves, and you will
always be able to face and avert the most appalling
dangers. And this is the precept that I wish to impress
upon you : Strive to acquire the habit of self-reliance, for
no habit is more important"

"Yes, yes, boys and girls ; mark that ; always remember
that precept ; " good Teacher Meadows cried, rising from
his seat, and smiling approval.

But the darkened intellect of the juveniles could not
take in the weight of such a percept, and a faint murmur
of resentment passed from mouth to mouth. In the
momentary interruption that ensued, Steve, who sat
near an outside door, rose and slipped out quietly. " I
guess I'll show the professor and the rest of the folks
what a rapid canine is like ! " he chuckled sardonic-

But the scene still lies within the school-house.

The professor was in earnest, and he certainly seemed
capable of making personal application of his precepts,
though, alas ! he had never been put to the test !

" What should you do in sucn an emergency ? " he
again demanded.

But he did not wish for an answer, and now he had
the goodness to tell the gaping children what he should
do. " Without a moment's deliberation," he said, " I
should, almost mechanically, muster my strength, and
prepare to ward off the danger. Knife in hand, I should
calmly await his murderous onslaught, and when al-
most upon me I should disarm his fury by ruthlessly
stabbing him to the heart."

To add force and illustration to his words, and to gain
credit with his hearers, the orator whipped out of his
pocket a treasure of a knife, — a knife, the possession of
which would have shot a thrill of happiness through any
understanding boy's heart, — and brandished it wildly,
yet gracefully, slaying myriads of imaginary mad dogs.

Certainly, he seemed master of the situation ; but in
an actual attack of a mad dog he might have experienced
some difficulty in getting his knife out of his pocket,
and opened, in time.

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112

A BLUNDERING BOY.

But where was the professor's dignity ? Why should
he make himself ridiculous for the pastime of idiotic
school-children ?

Although iiis spirit revolted at the thought of thus
sacrificing himself, yet his benevolence prompted him to
do many strange things for the instruction of the ignor-
ant ; and on this occasion, he labored not to amuse, but
to discipline them.

" Most magnanimous soul ! most disinterested savant ! "
breaks in the reader, struck with admiration for our
noble-minded professor.

But when an audible titter ran round the company, the
philanthropist hastily pocketed his weapon. Not to be
turned from his purpose, however, he resumed his dis-
course, and artfully harrowed up the feelings of his vic-
tims, pausing occasionally to pronounce, and amplify on,
some wise and weighty percept.

Teacher Meadows nodded his approbation ; the tired
school-children became restless and thirsty ; their feet
went to sleep ; they rolled their watery eyes pleadingly.
Still the strong-lunged enthusiast continued to hold
forth, seemingly taking a malicious pleasure in preying
upon their emotions.

Suddenly a distracted boy beheld an object that utterly
demoralized him. A piercing shriek of agony burst
from his lips, and his eye-balls gleamed like those of an
ambushed highwayman.

Chapter XII.
An Extraordinary Mad Dog.

It is now in order to follow up giddy -headed Stephen*
and see what mad plot had been hatched in his fertile
brain.

By turning back a little way, the reader will find
that that hero left the audience-chamber immediately
after the professor had so vividly drawn the onslaught
of an imaginary mad dog.

A DOG OF SOMB SOBT.

113

" It would serve the crazy old shouter right to test his
conrage," he muttered. " What business have people to
let such a man speak to chicken-hearted little young-
muns, all full of weak nerves, and awful to liellow ?
He might scare some of 'em into fits ! I know I'm fond
of ' boorish tricks,' as Qeorge calls them ; but if Charley
can talk that way about hydrophobia and yellow dogs,
I ^ess I can safely play this one nice little trick. Why,
this would only be in the interests of common sense !
And " cheerfully " how Jim, wovZd yeU ! ! ! "

Stephen's mode of reasoning was exceedingly subtile —
in fact, like the speech of the philopher on whom he con-
templated playing a trick, it is too subtile for our
comprehension. But so long as it removed his scruples,
he cared not a goose-quill what others might think.

"Now," he said to himself, "let me strike out my
plans. First is, to find my dog Tip; then, to white-
wash him and paint him. But," doubtfully, " I'm afraid
I can't get any white-wash or any paint. Anyway, it
would be better and more natural if 1 could get him on
the trail of some animal Poor Tip ! It's too M,d to treat
him so ; but then it won't hurt him any, and if the pro-
fessor keeps on working up their feelings, I guess there'll
be a stunning howl when Tii> bounces into the room,
the very picture of a ' rapid canine ' ! "

If Steve had tarried a little longer in the school, and
seen the professor as he flourished his murderous weapon,
he woula have thought better of having Tip play the mad
dog.

Hurrying along through the school-grounds, he finally
halted under a venerable and wide-spreading shade-tree,
beloved by all the girls and boys of the school. There
before him, rolled up in a ball, lay a vivacious-looking
dog, sleeping soundly.

" Eh, Tip ! " Steve said. " Good old boy ! here you are,
just as I hoped."

At the firat words the dog hopped up briskly, and be-
gan to caress his master, frisking and lurking to express
His delight, and disporting himself as only a pet dog can.

It is conjectured that our young readers may be curious
5

114

A BLUNDERING BOY

to know what species of dog this was. Alas ! it is im-
possible to inform them. Neither his master Stephen nor
any other person in the village could affirm positively to
what particular species Tip belonged, but all agreed that
he was a dog of some sort. This much, however, is known
concerning him : He was of medium size and of divers
colors, black and white predominating, a universal favor-
ite with all the heroes and heroines of this history.

" Eh, Tip, are you glad to see me ? Shall we have
some sport ? What do you say to a run in the road ? "

By way of answer, the dog seized his master's pants
with his sharp teeth, and tugged playfully at them, his
way of angling for sport.

" I guess you'll do, Tip. You've got lots of fun in you,
if I can keep you going ; " and Steve swung open the
^te of the school-grounds and passed out with a chuckle,
Tip hard at his heels.

Then this giddy-headed boy and his unsuspecting dog
turned a corner of the fence, found themselves in a dustv
and unfrequented lane, and prepared for action.

" Now, Tip," said the young rascal, " if we can make
you run up and down this lane till you get all covered
with dust, and dirt, and slobber, our fortune '11 be made !
Come on, Tip ; we shan't need any white-wash nor any
paint. Eh, Tip ? "

Going on a little farther, till they reached the river,
this wicked boy incited his dog to plunge headlong into
the water after sticks and stones. Then, returning to the
lane, be urged the wet dog to course up and down in the
midst of the dust — sometimes after sticks, sometimes after
himself. The playful dog enjoyed the sport, and entered
into it fully. Soon he presented a woful appearance, but
Steve unpitingly spurred him on till he began to pant
hard.

"Good ! " cried he. " Pant away, Tip, and get yourself
well covered with slobber. That's it ! Run, now, — fetch
him, Tip ; go for him. There, roll in the dust ! "

Thus he continued, till the poor dog was fagged out.
Then Stephen, even Stephen, relented, and thought seri-
ously of giving up his proposed experiment.

HOW FATE WORKED IT.

115

But, ah ! the reason was —

" I'm afraid, Tip, that if you run back to school, you'll
be too tired to scare them much, and if you walk back,
you'll lose most of your foam and slobber. And perhaps
we mij^ht be too late, anyhow. Upon my word," ne cried"
suddenly, " I never planned how I am to get you into the
building! I can't go with you, and you can't get in
alone ! '

In his indecision, Stephen retraced his steps to \he gate
of the school-grounds, c>pened it, and with his eyry tried
to measure the distance from that place to the castellated
school-house — Tip, meanwhile, recovering his strength
and sportiveness.

On a sudden, Fate interposed in the form of a muscular
and war-worn cat, which appeared leisurely crossing the
school -grounds. Tip saw it, and forgetting his weariness,
furiously gave chase.

" Sic it. Tip ! Sic it ! " cried Steve, who, in the excite-
ment of the moment, apparently forgot his trick, and
ea^rly joined in pursuit.

Tip soon came up with his hereditaria enemy, and a
frightful combat ensued. Instinct or the force of habit
impelled warlike puss to tight stoutly for escape, and he
rained blows and execrations, (in the cat language,) that
would have done credit to a battle-scarred pirate, upon
his assailant.

Tip fought because of his " liking for the thing," and
because his master was pricking him on to victory by
such spirit-stirring exclamations as : " Oh, sic it, Tip ! Go
for him ! Beat 'em ! Maul 'em ! Sh ! sh ! sh ! "

Rabid canine and outraged feline ! Would that the
professor could have beheld the combat between them !

Presently the dog, with a piteous howl, ceased to fight,
and rubbed his head vigorously on the ground ; whilst
the cat, seizing its opportunit}^ scampered away towards
the school -house.

" Poor little Tip ! " said Steve remorsefully, as he ob-
served that his dog was reeking with dust, froth, wounds,
and blood.

In a moment, however, Tip was up again and in hot

|i.

116

▲ BLUNDERING BOT

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pursuit of the persecuted feline, but, not wishing to risk
another engagement, that redoubtable warrior found
refuge somewnere about the school. Not so Tip. He
dashed straight ahead, and made his way into the very
room in which were all the school-children, together with
Professor Rhadamanthus and Teacher Meadows.

Steve was close on the dog's heels ; but on seeing this,
he turned back and shot off m despair.

" Oh ! " he groaned, " this is worse than I meant it to
be ! Every one '11 think that Tip is stark staring mad !
dear me ! What shall I do ! what shall I do ! "

Tip's arrival was most opportune. Thanks to the pro-
fessor's vivid imagery, all the scholars were perspiring
with racking excitement, and so blood-stained an appar-
ition as Tip could not fail to create a commotion. Tip
still retained sufficient strength and agility to burst im-
petuously into the room, and the sudden appearance of an
animated mass of slaver, wounds, and blood, was enough
to unhinge the mind of any school boy in the Union.

There were more than one hundred boys in the school ;
more than forty had a stout jack-knife in their left-hand
trowsers pocket ; more than thirty had one in their right
hand trowsers pocket ; some five had both a penknife and
a jack-knife about their person ; about twenty phlegmatic
and chuckle-headed cubs — who took only a languid in-
terest in anything but peppermint candy, circus serpent-
charmers, and noisy fireworks — had their jack-knives
out, and were trying to while away the time by rounding
off the sharp angles of their brand-new lesson-books. As
for the others, they had lost their jack-knives on their
way to school, and consequently had none. Alas, pro-
fessor! your golden precept was lost on those youths!
Not one, not one, drew his knife to " stab the beast to its
heart."

An awful yell of consternation smote upon the air, as
the demoralized and panic-stricken boys and girls strug-
gled to escape. The young ladies were too prudent to
faint, but they screamed with a voice as shrill and dis-
cordant as their brothers'. It fared worst with the little
jrirlSy who were jostled about and shoved aside without

TBI PROF. ASSERTS HIMSELF.

117

ceremony. Not a spark of gallantry animated the bosom
of those youths ; each one strove to save himself, himself
only, and took no thought for the weaker and less active
girls. Rough and lubberly boys, in their struggle to
escape, brutolly trod hats and bonnets, books and slates,
foot-stools and benches, and school-mates' toes, under
foot. Such commotion had never been known in that
school. Suddenly a boy stepped heavily on the dog, and
poor Tip howled so lustily that he was heard above all
the tumult This, of course, added to the panic, and a
perfect Babel ensued.

Then, with a roar of horror and agony, a bouncing boy
cried out that he was bitten !

What wonder that poor Tip should bite, when he was
bedewed with grimy tears of horror, yanked this way
and that way, stumbled over, jammed against desks,
pelted now and then with a stone ink-bottle, and trampled
nearly to death ?

At length the apartment was cleared of all save a few.
As it has been emphatically stated that most of the six
were brimming with noble heroism, perhaps it would be
better to say nothing about how they behaved. Let . the
reader imagine how he would behave under similar cir-
cumstances.

By the wav, it was very rash and foolish in the writer
to speak of their bravery at all ; and it has cost him (or
her) no little annoyance — instance chapter the eighth.
In fact, on mature deliberation, the writer recants all that
has been said of their bravery.

As Will was tearing out of the room, — it may be re-
marked incidentally that it happened he was almost the
last to do so, — Tip hobbled past him to get out. Quick as
thought. Will caught up a heavy chair, and brained him
on the spot.

" There," Will said joyously, " the danger is over now ;
the dog is dead." On giving the dog closer examination,
he exclaimed, in surprise : " Why, it's Steve's dog Tip !
Poor Tip ! Surely he wasn't mad ! "

Meanwhile, where was the great authority on all
things in general, rabid canines in particular ? Where
was ne wiUi his knife ?

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118

A BLUNDERING BOY.

>«h,

A I the first note of danger, he, being nearest the front-
door, had leaped to his feet and ingloriously shown his
heels ; but not being so familiar v,^ith the internal arrange-
ment of the building as he thought, he fell heavily down
the four steps of the entry. The fall stunned him, and
for a few minutes he lay insensible. Where was the
wonderful knife that was to disarm the fury of all mad
dogs ? Alas ! it was safe in his pocket !

Before the learned man could grapple with the situa-
tioi and gather himself up, the horritied school children
were swarming out of the door, and — over him ! Awful
magnate that he was, not one among them hesitated to
make him a stepping-stone in this time of fancied danger.
In fact, the next day an immoral boy was heard to say
that the professor made a better door-step than speaker ;
" for, " as he phrased it, " we slid down over him at top
speed, and got outside all the sooner. "

As for Teacher Meadows, he had perceived that the
peroration was at hand ; and when the dog appeared, he
was carefully digestiDg an " extempore " little speech, in
which he intended to express his gratitude to the learned
man for the very lucid and forcible manner in which the
absorbing topic of hydrophobia had been presented to the
" students. " But the advent of the dog diverted the
train of his thoughts, and his nice little speech was never
made. After a vain attempt to stem the hubbub and find
where the mad dog was, he followed the example set by
the noble speaker, and hurried out of the school ; for,
though naturally brave, he saw that it was useless to re-
main.

Although the dog was slain, it was some time before
the (juaking children could be brought to understand that
the danger past, and when at last their fears were quiet-
ed, it was found that a great many were missing — among
them, the boy v/ho had been bitten. What a startling re-
port they spread in the village about that mad dog ! As
may be imagined, tlie strange orator's name was so much
mixed up in their incoherent and " artless " story, that
most of the villagers laid all the blame of the afifair on
him

'm ''H

AN IMMORAL BOY.

119

before
d that
quiet-
imong
ng re-
! As
mucli
that
Kkir on

Let us return to him, the precept-giving sage, the gifted
declaimer. As soon as he recovered himself,and found an
opportunity to do so, he made good his escape — without
even making his adieux to Teacher Meadows! He reached
the depot without molestation ; but instead of taking the
train for the next seminary, to rant on his darling
themes, he took the first train for his home, in Boston.

There he lamented the degeneracy of American youth,
and trembled for the integrity of the Union if those boys
sliould ever usurp the right of running the machinery of
government.

Now, our wondrous-wise philosopher firmly believed
tlie heart to be the sept of courage. Being aware that he
had played the poltroon on the occasion of the struggle
with tlie " mad dog," he became alarmed about the state
of that organ, and consulted one of the most eminent
physicians of Boston, who gravely informed him that the
left ventricle was a.lfected.

Hence you perceive, gentle reader, tliat the professor
must liOt be censured for deserting his post as he did ;
for had his heart been in its normal condition, he would
have proved a far more formidable antagonist to Tip than
tiie pugnacious grimalkin.

But Teacher Meadows probably suffered most acutely.
and he should bo pitied most. Let us return to him.
After mustering the remaining school children, he de-
manded threateningly. " Can any of you throw any
\\ii:ht on this mysterious affair ? "

Tliere was silence — unbroken, except occasionally, by
an hysterical " Ah ! " or " Oh ! " from some tender and
cream-faced child, who still quaked with fear.

Soon Will spoke. " The dog is dead, Mr. Meadows, " he
said. " I killed him, " with boyish pride, " and I don't
believe he was mad at all ; for he was Stephen Goodfel-
low's door, "

" Oh, the dog is dead ? Well, let me see it ; where is
it ? "' Mr. Meadows said eagerly.

Will led the way to the place where Tip lay dead, and
good Mr. Meadows vainly tried to determine whether the
dog had been mad or not. Poor man ! he was better
versed in Latin verbs than in " lycanthropy. "

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120

A BLUNDERING BOY.

(I ▼

• ■ li

III

" Can any one explain this ?" he again demanded,
never before saw a dog in so pitiable and unnatural a con-
dition, but as to his being mad — " and he stopped short,
nodding his head in great perplexity.

" I guess I saw him first, " piped up the chubbyhobble-
dehoy. who had been the first to cry out in terror on the
dog's arrival. " I saw him bolt in through the winder. "

" You did not ! " exclaimed another. " He came in
thrDUgh the door. "

"I know it ; I only said I saw him bolt in through the
winder, " screamed the first speaker, who was blissfully
ignorant of syntactical constructions.

" Well ? "—

" Well ? " mockingly. " Don't you wish you'd seen
him bolt in, too 1 "

" Oh, you ! " furiously.

" Stop that noise ! " cried the teacher, authoritatively.
" You must say, 'burst in.' " Then, swelling with pettish-
ness, he said vehemently, " I demand an explanation !
Some one must know how and where this originated. "

" I can explain it — mostly, ' said Jim (our Jim), stepping
forward.

Poor Jim ! It had fared hardly with him ; for, be-
sides having his weak mind nearly thrown off its balance,
he had been clawed and pommelled cruelly in his struggles
to escape, and was now suffering with an agonizing at-
tack of his peculiar disease — " the chills. "

" You can explain it ? " said Teacher Meadows.
" Then, wherefore have you withheld your communica-
tion so long t "

He, at least, had profited by the professor's discourse ;
he had caught that long-winded gentleman's scholastic
phraseology.

" I — I — was afraid to speak ; I — I ain't well ; " Jim
stammered.

" Pray begin your version of it," said Mr. Meadows,
with a weary look, that told of an aching head and a sore
heart.

" Yes, Mr. Meadows, " Jim said hastily. " While Mr.
Rhadamanthus was speaking, I saw Steve slip out of

JIM UNFOLDS HIS TALE.

121

school acd go to the far end of the grounds, where his
dcg was sleeping ; and then they both got up and they
went outside of the gates ; but the fence hid them from
me, and so I can't tell you what they did outside of the
gates. "

Here the narrator paused to take breath, and Teacher
Meadows said, sharply, " Yes, very good ; but why didn't
you pay attention to the speaker ? Instead of idly gap-
ing out of the window at a boy and his dog, why didn't
you listen to that spirited dissertation on hydrophobia,
and assiduously take notes of the learned remarks ? So
distinguished a speaker may never visit our town again ;
and — "

" Yes, sir, " interrupted Jim, " but if I hadn't looked
out of the window, I shouldn't have known how it all
happened. "

Teacher Meadows was nonplussed. With a zigzag
wave of the hand, he simply said, " Resume ; I will not
argue the point. "

Jim resumed. " I was sitting by the window, and I
watched until they came back to the gates. They were
too far away for me to see what they had been doing ;
but I watched, and pretty soon I seen Tip chasing a
whopping big old striped used-up cat like — like — like — "

" Like what ? " angrily asked the teacher.

Jim started, hesitated, and said, desperately, " I don't
know, I'm sure. "

" Go on ! " said the wearied listener, with a sinister
frown.

" Yes, sir. Well, he caught the cat, and they had an
awful fight ! I expect Tip got used up in the fight, Mr.
Meadows. Then the cat got away — then Tip chased
after it towards the school — and then the next thing I
knew. Tip was right in the school ! That's all I know
about it, sir. "

" A most succinct relation, James, " commented Mr.
Meadows, with a reckless disregard for the rules of gram-
mar as regulated by logic in his octavo grammar. " But
when you knew all about it, why didn't you warn us
in time 1 Then this misfortune would not have hap-
pened. "

'i I

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ill

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122

A BLUNDERING BOY.

" I — I was frightened myself, sir, " Jim acknow-
ledged.

" Where was Stephen ? You left him at the gate, "said
the teacher.

" No, sir ; I wasn't with him ; I didn't do anything to
him ; " Jim said innocently.

" I guess he ran off after the fight, " ventured a boy.

" Here comes Steve now, " a scholar announced.

And a minute later the boy under discussion hove in
sight, but so changed in appearance that he seemed an-
other boy. Light-hearted and light-headed Steve was
now a haggard, woebegone wretch, who looked as if his
conscience had goaded Jiim over the verge of frenzy. From
a distance he had heard and seen the uproar at the school ;
and, far from felicitating himself on the " success " of his
trick, he had undergone torments. In fact, the thought
had been forced home to him that there is a higher pur-
pose in life than that of playing coarse practical jokes,
and that he had frightened the children more than even
the orator, Mr. Rhadamanthus.

Yet the boy had at least one good quality ; he was al-
ways ready to shoulder the blame of his misdoings, and
he never tried to take refuge by telling a lie or by dis-
torting the truth.

" Stephen Goodfellow, " began Mr. Meadows, severely,
" let me hear you in your defence. According to all ac-
counts, you alone are the guilty one ; so give me your
version of this scandalous affair. "

" Yes, sir ; I did it all ; Steve said, meekly. " It was
my dog Tip ; but he wasn't no madder than I was. "

" Then he must have been remarkably sane ! " com-
mented the teacher.

We need not weary the reader l»y detailing the trick-
ster's " version." When he had rehearsed his story
from beginning to end, Teacher Meadows said, in delib-
erate and awful tones that cut Steve to the (juick, and
fairly made his hair stand on end : " I have a few re-
marks to make, but I will not detain you long. Your
' trick ' may have been strikingly novel and daring, the
inspiration of a genius ; but that it was dishonorable

TEACHER MEADOWS SPEAKS.

123

and
re-
^our
the
able

and brutal, unworthy of a citizen of this glorious re-
public, I presume no one will attempt to deny. You
have created a great sensation in our peaceful little
village, but what you have done will not redound to
your credit ; you have forfeited the esteem and friend-
ship of your school -fellows ; you have, I doubt not,
mortally wounded the feelings of Professor Rhadaman-
thus, the great philosopher and able speaker, as well as
cast opprobrium upon our school ; you have terrorized
the children, and even fatal results might have ensued ;
and by sequestering yourself from the scene of conflict,
you have laid yourself open to the stigma of cowardli-
ness. Though great harm has been done, I will not
punish you, for the odium of this afl'air and the prickings
of your conscience will be sufficient punishment. Your
dog, the sportive Tip, is dead, as I suppose you know.
You will acknowledge that no one except yourself is to
be blamed for that. But one word more : I advise you
all to hasten to your homes, to try to forget this shame-
ful occurrence, and never to practice cowardly tricks."

Steve did not know that Tip was dead, and he gave a
convulsive grasp and then burst into a flood of tears, for
he loved his dog. Poor fellow, his heart was so full of
grief and remorse that his eyes mechanically pumped the
tears cut of their reservoii*. And that reproof ! His
former misdemeanors had generally been overlooked by
the kind-hearted teacher, and this oratorical reproof
stung him to the quick.

As for the teacher himself, his own eloquence had a
wonderfully soothing eflect on him. No one, except a
few gaping, trembling school-children, was there to hear
him, it is true ; but for all that, he was pleased with his
little speech, and — surprised at it I In fact, it did his
headache as much good as an application of hartshorn
and alcohol.

Fearing, perhaps, that the teacher might change his
mind and re-open school, the juveniles set ofl" for home
at a round pace. Steve was not wholly avoided by the
boys ; on the contrary, several gathered round him, to
condole with him or to blame him, as the case might be.

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124

A BLUNDERING BOY.

■i : iu

\ii

Not a few envied him the " notoriety " to which he had
attained.

" Well, Steve, are you a ' citizen of this republic ' or
not ? " Charles anxiously inquired. " I couldn't settle
that point from what Mr. Meadows said."

The unworthy citizen smiled mournfully, but said
nothing.

" Steve," Charley pursued, " I hope that between the
phenomenon Mr. Prof. Rhadamanthus, yourself, and your
dog, the ' little ones,' ' big ones,' and every one present,
will have a tolerably clear idea of hydrophobia and mad
dogs."

" Please don't speak of Tip, boys," Steve said plead-
ingly.

" No, Steve, we won't," George replied. " But really,
now," he added, "I wasn't so flurried as the rest of them;
and I took it coolly ; and I doubted all the time whether
the dog was mad. You see, I've read a good deal on the
subject lately, and he hadn't the build of a dog that
would go mad. Mad dogs always look — "

At this point the Sage was interrupted by a burst of
laughter, in which even Stephen joined feebly.

"Then, George, I suppose you understood that lecture?"
Will, asked.

" Y-e-s," George said, with some hesitation.

" Steve, it was me that killed your dog ; " Will said
doubtfully. [Though the writer has heard hundreds of
boys say, " it's me," " it's him," etc., he never knew but
one boy to say, " it is I." That boy did not say it because
he knew it to be correct, but because necessity compelled
him to do so. The phrase occurred in a sentence which
he was reading.] " It was me that killed your dog ; but
I thought I was killing a mad dog at the time. I'm
sorry for ifc, Steve."

"t«^ "* i; you did all right; I don't blame you a
h^i 4/ '» plied.

- .1' a ; o<p:ii Marmaduke, softly. "Respect Steve's
griei, . about something else."

The excitement in the village was appeased at last ;
but great indignation was felt towards Stephen when it
became known that he was the author of it all.

I m

KO LONGER DOQLESS.

125

The poor boy who had been bitten was in great terror,
and his parents sent for the doctor in hot haste. That
worthy — who had a theory of his own about dydrophobia,
and was only waiting and longing for an opportunity to
put it into practice — chipperly trod his way to the
rescue with a case of surgical instruments, and was about
to perform some horrible operation on the hapless
youth, when the news came that the dog was not mad.
Then he applied a soothing poultice U> the bite, and
wearily plodded his way back to his office, full of bitter-
ness because he had not been able to try his little experi-
ment.

The bitten boy, however, was of a malicious disposition,
and he vowed to take dire revenge for the indignities
heaped upon him.

Stephen's position was not one to be envied. He was
so thoroughly ashamed of himself that he latibulized in
the house for four livelong days ; and, for a boy of his
restless disposition, that was unheard-of penance. What
passed between him and his scandalized parents would
not benefit or interest the reader, consequently it is not
recorded here. He mustered his resolution and took to
reading his sisters' " little books," which he had always
abhorred and eschewed with the unreasonable and im-
placable hatred of boyhood, and gladdened his mother's
heart with his staidness and meekness. For one whole
month he refrained from playing off or studying up any
trick, and those most interested in him began to hope
that his reformation in that respect was sincere.

Alas ! such hopes were built on quicksands ! His father,
taking pity on the dogleaa boy, had bought him a frisky
Newfoundland pup, which he cared for lovingly and
almost idolized ; and as the memory of poor Tip gradu-
ally faded from his mind, he forgot the many morals
and percepts that had been held up to him by his well-
meaning parents. In a merry moment Steve named this
pup " Thomas Henry ; " but as this provoked the
laughter of his school-fellows, in sheer desperation he
nicknamed it " Carlo."

At the end of that one month, the street urchins goi*

'.J I 4

126

A BLUNDERING BOY.

tired of teasing him about mad dogs, and he recovered
his spirits and his love of mischief, and returned to his
former pursuits with gusto. In a word, Stephen became
himself again.

ri:

■'I

Chapter XIII.

The Six Go to a Picnic.

About this time a picnic was planned by the villagers,
to be held in a grove beside the river. Everything was
arranged beforehand, so that no hitch might occur ;
but, for all that, a hitch did occur, since seventeen
plum-cakes and five hundred and nine tarts were baked.
A fire was to be lighted on an " island " in the river,
and another on the shore ; and over those fires, some-
thing, no one could have told exactly what, was to be
boiled. Boats were to be provided to ferry the picnickers
to and from the said island. By the way, this pigmy
island was prettily clothed with grass and flowers, and

E resented a fine appearance from the river ; therefore,
y the poetical, it was appropriately named " The Con-
servatory." It was also roundish in shape, and therefore,
from the vulgar, it received the unique nickname of
" The Saucer." Our heroes generally gave it the latter
name.

The children of the school, of course, to be present in
all their finery, with their elders in attendance, to keep
them from destroying themselves.

Now, Stephen knew all the plans that had been formed,
and it occurred to him that it would be a capital joke if
he should take a bunch of fire-crackers along with him,
and introduce it secretly into one of the two fires.

" Of course," he said to himself, " I wouldn't poke 'em
in while any of the ladies or little youngsters were
around ; I'd do it while none but boys were there. No ;
for I don't w^ant to get mixed up in any more tricks ! "

The longer Steve meditated this, the more determined
he was to do it ; for he had not yet learned that an ac-

A LITTLE WOODEN BOX.

127

tion, harmless in itself, may lead to unpleasant, if not
serious, results.

On the day before the picnic, he applied to a shop-
keeper for the crackers. In vain ; the " Glorious Fourth "
was passed too long. " But, to accommodate you, I can
^et some in a few days, I suppose," the shop-keeper said,
with great benevolence. " How many bunches do you
vrant ? "

" No, I want them to-day, or not at all ; " Steve said, as
he turned to leave the shop.

But he did not give up hope yet. He thought of Will,
and the next minute was on his way to see him. By
what fatality was he sent there ?

" Oh, yes, Steve ; I happen to have a whole bunch of
them ; " said Will. " You see, I had more than I wanted
last Fourth, so I was saving these, but you can have them
all."

" Yes," said Stephen ; " but I guess you're the only boy
I ever heard of that couldn't fire off all his crackers.
Why, I could make use of a barn-yard full of them I "

" So could I, Steve ; but 1 scorched my hand, and had
to stop firing them."

" Yes, I remember it, Will ; that's the reason I came to
you. But I don't see why you didn't fire 'em when
you're hand got well." 4'hen to himself : " Just like Will;
wonder he didn't scorch his head off."

" Well, Steve, let us look for those same crackers," said
Will.

But they had been mislaid, and the two boys conducted
the search almost at random. In length of time they
came upon a little wooden box.

" Here they are, Steve ! " Will exclaimed. " This is the
very box I put them in ; but I don't know how they got
here, among father's guns. But then I wasn't keepmg
track of them — in fact, I had forgotten that I had them
till you spoke about them."

" Thank you, Will ! " said Steve, with a broad grin, as
he took the box.

Then, with thumb and forefinger, he tried to open it, to
take out the crackers and gloat over them. But he could

». \~\

-S-K

1 ':

128

▲ BLUNDERING BOT.

'* I

not force it open. " What's the matter with this box,
Will ? " he asked. " I can't open it at all."

" That's queer," said Will ; " likely the lid has swollen.
Well, take them, box and all, Steve ; and if you break it
in opening it, it won't be any great loss."

Steve mumbled a feeble remonstrance, but pocketed the
box and turned to go.

" But what are you going to do with the fire-crackers ? "
Will suddenly asked,as a dread suspicion entered his mind.

Steve looked disconcerted, and said something like,
" Oh, you'll see."

Now, when a boy falters and says, " you'll see," it is
generally safe to infer that he is plotting mischief.

Will evidently thought so, for as Steve whisked out of
the house and over the gate, he said to himself, " I believe
Steve is working up some trick again. And to-morroY
is the picnic ! Well, Stunner, I'll just keep an eve on
you ! "

On reaching home, Stephen found that he could not
open the box without tearing it to pieces, and he decided
that he would put the fire-crackers, box and all, into the
fire.

" That'll be the easiest way to open the pesky old box,"
he said. " Of course the crackers won't go off till it is
burnt, but a rousing old fire will soon bum it."

Having formed this determination, the boy's mind was
at rest. If, however, he had succeeded in opening the
box, he would have found not fire-crackers, but gun-
powder ; f CT Will had made another blunder, and given
him a box filled with powder. This box belonged to Mr.
Lawrence ; he having bought it a few days before, filled
it with powder, and put it away among his guns. The
reader now understands that it was not the box Will
thought it was. The reason why Steve could not open it,
was because the lid caught with a hidden spring.

If that box should be introduced into the fire, it would
make more of a "stir" than fire-crackers, and give some-
body a little employment in setting things to rights.

The next day was the picnic. The sun shone bright,
and promised a peerless September day. This was agree-

WILL PLANS TO TURN THE TABLES.

129

able ; and the juveniles flocked to the scene in good time,
with a hungry look in their eyes — a look that always
plays over a boy's visage when pursuing his way to a pic-
nic, or " anniversary.' Stephen, of course, was there ;
full of animal spirits, and with the box straining the
lining of his coat-pocket.

A fire was soon lighted on the island, but Steve did not
find an opportunity to put his crackers into it so soon as
he expected ; for, warm as the day was, the little boys
crowded eagerly around it, discovering their delight in
exultant shouts, and heaping on more brush with never-
ending amusement.

Steve idled about p ti'^ntly a few minutes, and then
determined to leave tho ishxnd for awhile, till the young-
sters had either sought some newer source of pleasure, or
else burnt their fingers or scorched their garments.

Unknown to Steve, Will, who had guessed how and
when the boy intended to use the fire-crackers, was
watching him sharply. Will had also discovered the
mistake that had been made, and consequently was all
the more anxious to keep a watchful eye on Steve. He
had planned, moreover, to turn the tables, and play a
knavish trick of his own on incorrigible Stephen.

Mr. Lawrence had said to him, *' Now, Will, seeing that
Steve is preying on my valuables, you must make the
best of it, and teach the idleheaded fellow a lesson. You
may do whatever you please ; but don't let an explosion
take place. The powder, I think, got damp the other day,
and so it wouldn't explode for some time — even if he
should drop the box plump into the fire. In fact, unless
he has succeeded in opening it, which is doubtful, he will
probably put it into the fire. Let him do it ; you can
snatch it out again. If, on the other hand, he has forced
the box open, both his trick and your trick will be spoiled.
Perhaps that would be best. Now, Will, above all, do
not frighten other people."

It will be seen that Mr. Lawrence had guessed Steve's
intention. But he was wrong in permitting his son to
meddle in the trick. The straightforward way would
have been to tell Stephen what the box really held, and
then he would have given it up directly.

180

A BLUNDERING BOY.

m\] *:"l

No doubt, gentle reader, you are tired of these beggarly
little " tricks." But have patience a little longer, O
reader, for when this last trick is finished, we shall win*;
our way along smoothly throughout the rest of the book
without any tricks whatever.

When Will saw Stephen leave " Conservatory Isle," he
thought himself at liberty to take his ease for awhile, and
coolly taking possession of an unoccupied boat, rowed
over to the snore.

While drifting along the shore, a spruct; gentleman
hailed him, and asked to be ferried across tht^ river.

" Yes, sir," said Will, placing the boat in a favorable
position for the gentleman to enter it. He sprang in
lightly, saying, " I've forgotten something over there ;
take me as fast as you can."

In nervous haste to do his best. Will gave the boat a
vigorous shove, and then looked his passenger full in the
face. The latter also looked at Will. The recognition
was mutual ; for if Will recognized the peculiar features
of the newspaper genius whom he had shot with poison
in his youth, the newspaper genius likewise recognized
the remarkably talented son of the lady who had been
his hostess when he visited the neighborhood some years
previously.

Letting his emotions get the better of his principles,
the man uttered a cry of horror, mechanically rose to his
feet, and fetched a random leap for the shore. But the
motion that Will had communicated to the boat had
placed it some distance from the shore, and the impetus
of the leap adding to that distance, the leaper i'onnd him-
self in deep water, in the exact position the b ^at had
occupied a moment before. Any boy at all acquainted
with the navigation of boats, rafts, or anything floatable.
can substantiate this.

Then the unfortunate man said something very wicked
— too wicked, in fact, to be set down in a story like this.
Then he struggled to reach the shore, but Will said,
politely, " Don't try to get ashore, sir, or you will get
covered with mud. The best thing to do is to climb into
the boat again ; I'll help you."

.HIST IN TIME.

131

Tliis was clearly the wiser proceeding of the two, and
the man, feeling very foolish, scrambled out of the water
into the boat.

Bending a ferocious gaze on the innocent boatman, he
asked roughly, " Can you row ? "

Will proudly answered in the affirniaiive, and the dis-
i(usted picnicker — elaborating a dolorous sigh as he flirted
his eyes over his tousled and mud-spattered garments,
ami experiencing an emotion of regret as he thought of
a new cabinet phot<)gra]>h of himself, that was tucked
away in his coat-tail pocket — said snappishly: —

" Then take me to some sheltered place where I can
wring out rtiy clothes a little, and afterwards I'll find my
way to the fire on the island. Can I get dry there in
peace, and alone ? "

" I think so, after a few minutes," said Will, tugging
stoutly at his oars.

" Well," mused the dripping newspaper man, as he sat
ilcjectedly in the boat, with his head resting on his
disordered cravat, "1 — I — was very foolish to jump
overboard ; but it is strange that I should encounter this
wretch when I least expected it. Much amusement I
sjiall have to-day, in these wet clothes. Well," firmly,
1 will nevfe" return to tliis village while this bane of mv
life inhabits it ! "

After landing the luckless Mr. Sarjent at a sequestered
spot. Will pointed his way back to the island, to look
iihvv Stephen. He arrived just in time. Steve and a
choice Ijand of his .school-fellows were grouped about the
file, and the little folk had sought other quarters.

At first Will feared that he was too late ; but he was
reassured on seeing Stephen dodging around the fire,
evidently trying to shove the box into it without being
observed.

Keeping a vigilant look-out, Will socm had the pleasure
of seeing Steve poke the box into the extreme edge of the
tire.

" Good ! " Will chuckled. " Pa was right — and so was
I. I can snatch it out without any trouble, and then
won't Steve wonder what has become of it ! Just wait
till I play my little trick on him i "

i>!

M m^ i

A BLUNDERING BOY.

.'1

5 !

As soon as Steve looked in another direction, Will
sidled up to the fire, adroitly drew out the box, and
slipped it into his pocket.

He had scarcely done so when Steve whirled around
and saw him.

" Will ! " he cried excitedly, " come away, or you'll be
burned ! — The — the fire is very hot, you know," he
added, by way of explaining his solicitude.

" So it is," Will assented, stepping back. To himself
he added, " Poor Steve ! you thought I should be blown
up by the fire-crackers, did you ? Well, it is a good thing
you don't know it is gunpowder, and it's a good thing
I am here to prevent a catastrophe ! "

Stephen waited eagerly and anxiously for ihe supposed
crackers to go off. He imagined that the boys would be
struck with amazement and horror to see the fire suddenly
snap, and hiss, and roar, and vomit forth ashes and coals.
Then he would explain how it was done, and the boys
would cheer, and laugh, and say, " That's a bully trick,
Steve ! " And then they would saunter off", filled with
admiration and envy, forced to admit that in originality
and daring Steve had no equal in the county.

But as no explosion took place, Steve became uneasy.
He was of a restless disposition, and a trifle was suflBcient
to make him fidgety. He had not observed that the box
was fabricated of wood that would not readily take fire,
and he expected to hear the crackers detonate almost
immediately.

" Surely it ought to be burnt clear through by this
time ! " he mumbled to himself. " What in the world is
the matter ? O dear ! I hope they will go off' before the
people come he"'> to see to things ! Why didn't I at least
see how thick tLe pesky box was ! "

" Oh, come along, boys, there's no fun here, and it's as
hot as pain-killer," an owl-eyed booby exclaimed. " Come
along, boys ; let's leave this here Saucer."

The others coincided with him, and they were actually
getting into an old boat, to punt their way across the
river, when Steve said implormgly, " Oh, don't go, boys !
Stay just a little longer, and you'll see sport."

STEVE AND MR. LAWRENCE.

133

" ' See sport ' ? " sneered one. " Sho ! I guess all the
' sport ' you'll see here, will be to see yourself sun-struck !
No ; it's too hot here."

And before the trick-player could give them a hint as
tti what the " sport " would be, he experienced the vexa-
tion of seeing them leave the island m a body ! It was
hard to be cheated thus ! But the worst was yet to come.
A man was descried rapidly drawing near the island, in a
gay little boat decked in holiday attire. A few minutes
later this man made the island, and Steve recognized Mr.
Lf wrence. Good man, he came to see that the powder
was in safety.

Will, who was the only one left, except Steve, stepped
into the boat as his father stepped out, and whispering,
" All right, Pa," rowed lightly away, with a wicked
chuckle of triumph.

Mr. Lawrence inclineu his head in token of approval,
and edged his way up to Stephen. " Good morning,
Stephen," he said. " I see you have a fire lighted early in
the day."

" Yes, sir," Steve quavered. " O dear ! " he groaned,
" if people are going to keep on coming here like this, the
Kre-crackers will go olf right before them ! And then,"
drawing an abysmal sigh, " there would have to be an
explanation."

Mr. Lawrence walked round the fire two or three times
— so close to it that poor Steve shuddered. " If they
should go off now," he groaned, " Mr. Lawrence would be
scorched and hurt ! "

Stephen became very uneasy. His heated imagination
inagnified the power of fire-crackers, and he feared that
there would ultimately be a deafening explosion. Indeed,
it seemed to him that they must be gaining strcingth with
each succeeding minute.

" Well, Steve." said Mr. Lawrence, familip.rly and
pleasantly, " I hear you are quite an expert \n playing
tricks. Your adventure with my donkeys, now, was
amusing, it is true ; but, Steve, if you would keep clear of
such scrapes, it would be better for you. For instance,
that experience with the dog — that must have been very
distressing to you, wasn't it ? "

irl

i i i

ilii

134

A BLUNDERING BOY.

iPi

" Yes, sir," Steve acknowledged ; " it was."

" But I am pleased to hear of your good behaviour
since that time, and I hope that your reformation is real.
I do not wish to vex you, Steve ; I take the liberty of
speaking to you thus because I know you are good at
heart, and because you have always been a loyal friend to
my son/'

Such " advice " had been dinned into the sufferer's ears
so incessantly lately that he had come to expect it and to
endure it with fortitude. Still, he could not but see that
Mr. Lawrence meant well, and he mumbled " Yes, sir,"
very meekly.

But his mind was filled with great dread. " If they
should pop off now," he ruminated, " what would Mr.
Lawrence think of me ? He would think it was all my
doings, of course, and that I am as bad a boy as ever !
How mad he would be ! Oh, why didn't I leave those fire-
crackers alone ! "

" It is very warm on this island, Mr. Lawrence " he
said.

Mr. Lawrence, however, was in no humor to take hints
from a school-boy, and he simply said, " So it is, Stephen.
Why do you stay here, in solitude and misery ? Why
don't you get up and enjoy yourself with the other boys ^
Surely you find no amusement in keeping up this useless
little fire ! "

Steve looked confused, but contrived to say, " It needs
some one to watch the fire, sir ; it might do a great deal
of harm."

" Oh, no, Stephen ; it wouldn't be any great loss if the
fire should burn up the whole island, and all the brush
and firewood piled up on it. It couldn't spread any
farther, of course. Come, come, Stephen ; don't make a
martyr of yourself by staying here and broiling your face.
The face looks better bronzed by the sun and the fresh
air than by fire, anyway ; though some Indies are not
aware of it."

" Yes, sir ; but the fire might go out."

" I wish it would, Steve ; I wish it would ; for no one
would light it again. It was a downright shame to make

.Jli V L.

HEROIC STEVE.

135

a fire on this little gem of an island ; but some picnickers
have more romance than poetry. Well, I am going, any-
way; good-bye."

A good look at Steve's face showed Mr. Lawrence that
the graceless trickster desired to be left aione. " I think
this will be a lesson to the poor boy," he said in himself
" for he is evidently suffering torments."

Steve's relief was great when he found himself alone.
" Let me think how it was," he muttered. " Will didn't
know where the box was. He found a box like his own,
but was it the same ? He didn't open it, and I couldn't ;
so perhaps there were no fire-crackers in it, after all ! "

A gleam of hope shot through his wrung heart ; but
that gleam was soon effectually put out by this appalling
thought :

" He found the box among his father's guns — what if
there is powder in it ! "

He started up in horror. " But no," he reflected, " if
it had been powder, it would have exploded as soon as
the box got hot, or on fire. Now, was Will playing a
trick on me ? No, for he didn't know anything about it
till I asked him for the fire-crackers ; and I followed him
around while he looked for the box. Oh, it must be
some blunder of his."

Steve could not shake off his doubts and fears, and his
excited imagination conjured up all sorts of horrors.

He had just resolved to find the hateful box, or scatter
the fire to the several winds, when a melancholy-looking
individual, whose approach he had not perceived, landed
on the island, made his way hurriedly to the fire, and sat
down close beside it.

Stephen drew back in desperation, while the new-
comer snatched up a stick and savagely stirred up the
rather dull fire.

" Sir," Stephen began hesitatingly, " don't sit so close
to the fire ; you might get burnt."

" Hold your tongue and let me alone, if you please !
Can't you see I'm all wet ? " fiercely shouted the new-
comer.

Stephen now observed that the man's pants were cling-

rsi.

t 4 i t. r.

i !

i.l

K Ih

136

A BLUNDERING BOY.

1: <

> ;!:

ing unnaturally close to his legs, as though he had been
fording the river for scientific or other purposes, and that
his entire appearance was woebegone. He waited a few
minutes, and then ventured to accost the intruder again.
" This is a miserable fire, sir," he said, " and I think there
is a ffood big bright one on shore."

" van't you let me alone ! There is no one here except
you, and I must dry these clothes."

" If it's powder, I suppose it might explode yet, and
he'd be killed or badly wounded," Steve thought, in
agony. " Shall I tell him ? No, he would laugh at me,
and take me for a downright fool. If he would only
move away, I'd poke that fire till I was satisfied. What
a day of suffering this has been for me ! The women will
soon be coming to the island — if it should explode
then ! "

Once more he warned the shivering picnicker. " Sir,"
beseechingly, " it is dangerous to sit there ; I — "

" Dangerous ! " cried the stranger, his face showing
surprise and contempt. " Do you take me for an ass, or
are you one ? " furiously. " A few years ago, I was very
indulgent in my dealings with boys ; but the more I see
of this evil — this curse of civilization — the more im-
patient and exasperated I become. I don't want to
corrupt your morals, bub, or I would swear ! But say one
word more to'me, throw out any more insinuations about
this fire's being dangerous, and I will begin the assassi-
nation of every boy under twenty by making you the
first victim ! So, be careful ! I tell you, my patience is
exhausted ! "

Of course the reader recognizes the speaker as the man
who jumped out of Will's boat. But it will not be easy
to recognize him as the polished gentleman who dined
with Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence in days gone by. Never-
theless, we assure the reader that we are positive he is
the very same.

This murderous threat seemed to amuse and comfort
Mr. Sarjent, but Steve quailed beneath it. " Shall I make
a confidant of any one ? " he asked himself. " Not of
George, for he would investigate matters, and maybe get

THE PLOT.

137

burnt. Charley would tell me the box holds some horr-
ible, new-fangled explosive, that will stay in the fire a
long time, and get stronger and stronger, and then go off
like a blowed-up pirate, and tear this island out by the
roots ! Perhaps it is ! Who knows ? Perhaps it's some
terrible poison that will suddenly strike us all dead, or
else make us all idiotic for life ! Oh ! I shall go crazy !
Shall I speak to Will ? I — I'd be ashamed to do that.
Pshaw ! I couldn't speak to anybody, if I would, for
there's no one near, except him."

Stephen's brain was now in a whirl ; the strain on his
nerves was too great to last long.

Chapter XIV.
Disaster Rather Than Fun

Leaving the newspaper man and the player of tricks
to their different trains of thought, — the former enveloped
in steam arising from his pants, the latter environed with
gloom, and doubt, and mute despair, arising from his own
misdeeds, — we shall shift the scene to Will paddling away
in his boat.

" I can safely leave Steve now, while I look up Charley
and the other boys, " Will thought, as he plied his oars.

Charley was soon found, and Will told him all about
Stephen and the fire-crackers. Charley, of course, was
delighted with Will's artifice ; and together the two
planned to torment poor Stephen still further. With the
co-operation of the other boys, they determined
to execute the following programme: First, to
bury the gunpowder under a large stone, on the shore
farthest from the j^icknickers, with a boy in charge to
fire the train at the proper time ; secondly, to lure
Stephen into a boat, row him down past the " arsenal," —
the sounding name Charles gave to the place where the
powder was to be buried, — and when the explosion took
place, let him infer that a catastrophe was the upshot
of his trick.

i ■

i *■',

;

ill

■: J: i:

■ I "■ "I.I I.

i 11

138

A BLUNDERING BOY.

In fiendish atrocity, this little plot probably outherods
anything ever planned by boys. Their only hopes of suc-
cess was that Steve would pj*ove an easy victim. But they
need not have been afraid ; they were destined to carry
their scheme.

Truly, as the ancient Romans used to say, " Fortune
favors the brave. " Only, the ancient Romans probably
said it in Latin,

" We can do it, Will," Charles said, confidently, " and it
will do poor deluded and misguided Stunner a good turn,
if it teaches him to leave tricks to you and me. All that
is necessary is, to lay our plans well, keep Steve's back to
the place where the explosion will come from, and play
our parts with sober and hor.« ified faces. The hole in the
ground will be gazed at ^ no ;mired about the time the
picnic folks get the feast spread, and our little game will
sharpen our appetites like a wh*;»t-stone. Now, let us go
and find George, and Jim, uad fVlarmaduke, and go to
work. "

These worthies were hunted out forthwith ; and when
the plot was unfolded to them, they signified their readi-
ness to take part in so good a trick against Stephen.

Jim threatened to do his best ; but, in his own mind,
determined to keep at a safe distance when proceedings
actually began, though he locked this wise determination
in his breast — which was capacious enough, if not strong
enough, to keep it.

" It won't amount to much, boys, " George observed,
' because, you know, wet gunpowder has lost most of its
virtue. "

" Why, how's that ? " Charles demanded. " Where did
you find out that ? Why, gunpowder hasn't any virtue,
anyhow. "

" No, of course not, what has powder to do with vir-
tue ? " Will chimed in.

" I tell you it has ; don't contradict folks that know ! "
the sage indignantly retorted. " Don't you remember,
John Hoyt, on that island, wasn't afraid of being blown
up, because he knew the powder had lost its virtue ? "

" Y-e-s, " Charles reluctantly assented, " but I never

THE PLOTTERS ON THEIR WAY.

139

could understand how John knew that, when he'd al-
ways lived on that island, and never seen or heard of
powder before."

" I don't understand that, either, " said George ; " but
John was right ; he knew — or if he didn't, the man that
wrote the book did ! "

That settled the question ; the Sage had triumphed.

At length everything was arranged to the plotters'
satisfaction, and the Sage was detailed to fire the train.

" You won't see much of the fun, George, " said
Charles ; " but you will understand the business. I
never knew you to bungle anything ; don't bungle this. "

" You can't expect much from wet gunpowder ,but if you
do your part as w^ell as I intend to do mine, all right ! "
George replied with spirit.

They picked out a very good place to fire the powder,
so far away from the scene of the picnic that no one would
be likely to intrude on them.

" The boats are wanted very much just now, " said
Will ; " I wonder whether we can get one or not. "

Now, those boys knew that they were doing wrong,and
the writer ventures to assert that they all cherished a
secret hope that they would not succeed in carrying their
little game.

But presently a bulky old gentleman (bulky is not
used in contempt, but because it is well known that
hulkiness and generosity are twin brothers), who owned
a staunch little boat.told them to use his boat as much as
they pleased. He did not suspect, however, that a party
of dare-devil boys wanted it for their own exclusive use,
hut supposed that one or two of them purposed rowing
indolent pleasure-seekers up and down the river. Had
he guessed their nefarious designs, he would have mod-
orated his generosity, and set out in quest of a peace-
officer.

Thus put in possession, the four pulled stoutly for the
island. They were in some doubt as to whether Steve
would still be there, for not one dreamed that he had
taken the matter so much to heart.

" Steve was a little uneasy when I left him, " said Will ;
" how do you suppose he feels about it now ? "

*■ i'i

It?

\:\

\-h

|i.

it ' .

filfl

If
' Hi

'■ I

140

A BLUNDERING BOY.

"Oh!" said Charles, "he's all right, I'll wager, fou
may depend he hasn't been moping over those nre-crack-
ers all this time. No, he's as lively as a baulky horse by
this time ; but our explosion will muddle his wits, all the
same. "

" He'll get his dander up when he finds it out, " Jim
observed.

" I wonder if the boats are all gone, and he's fast on
the island, " Mannaduke speculated.

" Boys," said Will, " if that wet and muddy fellow that
I told you about, went back to the island, as he said he
should, perhaps he has kept Steve from finding out
that—"

" Pshaw ! I tell you, Steve is all right ! " Charles re-
iterated.

" Then, if the boy is all right, what is the use of our
trick ? " Will demanded. " We can't scare him worth a
cent, if he's all right. "

" I don't make out what your driving at, Will. At
first, you were eager to scare him ; tnd now, you are
talking in riddles. "

" I — I'm beginning to relent, " said Will, sheepishly.

" Well, we'll see how he is, and settle that accordingly."

" There they are ! " said Marmaduke, sighting Steve and
the ireful newspaper genius.

The boys recklessly waved their oars, and enthusiasti-
cally chorused a stentorian hollo.

Stephen, hearing his schoolfellows' greeting, quickly
turned round, and returned a faint, but joyous, hollo.

" How kind they are to come !" he said to himself.
" Now, I guess it will be all serene ; for they can soon
tell me what to do. Well, the boys always were better to
me than I deserved. I'll tell them just how it is, and I
don't believe they'll laugh at me a bit."

" More boys ! " groaned the steaming Mr. Sarjent.
" More boys coming to torment me. "

The plotters soon landed, and crowded around
Stephen.

" What a fire, Steve, " said Charley. " It smells as if
- you'd been burning a witch. "

BUB.

141

" Come on, Steve, " said Will ; we've got a ^ood boat,
and we're otf for a cruise before they set the tables. "

Steve's face brightened, then clouded, and he said, hope-
lessly, " I can't go. "

" Can't go ? " echoed Charley. "Why, Stunner, what's
the matter with you ? You look like a phantom, and
here you sit, like an Indian idol ; taking no exercise, hav-
ing no fun, and doing nothing ! Come now, you've got to
go with us. "

" Charley, " Steve whispered, " don't joke with me, nor
make fun of me, for I can't stand it. Charley, if you
should have some old fire-crackers done up in a box, and
you should put 'em into a fire, what do you suppose they
would do ? "

" Do ? " said Charley. "Why. if they were old, as you
say, they might be mildewed, for all you or I know, and
bum up with the box, like so much solid wood — or else
squib and hiss a little, and then go out. "

This novel and striking idea was too much for Steve's
fevered brain. Mildewed fire-crackers! His head swam ;
but with an ettbrt he recovered himself, and flashed
Charles such a look of gratitude that the plot came with-
in an inch of crumbling into a woeful ruin.

" Poor fellow ! " thought Charles. " Here he is fretting
about those crackers yet ! It is mean to play this trick
on him, when he is so worried and excited. But then
he is male-spirited, as my father says, and I know he
would like to get hold of as good a trick himself."

" Well, Steve, will you go ? " Will asked impatiently.

" 'Pon my word, I believe Steve has been afraid to get
into a boat ever since we were out on the lake ! " Jim
exclaimed maliciously.

" Don't stay on my account, bub," sneered the man in
the water-soaked garments. " I shall not be lonely with-
out you."

Stephen had been recovering his spirits ever since the
boys arrived ; and Jim's taunt roused him to anger, while
these last outrageous words stung him to the quick.

"Bub!" he repeated to himself. "That's twice he
called me huh ! I can't stand being called that ; I never

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

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knew a boy that could. Botheration ! I've a great mind
to go with them, after all! They will treat me well,
and not bother me, nor call me — no, I won't say that
horrid word again. Well, surely, whatever was in the
box, is burnt up now ! "

Seeing that Stephen still hesitated, Mr. Sarjent took
in the situation, bent a gorgon look on him, and again
acted the hufter. " I made a blood-curdling threat a while
ago," he said ; " I see I shall have to put it into execu-
tion, or else you will have to leave. Go, all ol:' you ! "

" My stars, Timor ! I'll show you whether I'm afraid
to get into that boat, or to do anything else ! " Steve
cried, in desperation.

Then he caught up a stick and thrust it into the fire
here and there, in spite of the peevish and browbeating
stranger's remonstrances. Of course he saw nothing of
the box. Though not quite satisfied, — for it was imposs-
ible to get entirely over his uneasiness so quickly, — he
stopped with a sharp —

" Boys, I'll go ! "

Jim, as recorded above, had no burning desire to go
with the boys ; but, for all that, he found himself in the
boat, and the boat on its way from the island. Then he
became alarmed, but seeing no help for it, determined to
make the best of it. Two facts are well-established :
first, he who accuses another of cowardice is commonly
a downriorht coward himself : second, no riq-ht-minded
boy can be called a coward w ithout doing some foolhardy
thing to prove the contrary.

Poor Steve ! The artful boys had quietly had him sit
with his face towards the island, and he stole uneas}'
glances towards it, as if still fearing an explosion. By
degrees he became calmer ; the fresh, sparkling watei*
revived him ; and at length he became even merry. Yet
his gaiety was more assumed than real, though the others
did not know it. They were delighted with the success
of their plot, and thought that he would be as pleased as
anybody when the shock of the explosion should be
over.

" Let me row," he said suddenly,

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TWO PACTS.

143

" No, no ! " Charles said hastily. " We are going to
give you a tree ride, Steve ; so, .it where you are, with
your back against the gunwale, and watch the pic-
nickers."

Steve complied with this rv. ^uest, little knowing why
it was made.

The hoat glided along smoothly and swiftly, and pres-
ently a ))end in the river hid the island from sight, and
st)on afterwards tlu; merry-makers. Stephen still lolled
comfortably in the same position. But as the distance
between them and the' island increased, he became rest-
h'ss again.

They were now approaching the falls, and would soon
be opposite to George and his mine — the " arsenal," as
Charley called it.

Charley was afraid that Stephen might ask embarrass-
ing questions about the lire-crackers, or their course, and
he kept up so lively a flow of conversation that the poor
boy could not edge in a word.

It was downright cruelty to humbug the boy in this
deliberate and underhand way, and we do not wish to
palliate their guilt. The reader, however, must bear in
mind that these boys are not the sinless and noble-hearted
youths who generally figure in stories, but are at all times
mischievous, though rarely cruel or wicked.

As they neared the falls, Charles suddenly ceased to
talk, and Steve seized the opportunity to ask eagerly,
" Will, can you tell me what was in that box ? I almost
concluded that some mistake had been made, and that
perhaps you had found it out since. Were they fire-
crackers ? "

Will answered hesitatingly, as though ashamed of him-
self : " Why, yes, Steve, sure enough, a mistake was made.
This morning I discovered that instead of fire-crackers,
I gave you a box of my father's, full of wet gunpowder."

Steve's face blanched. Not - being so learned as
George, it seemed to him, in his present state of mind,
that wet gunpowder must be more dangerous than any
other kind.

"That's why it didn't go off; but, if it's there, it will
go off yet ! " he muttered.

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144

A BLUNDERING BOY.

I .! i

Will observed the look of dismay on the boy's face,
and said soothingly, "Pshaw, Steve! Don't be frightened;
wet gunpowder has no virtue ; don't trouble about it or
the fire.**

Charles and Will, having thus eased their conscience,
and Steve's anxiety, felt that all the warning that duty
required had been given ; and unshipping their oars, hi
the boat drift with the stream — taking care, however, to
keep close to the bank where George lurked in ambush.

But Stephen, in his awakened uneasiness, did not
heed Will's comforting remark, nor did he wonder how
Will could know anything about what had been done
with the box.

" Boys, we're near the falls ! " Jim cried, in terror.
•' Stop the boat ! "

But this warning was disregarded, and Charley struck
up " Yankee Doodle," the signal agreed upon with George.

Stephen, of course, did not know what this meant ;
but Jim did, and he was oppressed with gloomy forebod-
ings.

Mark this : Stephen faced the right bank of the river,
while George was on the left bank. The island was hidden
by a bend in the river. Consequently, if an explosion
should take place, Stephen would naturally jump to the
conclusion that it had taken place on the island.

The boat slowly but steadily neared the falls. It cer-
tainly would have been prudent to stop their downward
course, but no one, except Jim, appeared to be aware of
this. Charley whistled bravely, though he wondered
why no sign came from George, whom the high bank,
fringed with bushes, effectually concealed.

Then the archplotters themselves became uneasy ; and
concluding that the powder had no virtue whatever they
shipped their oars in mournful silence.

What was George doing meanwhile ? As soon as the
boys left him, he set about digging his mine. " Now,"
he mused, *' I shall not be so foolish as Stephen ; I shall
pry the box open, and see what is in it. It may be only
a paint box, for all I know."

By means of his jack-knife he forced off the lid, and

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THE SAFPEB.

146

found that it was powder — genuine powder — perfectlv
dry. But alas ! the tried and trusty business blade of his
knife was snapped off short !

Now, as the reader knows, George was a philosopher,
and he took his good fortune and mishap philosophically.
"By the end of the week," he said, "I may be sorry
about t Vnife, but I can't be now ! "

Then, ^.icking up and gloating over the box : " Dry as
the sun ! How capital ! Won't I make the most of it !
But what a blundering family those Lawrences are !
Even Mr. Lawrence himself has made a mistake ; he
thought the powder had got wet. Well, they beat all
the folks to blunder that I ever saw ; it must run in the
family."

With a chuckle of ineffable satisfaction, he sat down
to map 'out his mode of procedure. " I understand how
to make the most of good gunpowder," he mused ; " what
fun it would be to have a loud explosion — one that would
stun ever Will and Charley ! I can do it, and I will ! "

He ar mnd began to work as only a boy whose mind
is bent mischief can work, gathering up heaps of

stones and rubbish, that soiled his picnic clothes, almost
beyond restoration. Then he laid the box of powder in
the botton of his mine, placed a heavy stone on the
wrcnched-off lid, and piled the accumulated stones and
rubbish over it so scientifically that a warlike explosion
would be a foregone conclusion. The " train " was very
simple — only a little pile of chips, twigs, and shavings,
and a cotton string that led down to the powder.

When he heard the signal, he set fire to the train j but
it took the fire some time to burn its way down to the
powder. In his anxiety to see whether it would ignite,
he neglected to place sufficient space between himseli and
his mine ; therefore — but the consequence may be
guessed ; it is sufficient to say that he was neither Killed
nor seriously wounded.

Charles and Will had taken only a few strokes with

the oars, when suddenly a tremendous explosion took

place. With a roar like that of St. George's Dragon the

mine had sprung, and a cloud of stones and sundry other

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A BLUNDERING BOT.

things rushed up into the air, only to descend with fury
on the surrounding regions. Its effects were startling.
Charles and Will were wholly unprepared for such a
finale, and their faces showed the liveliest amazement as
they stared blankly at each other, struck dumb with
consternation.

Before they had time to think, the stones came whist-
ling down ail around them — the larger ones striking the
water with a heavy and sonorous thud — the smaller ones
sinking and hissing like bullets.

There was no help for it ; they were obliged to sit still
and tAke their chances. Jim screamed himself black in
the fa&3, while Marmaduke vainly attempted to realize
grandeur or romance in their perilous situation. Poor
Stephen ! with a ghastly face he kept his seat, apparently
unable to move or speak.

All excepting Stephen escaped injury. He, poor fellow,
had his arm broken by a falling piece of stone. The
boat, however, did not come off so well ; two stones bored
two large holes through the bottom of it.

The water poured in through these holes, and Jim,
boohooing and fearing he knew not what, jumped over-
board. This roused the two plotters, Charles and Will,
and they shouted, "The oars are gone — we can't row!
Jump out and swim for the shore, or we'll all be taken
over ! Come, Steve, don't be frightened ; don't mind. We
did it all, Steve ; we did it, and George fired it."

But Stephen's brain was in a whirl, and he did not
understand them. .

" Save Jim ! He'll be too frightened to swim," Will
cried. " Steve and Marmaduke can swim well enough.
Hurry ! we're near the falls ! "

Will and Charles sprang out of the boat for Jim, grap-
pled him, and, after a violent struggle with the current,
towed him ashore, safe, but perilously near the brink of
the falls. All three had nearly been swept over ! Mar-
maduke joined them a moment later. They did not
know that Stephen's arm was broken, and believing that
he was safe on shore above them, their first thought was
for George.

didn't calculate for it.

147

" Oh ! he must have been blown to atoms ! *' Will
groaned.

His agony far exc<ieded Stephen's on the island — in
fact, the tables had been turned in an unlooked-for
manner.

" Yes, we must see about him," said Charles, with pale
face and unsteady voice, a gnawing pain in the region of
his heart — a sensation that is experienced only when a
person is strongly moved.

Scrambling up the bank, they saw George — bruised
and bleeding, but looking supremely happy — peering
into a jagged hole in the ground.

" Hallo, George ! " Will called out. " Are you hurt ? "

" Oh, a little,^ said George. " Yes," he added, " I— I'm
pretty sore."

" We were afraid you were destroyed."

" Well, I never thought of the stones flying about so ;
I only thought of the noise ; " George avowed. " But,"
with a self -satisfied smile, " how did you like it ? "

"Like it?" said Charles. "Why, it was awful! I'd
no idea that gunpowder is such strong stuff: this must
have been pretty virtuous, after all ! "

" Well, boys, I opened the box, and the powder was as
dry as a bonfire. So I fixed things to make a noise ; but
I never thought the stones would shoot so— I mean, I
knew it, of course ; but I didn't calculate for it. It was
a fine sight, though, to see them shoot up into the air.
How did it appear to you ? "

" ' Appear ! Well, the stones broke two holes through
the boat!" Will growled. " But where is Steve ? haven't
you seen him 'i "

" Seen him ? No, where can he be ? How did he take
it, anyway ? "

" I think he was very much frightened, he looked so
queer," said Charles. " Oh, boys ! where is he ? Perhaps
he was hurt ! "

Then they flew to the bank. But the most searching
glances failed to discover either the boat or Stephen.

" Steve I Steve ! " they shouted, in convulsive grief.

" Oh, who saw him astt" Will asked. "Was he in the
boat, or swiinming 1 "

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148

A BLUNDERING BOT.

No one could answer the question, and the boys' pale
faces betrayed how their conscience was reproaching
them.

In truth, Stephen's broken arm, together with the
shock of the explosion, had rendered him helpless, and
he had been swept over the falls in the boat.

It would be dramatic to break off here, leaving the
reader a prey to fruitless inquiries as to Stephen's fate,
drop down among the hungry -eyed little picnickers in the
grove that bordered the river, and give a glowing descrip-
tion of what was going on. But as this story has very
little to do with the picnic, and as most readers would a
little rather hear about Stephen, I will deliberately trans-
gress the laws of romance, and tell how it fared with him.

The explosion was distinctly heard by the merry-
makers, and the picnic broke up in confusion. Crowds
of excited people were soon skirting the winding banks
of the river, and Stephen was found and fished out of the
water, more dead than alive. He was immediately taken
to his home, and a surgeon was called in. The surgeon
set the broken arm, and after examining the boy care-
fully, said that although severely bruised, he was not hurt
internally. But Stephen's sufferings were not over yet.
The fright and the shock proved too much for him ; fever
set in; and it was long before he rejoined his school-
fellows, and several months before he recovered his health
and strength.

Mr. Lawrence, "a sadder and a wiser man," blamed
himself for having indirectly contributed to the disaster.
He reproved his son in these words : " I must say, Will,
that you and your companions showed a deplorable want
of honor in your dealings with poor Stephen this day."

The man in whose field the explosion had taken effect
set up a howl of righteous indignation on seeing the
"chasm" in the ground; and did not stop to consider
that the youngsters had only altered the physical features
of a little plot of stony and untilled ground by changing
the position of a few ancient stones, and by removing a
few others into the bed of the river.

The portly and benevolent old gentleman said sadly, as

A BIDDEN MEANING.

149

he gazed upon the wreck of his sometime gay little boat,
" Well, it is now manifested that a boat cannot be taken
over these falls without being shattered to flinders. But,
of course, nothing can kill a modem hoy ; he is indestruc-
tible."

The observing reader of this history will remark that
whatever these boys meddled with generally came to a
dishonorable end.

And the '* reformers " themselves, what of them ? Pro-
bably, in the whole United States there could not have
been found three more miserable boys than Will, Charles,
and George, as they trudged home that day from the
scene of their exploits— the clothing of the first two
uncomfortably wet — the frame of the other smarting with
pain. But their forlorn and dilapidated appearance
excited no pity from the horrified villagers.

Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, in despair, sent their son to his
aunt Eleanor's, to spend a few days, hoping that he would
there reflect on the folly of his doings, and amend. He
and the others suflered tenfold more shame than Stephen
after the scandal about the " mad dog."

Boys, listen to the moral of this unconscionably dreary
chapter :

It is quite right and desirable that you should, under
proper tuition, learn the uses and the usefulness of gun-
powder ; but, if you know of any trick in which it is to
be an agent, think of Stephen, and hang back.

Chapter XV.
A Lesson in Ballooning.

Perhaps no one will be able to take in the moral
lurking in the following chapters — except, it may be,
some atramental old critic, who can discern a " hidden
meaning " where no meaning, " hidden " or otherwise, is
intended. Our only hope of escape from such critics is
that they will consider this story entirely beneath their
notice, and so pass it by in silence and contempt.

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150

A BLtmSERIKO BOY.

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Will was' sent to his aunt's. This would have been,
perhaps, a wise proceeding, if his aunt had been a severe
old maid — but she was not. She was, on the contrary, a
loving and cheerful woman, with a mettlesome, rattle-
headed, yet resolute, son. Will's " Cousin Henry."

Will's rueful mien excited the compassion of the entire
family to such an extent that they did their utmost to
divert him. Cousin Henry, with a noble disregard of
self, gave up his school for two weeks, and devoted him-
self wholly to Will's services. The sequel was, the two
were soon sworn bosom-friends, pledged to stand by each
other to the close of life.

Now, as this Henry was a hare-brained sort of fellow,
permitted to do as he pleased, it may readily be supposed
that he and Will were not long in getting into trouble.

" Will, did you see my balloon when you were here
last ? " Henry asked one day.

" Balloon ? No ; can you make a balloon ? " Will
inquired, in some surprise.

" Of course I can. American boys can make or do any-
thing. All we want is some tissue paper for the cover;
whalebone or cane for the ribs ; a piece of wire ; and a
piece of cotton batten dipped in alcohol to make the gas."

" I never heard of such a balloon," Will replied. " now
do you make the gas } "

" Why, just set fire to the batten, — that will be fastened
under the mouth of the balloon by a bit of wire, you
know, — and that'll soon make the gas. Then away it
goes, like a rocket."

" I should think it might set something on fire," said
Will.

" Well, let it set. There are fire-engines enough in the
town to put it out," Henry replied, with easy indifference.
" But, Will," he added, " don't be afraid ; I've rigged lots
of them, and they never set anything on fire yet.'

Ah, Henry ! You did not observe that your balloons
were generally fabricated so fragilely that it was impossi-
ble for them to do any hari^i !

" Then let us make one ! " Will rejoined with alacrity.

The cousins, without delay, repaired to Mrs. Mortimer's

VERT FIERCE.

151

apartments, to look for some of the things required.
Henry rummaged in a careless way that quite shocked
poor Will, and at last issued from the room, leaving every-
thing in appalling disorder. Next, Mr. Mortimer's valu-
ables were overhauled, and last of all, the hero's own.

" Now we've found everything we need, Will, even to
the tools," he said. " Let us go to work."

" Won't you straighten up things, Henry ? " Will ven-
tured to ask.

" Straighten ! Creation, no ! Don't you know it's fall
house-cleaning time ? I don't fool away my time in
straightening ! " with virtuous indignation.

Choosing Henry's room for a workshop, the two fell to
work. Notwithstanding the fact that the science of
aeronautics was entirely new to him, Will suggested so
many improvements that Henry was both astonished and
delighted.

" We shall have & famous balloon ! " he exclaimed.

" Why shouldn't it be as good as any you ever made ? "
Will asked mildly.

" Why, yes, of course ; why shouldn't it. / don't see,"
Henry answered, not at all disconcerted.

" Will, would you like to go with me to the Demon's
Cave some day ? " he asked abruptly.

" I never heard of the ' Demon's Cave.' Where is it,
and what is the Demon ? "

" Then I can tell you all about it while we work. The
' demon,' Will, isn't a * what ' but a * who ; ' and a terrible
sort of a fellow he is. Everybody around these parts
knows all about him ; some foolish people are afraid of
him, some even pretend that he is a ghost ! Some people
that ought to know better say he's an escaped criminal ;
but," in a positive tone, " my father always knows what
he is talking about, and he says the poor fellow is more
or less crazy. He lives in a queer sort of a cave, or hovel,
or hole, in a bank of earth. IVe heard lots of the boys
say that there are several rooms inside ; but they don't
know ; how should they ? "

" Did you ever see him ? " Will asked eagerly.

"I never got a good look at him, because he stays

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152

▲ BLUNDERING BOT.

denned up like a bear in winter ; but one night, a long
time ago, some of us boys went howling and yelling
around his cave, and he came out at us and chased us like
a hungry wolf. The boys ran away like velocipedes, and
I — I ran too. The demon was as fierce as a humbugged
pirate [Henry was fond of comparison], and he caught
one boy, and mauled liim like a Spanish blood-hound.
That was the only time I ever saw the demon ; but that
was enough for me."

Will became interested in the man, and he inquired :
'♦ What did he look like ? "

" Look ! How can I tell ? I was only a little boy then,
or I shouldn't have ran away. Well, let me think. Will,"
suddenly, " did you ever see a correct picture of Satan ? "

" No ! " Will said, with horror.

" Well, / have, and it wasn't half so ugly as the demon.
That's enough to say about his looks, isn't it ? And his
clothes ! Why, Will, they set him off so well that he
looked like a shipwrecked Turk, dressed up in a savage's
stolen spoil ! "

Will endeavored to grasp the meaning of this, but
Henry hurried on.

" Well, Will, at any rate, he lives there all alone, and
has for years. Some folks say he has lots of money ; and
likely they are right, for what else can he live on ? "

" Why, does he buy food at the market ? " Will asked.

" No ; didn't I tell you that he keeps shut up like a
nun in a coffin ? They say a friend of his goes there
every once in a while with victuals and thmgs; and
likely the demon pays him for them. All the boys say
that he has a poultry-yard full of hens and chickens
somewhere in his cave. I've heard, though, that he
prowls around at night, and gets his living that way.
Very likely a little of both ; for he is often seen out in
the night. For all you or I know, Will, he may have a
chest full of gold, like a hermit in a story-book for little
girls."

" Then it's a wonder he doesn't get robbed," Will
observed.

" You've hit it, Will ! " said Henry. " A whole gang of

NICKNAMES.

153

thieves broke into his cave once, so the stoiy goes, think-
ing they would carry off his money, if he had any. But
the demon was too clever for them. He hid himself in a
dark comer, and frightened the robbers nearly to death
They rushed out of the cave like bumble-bees on a
holiday."

" And didn't they steal anything ? "

" They didn't see anything to steal, Will. The demon
had either put his treasures out of sight, or else he hadn't
any. But I don't know whether the story is true or not ;
perhaps it is only a concocted one."

" Why do the people let him stay there ? " was Will's
next question. "Why don't they take him out of his
cave, and take care of him ? "

" For several reasons. He is harmless when he is not
molested ; he lives there quietly, and likely wouldn't leave
his cave unless taken away by force ; and no one likes to
interfere with his affairs. Of course, the people keep an
eye on him, and won't let him suffer."

" Why do they call him ' the Demon ? '"

" Oh, that's only a nickname he got. Didn't you ever
notice, Will, how people like to give outlandish nick-
names ? They'll pick up the silliest old hunks they can
find, — a man that doesn't know enough to put on his own
hat, even, — and ornament him with the name of some
vanquished hero. Don't you see, the ' Demon of the
Cave ' sounds pretty strong ; it's sure to iwn've a stranger
turn around and look over his left shoulder, as if he was
afraid of himself. Yes, the people in this couiitry like to
give big nicknames ; they nickname even the Evil One ! "

" And doesn't any person know where this man came
from, nor who he is ? '

"No, the people here don't seem to know anything
about him before he came to these parts ; but there are
all kinds of stories about hira."

" Poor fellow ! " Will said, softly. " He must have a
miserable life there, all alone. Does he have any fires in
his cave ? "

" Oh, yes ; I believe he keeps a good fire all day long ;
but it must be cold there in winter. I think he gets his

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A BLUNDEBmO BOT.

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firewood prowling around in the night, — not that he
steeds, but he gathers up rubbish and old boards. They
say he cooks his food nicely over his fire. There is a
spring, or underground well, of dome kind in his cave, so
that he does not suffer from want of fresh water. But,
Will, I could go on talking about him for hours. There
are all kinds of stories about him, stories that would make
you turn black and blue, and shiver all over. When we
go to bed to-night, I'll tell you some of the worst."

" You can't scare me that way, Henry ; so you might
as well tell them now."

" Oh, well, they don't amount to very much, anyway.
All the boys say he's a cannibal, and every few weeks he
steals somebody, and eats him up. There was a man
missed here once, Will, and he never came back again ;
so, of course, they say he was taken off by the demon.
The man never came back again to say where he had
been ; and so the story got going, and it's going yet. The
boys say that sometimes he has awful fits of madness,
and tears everybody that he meets all to pieces. Oh, there
are lots of stories, Will ; but if they don't frighten you,
what's the good of telling them ? They'll scare some boys,
though. There's one little boy that goes to school that
the boys make a habit of frightening very often, by say-
ing that they'll take him to the Demon's Cave. Then he
bellows, and rams his fists into his eyes, and punches 'em
nearly out, and swears he'll shoot all the boys when he
gets big enough."

" And do you tease him, too ? " asked Will.

" No, Will ; I don't. I hate to see a boy with the
nosebleed, and this little fellow bellows so hard, and
pommels himself so much, that he nearly always gets it.
You see, one attack of nosebleed doesn't get rightly cured
before another comes on."

" I see," said Will.

" Well, Will," after a pause, " would you like to go and
see this cave and the demon some day ? "

" Yes, Henry, I should like nothing better ; " Will said,
with boyish eagerness. " How far away is it, and when
shall we go ? "

POOB LITTLE BOY.

155

3 a man

" Well, it's about three or four miles from our house,
and we can go to-morrow night, if it should be pleasant.
I've always wanted to get inside of that cave. Will, to see
whether any of the stories about it are true. We will get
into it when we go, or perish on the spot, won't we ? "

Will was quite willing to go and see the place where
the demon lived ; but, " to beard the lion in his den ! "
that was asking too much ; especially, as he had resolved
not to get into any mischief during his stay at his aunt's.

" Come, Will ; you are the only boy I would ask to go
with me. I've always wanted to go, but I could never
find the right boy to have along. You are the very chap ;
you have nerve ; you wouldn't run away, if the demon
should be in on,e of his fits of fury. And you would
enjoy it ; you would have it to think of and dream of
when you were an old man ! "

This last argument, not proving conclusive, Henry con-
tinued : " Just think how the boys would envy us ! You
could tell the boys at home, and make 'em jealous of us
for life ; and I could stir up the boys that I know, and
make them so mad that they would chew India rubber
and think it was gum ! "

Will was only a boy, and he could not withstand so
seductive an argument. " Well, Henry," he said slowly,
" ril go."

" Of course ; you would always be sorry if you didn't."

Now that he had secured Will's promise to go, he ven-
tured to hint at the propriety of taking pistols.

" Pistols ! " Will exclaimed, with horror. " Surely, we
don't want pistols ! Why, we might as well turn high-
waymen, and be done with it ! "

But Henry was a year older than Will, accustomed to
have his own way, and he would not yield to the boy's
entreaties. His stronger nature soon overruled Will's
scruples, and he consented to do whatever Henry thought
best, though feeling ill at ease.

" Of course, Will, we don't think of shooting at any-
thing — not for all the world ; — but the plan is to get
behind an old tree near the cave, fire a pistol to draw the
demon out, and then rush in while he is looking to see

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156

A BLUNDERING BOT.

what made the noise. Don't you see ? Perhaps we shan't
need to fire a pistol at all ; but it will be best to have
them."

" Why should we take more than one, and why should
we put in a ball ? " Will asked uneasily.

" One apiece, Will ; and we must have both loaded, for
we don't know what might happen. Now, don't be
frightened ; we won't do any harm, nor break any laws ;
I know how to manage things too well for that."

" I promised to keep out of mischief," Will said, dole-
fully.

" I know it, Will ; and I'm going to help you keep your

Eromise. We can be very careful, and what fun it will
e!"

" I'm afraid somebody will get shot," mournfully re-
plied the assistant balloonist. He was beginning to repent
of his promises to Henry ; and in his heart of heart he
knew it would be extremely ridiculous, not to say wrong,
for two hare-brained youths to set out on a nocturnal ex-
pedition, with loaded pistols.

Chapter XVI ,
Unheard-of Adventures with Balloons.

The little balloon was now completed, and the
demon and his affairs were forgotten. The balloon was
rather clumsily constructed, it is true ; but it promised
to float well, and the cousins were enchanted with it.
They bore it tenderly out into the back-yard, arranged it
for flight, and were about to fire the prepared cotton
batten, when Henry cried excitedly : " Wait, Will ! Wait
a minute ! I'm going to fix a car under it ! I see a little old
straw-hat of the baby's here in the yard, and I'll just
hitch it on for a car. Of course ; what's a balloon with-
out a car ? "

Henry hastened to do so, and the little bonnet was tied
fast to the balloon, immediately under the gas-producing
apparatus. Then he set fire to the batten ; very soon the

THE balloon's CAREER

157

balloon quivered ; and then up it rose, a really pretty
sight. Tne boys shouted, cheered, and flung out their
arms in wild delight.

It rushed up like a rocket — it flew along — it soared —
it became smaller and smaller — the " car " took fire — the
whole balloon blazed — it wavered — it fell headlong — it
lit on the roof of a public building — it set it on fire !

The boys had watched its ascent with enthusiasm,
cheering lustily ; but when it took fire, their enthusiasm
cooled, and in proportion as the balloon burned brighter,
their hearts grew heavier. When it fell, their spirits
fell with it. They grew sick with fear on seeing flames
burst forth on the roof of the building, and looked at each
other in utter helplessness. Henry was the first to collect
himself, and he gave the alarm by shouting " Fire ! " in
thundering tones.

Several householders, Mrs. Mortimer among them, flew
to their doors at the dreadful cry of fire, to see whether
their own buildings were the ones menaced. The fire was
soon pointed out ; the fire-engines rushed gallantly to the
rescue ; the hoses were adjusted ; and the firemen sprang
to their work. The two boys got over their terror suf-
ficiently to throng to the scene of action. To Henry it
was a familiar sight ; but to Will it was entirely new, and
he enjoyed it, in spite of himself.

The fire was soon extinguished, and but little harm was
done to the building. The whole afiair, from the time
when Henry attached the " car " to his balloon till the last
spark was extinguished, took up only a few minutes.

As the cousins returned to the house, they felt that all
was not over yet.

" That's the worst thing, almost, that ever happened to
me," said Will.

" Never mind it. Will ; it's over now, and not much
harm done. I wouldn't let that trouble me a minute. We
boys in the city, don't count that as much ; we're used to
all sorts of horrible things happening to us ; we get
hardened to it ; we expect it. But it was all that dismal
straw-hat ; that did the mischief. If I hadn't fiung it into
the back-yard the other day, our balloon might be soaring

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168

A BLUNDERING BOY.

around yet ! Well, it's burnt up now, from stem to stem."

"Yes, Henry ; but it isn't a very good way to keep out
of mischief ; it — it makes me feel very miserable. George
would say we are vticendiarie8.'

" Who's George ? Somebody that is nobody, I guess.
Well, at any rate, that isn't the word. Oiantize is a great
deal better. To giantize, Will, is to eat like a giant ; to do
big things ; to astonish the natives ; to be a hero ; to
rescue captives. We'll giantize to-morrow night when
we rescue the man — if there is a man — in the Demon's
Cave. Some day. Will, I'll take you to a bookstore, and
show you a weekly paper with continued stories in it,
and continual heroes in the stories. These heroes are
very, very strong, and good, and brave, and handsome ;
and they make it a settled business to giantize."

" Oh, I know what those papers are, Henry ; I know a
Mr. Homer that takes two or three of them ; and he gets
so excited over the stories that sometimes he can't sleep
at night. But his boy Jim — Timor we call him — is the
bluest coward that ever ran awav from a lapdog."

The boys sat down to dinner with little appetite. Mr.
Mortimer made inquiries about the fire, and they acknow-
ledged their share in it. To say that Mr. Mortimer was
vexed would hardly express the state of his feelings. In
the afternoon a deputation of the City Fathers waited on
him, and he and the two cousins were closeted with them
some time. What passed between them was never made
known ; but as they took their departure one of them
observed : " Yes, that makes it all right. Well, I never
realized before that a straw-bonnet would set fire to a
roof. I must tell my boys never to make balloons ; or, at
least, to make them without cars. By the way, what was
it that you dipped in alcohol to make the gas ? "

Will was too confused to make a reply. Not so Henry.
" Cotton batten, sir, is what we used," he said, " but a
sponge is better still."

After they had gone, he said to Will : " Now he'll get
himself into trouble ! His boys are always trying experi-
ments ; and if he tells them about our balloon, they'll go
to work and make one that'll set the whole place on fire !

P
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TWO SMART B0T8.

169

Oh, they're awful boys ! Only a few days aco they
puisoned otf a dog with some dangerous aas, and drove
the house-keeper s cat into hysteric fits. Why, Will, their
iuother can't keep a tea-kettle three weeks before they
swoop down on it ; and turn on a full head of steam ;
and plug up the spout ; and batten down the lid ; and
blo\. it all to nothing. Oh, that man will have his hands
full of sorrow before long."

" But what does their mother say about it ? Surely,
she doesn't like to keep on buying new tea-kettles 1 And
their father, — doesn't he get mad ? "

" Oh, as long as the boys don't set hurt, their parents
think they are smart ; and they tell everybody that goes
into the house that when the boys grow up, they will
revolutionize chemistry and remodel the steam-engine."

Then the two talked of exploits that thev had achieved ;
adventures that had befallen them ; and perils through
which they had passed. Henry said that he had had the
mumps, the measles, and the small-pox ; Will said he had
had the sore throat, the chicken-pox, seven boils, lots and
lots of warts, and the measles, too. Henry said a circus
horse once kicked him hard, and a circus monkey once
stole his handkerchief ; Will said he once shot a cat with
Ills father's gun, and it fled away and lived all winter with
the bullet in its heart. Henry said that was nothing ; he
once shot a deer, and if somebody else hadn't come along
and killed it, he believed his ball would have killed it.
Will said he could beat that, for he was nearly drowned
once. Then Henry said he one day drank so much water
that he nearly died ; and the next day those smart boys
that he had spoken of set him on fire, and scorched his
<■ at till lie couldn't recognize it.

Then they talked of other things, and Will told his
cousin o' about his school-fellows. Then Henry again
referred to the demon and his wickedness.

Judging by the performances of the last few hours,
Henry would be a strange companion to visit the Demon's
Cave with, at n.ght, and armed with loaded pistols,
" ready," as he phrased it, " to defend themselves in case
of danger."

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160

▲ BLUNDEBINO BOT.

11 'ill

It was morning. The cousins were standing in the
commons. A crowd of people was assembled. In the
centre of the inclosure a colossal balloon (do not smile,
gentle reader) towered up into the air. Its manager,
rrof . Ranteleau, was haranguing the Tpeople. In a few
minutes he would ascend in his balloon — who wished to
accompany him ? He was an adept in the science of
aeronautics, and would insure every one a safe, novel, and
delightful voyage through the aferial regions. When they
had sailed among the clouds to their satisfaction, he would
return and descend on the common.

A few people said " good-bye " to their friends, and
climbed into the car. The cousins did likewise. The
fastenings were cast loose ; the professor seated himself
with a complacent smile ; and with a great lurch the
balloon began to ascend.

The people began to make poetical remarks upon the
" sublimity, " the " immensity, " the " profundity ' of the
scene, before the car was fifty feet above the ground.

Will and Henry sat still and looked on ; for to their
untutored minds the scene did yet seem particularly
sublime.

But the balloon rapjrlly gained in speed, and soon
whirled its occupants along at an astonishing rate. Things
below became more and more indistinct, and were gradu-
. ally lost to view. Then the balloonists felt in their
•pockets for sundry barometers and thermomet>.rs ; but-
toned their over-coats up to their ears ; and prepared to
enjoy themsel/es.

The professor reached out his hand to adjust some part
of the mechanism. But a valve refused to open, the bulky
monster gave a great lurch forward, and he perceived
that it had become unmanageable ! His benign count-
enance assumed an air of woe, but he hoped that all was
not yet lost. He was deceived.

Suddenly the balloon careened over, and sailed through
the air in a horizontal position, very unpleasant to the
balloonists. Striking a certain parallel of latitude, it

A QUESTION SET AT BEST.

161

circled round this world of ours like a beam of light. In
vain the professor attempted to get control of the un-
wieldy monster. Dropping their barometers and ther-
mometers, the unhappy aeronauts clutched the sides of the
car with an agonized grip. Nothing was now said about
the " sublimity " of things below ; forno one durst cast his
eyes to the ground.

Soon they were circumnavigating the world in the
twinkling of an eye ; and the balloon increased in speed
till it exceeded the wildest calculations made by man re-
specting motion. The wretched travelers of the sky
could no longer maintain their hold, end were one by one
flung from the fated balloon like misoileH from a cata-
pult. They went whirling through space with a rotary
motion, like balls from a rifle ; while, from a peculiarity
in the way in w^hich they were flung, they took a diflfer-
ent course from that taken by the balloon, more down-
ward and southward.

Thus the pedagogue's question, whether anything can
be discharged from a motive power in motion, is set at
rest forever.

In spite of the awfulness of his situation. Will could
not help pitying whatever obstacle they should bring up
against, for there would be a frightful collision.

For the thirtieth time the Rocky Mountains rose be-
fore them, and a large man, built on the approved Dick-
en s' model, was shot from the balloon. To the spectator's
horror, he went right through one of the loftiest moun-
tains, just below the limit of perpetual snow, tearing a
hole eight feet in circumference through the solid rock.
When the " hardy mountaineer " comes upon that hole,
he will call it a " freak of nature," and be at a loss to ac-
count for its usefulness. " Ah ! he didn't ought to come ! "
the professor managed to articulate. But he was not
heard, for in an instant an ocean of ether rolled between
him and his words.

One by one the unfortunates were hurled from the
balloon,till out of thirteen only the professor and the two
cousins remained. The monsier circuianavigated the
globe one hundred times ; then quivered, hesitated, slack-

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162

A BLUNDERING BOT.

ened its speed, and finally, taking a new start, it left the
earth entirely behind, and swiftly drew near one of the
planets. It redoubled its exertions, and soon exceeded its
former velocity. Tho air became warmer and warmer,
nearer and nearer they came to the planet. The profes-
sor determined to make one more eifort to check their
wild flight, and took his right hand from the support it
clutched, to pull a rope leading to a valve.

That movement was i^atal : the professor himself was
shot out of the balloon. He, however, took an upward
course. The balloon seemed to know that he was gone ;
and quivering with joy and relief, it once more assumed
a pei-pendicular position. The boys relaxed their hold,
and gladly stretched their stiffened limbs. But its velo-
city seemed only to increase.

Six seconds later, the boys felt an awful crash above
them. The balloon had overtaken its latest projectile,
the professor, and a great collision was the result. Then
the gas coming from the professor's throat, and the gas
inside of the balloon, met ; and an explosion that jarred
the planet they were drawing near, — though it was still
three thousand miles away, — took place.

The balloon immediately collapsed, and then a strange
thing happened. Will dilated till he reached the
dimensions of the last exhumed New Jersey fossil,
and then a cry of pain broke from his lips. He opened
his eyes.

A calm Septexnber sun was shining into the bedroom
window ; the birds were singing gayly outside ; while
down stairs he heard Henry's merry laugh.

" A dream ! " Will exclaimed, in great relief ! " Only a
dream. But it seemed more real than any dream I ever
had ! Oh, dear ! Even in dreams I get into trouble !
What will become of me next ? Shall I always keep on
making blunders ? Shall I always get into disgrace, like
an idiot or a bothersome dog ? "

After a pause, he continued : " Well, I do feel a pain,
sure enough ! I suppose I ate too much pudding for din-
ner. "

In this observation he was partially correct. Boys,

henry's pistols.

163

listen to this glorious precept : Never eat heartily when
you feel 08 Will felt that afternoon.

" I wonder how a genuine balloon would behave itself? "
Will mused, as he jumped out of bed. " Not much like
Professor Ranteleau's, surely. If I could see George, now,
I guess he could tell me all about it. Perhaps Henry
knows how it would be. Well, I don't care for such
dreams ; they make me feel homesick. Poor Stephen !
I wonder how he is this morning. Oh ! Oh! this is the
day for the visit to the Demon's Cave ! "

Having said that, he went down stairs in search of
Henry.

Chapter XVII.
They Prepare to Giantize.

The boys spent the day in suppressed excitement, not
caring to engage in any amusement, but roaming about
the house and making their " preparations, " After much
wandering through the building, they gathered up every-
thing they thought would be needful.

" It's a great pity we haven't more weapons, " Henry
said. "Now, Will to go armed rightly, we should have
revolvers, not pistols. Seven -shooters, with a box of
cartridges apiece, would make us very formidable, and
then we ought to have other weapons. Well, I've a com-
pass, anyway ; you must take it. Will, for you don't know
the way so well as I do. These pistol of mine are very
good, for pistols ; but after all, they ai ' only pistols. "

Henry was wrong in being ashamed of his firearms
They were very neat and highly ornamented pocket-
pistols, which his father had given to him some years
before, under a promise not to use them till he should be
old enough to do so with safety. He had strictly kept
that promise.

There was nothing wrong with them ; but Henry got
out his father's oil can, and the two boys toiled over them
for upwards of an hour. The oil in the little can ran
low, and a pile of greasy rags rose beside them ; but when

164

A BLUNDERING BOT.

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I'M

A--M^«^t^

IIP

they at last desisted from their labors, a sweet smile of
content lit up their grimy features, and, unthinkingly
they drew out their handkerchiefs.

'* Oh ! " cried Will with a look of dismay.

" Never mind, " said Henry, composedly. " Just keep
yours, and I'll keep mine, and they'll make the very best
kind of a slate-cloth, and when they get worn out for
that, the ragman will buy them at a cent a pound. Now,
Will, just look at these pistols ; they are as clean as a
snow-storm ! "

This sublime comparison restored Will's cheerfulness,
and together they wended their way outside to wash.

" Will, " he said, " to show you how very careful I am,
we won't load this pair of pistols till just before we go.
All the accidents you read about in the newspapers come
from loaded pistols and revolvers lying around loose ; so
we'll cheat fate, and not load them till the last minute.
And, " he added, " to be still more careful, you may load
them both yourself. "

But where Will was concerned. Fate was not to be
cheated so easily ; in fact, on this occasion, Henry was
" only playing into her hands. "

For some reason, neither of the boys said anything to
Mr. or Mrs. Mortimer about their intended expedition,
wishing, according to their account, to have a " tale to
tell " the next morning. Although they kept saying to
to each other that they would be doing nothing wrong, it
is probable they feared Mr. Mortimer might think they
would be better at home than at the Demon's Cave. To
do them justice, it must be stated that neither meditated
doing any harm ; they wished only to effect an entrance
into the cave. They were certain that they would reach
home by bedtime ; and then, the affair being all over, they
could narrate their adventures at their leisure. They
were observing boys, and knew well enough that when
they returned in triumph and safety, their little prank
would be excused ; and far from being blamed, they
would be regarded with admiration— even lionized.

Yes, Will and Henry were wise in their day and gen-
eration.

TWO FORMIDABLE JACK-KNIVES.

165

In the morning Henry had said to his mother : " Ma,
could you get supper earlier than usual to-night ? Will
and I want to go out ahout sundown. We'll tell you all
about it afterwards. "

Mrs. Mortimer supposed, of course, that everything was
all right, and never thought of questioning them as to
whither they were going. She, good soul, promised to
get an early supper on purpose for them, and even pro-
posed that they should take some eatables with tnem.
The boys heartily agreed to this — not that they cared
to eat on the way ; but they thought it would become
them, as armed heroes, to take along a knapsack of food.

When supper was announced the impatient knights-
errant hastily ate it. Then Henry put some tempting
sandwiches — the eatables his kind mother had prepared
— into his satchel, or knapsa<;k, and called to Will to get
ready.

" Now, Will," he said, as they flew up stairs to his room,
" we must hurry like a train of cars behind time. It is
getting late, and you must load the pistols as fast as you
can, while I change my boots. Here is everything you
want in this drawer, and you know just where to lay
your hand on whatever you want. "

" Oh, yes, " said Will.

" See, Will, here's a big jack-knife for you, and another
for me. They're the toughest and grittiest old fellows
you ever saw ; stick this one into your pocket. "

So they armed their persons with these formidable and
bulky knives. Did they expect to kill anyone, or to be
killed themselves ?

Will felt no uneasiness about taking a pocket-knife,
however big it might be ; but he looked at the pistols
with awe.

"You secured the compass before supper " asked
Henry.

" Yes. "

" Then don't stand fooling, Will, but load the pistols. "

The sun had set, and the boys' bedroom facing the
east, it was somewhat dark within it. Will knew he
must hurry, for it was getting late, and Henry would

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166

A BLUffDERING BOY.

soon be ready. His old dreed about taking the pistols re-
turned, and his hand trembled with suppressed excite-
ment as he snatched them up.

" I'll load *em, " he said desperately, " but I don't like
to do it." •

" Don't be chicken-hearted at the last minute. Will ;
you know I rely on you to help me ; " Henry called out,
from the adjoining room.

" Never mind, " Will replied confusedly, as he opened
the drawer of which Henry had spoken. There were
many things in this drawer, arranged in excellent order,
Henry thought ; but to anyone else, everything seemed
to be in appalling disorder, as though thrown into it at
random. Boxes, strings, cords, fishhooks, slate-pencils,
lead-pencils, discarded buttons ; a glass ink-bottle that a
blue-eyed girl had once given him for prompting her
against the rules ; a top that a dead brother had
spun in days gone by ; a diary that began with a
grand flourish and ended miserably on the fifth page ;
and several other things, were stowed away in that
drawer. If the reader wishes to know exactly what its
contents were, let him look into the sanctum of such a
boy as Henry.

Groping among these things, Will found his cousin's
powder-flask, poured a generous charge into the barrel of
Doth pistols, and then rammed in a wad.

" Ready ? " asked Henry, as he slipped on the second
boot.

" Oh, yes ; in a minute ; " Will replied, becoming very
much confused.

Fumbling in the drawer again, he drew out a box
which he supposed held the bullets. Tearing off" the lid
without stopping to examine what the soft black balls
really were, he dropped one into each barrel, and secured
it with a wad.

Poor boy ! Of course he had made a blunder, and mis-
taken artificial balls, that Henry had made for his little
brother's pog-gun, for leaden bullets ! These balls were
made of tow, soaked in water, and then rounded into
shape. They were excellent for a pop-gun, but rather
out of place in a pistol.

HE5BY ASTONISHED.

167

Poor knights-errant ! They were not armed even so
well as Henry imagined. In case of an attack from the
demon, all that they could rely on would be their jack-
knives.

Uncon£<cious of his mistake, Will observed, with a sigh
of relief, " There, they're loaded ! I'm not much used to
loading pistols, Henry ; but I know better than to put
the balls in first!"

" Then why didn't you say so before ? " Henry de-
manded, as he stepped into the room. " You are too
nervous, Will ; you ought to take things coolly, as I do.
Of course the pistols are all right ; but let me see them."

Taking them up, he said, with an amused smile : " It's
pretty dark here. Will, hut I think I could see the caps,
if they were on ! "

" Oh ! " was all poor Will could say.

Henry hurried to his drawer, found his box of caps,
and speedily remedied Will's neglect. But he did not see
the mistake Will had made about the balls.

Then each boy thrust a pistol into his coat pocket, and
looked every inch a redoubtable hero.

" Never mind shutting up the drawer. Will ; never mind
doing anything ; " Henry cried impatiently. " It is nearly
a quarter to seven ; so let us hurry, and we'll swoop down
on the demon just in the nick of time."

As they passed out of the house, Henry's little sister
asked where they were going.

" Wait till we come back, Topsy, and we'll have a
whole story-book full of tales to tell you," said Henry.
" We are going to do something wonderful, and perhaps
we'll find something to bring back to you. Topsy, tell
your baby brother that if we meet Jack the Giant Killer,
we'll smash his head for him."

A minute later, the boys were fairly on their way to
the cave.

" Henry, there is a question I wan't to ask you," said
Will, as they strode along. " It will be so late when we
get home, and we shall be so tired ; why didn't we start
early in the afternoon ? "

" Ho ! what a question ! Why, Will, I'm astonished at

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168

A BLUKDEBmO BOT.

you 1 What would be the fun in going in daylieht ? Don't
you see, night makes everything solemn and romantic,
and spurs a fellow on to be very brave — so brave that he
wouldn't be afraid of the skeleton of a devil-fish. Will,
do you ever read novels ? stories ? legends ? "

" Yes."

"Well, don't the heroes do all their noble deeds at
night ? Villains and ruffians prowl around at night, and
the heroes know that, and lay their plans to grapple them.
Will, when different nations go to war, like two dogs
over a bone, if they can only manago to do the fighting
at night, they always do. And then what a battle there
is."

He held forth in this strain till he became almost elo-
quent ; but wound up by saying, with great inconsistency,
" Besides, it isn't night at all ; it's only evening."

To all this Will meekly assented.

"As for being tired," Henry continued, with intense
disgust, " you're no true boy, Will, if you care a straw for
that, when such sport is in view."

" No, of course not ! " Will hastily replied. But he ask-
ed himself whether his cousin had any of Marmaduke's
notions.

" Well," after a pause, " I did have a reason for coming
at this particular time. I know a good-natured fellow
that comes along this way every evening with a team. I
see him coming now ; and he'll give us a ride, as sure as
our pistols are loaded. He'll set us down not far from
the cave, and that will be a great help ; and. Will, if you
are tired, ten to one we'll get a ride going home ! "

Will began to think his cousin was a strangely contrary
boy.

Mr. Mortimer's house stood in the suburbs of the town,
which the boys had now left entirely behind. Eagerly
they hurried on, but the teamster soon overtook them,
and as Henry had said, he offered them a ride. As they
rattled on over the dusty road, they felt that this world is
very beautiful, after all ; and that it is a fine thing to
have a teamster for a friend.

When they left him they were within a quarter of a
mile of their destination.

THE teamster's OPINION.

169

It was between two hills that they alighted, the road
coming down one, crossing a bridge that spanned a little
stream, and then going up another. The land on either
side was low, — even marshy in places, — and used princi-
pally for pasturage. To the leit of the road there were
no banks ; but to uie right, for a long way up the stream,
there were high and steep banks, with a wiae valley be-
tween them. It was in one of these banks that the cave
was situated.

The cousins ran across the road, and down into the val-
ley, on their way to the demon's abode. The teamster
watched them as he drove along, and muttered : " So that's
where the rascals are going ! Well, let 'em go ; I reckon
they'll soon come howling back again, very much the
worse for wear, and rather broken in wind ! "

Cha'pteT XVIII.
The Cousins See More Than They Bargained For.

Will was about to follow the stream, but Henry called
out to him, " Don't go there. Will, for the ground is too
soft after the rain. Besides, we must be careful ; the de-
mon may be prowling around ; and he might see us. Let
us follow this steep bank for a little way, and then we
shall find a path leading right up to the top of it."

It was a desert place, far from any habitation — a wild-
erness within sight of a town. High above them rose an
almost perpendicular bank, of earth, not rock ; while di-
rectly opposite rose a similar bank, nearly as high. Be-
tween these lay the pasture-land. Will and Heny were
sensible of the desolation of the place ; it fired threir en-
thusiasm, and warmed their blood ; and they peered into
the shadows as though they imagined a whole band of
demons lurked near, ready to spring upon them.

If they should be attacked, as Henry seemed to fear, so
far from help, his pistols and pocket-knives would be frail
weapons of defence.

They soon reached the path leading upwards, and began
to aficend.

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170

▲ BLUNDERma BOT.

" Henry, wouldn't it be better to go boldly up to the
door of the cave, and knock ? " Will asked. " Surely, the
demon would let us in, and show us around ; and if he
should, of course, he would let us out again."

"No, Will ; that wouldn't do at all. The demon never
lets any one into his cave; and as I told you, the story
runs that whoever he takes in never gets out again. If we
should knock at his door he would be on his guard, and I
doubt whether we should be able to get in at all. Besides,
it wouldn't be poetical to get in that way. No ; we must
entice him out, and then rush in like a whirlwind."

" But how are we to get out again ? "

" Now, Will, I don't mean you when I say it ; but that
is a coward's thought. I never troubled myself about that
— in fact, I never let such an idea come into my head.
If we had wanted to get in that way, we should have
stayed down in the valley. By going around on the top
of the hill, as we are, we can lay a trap that the demon
will certainly fall into. You see, Will, if we want to get
fun out of this expedition, we must have a plot. I don't
blame you for being nervous, Will ; those trick-playing
boys at your place have unsettled your nerves, and un-
strung you faculties but if you stay with me long enough,
I'll string them up till you are ready for anything."

Will heaved a sigh, blinked painfully, and said, *' Thank
you ! "

Henry resumed : " Yes, Will, I think we can safely
leave that question till we get ready to go out. Some way
will be found then, never fear. The main point is to get
in ; it will be easy enough to get out."

" Let us stop a minute, and look around," Will said, as
they strode warily along on the brow of thfe hill.

" By all means, Will. Here," stretching out his arms,
and speaking with theatrical vehemence, " here is scenery !
This is where the travelling photographers come to as-
tonish themselves ! "

A splendid view was obtained from this elevation ; the
country could be seen for a long distance, and glimpses
were caught of three or four towns besides Henry's.

But the writer seems to forget that he is not a school-

PROTECTED ON EVERT SIDE.

171

girl writing a prize composition in description of some far
distant and romantic land of which she, in her younger
days, had learned a piece of poetry, difficult and tiresome,
but studded with beautiful metaphors that fired her bud-
ding genius.

A great many dumb beasts, but no human beings, were
in sight.

Henry soon broke the silence by saying, " Come, Will,
we must go on."

They hurried along on the brow of the long hill, con-
versing in low tones. Still no appearance of the demon.
There was a well-beaten path, evidently worn by the de-
mon himself, which they followed. After following this
path for a few minutes, Henry suddenly stopped, and said
in a hoarse whisper :

" Will, I think we are directly over the cave. Hush !
Keep very still, and look out for danger ; but be as col-
lected as a desperado. We are two to one ; so there is
nothing to be afraid of. Now, Will, crouch down, and
we'll lay onr plans right over the demon's head. He can't
hear us, and I want to make everything clear to you.
Don't you see. Will, it's a striking idea to plot and scheme
over the very cave itself ? "

" Yes, it's just like outlaws," said Will.

" Well, by going on a little farther, we shall find
another path leading down this hill into the valley. We
must take that path, so that we can come up to the cave
from behind. The demon will never suspect any one of
coming from that direction, and he will be trapped nicely.
We can get behind the big old tree you see down there,
and then fire ! You see, Will, we had to come this round-
about way over his cave ; it would never do to pass in
front of it, and run the risk of being seen."

Will saw, and admired Henry's stratagem.

" It makes me think of Robinson Crusoe and his cave,"
he whispered, as they rose and went on.

Soon they reached the path leading downwards, which
they descended warily, and then found themselves once
more in the valley. A few steps ahead was a monstrous
old tree, lying flat on the ground, and jutting out towards

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172

A BLUNDERING BOT.

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the opposite bank ; while farther along, round an angle,
was the entrance into the cave. Any person behind that
tree would be effectually hidden from that entrance ; and,
of course, that entrance would be hidden from him.

Henry's plan was to fire, and then keep a sharp look-
out over the tree till the demon should come out and place
some distance between himself and his cave, looking for
the cause of the loud noise. He imagined that what with
the an^le, the surrounding cliffs, and the echoes tha^
would follow, it would be impossible for a person in the
cave to tell the exact place from which the report came.
When the demon should be at a safe distance from his
cave, Henry and Will would dash into it.

Henry thought they would be perfectly safe ; for would
they not be protected on every side, except from the
rear ?

From the rear !

When they reached the foot of the hill, they paused
and looked warily, even fearfully, up the valley. But it
was fast getting dark, and they did not see a man who
crouched against the cliff in time to escape observation.

He was the man commonly called the Demon.

The cousins tui'ned and proceeded slowly and circum-
spectly toward their ambush, fearing every minute that
the demon might appear in front of them. As they went
they conversed in whispers. The man, or demon, followed
so closely behind them that he heard every word ; and
yet so carefully did he tread that they were not aware of
his presence. As will be seen, he gathered the whole plan
of attack from their whispered conversation, and took his
measures accordingly.

" Now, Will, we must settle the last details of our plot,"
Henry said. " You may fire your pistol, Will, but I'll
keep my fire till I see whether we need it or not. I'll
climb the trunk of the tree, when we think it is safe, from
your shoulder, and then pull you up. Of course we can
jump from the tree to the ground, and then, to run for
the cave ! "

" But suppose the demon isn't in his cave ? "

" That's just what we're afraid of, Will, and we are only

▲ DIFFEBENT USE FOB THE PISTOL.

173

i' ill

taking our chances. He oueht to be in at this time of
night, eating his supper and tormenting his captives — if
he has any. He must be in ! I feel that we haven't
come all the way here for nothing ; I feel that we are in
for a grand adventure ! And what will the demon say '
when he finds two armed boys in his den ! "

" Suppose he won't come out when I fire ? He may be
too cute to rush out, and leave the door open, and straggle
off."

" Oh, do quit supposing ! If he won't come out, we
will shove our way in. If he is a good old man, we must
cheer him up, and help him ; but if lie is a wicked old
knave, with captives and treasures, we must set them
free, and plunder him for the National Treasury. Here
we are at the tree, Will ; get out your pistol ready to fire
No, wait ! Let me take a Took over the log, to see that he
isn't prowling around there."

After much scrambling, Henry succeeded in climbing
upon the tree. Will stood by, fumbling idly with the
pist'jl. The demon, a few steps behind, pressed close
against the cliff, and remained unseen.

" I don't see anything of the demon, " Henry whispered,
from the trunk of the tree. " Don't fire till I slip down,
because he might pop out quick, and see me. In a min-
ute or two, I'll venture up again."

Before he had finished speaking he was on the ground ;
and, as bravely as a war-worn general, he said, in a higher
key than Will's proximity made necessary : " FIRE ! "

Of course, every accomplished story-t(eller, when he
" gets into the thick of it, " must pause deliberately, and
give prolix descriptions of people or places about whom
or which the general reader cares next to nothing. It is
unjust to the impatient, but powerless, reader ; but it is
the custom. We must plead guilty of this time-honored
meanness, and seize the present opportune moment to in-
troduce the demon as he appeared at that time.

He was a tall, powerful man, with light, active move-
ments, worthy of a soldier. His features were regularly
formed, and apparently he * ' once been a fine-looking
man. Now, however, he w taggard and stooped from

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174

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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long-continued privations. His eyes had a ferocious glare,
— not pleasant to beholders, but supposed to be an attri-
bute of maniacs, — a suspicious look, as though he dreaded
some enemy were lurking near, ready to spring upon him.
In fact, his entire appearance showed that he was always
on his guard. His long and intensely blac'i hair waved
about his shoulders in wild profusion ; whdst his beard,
likewise black, reached far down his breast. His clothing,
old and tattered, was in keeping with his general appear-
ance.

All taken together, he looked like a madman ; and if
Marmaduke could have seen him, he would Lave been in
ecstacy, thinking that at last he had found one of
Dickens' monstrosities.

The "gentle reader" has not been kept in suspense
very long, but the narrative may now resume its course.

The demon crept stealthily out of the shadow, and,
unperceived by the boys, stole swiftly, but noiselessly,
upon them. When Henry said "fire!" Will raised his
pistol with a trembling hand, and cocked it, preparatory
to firing into the air. But before he could do so, the
demon sprang upon him, and the luckless boy found him-
self encircled by two long and powerful arms — an em-
brace anything but loving.

With a gasp of intense terror, he turned and saw by
whonj he was held. To his heated imagination, the demon
appeared q> monster.

Henry, also, turned around and saw him. With a cry
of dismay, he threw up his arms, and struck the pistol,
which still dangled in Will's nerveless hand

How it happened — whether Will unconsciously pulled
the trigger, or whether the blow did it — can never be
known ; but with a stunning noise the pistol discharged
its contents, and then fell to the ground.

To Will's consternation, Henry staggered ; flung his
arms out wildly for support ; gave a moan of pain or
terror ; and also fell, heavily. "The charge had struck him
somewhere — but where ?

At this catastrophe. Will forgot that the demon's arms
encircled him, forget everything but that he had shot his

THE CAVE.

175

cousin Henry. A boy does not swoon away, or else he
would have done so ; but he was horror-stricken : the
terrible word murder seemed to be hissed into his ears
by unseen spirits, and he was unable to move or speak.

The demon, heaving a sigh, lifted him easily off his
feet, and bore him away. Will made no resistance, for
his brain was in too confused a state to perceive what
was going on. His eyes were fixed on the prostrate form
of Henry, and the demon strode on with him, following
the length of the tree. Soon the end of the fallen tree
was reach ;d; and as the demon turned and walked to-
wards his cave. Will caught a last look of Henry, who was
still lying flat on the ground.

All this happened in a very short time, of course ; for
the demon paid no attention to the report of the pistol,
hut immediately marched off with our doughty hero.

The reader, unlike him, is aware that the pistol, though
heavily loaded with powder, instead of a leaden bullet
held a ball made of tow.

Will grew calmer, but offered no resistance to his
captor.

The entrance of the cave was now disclosed. Before
them an almost perpendicular cliff rose several feet to-
wards the sky, twisting into strange shapes to the south,
and on the north jutting out irregularly some distance
westward, thus forming the angle spoken of before.
Exactly in the centre there was an opening in which a
strong and heavy door was hung. Two or three grated
openings, which served for windows, were to be seen high
above the door, and several feet apart.

The Odtsule of the cave was somewhat formidable, as
no doubt the demon wished it to be. What was the in-
mh like ?

Will did not care to know. Suddenly he put forth all
his strength, and struggled manfully and furicmsly to
break away from the demon. But the latter, without a
word, folded his arms more tightly round him, and held
him fast in a grip that put an end to all the poor boy's
hopes of escape.

Advancing with the would-be knight-errant, the

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176

A BLUNDERING BOY.

demon arrived at the door of his cave ; and manipulat-
ing some complicated contrivance which took the place of
a lock, the secret of which was known only to himself,
the door opened and captor and captive passed in.

So,- this was the way in which Will was to gain ad-
mittance into the stronghold ! A great improvement on
Henry's little plan !

A spacious apartment was disclosed, the floor bare, but
tlie roof and sides covered with planks, to prevent the
earth from crumbling in. It was very dark inside, as
during the day but little light came in through the open-
ings mentioned, during the night, none. A lire was
struggling to burn in the middle of this dismal hole, but
its feeble light only added to the gloom. Round the
walls on benches and rude tables all sorts of things were
lying ; blankets, old clothes (our " recluse " had more
than one suit), trays, bowls, some other kitchen utensils,
even eatables, being grouped together in confusion, with
a view to convenierce rather than neatness. In fact, the
demon seemed to take no pride, no interest, in the aflfairs
of the household. In one corner a big pile of firewood
proved that the occupant could make himself quite
comfortable. In spite of all his misery. Will distinctly
heard the cackling of hens and chickens, evidently the
brood of which Henry had spoken, in another apartment.

The cave was now :"itifling from a horrible smoke arising
from the smouldering fire. When the demon was pre-
sent he blew away the smoke hy means of a huge fan
suspended from the ceili ag ; but it accumulated in his
absence.

Although there were several bye-rooms, each one of
which served its own purpose, this was the principal one
— the one in which the demon lived.

Of course Will had no time to see what we ^ave dimly
outlined , for the demon hurriedly crossed this loom and
opened a door leading into another, much like it, except-
ing in its furniture. Here there were no rude benches or
tables. A comfortable and oven handsome bedstead stood
against the wall, with a few sheets and quilts, anr! one
old buftalo-robe, upon it. There was an attempt made at

THE DEMON SPEAKS.

177

covering, or carpeting, the floor ; and in one corner there
was a crazy stove, or oven, cluD'sily built of refuse
bricks. Above this stove there was a chimney, which
managed to dispose of most of the smoke when a fire was
lighted — that is, it took it into another and larger room.

This was the bedroom, in which the demon slept as
peacefully as a knight in his moated castle.

Having thus, "by slow degrees, by fits and starts,"
cooped Will up in the Demon's Cave, description may rest
awhile and the narrative may be resumed.

The df'iion laid our hero gently on the bed, and then,
for r he iirst time, he spoke to him. " Poor boy ! " he
said, in a not unpleasant tone. " Perhaps you did nob
wish to do me any harm, but I shall keep you here uli — "

He stopped a' iiptly.

There was nothing threatening in this, yet Will
trembled. His thoughts were doubtless of Henry.

The derr^on turned and left the room, fastening the
door behi id bnn. Then he left the cave, taking the pre-
caution of fastening the outside door, also.

" There was another one, " he murmured ; " I must see
to him. "

Swiftly he retraced his steps round the tree, and ar-
rived at the scene of conflict not more than five minutes
after he had borne Will away. But Henry was nowhere
to be found ! He had vanished, leaving nothing, not even
a drop of blood, behind him !

" Was there another ? " the demon asked himself,
dubiously. " What is it ? Have I dreamed, or is this
some new device of the enemy ? "

Seeing the piscol which Will had discharged, he picked
it up and returned to the cave, not making the slightest
effort to look for the missing knight- errant.

\\ ill remained inactive as long as the demon was near,
but as soon as he heard him go out, he leaped off the bed
ant] made a desperate attempt to open the door. He put
forth all his strength — but in vain : the door was rock.

Then he groped about the room, to see if he could rind
some other means of escape,
presented itself.
7

Again in vain — no outlet

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178

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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*' I am a prisoner ! " he groaned. " And what a terrible
prison ! But, oh ! poor Henry ! Was he dead ? Have I
killed him ? Oh, tlds is too much ! "

Then he recollected that his cousin had insisted that
there were captives hidden away in the cave, and in a
voice that — we grieve to say it, but truth is inexorable —
qravered with fear, he shouted : "Is anyone hidden
here ? — Speak ! Any captives here ? "

His own voice mocked him, and he started back in
terror.

Evidently, no captives there.

But Will was not comforted. Hobgoblins crawled
over the floor, and giound their teeth under the bed —
demons crowded round him and jabbered ominously —
human skeletons rattled their dry bones horribly, and
pointed their fingers jeeringly at him — his murdered
cousin came to him, and louked him full in the face with
a sad, reproachful smile.

Will could endure it no longer. With a cry of horror
and agony he flung himself on the bed, and buried his
face in the old buttalo-robe.

At that moment the Demon of the Cave returned and
entered his dwelling.

This is a convenient, suitable, and orthodox place for
the chapter to close ; so let it close.

Chapter XIX.
Within and Without the Demon's Cave

What had become of Henry ?

The ball had struck him in a tender place ; and
not seriously hurt, but very much frightened, he fell
headlong with a groan of — fear !

While the demon was carrying off Will he lay still and
made use of his wits.

He refiected logically as follows : " Whatever Will
loaded my pistols with, it certainly wasn't a genuine bul-

THE WOUNDED HERO.

179

let ! So it would be useless for me to fire this pistol at
the demon — useless — wicked — and against the laws ! "

Gentle reader, mark that ; read it carefully two or
three times ; muse on it ; and remember that you your-
self were once a boy — or, if not, your father was.

" Oh, how my side smarts ! There'll be a blister, sure-
ly ! " Henry groaned. " Well, the best way to help
Will will be to lie here perfectly still till the demon gets
entirely out of sight, and then hop up and scramble away.
Where shall I go ? To the road ? I must look for help
somewhere, or Will may be killed! It won't do to yell
for help here, for no one except the demon could hear me.
Yes, I must keep still a little while !

As soon as the demon was well out of sight, Henry
arose. But he found himself more bruised than he had
thoucfht.

" Now, to save Will — and myself, " he muttered.
'• What a capital idea, " he chuckled, as a happy thought
struck him. " They think I'm dead, very likely, and so
the demon won't be on the watch for me ! Of course ; and
if I can't get help,I'll swoop down on him and do the res-
cuing myself. "

As fast as he could he went back io the path, thinking
to climb the hill and hurry to the road. A lingering fear
that the demon might return and look for him lent speed
to his feet, and he walked with long swift steps. In his
generous heart he resolved to liberate Will at all hazards;
and if he could devise no other means of doing so, he
would return and " beard the lion in his den. "

When he reached the foot of the hill he chanced to look
back, and saw a man standing by the tree. It was the
demon, looking for him. To his intense relief, the man
turned and went slowly back towards the cave,

" I am safe now," he thought. " He won't come to look
for me again. But does he think I am dead, or carried
off ? Well, at any rate he will see me before long ! "

Eagerl}'^ he turned to climb the hill, thinking mean-
while : — "' Poor Will ! No telling what that cruel demon
may do with him ! Oh, dear ! we arc both in a very bad
scrape ! my pistols ! — I must hurry 1 "

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180

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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What with scrambling up hills and rushing down them ,
Henry's limbs were already becoming stiff, and he found
it hard work to climb. He succeeded, after making great
and desperate struggles, in getting nearly to the top of
the hill ; when he took a false step, slipped, was thrown
olf his feet, and — in spite of all his efforts to save himself
— slid headlong down to the very bottom. An avalanche
of stones and dirt thundered down in his train.

A little mound of earth brought him to a standstill, and
a cry of pain escaped his lips.

In spite of the pain he suffered, his first words were
characteristic of him. " Well," he said, grimly, " I've
blotted out the demon's path up that hill ! His nice little
path is now in ruins in this valley ! "

But, with a groan of agony, he ejaculated : " Oh ! my
foot is broken all to pieces ! Oh ! O — o — h ! "

For a little time it was difficult for him to keep from
scrsaming with the pain.

As soon as he felt a little better, he took off his boot
and stocking, and carefully examined the injured foot,
muttering meanwhile between his groans : " Oh, I hope
the demon didn't hear that noise ! How the stones rattled
and thundered ! If he heard, he will come rushing out to
attack me, and I am not able to help myself a bit ! Oh,
what a catastrophe this is ! "

Poor Henry ! That time-honored accident, which, in
romance, befalls all heroes of the chase, had befallen him.
" He had sprained his ankle ! "

Only, in this instance, no lovely huntress was to find
him, and have him tenderly conveyed to her dwelling.
No sporting companions were with him, hastily to con-
struct a litter, and smuggle him into the castle of some
incarcerated maiden, whom, making light of his suffering,
he would release from her turret prison ; " and then,
dravv^ng the wicked jailer — her scheming, hunch-backed
uncle — out of liis concealment, he would fall upon him,
and slay him, without mercy.

No; no love-marriage was fated to result from that
adventure ; Henry was to lie there all alone, and suffer.
It was sad, but our hero bca^ :t patiently and philoso-

WHAT HENRY THINKS NOW.

181

phically. He believed that he should not be molested by
the demon, and that was some consolation. But Will ?
Alas ! All hope of rescuing him, so far as Henry was
concerned, was at an end. That grieved him more than
anything else.

Slowly the time wore away. As the demon did not
come out again, Henry thought that the noise made by
the falling stones had not been heard in the cave. He
was full of anxious and remorseful thoughts for himself
as well as for his cousin ; and, much as he revolved the
affair in his mind, he could hit upon no feasible plan of
deliverance.

" If I had only told our folk where we were going," he
reflected, " they would hunt for us when they find us
missing. But now they will be uneasy, and not know
where on earth we are ! No ; they won't have the slight-
est clue to track us ! Oh, dear ! , What is going to become
of us ? How is this spree to end ? What about my
ankle ? What on earth ! Well, now are we to stay here
all night ? Will in the cave, and I here ? * So near, and
yet so far ! ' My stars ! I've read that in stories, but I
never guessed what it meant ! ' So near, and yet so far ! '
The man that wrote those words knew more than I ever
shall, anyway ! Oh ! What will the demon do to poor
Will ? "

Henry could reason logically, and now, as well as his
aching ankle would permit, he reviewed the whole scheme
of visiting the Demon's Cave. In the light he now had
it seemed very foolish, whichever way he looked at it.

It was a humbug," he acknowledged to himself ; " but
after all it is just what all heroes do, and I don't see why
we should not have managed it better."

His sprained ankle pained him intensely ; he began to
f-el the ettects of his involuntary ride down hill ; the place
where the " bullet " struck him smarted and itched in a

manner to make him writhe,
able in both body and mind.
He reverted to the scene
have been wronar with that

In a word, he was miser-

of conflict,
pistol ? " he

"What could
asked himself

angrily. " Something struck me — but what ? Certainly,

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182

A BLUNDERING BOY.

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not a bullet. My father says that a big dose of powder
will drive almost anything hard and solid into the flesh.
Now, this struck me, and hurt me ; but it didn't punch a
hole through my vest. Well, if I could only unload this
other pistol, I should know to a certainty. — What became
of the pistol Will fired ? If he carried it off with him, he
may suddenly scare the demon out of his wits ! — Now, I
wonder whether Will loaded my pistols wrong on pur-
pose ! — Well, this is rum old sport, sitting here like a
dying gladiator, and not able to turn over for fear of
howling with pain ! No ; I can't budge from this spot !
— Botheration ! I won't take Will to see any more curi-
osities ! — Surely, the demon won't hurt him ! "

Thus the boy continued, speaking disjointed sentences
just as the spirit moved him.

As no help came to him, he, the irrepressible, began to
despond. It seemed to him that Death only would come
to his release. Suddenly, he thought of the glass ink
bottle hidden behind " Robinson Crusoe " in his drawer.
He dwelt on it for the space of three minutes, and then,
between a sigh and a groan, he said : " I wish I knew
whether she would care if I should die here — alone, and
in pain ! Would she be sorry, or would she go to school
as light-hearted as ever, and let some other boy sharpen
her pencil ? I wonder whether she would borrow Johnny
Jones' history ! Oh ! how I despise that boy ! I wish I
could see him leave the country ! I wish now that I had
given her my history out and out ; that would keep my
memory green in her eyes."

Now, as Henry seldom or never soared higher than
comparison, — to make our meaning clearer, as he was not
in the habit of apostrophizing his treasured glass ink-
bottle as an animated being of the feminine gender, — we
Laust conclude that the veil is lifted from a romance in
his life.

Do not laugh at him, reader ; his woes were actual In
fact, we venture to assert that every member of the
sterner sex, from the age of sixteen or seventeen till he is
happily married, if he has any feeling, any heart, any
8ouL, suffers more or less acutely from jealousy of a rivaJ,
rsal or imaginary.

WASTED SANDWICHES.

183

After a time the moon came out, and dim!y lighted up
the valley. Henry was not afraid of goblins ; and in
sheer desperation he resolved to wait doggedly till some-
thing should happen.

Notwithstanding all his woes, he began to feel hungry.
Then he recollected that he had set out with a knapsack
of sandwiches slung over his shoulder.

" It will amuse me, and turn my wandering thoughts
into a different channel," he muttered, as he felt for the
knapsack.

Alas ! In sliding down hill his knapsack had been torn
into ribbons, so that the carefully prepared sandwiches
were strewn along the hillside.

His thoughts were " turned into a different channel ; "
but he was not very much " amused."

In this way, the time passed with Henry. He could
not, or would not, make an effort to move from the heap
of earth which had arrested his downward course.

Having thus disposed of him, how did it fare with
Will ?

When the demon re-entered the cave, he, according to
his custom, fastened the door. Next he kindled a good
fire on the smouldering coals of the old one ; and then,
having stepped up to the room where Will was a prisoner,
he unlocked and jpened the door and told him to come
out. Will did so with alacrity.

The demon said no more, but pointed out a seat, and
quietly prepared to get supper. He took a fat bird out
of his pouch, and roasted it carefully ovei ho fire. Then
he fixed part of a chicken, a delicious tish, and sundry
other eatibles, each on a separate stick, where the fire
would cook them. To Will's astonishment, he suddenly
appeared with a few slices of bread, which he put on a
toaster and toasted while the other things were being
cooked. Now, who ever read about a hermit that toasted
bread ?

By the way, the demon, like the writer in inditing
these few chapters, had several " irons in the fire " at
once.

When everything was ready, he set a table with the

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184

A BLUNDERING BOY.

food thus prepared, and took a pan of skim-milk from a
crazy cupboard built in the wall.

" Sit down and eat," he said to Will ; " I'll speak with
you afterwards."

Will was in no humor to care about eatinjj, and as it
was yet early in the evening he was not hungry ; but not
liking to refuse the strange man's hospitality, he sat down
to the table and " ate like an emigrant," as Henry would
have phrased it. He afterwards told his friends that the
" victuals were very good."

After supper the demon cleared off the table and put
everything in the room in far better order than it was
when the hero was taken into it.

Up to this time scarcely a word had been spoken
between them. Will was filled with dread that he had
killed, or at least severely hurt, his cousin. He, of course,
did not know that Henry was in full possession of his
senses as he lay on the ground, nor that he was doing this
only to disarm the demon. The wildest fears flashed
through his brain ; his sufferings were more intense than
Stephen's had been on the island. He blamed himself;
he blamed Henry ; he blamed the pistols ; he blamed the
demon. Yet he felt himself utterly unable to escape.
And he was troubled on his own account. What did the
demon intend to do with him ? Why did he detain him
there ? These questions perplexed the boy ; and not
knowing what else to do, he tried hard to think it all a
dream. But no ; it could not be a dream, for in a dream
there is never any smoke to make one sneeze. Then
Henry's wild tales about the demon's cannibalism and
cruelty recurred to him. Certainly, the demon's look was
forbidding — almost ferocious ; but Will did not think him
capable of torturing any one. He had too much good
sense to think that the man would do him any harm ;
but still he feared him, and felt ill at ease in his presence.

He had had no particular desire to come on this wild-
goose-chase, because he wished to keep out of mischief
during his stay at his aunt's. He was not so mercurial,
whimsical, and romantic, as his cousin, and he had
consented to go as much to please him as for any other
reason.

WILL SCOLDS HIMSELF.

185

" I think I shall have to get pa to shut me up, if I ever
find my way back home," he mused, in his despair. " No
matter what I do, something always comes to grief. I
tliought surely it would be safe to fly a little balloon, when
Henry had always done it. But no ; it must come down,
and set a building on fire ! How is it that everything
goes wrong with me ? Am I a blockhead, or a fool ? Oh
dear ! I get into worse scrapes every time ; but this is
the worst yet — this beats them all ! Jf Henry and I sur-
vive this, I suppose we shall stumble into something that
will finish us entirely ! Now, I knew it was wrong to
stait with loaded pistols, and I didn't want to do it.
Then, why did I ? I deserve all this misery for my fool-
ishness. But poor Henry ! It seems to me now that he
must be alive. Oh ! If I could only know ! "

Then he began to wonder how it was that the demon
had come upon them so suddenly. " He was there all at
once," Will said to himself, as he glanced furtively at the
" recluse." " Did he come from the cave, or the valley, or
the bank, or a hollow in the tree, or the clouds ? All I
know is, he wa.sn't anywhere near, till suddenly he had
me in his arms ! And Henry was as much surprised to
see him as I was ! Well, the man must be a wizard — or
else a witch, or a humbug ! If I could only get away ! "

It has been shown tliat Henry reflected that no one
would know where to look tor them. The same appalling
thought occurred to Will. But, like an Inspiration, it
came to him that the teamster who had given them a ride
eyed them narrowly as they went up the valley.

" Now, if that teamster will only do us as good a turn
as the sailor did when we paddled away in the punt," he
said to himself, " we may be saved yet ! "

Boy-like, the hero pinned his faith on the teamster, and
felt considerably happier. In fact, five minutes more,
and he had settled it in his own mind that, sooner or
later, they would be saved through him.

Some writers, with fiendish ingenuity, seem to set
themselves deliberately to work to unstring the nerves of
their weak-headed readers, so that they shall plunge
headlong into unfortunate speculations, and be ruined.

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(716) 873-4503

186

A BLUNDEBINQ BOT.

But the writer of this history is actuated by no such
motives. He, good soul, uses no guile with his readers,
wishes to deprive no one of needful sleep, and would
shrink with horror from tampering with any one's busi-
ness or intellect.

When the writer was a boy, he read a strong and ex-
citing romance, written by a master-hand. There were
no idle dissertations in it ; every chapter, every paragraph,
every sentence, every line, rang with meaning ; and it
was so forcibly written that it would captivate a stronger
mind than his. He [your humble servant, " the writer,"]
w&s not content with one perusal, but read it affain, and
then lent it to three other boys, who read it with equal
avidity. When returned, he might have been tempted to
read it for the third time ; but, alas ! those boys, in their
eagerness to read, had apparently neglected to wash their
hands ; and had turned over the leaves so hurriedly that
it was in a state of dilapidation.

The writer has nothing to say against that romance.
He learned many things from it, and unhesitatingly pro-
nounces it the best he ever read. It is still green in his
memory — in fact, he looks back on it to-day with feelings
of respect and admiration. But it distracted his thoughts
from his lessons, and muddled his wits to such an extent
that he fears sometimes they are muddled yet.

Behold the result. A reaction set in, and all prepos-
terous romances, that one excepted, have become to him
an abomination.

Hence outbursts like the one above.

Chapter XX.

A Glorious Triumph.

We have strayed so far from our subject that the
reader may be at a loss to take our original meaning. If
so, when the boys are saved let him refer to Will's soliloquy
and what immediately follows, and light will burst upon
him.

)•

CONVEBSATICN BEOUN.

187

Will drew nearer the fire, and looked at the demon
with wondering eyes, as every fifteen minutes or so he
swung the huge &n suspended from the ceiling. This
fan etfectually cleared the apartment of smoke, but what
became of the smoke was to Will an appalling mystery.

As time passed, and no relief came, Will's uneasiness
returned. His anxiety about Henry became intolerable ;
he could endure it no longer. Better even to anger the
demon than sit in silence and suffer torments. When he
went out, surely he must have seen Henry.

This hero was one of those extremely patient people
who, lest they should incommode somebody else, will
endure untold agony, when a simple question might set
all their doubts and fears at rest.

" Sir," he ventured to ask, " do you think he was badly
hurt ? Or — or — didn't you go to look for him ? "

The demon, who had beea sitting beside the fire for the
last half hour, with his head resting on his hands and his
elbows supported by his knees, started violently. He
had evidently been so deeply absorbed in thought that he
had forgotten another was present.

" Ha ! " he ciied excitedly. " Ha ! What is this ? "
(Madmen always say " ha ! " generally twice.) Then,
recovering himself, he added, " Yes, yes ; I'm going to
speak to you presently. What did you say just now ? "

Will repeated his question.

" Ho ! There was another with you, then ! " he ex-
claimed. " I was afraid that I had been mistaken asain.
I am deceived so often that I don't know when to believe
even myself. Then there was another. But he had gone
when I went out to see. Who was he ? "

Will wo-s thunder-struck. Could he rely on this strange
man ? If Henry had gone, he could not have been killed.
But where could he be ? Had he forsaken him, his
cousin ? No ; he could not believe that Henry, so noble,
brave, and true, could be guilty of such treachery. Then
had he been found by some one, and taken away ? If so,
why did he not return with a ban i of men to save his
cousin ? In truth, Will was mystified. If he had known
that the poor boy was near him, lying helpless on the

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188

A BLUNDEBINO BOT.

ground, exposed to the cold night air, and moaning with
pain, he would have thought their case a desperate one
indeed.

At length he collected himself sufficiently to answer the
demon's question by giving his cousin's name.

" And who are you ? " asked the madman.

" William Lawrence."

" Why did you two come here ?" the demon asked
abruptly.

This was an unexpected question ; Will was not pre-
pared to answer it. " To see the cave," he said at last.

" Did you two come alone, or is some one else lurking
near ? "

" No, sir ; we came entirely alone."

" That is well. You did not come to do me anv
harm ? "

Will thought he could safely say " no " to that.

After a pause the demon said slowly, as though he had
settled it in his own mind : " You are a good little boy.
I like you ; you must stay with me ; I want a fine little
fellow like you to be with me all the time."

Will was struck dumb with consternation. He could
not appreciate the compliment thus paid him.

" No, sir," he said imploringly, " I cannot stay here at
all. You must let me out, and I must find my cousin and
go home."

" No, I cannot let you go ! You shall live with me for
the rest of my life. Sit down ! " he cried, as Will started
to his feet.

Then he darted to the door, and placed his back
against it.

" But what would my parents say to that 1 They
would never let me stay here," Will protested.

Luckless boy ! In his distress he knew not what to do
or say.

" Parents ? Have you parents f " the demon inquired.

" Certainly I have," said Will, with great dignity.

" Then, why did they allow a little boy, you are only a
boy, to come here at this time of night ? "

Will could say nothing in his defence. He hung his
b^ad in copfusion,

WILL ATTEMPTS TO ESCAPE.

189

" Well, I shall keep you here till morning, at least If
I should let you go now, how do I know what you two
might plot iigainst me ? No ! Here you are ; here you
stay!"

Will was only a boy, and he did not consider that a
strong man is seldom or never afraid of the machinations
of school -boys, so he said earnestly : " If you let u.e out
immediately, I promise that we will go home as fast as
possible."

The demon continuing inexorable, the boy said desper-
ately, " Sir, we have friends who will certainly come for
us, if you do not let me out."

" Say no more," replied the demon, " for I cannot let
you go. Listen : People take it into their heads some-
times to molest me, but I always come out all right ! I
teach them a leaami that they remember ! Your punish-
ment will be to remain till I choose to set you free."

The horrible stories told by Henry again flashed
through the prisoner's mind, but he was not terrified.
Looking intently at the demon, he fancied that instead of
wickedness he saw playfulness in his eye.

" He is only trjring to frighten me," was Will's thought.

The demon had moved ba^k to the fire after making
his last remark, and presently Will, seeing no other means
of escape, sprang to his feet and rushed headlong towards
the door. He had barely reached it when the demon was
upon him. Once more two long and sinewy arms encircled
the helpless boy, and he was borne struggling back to the
fire.

" Treacherous boy ! " cried the demon. " I'll settle your
fate in the morning ; now you will have to be locked up
in your room."

Without another word he carried Will into the bed-
room already described, and laid him upon the bed.

" Get in between the quilts, and you will be comfort-
able," he said, as he turned to go.

Again the door was fastened, and again our blundering
hero found himself a close prisoner in the demon's bed-
room.

His thoughts were far from being pleasant " If I had

1 )- ]^

190

A BLUNDERING BOT.

had the devemesB of any other boy, I should not be here
now, ** he muttered. " oy my own silly questions and
answers I only made matters worse. Henry, Charley,
George, or even Marmaduke, could have outwitted him
easily ; Steve would have made him a prisoner, ten to
one, and escaped at his leisure. Oh I this is horrible ! I
miLst get away ! "

He jumped lightly off the bed, and knelt before the
door. By good fortune, he found a crack through which
he could observe every movement made by th^ demon.

" Well, this is a good beginning ! " he said, hopefully,
"I shall watch till he goes to bed, and then try again."

But the demon, with provoking composure, sat and
dozed before his fire.

Time passed exceedingly slowly to poor Will. He
thought it must be near the middle of the night, while
it was not yet ten o'clock.

At length the madman arose and opened a concealed
door in the wall. Then he lighted a candle, passed in,
and shut the door softly behind him.

Will, like all boys, had a touch of the romantic, and he
was delighted to see Henry's suspicions verified. His
spirits rose, and he chuckled joyously: " Well, it's a regu-
lar robbers', den, after all. Concealed dooi-s and every-
thing to match. If Henry is only alive, and I can get
away, it won't be so bad, after all 1 And now that he's
gone I guess I can manage it, after all ! "

He waited a few minutes, and then began to fumble at
his door. While in the outer room with the demon, he
had taken notice of the way in which this door was
fastened, and seen that it was by means of a heavy bolt
on the outside. He had also observed that in the door,
above the bolt, there seemed to be an opening, covered
with a shingle that slid back and forth on the inside.

Feeling carefully for this shingle, he found it, took out
a pin which held it fast, and shoved it back.

" The demon ain't so careful as he wants to be ! " Will
said sagely. " Surely, here is a loophole of escape ! I
wish I could ease my feelings by heaping up big and
nneaning words, as Henry or George would dpf

THET FALL.

191

He waited a few moments in some uneasiness, fearing
that the demon might have heard him tampering with the
lock ; but as all remained quiet he put his hand through
the opening, and shoved back the bolt

The door opened, and Will stood in the outer room.

Having taken the precaution of shutting and bolting
his door, he was warily drawing near the front door,
when a strange sound proceeding from the demon's hid-
ing-place attracted his attention.

" He heard the clink of money."

Will paused. "I'll see what this means," he said
heroically, " but I'll not run the risk of being captured.
No ; I'm too near freedom to throw away my chances
just to see a crazy man finger his money."

Picking up a stick from the smouldering fire, he softly
approached the concealed door.

Poor boy ! Experience should have taught him better
than to play the Robber-Kitten^ — but when does ex-
perience profit a boy ?

His usual luck befell him ; he stumbled and fell pros-
trated with a crash.

The demon must have heard him, for he had barely re-
gained his {eet when, with a cry of dismay, the concealed
door was flung open. On seeing Will, the demon did
not stop to shut it, but darted upon him with fury. In
his headlong course he siruck against a stone and fell
heavily.

Will waited to see him rise, and stood ready to defend
himself. But the demon lay upon the floor immovable.
His head had struck some hard substance, And he was
insensible.

Presently Will went up to the demon. " Poor fellow I "
he said compassionately, " he is badly hurt 1 His fall was
serious ; mine was only a stumble. I can't go away and
leave him in this state ; I must help him. "

Tenderly he raised the powerless man, and exerting
all his strength, he dragged him to a bench close by, and
laid him on it. Then he saw that the demon's head was
severly hurt.

" Now, if he wakes up and finds me taking care of him.

4!
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A BLUNDERING BOT.

he won't hurt me ; so I shall go and get some water to
bathe his head, " was Will's next thougnt. " Henry said
there was a spring, or water of some kind, in the cave,
but there is certainly none in this room. Well, I must
leave him and look for some. "

Snatching up a little pail, he hurried into the room
which the demon had just left. Here he stopped a
moment to look about The4*oom was very much like
the two already described ; there was a rude couch in it,
but it was scantily furnished. The demon had evidently
given up his " best bedroom " to Will.

Our hero's wandering eyes soon rested on the most
noticeable " chattel " in the room, —a large and strong
box, the lid of which lay open. In this box there was a
little pile of silver coins.

" Hello ! " he said, " The demon has some money,
after all ! This is what he was jingling and counting, I
suppose. Weil, there's no water here ; I mmi go on. "

If Will had stopped to count the demon's treasure, he
would have found it a very modest fortune. In round
numbers it amounted to only five dollars. ($5.00.)

O, golden legends of our youth,
O, thrilling teles of riper years.
How cruelly do you deceive !

A door stood open, leading from this room into a larger

one.

"I'd better try this, " Will muttered. " It looks dark
enough and big enough for a cavern, and there ought to
be water in it, if anywhere. "

Having made his way into this apartment, Will found it
to be spacious, but dark and desolate. A solitary lamp,
which burned feebly, was of little avail in such darkness.
After taking a few steps he heard the purling of water ;
and on reaching the spot he found a little stream of pure
water, which doubtless emptied into the brook in the
valley, running over the ground. He filled his pail and
hurriedly retraced his steps, noticing several openings
into the outer room, concealed there, but visible here.

" Well, this demon is a queer fellow ! " he soliloquized,
as he went along. " He seems to have all kinds of hiding-

STILL INSENSIBLX.

idd

pliuies here, that nobody knows about Now, what in
the world does he do with so many rooms, and why does
he ke«p a liffht burning in this hole ? Perhaps he keeps
it burning all the time on account of the darkness. I
don't wonder he has money ; it must take a fortune to
live here, for it is just the same as living in a castle.
Well, IVe explored his secret regions till I'm tired of it ;
and I guess Henry was right when he said a band of
robbers fitted it up for a menagerie. "

A minute later he was again with the demon, whom
he found still insensible. Taking cut his handkerchief,
he bathed the man's head gently, and did everything he
could to restore consciousness. But all in vain.

" Oh, dear ! " he cried, " I shall have to leave him and
look for Henry. I'm sure Henry is alive, but I must
find him, and then we can come here again and help the
demon. "

He arose and left the cave.

The writer has a great deal of boldness in attempting
to depict the emotions of his numerous heroes in their
joys or sorrows ; but he declines to say anything about
the meeting of the cousins on this occasion. It was affect-
ing in the extreme.

As time passed and the boys did not return, Mr. and
Mrs. Mortimer became very uneasy. Being fully aware
of their son's recklessness, they did not know what danger
he and Will might, even at that moment, be incurring.
All day the two had been whispering mysteriously to-
j^ether, as though contriving some dark scheme ; and per-
haps, like Don Quixote ^.nd his squire, they had set out
in quest of adventures.

" Why couldn't they have said where they were going,
anyway ? " Mr. Mortimer growled impatiently.

Mrs. Mortimer was a woman who permitted her son to
do very much as he pleased, never interfering with his
plans of amusement as long as he kept within proper
bounds.

" Henry said he would tell me all about it when he
came back ; and he seemed to be in such a hurry that I
didn't like to question him," she said mildly. " I — I think
it must be all right." .

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194

▲ BLUNDERIKO BOY.

** Let us go up to the boys' room," Mr. Mortimer said ;
" perhaps we can find a clue to their whereabouts."

They went up-stairs immediately. The cousins had not
shut the drawer, and a single glance into it told that they
had been loading pistols.

"Oh I this is horrible ! " groaned Mr. Mortimer. 'Wasn't
that boy Will sent here because he got into disgrace about
gunpowder ? "

" Yes," Mrs. Mortimer said faintly.

" Yes ; and now, after trying to destroy the boys in his
own village, he has come here, to put an end to our
Henry ! " he continued fiercely. " Till he came, Henry's
balloons were all right, and I was prond of them ; but see
how fie tampered with his model ! Henry never dreamed
of loading his pistols, and going out with them. Henry-
is full of life, I know ; but this is all that boy's doings."

This was unjust to poor Will ; but what parent would
have laid the blame on his own son ?

Seeing that his wife was ready to burst into tears, he
moderated his anger, and said soothingly, " Oh, they 're
all right, Nelly ; Henry knows enough to keep out of
danger, if Will doesn't. But I can't stand this suspense
any longer ; I'll go out and hunt till I find them ; and I'll
let you know as soon as I get on their track."

As he went out of the house he muttered audibly:
" Well, I must send word to this boy's mother to keep
him in leading strings till he's twenty-one. How easily
we manage Henry ! It's all in management, of course ;
and if Mrs. Lawrence would do as well as her sister. Will
would be a very good boy. As it is, he can't behave him-
self even away from home ; and now the two are deep in
some horrible powder trick ! "

How grieved Henry would have been if he could have
heard his father speak slightingly of his elaborate plot as
a " trick " !

Boys, here is another pretty precept, which you will do
well to commit to memory : Never associate with those
who are smarter than yourselves; for, if you do, you
will he blamed equally with them when they lead you
into mischief.

ANOTHEB PRECIPT.

After many fruitless inauiries, Mr. Mortimer at length
met with a youth who tola him that about dark he had
seen Henry and another boy riding off with a teamster.
Mr. Mortimer felt relieved, and sent word to his wife ;
but for some time he could trace them no farther. At
last, however, he found the very teamster, — he having
returned to the city, — and ^rom him he learnt where the
bovs probably were.

kaving assembled a body of men, he set out for the
cave forthwith, and reachea it a few minutes after Will
had joined Henry. A happy meeting took place, a^d tears
of joy and thankfulness trickled down the cheeks of the
knights-errant. Henry was tenderly carried to the road,
and put into a vehicle in waiting.

Meanwhile, Will was speaking to Mr. Mortimer about
the demon. He listened attentively ; and seeing no better
way of settling the matter, he determined to take the un-
fortunate man home with him. Then, after fastening up
the cave against intruders, the entire party returned to
town.

On the way, Henry and Will recounted their exploits
glibly ; the former nobly taking to himself all the blame,
or heroism, the latter putting in a word now and then to
enforce the other's remarks Poor boys ! Now that the
affair was over they wished to make the best of it. Mr.
Mortimer listened patiently,and gradually it dawned upon
him that his own son had planned this expedition to the
cave. However, as long as Henry had done it, it must be
all right. He did not reprove them for their foolishness;
he was troubled about many things, and feared that his
son's injuries were more serious than they seemed.

When the cousins entered the town they found that
there was something of a commotion among the people.
Prominent citizens stopped Mr. Mortimer to express their
congratulations, and to see the youths w^ho had " bearded
the lion in his den " ; while the little street Arabs gave
vent to their feelings by shouting, " Bully for you I "
"Henry's a bouncer ! " " Up with yer hands, and on with
yer hats ; Henry's the boy for to b-u-s-t um ! "

" Will, I guess we're heroes, after all ! " Henry chuckled.

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196

▲ BLUNDBRINO BOT.

" When I was suffering down there at the foot of the hill,
I almost concluded that we'd made fools of ourselves;
but this doesn't seem like it 1 "

" Yes ; but 1 wish they wouldn't take so much notice
of ns."

" Fiddle I Will, you ought to live in the city ! "

The party moved on. A golden head leaned out of tha
upper window of a certain house which they were ap-
proaching ; the beautiful blue eyes glanced anxiously up
and down the street ; a well-known voice — the voice of
the gifl who had given Henry a gloss ink-bottle — usked
timidly of a passer-by : " Have they found them yet i "

A certain boy — by name, the estimable Johnny Jones
— was loitering near, blinking with sleep and jealousy ;
and he took it upon himself to answer jeenngly : " Found
them ? Oh, yes ; they've found the heroes, and they're
carting them home in the wagon that's just here."

The golden head was drawn in quickly, but the window
was not shut.

The heroes were so near that they heard all. Then
again the street Arabs ran alongside ; again they took up
their cry.

Poor Johnny Jones! His envy, or jealousy, was almost
too much for him.

And Henry ?

His heart bounded with delight; he was supremely
happy. To hear such words from her lips was ample
recompense for all that he had suffered or might yet
suffer.

It was nearly five years later ; Henry was just twenty-
one. He and a beautiful woman, dressed in bridal cos-
tume, wore stepping into a railway carriage that was to
take them to a steamer about to set sail for Europe.

" Will," he said suddenly, " pull off your hat quick, and
bow ! I — I can't ; I'm too stiff. '

Wonderingly, and, alas ! how awkwardly. Will raised
his hat.

After they had passed the house Henry began to won-
der what Johnny Jones had been doing there. Had he
been talking to her ? His eyes flashed fire ; he was
miserable.

■p

■' )

A DRAWBACK.

197

Foolish boy, he was troubling himself needlessly. And
if he had been more a philosoplier, he would have known
that Jonny Jones, in saying those few Jeering words, had
forever ruined his cause in the ey .3 of .

When the cousins reached home, Henry's remaining
pistol was unloaded, and a hearty laugh followed ; for ah
Knew, of course, that both pistols must have been loaded
alike.

Henceforth, he could have the pleasure of telling his
school-mates that he had been " shot." There was, how-
ever, one drawback : there was no wound to heal, and
there would be no scar to show tw louhters.

Henry was thoroughly warmed, liis ankle was rubbed
with sundry liniments and carefully bound up ; and then
the young adventurers were r nt to bed.

"Well, Will, among other consc'<itions there is this:
v\e don't sit up till ten minutes to twelve every night, do
we?"

•' No. And we did it, Henry, after all ! I explored the
whole cave, and I'll tell you all about it to-morrow ; I\n
too tired now. Besides, we rescued the demon ! "

This proves that the heroes had not profited by their
surt'erings.

Meantime, the people of the house had been taking
care of the madman. Under their careful treatment he
recovered sufficiently to be able to sit up and converse.

He also had a " tale to tell," but deferred telling it till
the next day ; and by one o'clock the whole household
was wrapped in slumber.

Chapter XXI.
Uncle Dick Himself Again.

The exposure of that night brought on a severe attack
of rheumatism, and the next day Henry was tossing about
on his bed in agony. His sprained ankle also was very
painful.

A doctor was sent for in baste ; and under his treat-

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198

A BLUNDEBINO BOT.

rn^nt and Mrs. Mortimer's watchful care,the boy recovered
slowly.

Will was so g/ieved to see his cousin suffer that he al-
most fell sick himself ; and he took up his stand at the
bedside, so that he might attend to his slightest wish.

" I don't mind being sick so much " said Henry, as Will
was peeling an orange for him, " because it proves that a
fellow's mother and — and — and fi'ienda care for him, and
want him to get well ; but I don't want the rheumatism,
because it's mostly old men and hardly used soldiers that
suffer with it."

" What should you like to have ? " asked Will.

" Well, Will, I don't mind telling you. Will, I've always
had a hankering to be wounded sc that it would leave an
honorable scar — a scar that I could be proud of, you
know."

The morning after the rescue the demon had a totally
different air. He no longer regarded strangers with sus-
picion, but frankly and promptly replied to all who spoke
to him. His eyes were calm and benign, no longer having
that " hunted look " which seemed so terrible. In a word,
the demon was no longer a madman ; " the blow on his
head had restored his reason."

In real life this is, we believe, an uncommon occurrence ;
but in romance it is becoming intolerably common. It is
inserted in novels that are otherwise good; it haunts
some writers like an evil spirit ; it is tricked up in a new
garb, sometimes, to throw the unsuspecting reader off his
guard ; but if it is there, sooner or later it will crop out
— often when least expected, least desired.

In fact, whenever the practised reader picks up a tale
in which a harmless maniac figures, his Si^spicions are at
once aroused, and he flings it aside with a gesture of
contempt.

Having called Mr. Mortimer to his side, the disen-
thralled man said, with a pleasant voice, " Sir, I do no*;
know where I am, and I should like to ask you a few
questions. Last night I was not in a humor to make
inquiries, as I was so tired and weak ; but this morning I
wn much better and stronger. May I ask your name ? "

NO LONOBB A MADMAN.

199

f ;

Mr. Mortimer was surprised at and pleased with the
man's improved appearance.

" I am happy to see that you are so much hetter, sir/'
he said. " As to my name, it is Mortimer ; may I, in turn,
ask yours ? "

" Certainly, sir ; I am Richard Lawrence."

Mr. Mortimer started. He perceived that the man who
spoke was in full possession of his reason, quite as sane
as he himself. In former years he had been intimately
acquainted with Dick Lawrence ; the story of the " mys-
terious disappearance " was familiar to him ; and he
thought that at last the mystery was to be solved.

He seized Lawrence's hand and shook it heartily.

" Don't you remember me, old friend ? " he said. " Don't
you remember when you beat me in that race, so long
ago ? And besides, we are almost related to each other ;
for, as you surely remember, your brother and I married
sisters."

A long conversation followed between the two reunited
friends. The events of other years were spoken of with
peculiar pleasure, and Mr. Mortimer told his friend what
had been taking place in the world of late years.

" Well, now, I had almost forgotten !"' Mr. Mortimer
suddenly exclaimed. " Your nephew Will is in this very
house ! You will remember him as a very little boy ; and
now he is a — a — now he is a great big boy. I must bring
him in immediately."

He hurried out of the room and soon returned with
Will, saying apologetically, " You must excuse me. Will,
but when two old friends meet, they forget that there are
boys still in the world, and remember only that they
were once boys themselves." Then to his guest : " Mr.
Lawrence, I have the pleasure of introducing your nephew
Will, who is on a visit to my son. I think it is safe to
sa} that you owe your deliverance to these hare-brained
youths. You will hear graphic particulars of it after-
wards."

A happy meeting took place between uncle and nephew,
the former being highly pleased with his new-found kins-
man.

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" Yes," Mr. Mortimer resumed, " this is your nephew
Will ; a fine little fellow, who had a strange interview
with you last night. Have you any recollection of it? "

" Not the slightest ; so far as I know, I have not seen
the boy since, since — when ? "

" Ten years, uncle."

" Then you know nothing about your life in the cave ? "
Mr. Mortimer asked.

" You are speaking in riddles, Mr Mortimer."

" My son, Will's cousin, is ill to-day, or I should present
him ; for he, dear boy, was instrumental in your release,"
the fbnd father observed, wishing that his son should re-
ceive due honor for his good deeds.

Mr. Lawrence was impatient to see his brother, but
there were several matters to attend to before this could
be done.

" There is a strange tale yet to be unfolded, Mr. Mor-
timer,*' he said musingly. " I must visit the town where
insanity first took hold of me. There are many things
not clear to me ; but I believe that by going there, I shall
be enabled to unriddle the mystery. A foul wrong was
done to me in that place, and I will have justice. As I
intimated, I know absolutely nothing of what took place
while I was insane ; but I believe all that can be made
clear by making diligent inquiries of people living in

R . Yes, I shall go to this place in a day or so ; then

take a run down to my brother's ; and come back just in
time to go home with Will. But first of all, I shall visit
the cave where I spent so many years ; nnd you and my
nephew must accompany me. I am full of curiosity to
see the place, but I suppose I shall have to be piloted
through it."

A day or so afterwards Mr. Lawrence felt stronger, and
the three set out to explore the cave. Will thought that
he was going to the Demon's Cave under very aifFerent
circumstances, and sighed because Henry was unable to
accompany them. But Henry was destined never to enter
that cave.

When they arrived at the place, they perceived that
some Dne was there before them, as the door stood open.

SEVEN 0At7NT T0UTH8.

SOI-

As they passed in they heard a confused murmur of
voices, together with whistling, singing, and hallooing.
Evidently, the intruders were trying to keep up their
spirits and intimidate any goblins that might be hovering
near. A great fire was blazing in the old place, but the
explorers seemed to be in the largest cave.

Suddenly the new-comers were heard, and a howl of
horror came from the explorers.

" Oh, golly ! It's the demon or somethin' else ! " wailed
one.

Then two wild and fearful eyes peered out through the
concealed door, and a voice quavered : " N-o-o, it ain't the
demon ; but I guess we'd better clear ! "

Seven gaunt youths stole through the concealed door ;
glanced fearfully at the new-comers ; and then broke and
fled tumultuously out of the front entrance.

The two men smiled ; the boy laughed.

" A boy is the same creature that he was when I was
young," Mr. Lawrence observed.

" They're the very fellows that cheered us the other
night," said Will. " I guess they wanted to be * bouncers'
too."

" Now, why in this world did the little rogues make a
fire ?" Mr. Mortimer queried.

" That question is easily answered," said Mr. Lawrence.
" When a boy comes upon a heap of wood, the temptation
to kindle a fire, if he has any means of doing so, is too
great for him to resist."

" And you see nothing here that is familiar to you ? "
asked Mr. Mortimer.

" No ; everything is strange to me ; and I must apply
to Will to lead the way. "

" Uncle, how <iueer it is that I should know more
about your cave than you do ! " said Will, grinning
foolishly. " It doesn't seem that you are the same man
that picked me up and carried me off "

" That's because I've visited the tailor and the barber,
Will. "

" Well, uncle, if I hadn't been through the cave that
night, we shouldn't know anything about the money. "_

Jl^vW-.. :U»--tiirJ.!iJP,!«WHa

202

A BLUNDERING BOT.

" Money ! " cried both men, in a breath.

" Yes," Will replied. " I found a little pile of money,
but so many queer things happened since that I forgot
all about it. Come this way, uncle ; it is in this room. "

" Your lost fortune ! " Mr. Mortimer exclaimed.

" Perhaps, " sighed Uncle Dick.

" If those explorers have not enriched themselves with
it!"

But the treasure was found untouched.

" Is this what you found ? " cried Mr. Mortimer, with
disgust. " This is intolerable — monstrous — outrageous !
This— this— "

"No, I think it's all right," said Mr. Lawrence.
" There is a mystery behind it, but when that mystery
is cleared up, I think we shall find that this is all there
is left. "

** I guess the boys didn't see it," Will observed, "or
else they were afraid to meddle with it."

" No, " said Uncle Dick, " a boy has more honesty
than most people imagine. Well, Will, what there is, is
yours. Take it. Will ; ,it won't fill more than one
pocket ; but I wish, for your sake, it were a fortune
indeed. "

" If I hadn't left these inside doors open, the boys
wouldn't have been able to explore these two rooms, "
Will presently remarked. " Now, I wonder whether
they found those hens and chickens ! / didn't , but I
didn't look for them. "

" * Hen's and chickens ! ' " growled Mr. Mortimer.
« What's the matter now, Will V'

" Why, Henry, said the demon — I — I mean my uncle—
had lots of hens and chickens here, and I heard them
clucking several times while I was in the cave ; but I
never saw a scratch of them. "

" Perhaps the young explorers made away with them,"
Uncle Dick suggested.

" No, uncle, they found their way here only because I
had left the concealed doors open," Will said. " I guess
the hena are some place else. "

" We don't know how many hidden chambers there may

MISEBABLB H£N8 AKD CBICKSKS.

208

be here, nor what secrets they may hold, " Mr. Mortimer
sighed despairingly.

" There can't be many more, " Uncle Dick replied.
" We'll say there is one more apartment, in which my
nephew's hens are cooped up. Now, unless they set up a
cackling, how are we to know where to look for them ? I
think we had better leave them to their fate. No ! Will,
listen ! When we get back to town, speak about these
hens incidentally to some little tobacco-chewer, and within
an hour a force of would-be desperadoes will troop down
to this cave, and liberate these hens or perish in the ruins
of the general demolition ! "

To economize time and space, to ease the reader's
anxiety, and to maintain the reputation of this history
for exactness and solidity, it may here be stated that
although Will set a band of street Arabs on the track of
those miserable hens and chickens, they were never
found, and the probability is that they are slowly becom-
ing fossils.

The three then made a burning stave serve for a torch,
and marched through the cavern in which Will had found
the water. Then they returned and went into the " best
bedroom. "

" I have a fancy that there is money buried here, —
buried, or concealed in some article of furniture," Mr.
Mortimer observed.

" I doubt that, " said Uncle Dick. " Now, if your son
were well, he and Will might come here and ransack
every cavern. What a pity we interrupted those boys I
They would have amused themselves here all day, and
would certainly have found whatever there may be to
tind ! Poor little fellows, their fun had just begun ! Well,
they will be back again, and then they are welcome to all
the spoil they can carry away. "

Having fastened the outer door, the party returned to
the city.

mmmmmmmmmm

204

A BLT72n)SBINQ BOT.

;«!

Chapter XXII.
Uncle Dick Evolves His Story.

The next day Mr. Lawrence, leaving his nephew still
with Henry, went to the town of which he had spoken.
Here insanity had taken hold of him, and here he ex-
pected to unravel his mysteries.

The two boys laid their heads together, and arrived at
the conclusion that the world is not hollow, after all ;
and that if they were not heroes yet, a few years Would
make them so.

" The stuff is in us, Will ; all we have to do is to work
it up. "

"Yes, Henry ; and when you come to see me, the
people in our neighborhood had better be prepared. There
are no captives for us to rescue, but I guess you can hit
on something good. "

" Why, Will, " said Henry, smiling his delight, " you are
almost getting to be like any other boy ! You — you talk
sensibly. What has come over you ? "

" WeU, when I saw that good came from our journey
to the cave, and that we rescued my uncle, I concluded
that I had been wrong and you right. I guess it's safe to
play tricks with you, anyway ; and "

" * Tricks ! ' " echoed Henry, scowling horribly.

" No, no ! " Will hastily declared. " I — I — mean-
Henry — Don't be vexed, Henry ; I meant stratagems ! "

The affronted patient softened. " Yes, that is the word
you meant, Will, ' h? said, " but you always ought to say
what you mean. I always do ; and so I never have to
stumble, and correct myself, and appear as though I don't
know what I'm talking about."

Will's eyes expressed a mild rebuke.

Henry was not fluent in making apologies; on this
occasion he simply said, with a look of pam that spoke
volumes in his behalf : " It's in my left knee. Will ; hand
me that bottle, please."

" Next time I venture on any more stratagems, — if I
ever do venture on any more, — I'll warn all the sailors

i, "

.3 1

henry's visitor.

205

and teamsters in the settlement, so that I can be rescued
just in the nick of time/' Will said good humoredly.

" Yes, as long as they didn't follow too close at your
heels, and spoil the fun. Well, Will, I knew I could cure
you if you stayed with me long enough ; but I didn't ex-
pect to do it so soon."

When the patient was easy Will read to him. The
books that pleased them most were about mustached
heroes who cruised in Polynesia, discovering "sea-girt
isles" which Captain Cook and later navigators had
missed, and which almost invariably held captive some
ragged individual, who, after divers adventurr^s with
pirates and Chinamen, had finally succeeded in nailing
5^795,143 up in a mahogany coffin, only to be shipwrecked
with it.

In after years Will looked back on those days spent
with Henry as the pleasantest in his boyhood. He hhii
no haunting dreams ; got into no disgrace ; and, except
when he thought of poor Stephen, felt no reproaches of
conscience.

One day the mother of tKe girl who had given Henry
a glass ink-bottle came in to inquire personally after his
health.

" I heard you were getting better, Henry, but I thought
I should like to come and see for myself," she said
pleasantly.

" I wonder now if she did'nt hint to her mother to do
this ! " Henry thought to himself. " I believe she did ;
but I wish I knew. Why can't folks tell the truth, any-
way, and say right out how it is ! How am 1 4o find out I
I know when she had a bad cold, I hinted till my mother
went there to ask about her ! Botheration ! I will know ! "

" It 's very good of you to take so much interest in me,"
he ventured, slightly emphasizing the word you.

" Yes, Henry, when I saw the doctor call here twice
yesterday I thought I must step in and see you."

The boy was silenced, but not satisfied-

" I've brought a book for you, Henry, that I think you
"" like," she said, taking a handsomely bound volume

will

out of her reticule and laying it on a stand at Henry's

elbow.

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▲ BLTTNDEBINO BOT.

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He picked it up. " Her book 1 " he thought exultingly.
'' I know it 's hers, for Fve heard her speak of it She
sent it to me I Of course she did. She sent it ! "

Once more his heart bounded with ecstasy ; once more
he was supremely happy. The blood rushed to his face ;
his lips quivered ; his hands trembled.

The visitor remarked this, and turning to Mrs. Mor-
timer said sympathetically, " Poor boy ! How patiently
he beara it ! "

Then, stepping up to the bedside, she laid her hands on
his head, kissed his forehead gently and affectionately,
and asked softly, " Is the pain very bad, Henry ? "

It seemed to Henry that his heart stood still.

" It is her mother," he thought, " and she has kissed
me ! "

Their eyes met. A woman perceives many things in-
tuitively ; Henry's secret was hers from that moment.
For all answer she kissed him again. From that day the
two were firm and true friends.

When Henry found himself alone he examined every
leaf of that book carefully.

" She sent it," he muttered, " and perhaps there is
something written in it. She may have written, * I hope
you will like this book, Henry ; ' or, * This is the story
we spoke of, Henry ; ' or, ' When will you be able to start
to school again, Henry ? * "

The observing reader will perceive that in each of those
sentences the hero's own name occurs. Henry was
capable of strong feelings ; in some respects he was a boy ;
in others, a man.

At last, at the top of a useless fly-leaf, he came upon
two initial letters. They were not hers ; they were not
his. The writing was very bad ; he could not recognize
it. He did not consider that a book-seller often scrawls
a cipher or two on the fly-leaves of his books. He was
mystified.

Jealousy, however, soon suggested an explanation;
jealousy pointed out that those characters were written
by her, and that they stood for " J. J."

Once more he was miserable.

GOOD CITT FATHEB&

207

He saw Johnny Jones in his true colors ; saw all his
defects, all his emptiness, all his insignificance, all his
baseness. And jet he was jealous !

The lover very often feels his rival to be the most
despicable person on the face of the earth ; and yet, at
the same instant, he fears that rival, despicable as he is,
will steal away the heart of his beloved.

To a man whose thoughts never rise above the earth on
which he walks, this may seem preposterous ; but it is
true, and may easily be explained — so easily, in fact, that
the writer leaves it for some one who can do so more ably
and clearly than himself.

It has been said that Henry was fated never to explore
the Demon's Cave. He never did.

The City Fathers, fearing, in their wisdom, that the
cave might become the haunt of evil characters or the lair
of some wild beast, convoked a council, and drew up a
document which began and ended thus :

"Whereas, * ♦ ♦ •

" Resolved, that said cave be forthwith demolished."

Then five men and two hundred and seventy-three or
seventy-four boys fell to work upon it, and executed this
command to the letter. The Demon's Cave had served its
purpose : it was no more.

The view from the opposite bank was marred ; but the
City Fathers knew that they had done their duty, and
their conscience was easy.

After an absence of a week Uncle Dick returned to Mr.
Mortimer's. He had visited the little city; solved his
mysteries ; and been to see his brother.

He made himself comfortable in an easy chair, and
while those interested in him listened attentively, he
romanced as follows : —

" Several years ago, when I was still a young man, by
prudent and lawful speculations I amassed a fortune.
But I was not satisfied ; I still wished for more ; and one
day when a stranger came to me with wonderful stories
about making colossal fortunes in a far-off part of the
world, I listened eagerly, and secretly resolved to settle
my affairs and hasf^u away with him. I should need

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208

▲ BLUKDEBINO BOT.

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every dollar I possessed to embark in this scheme, the
stranger told me ; and the sooner I could get away, the
sooner I should return to my native country a rich man.

" I kept my purpose hidden from my nearest friends,
and got together all my money as secretly as possible. I
was not to deposit this money in a bank, and draw it as
I needed it ; oh, no ! I must pack it up snugly in a strong
trunk, and take it all with me. This man. Black, advised
me to ' keep my own counsel to the very last ; ' and I also
knew that my people would oppose my taking up with
an entire stranger, and embarking in such a wild-goose
chase. Consequently he, and I, and the trunk of funds,
stole away like criminals, leaving only a short note of
farewell and explanation behind us. By the way, Mr.
Mortimer, my brother tells me that he received no such
note.and I must infer that Black found means to destroy it
• " I knew that I was acting dishonorably, but I excused
my conduct to myself by thinking I should soon return
in triumph, worth millions. At that date, enormous
wealth was the summit of my ambitions ; and it must
come suddenly and easily ; petty speculation had become
tiresome to me, and I wished to wake up some morning
and find myself a nabob.

" In a certain city — the place to which I went after
leaving you — we halted, ' to complete our arrangements,'
as my betrayer put it, if I remember rightly. Having
entered a small and out-of-the-way building, which he
called his own, probably correctly, I was assaulted by
him, and another villain who was unknown to me. I
remember distinctly Black's saying to this man, * Now,
Bill, a heavy blow on his head, and he is dead. Then his
trunk of money is ours ! ' I started to my feet, but at
that instant a furious blow was struck at my head, and
I, poor fool, knew no more.

" My object in going to that city last week was to see
whether I could learn what had happened to me from the
time of that attempted murder till I appeared here as the
' Demon of the Cave.' In this I succeeded very well. It
seems that the police were on these men's track, and that
they broke into the building just after I had been knocked

A COCK-AND-BULL 8T0RT.

209

down, ^he villains, Black and his accomplice, doubtless
thought me dead, or else meant to deal another blow, but
had not time. Their crime was bootless ; for they were
thrown into prison, tried in due time, and sent into penal
servitude, where they are still.

" Then I was taken to an hospital ; but as I had scarcely
anything with me, except my clothes and my chest of
money, no clue could iMi found to inform my friends of
my whereabouts. So they kept me on there, within a
few hundred miles of nty home, and took the greatest care
of ine. The cruel blow on my head had taken away my
reason, and all the doctors of the hospital could not
restore it.

" What puzzles me is that my friends did not find me
in process of time, as the whole affair was published in
the newspapers. Well, I suppose they thought of me as
being far away and that I could not possibly be the mad-
man in K. Hospital. I never saw the account in the
newspapers, and the description of the madman may not
have tallied with the Uncle Dick of the country village.

" And now comes the most extraordinary part of my
story. I was ill in the hospital for several weeks, and
meanwhile the authorities took charge of my chest. It
seems that I was aware my money was in it, and with all
a maniac's cunning I kept watch over it. One day, when
ray bodily health and strength were quite restored, both
I and ray chest of treasure were missing !

" So the story runs ; but there I am bothered ; there is
mystery. From that day all is dark to me ; all is a
blank ; and I can only speculate. I am left to suppose;
then, that I made off with my chest of money ; roamed
over the country in search of a home ; came upon the
cave in this neighborhood ; and established myself in it !

"Now, that is contrary to reason — in fact, it would
require a powerful imagination to put any faith in such
a cock-and-bull story.

" I have a notion that a great deal of my money was'
taken either by dishonest servants while in the hospital/
or else by thieves after X left it ; and I think even that I
was robbed of the whole amount, and came upon some T
8

'< 7 ml

■• J"

■t

A BLUNDIBINO BOT.

f .■

money in the cave. How could a lunatic make his way
through the country with a chest of money, and not be
molested ? It is impossible. In fact, Mr. Mortimer, from
the moment I left the hospital till I took up my abode in
the cave, it is all a muddle to me. It may be explained
some day ; but it is all a muddle to me now.

" From inauiries I made in this place, I found that a
dealer brought me supplies while I lived in the cave, and
that I paid nira for them. I hunted him out, and he told
me he made my acquaintance through another man, when
I first came here. He is a simple, nonest, old man, inca-

Eable of cheating even a madman ; and I am satisfied that
e acted fairly with me, and had no hand in my coming
to the cave.

" But who is the other ? I believe the whole question
hinges on that ; and if we could meet with him, I would
force the secret from him. The dealer afiSrms that he
knows nothing about this man ; he saw him only once ;
and then he told him (the dealer) to send supplies to an
eccentric man who intended to live for a short time in
what was then called simply, ' The Cave.' But, alas ! it
continued through ten y cat's !

" While living in the cave, I am told that I was con-
tinually on the watch against robbers ; which proves
conclusively, I think, that people of that calling preyed
upon me either before or after I left the hospital.

" Mr. Mortimer, as far as I can make it out, this is my
story. It is not much, but I have made the best of it."

The next day Mr. Lawrence and his nephew set out for
home. The long-lost man had, at length, after an absence
of ten years, returned.

He lived with his brother, and for a few weeks, did
nothing. Ten years in a cave hod undermined his health,
but OS soon as his constitution regained its natural vigor,
he went into business on his own account. At forty he
■found himself penniless, and obliged to begin life anew ;
.^ years were as though they had not been, and he had
summarily got rid of a fortune.

, I ,He was of a cheerful and hopeful disposition, and did
'not grieve about this ; still, he could not help thinking

ONLY A FIGURB-fiKAD.

211

what misery would have been spared if he had not trusted
himself implicitly to a villain. '>'' '*/!

For the present Uncle Dick must sink into oblivion.
He will be resuscitated, however, at the proper time. [

Will was received by his parents with open arms. Hft
had behaved noblv ; he was a little hero. All the praise
must be given to him, of course. Had he not rescued his
uncle, alone and unaided ? Had he not done all in his
power to help that uncle when he lay helpless in his
cave ? Had he not stayed by him and tended nim ? Had
he not explored the horrible place known as the Demon's
Cave ? He had ; he had done all this ; and yet come off
without a scratch !

Of course, Henry meant well, but he had no hand in
rescuing Uncle Dick — he had not even entered the cave.
Henry was a good, a manly little fellow, but in that affair
he had been only a figure-head. "

Will found that Stephen was recovering fast. His
school-fellows crowded round him and listened eagerly
while he dilated on his cousin's and his own exploits.
Now that the aifair was happily over, he delighted in
telling them about his "adventures" in the cave, and
Marmaduke, especially, delighted in hearing them. To
him, Henry was a mighty hero.

The affair with Stephen sobered the others for a time,
and when the poor boy again appeared among them,
nothing they could do for him was left undone. He was
a martyr in their eyes, and they willingly left off their
own sports to talk to him. Under these kind attentions,
what wonder is it that the boy soon recovered his health,
strength, and spirits ?

The whole tribe of heroes kept clear of tricks and mis-
deeds till the following summer ; but Will, of course, com-
mitted his diverting nttle blunders daily. But it would
be foolish to chronicle them.

As for Henry, he recovered rapidly, and when Will and
his uncle left he was a great deal better. He missed Will
very much, but he did not suffer a relapse. He put his
remaining pistol carefully away, vowing to load it him-
self, if he should be tempted to use it again. As for the

1f»

1^'

■ '!

212

■B

A BLUNDEBING BOY.

one which Will discharged, it was lost the night of the
expedition to the cave.

Chapter XXIII.

The Sage's Experiment.

It is summer again. The six are enjoying themselves
as usual, but are playing no tricks worthy of mention.
Considering all things, it is surprising that they have
kept out or mischief so long.

But the Sage was revolving a certain matter in his
mind. He had been reading about Capt. Kidd the pirate,
and the treasures he is said to have buried. He did not
believe there were any such treasures, — at least, he
thought he did not, — and to show how erroneous all those
old traditions are, he resolved to make what he called an
experiment.

" Look here, boys," he said to his school-fellows,
" wouldn't it be capital to look for gold some day ; souie
of Capt. Kid's gold, you know ! "

" No, George, I guess we don't know much about it ; so
go ahead and tell us," Stephen replied.

" You've heard the stories about his buried treasures, of
course. Well, let us follow the directions, and look for a
stray treasure some night."

" What directions ? " Stephen asked. That day he
seemed to be in a humor to persecute somebody.

" Why, the directions given in fortune-telling books for
finding buried treasures," George said good-humoredly.
" I have a good necromancer's book, and I have studied
this thing all out. So, suppose we go to work and try it,
just to prove how nonsensical all such stories are, and
, what a humbug necromancy is. Boys, it would be sport."
" The very thing ! " Charles exclaimed. " Now, tell us
aU about it."

" Welli I'm glad some one can understand my meaning,"
the Sage said smilingly. " We must go along the banks
jf some river at night, when the moon rises just as the

CHARLET S IDEA OF A NECROMANCER.

2ia

sun seta. When the moon throws the person's shadow
four feet up into an evergreen, any evergreen tree, stop
and say over some enchantment. Then shoot an arrow
straight up into the air, and it will strike the wc«er— ^ai
least it ought to strike it. Shoot another, and it ought
to fall at your feet. Shoot one more, and it will light on
the ground exactly over your treasure. But you must
dig for it with paddles."

" Paddles ! " cried the boys.

" Yes, dig two feet with paddles, or the treasure will
escape. Then you may take spades, or anything you
choose, to dig with ; and six feet down you'll find it."

" How wonderful ! " Marmaduke exclaimed languidly.

" How foolish, you mean," wise Will observed. " Really,
George, I used to think you had more common sense.
Who cares about paddles, and arrows, and necromancers,
and moons, and shadows, and rivers, and — and — now,
George, you know such tomfoolery isn't worth listening
to."

" Of course I don't believe it," George replied earnestly ;
" I only want to expose it."

Charles and Stephen had been whispering together and
exchanging winks while the others were speaking, and
the former now said, with feigned seriousness : " Certainly
you don't, George. It's a likely story that a bov like you
believes in a bald-headed, goggle-eyed, broken-nosed
necromancer, that never washes his hands, nor blows his
broken nose, nor combs his whiskers, nor cuts his toe-
nails. No, George, you read too much science to believe
in such a dilapidated ruin as a necromancer must be ; but,
as you say, it would be roaring fun to follow his direc-
tions. How right and praiseworthy to expose the super-
stitions of the wicked old necromancer ! Boys, let us go,
by all means ! "

George looked at the speaker rather suspiciously ; but
seeing how grave and earnest he appeared, never guessed
that he was laughing inwardly. He replied warmly,
"You're a true friend, Charley. You understand my
motives, and see what little faith I put in the old necro-
mancer. Now, boys, you must give in that we could get

.,,,1-

214-

▲ BLUNpSRIM BQT.

> 5 1

,; t

a great deal of amusement out of this. Honestly, couldn't
we ?*'

" It'll be the best fun we've had yet ! " Steve declared.
"But doesn't he give any more directions, George ? "

" Oh, yes. There is a page of what you're to do and
say, and if we should conclude to make the experiment
I'll learn it, for you mustn't take the book along with
you."

** Of course not," Charles said promptly. " Well, you'll
go, won't you, Will ? "

" Wouldn't miss going for anything ! " Will replied
with decision.

Without stopping to wonder at the sudden change in
Will's and Steve's opinions, the sage continued, " Accord-
ing to the almanac, this is the very night for us to go,
because the moon rises as the sun sets."

" Exactly ; " commented Stephen. " And the river is
our river, of course. As for the evei green, I know where
there is a fine tall one near the river. We must start just
at the right time to have the shadow according to the
rule when we arrive at the evergreen. Now, boys, I'll
scare up a good bow and half a dozen arrows; and
Charley, I'm sure, can bring a long-handled spade ; and
Will can supply us with an oar or two. If the book says
anything else is needed, George, you must see to it, for
you, of course, will be our leader."

George gracefully acknowledged this tribute to his
merit.

Jim now spoke for the first time. " But what has all
this to do with Captain Kidd ? " he asked.

Ever since Will's experience in the cave he had been
filled with lofty ideas, and now, in his wisdom, he thought
this the first weighty remark that had been made.

George replied thus: "We don't know of any other
man that would be foolish enough to bury treasures,
Jim, so let us suppose that we are looking for one of Kidd's.
—AH in sport, of course."

Will looked at the Sage with pity that was not akin to
love, and observed, " Now, George, I haven't been reading
the history pf Captain Kidd, as you have, but I know weu

L-J'.JJ .

I,/ Si;

'/■<■,

A BlUVfi LITTLE VILLAIN.

enough that he never buried any money in these part'a
because it stands to reason he was never here ! Perhaps
he buried some along the sea-coast, but certainly npne.ip
this far-off wilderness — as it was then."

This argument was irrefutable; the Sage was mute.
With all his reading, all his knowledge, was he to be
insulted thus ?

In fact, he looked so woe-begone that Charles came to
his relief, saying, "Never mind Mr. Kidd, boys] ^et us
follow the necromancer's orders blindly." \» , \\

All agreed to do this, and soon afterwards they^
separated.

All unknown to them, they had had a listener. 1*116
conversation had taken place in the school-grounds, and
a great over-grown boy had seen them, and drawn near
enough to hear every word. As a wood-pile was between
him and the heroes, he escaped notice. This "great,
hulking lubber," as Charles called him, was the boy wha j
had been bitten by Stephen's dog several months before^^
and who, as was intimated, thirsted for revenge. Ever;
since that time he had dogged the six, in the vain hope
of detecting them in some evil scheme. , ^

He was a cowardly, treacherous boy, this Bob Herri-f/
man, or he would not have played the eaves-dropper on
this occasion. He now resolved to precede the boys, hide
himself in the evergreen, and do his best to torment them.

Most horrible revenge, truly !

"I'll get there ahead of 'em," he muttered, "and climb
the tree Stepping Hen (the opprobrious nickname by which, ;
in his anger, he privately knew Stephen) spoke of ! I
think I know the very tree. I'll yell, perhaps, or scare ,
'em awful in some way, and if they do any harm to any-i .
thing, I'll tell on 'em ! Oh ! what fun ! " '

Then this embryo villain strutted away, with a mis-
chievous look — a look that boded ill to the Sage's experi-
ment. He was an immoral boy, while Wnl and his
companions were only boyish, and full of animal spiHts.

The boys longed for night to come, as they imagined
they could easily confute the vile and slovenly old necrp-; ^
mancer's errors, and find food for laughter. Some time

'HI

) '

ditm

216

A BLUNDERING BOT.

':o

r i

bofore sunset they turned out in force, and mustered just
below the falls. Everything that could possibly be made
useful was on hand. George, poor boy, had freighted
himself with a coil of heavy rope, but he bore up bravely,
and strode onward without a groan.

When they were fairly started, Charles suddenly in-
inquired of him : " What in the world have you brought
that rope along for, George ? "

" To draw the treasure home with," was the somewhat
startling answer, coolly given.

" The treasure ! " Charles cried. " Why, I thought you
' put no faith ' in that ! and besides, you can't draw gold
and silver with a rope ! "

" Don't be foolish," the Sage replied. " I believe in no
treasure at all ; but you must pretend to believe in it, or
else you will never get it. As for taking it home with a
rope, the book says it will be in a huge chest, bound with
iron bands. Therefore, I bring this rope along to make
the spirits believe I believe in their beliefs."

Having made this logical explanation, the Sage panted
for breath, but drew himself up proudly, and looked
defiantly on his tormentor, crushing him beneath his
eloquence and his aspect.

Charles finally uttered an " Oh ! " of relief, and then the
procession moved on.

As the sun sank lower and lower, the boys hastened
more and more. Will had calculated the time very accu-
rately, and said it was foolish to hurry ; but his school-
fellows were aware of his failing, and for fear he had
made a mistake, they were too impatient to proceed
leisurely.

Notwithstanding the ridicule which the boys cast upon
George for his strict observance of all the " directions,"
they did not wish to omit any of them in making the
experiment. Accordingly, all were anxious to arrive at
the evergreen just in time to have the moon throw a
shadov/ on it four feet high.

And by some strange chance they did.

Ab soon as the tree came in sight, Steve exclaimed
" There it is, boys ! The very same, identical, self -same
tpee!"

) (' '' wi

,t upon
jtioiis,
ng the
ive at
row a

[aimed:
[f-same

THE VfiBT TREE.

217

" It's very close to the water," George growled, as he
made a vain effort to ease his aching shoulders.

" It's from two to five feet from the water," Steve
replied. " That's plenty of room to go between it and the
shore, and plenty of room to measure the fine shadow
there will be."

" Then we must draw cuts to see whether it's the right
evergreen, as the book says."

This was done, and they found that this was the tree
intended.

Again they marched on, and presently stood before the
mystic tree.

The Sage halted, and threw down the coil of rope with
a sigh of relief. " The coast is clear, boys," he said,
joyously. " There is no one here swimming, or out boat-
ing, or shooting squirrels, or- "

"Or fishing for water- snakes and crunching peppel^*'
mint candy," Steve put in, as a finale.

For a moment George looked vexed ; but this was
Stephen's way, and he knew no insult was intended.

If the boys had known that this very evergreen, under
which they stood, harbored an enemy, they would have
acted differently. Bob Herriman had ensconced himself in
this tree, and even while Steve spoke, he was trying to
rub the gum off his hands and clothes, and glaring
wickedly down at the heroic six and the equally heroic
(log, Carlo.

" Well, boys," George observed, " I must go on alone,
with, Steve close behind to measure my shadow. If we
all go crowding along together, somebody will get shoved
into the river.' ;;i,.'H

The wisdom of this was so apparent that the test
waited patiently while the other two went on.

George walked cautiously along the bank of the river,
and when the rising moon threw a faint shadow of his
figure on the bark of the evergreen, he halted. Stephen,
however, stepped up so briskly and boldly, and so near
the brink, that shovelfuls of loose earth rattled down into
the water. When he reached George he whipped a^ home-
made folding ruler out of his pocket, and applied ii to
the shadow.

1 i

V.U

' el

.'p

n i;i

218

A BLUNDEBINO BOT.

" Just four feet ! " he cried, excitedly.

George looked on complacently, and the boys in waiting,
hearing Steve's remark, uttered a shout of surprise and
delight.

" Stop ! stop ! " George cried, angrily ; " I cannot allow
such a noise !

A dead silence ensued. The four moved on till they
had passed the tree, and then George and Stephen joined
them.

" That tree is very thick up among the branches," Jim
observed.

" Never mind that," Charles said. " Now, George, it's
time to go to work. Are you sure yon know the
verses?"
' " "Whxit verses ?" the Sage asked, indignantly.

" Why, the necromancer's, of course."

" You call it * verses,' do you ? Well, Charley, a boy
.generally does. But you should say ' poetry.' Now, this

IS genuine poetry — an ode, an — an . Well, the book

says it's an Apostrophe, or Address to "

(,l i " Fiddle-sticks 1 George, do you know it ? "
,, The Sage made no answer, but, facing the river and the
moon, he drew himself up proudly, and merely observing
that he must have silence, cleared his throat for action.

The rest were all behind him, and so escaped notice.
Then each one took out his handkerchief and dammed
up that organ which is the seat of laughter. By this
means they succeeded in choking back all their merri-
ment, and behaved so well that poor George was highly
gratified.

it must have been a comical sight to Bob Herriman in
his tree. At all events, he gazed at the different actors
with open mouth and ears, while the Sage delivered the
following :

ADDRESS TO THE BENIGN SPIRITS OP RIVERS AND

STREAMS.

j[,jP, all ye spirits, sprites, and elves, come, listen unto me,

A humble mortal who would seek light on some points from ye.
'To me 'tis known, brisht roving sprites, that countless treasures rust
i In caves, in seas, in shady dells,— or even in the dust.

I "

I',.

A DREARY INCANTATION.

219

To you 'tis known, O spirits bright, where millions may be found.;
Where gold and silver, precious stones, and gems of earth abouhfia.
Why should ye not disclose the place where some of thaae lie hid fd
In awful depths, in gloomy wastes, or flowery bowers amid ? j^

From those who put their trust in you, O spirits, elves, and sprites,
Why will ye always flee away, not giving them their rights f
Tell me, I pray you, airy sprites, and fairies good and kmd» ' - f ' -
Where I, through your great influence, may some lost treasure fixid.
Tell me, all ye sprightlv elves and fairies that I see, ,

And I will your most faithful friend and servant ever be. ^^^^

I long for wealth, for ease and peace, for honour, fame, and might.^X
spirits, hasten — hasten

George hesitated, stammered, stopped ! The necro-
mancer s rhymes were too much for his already over-
stocked brain. He made one more desperate effort, but
Charles, with his habitual promptness, cut him short,
shouting :

" hasten us out of this sad plight 1 "

At this, the others tore out their handkerchiefs and
laughed derisively.

George wheeled round quickly, and just in time to see
five handkerchiefs shoved into as many pockets. He did
not know what they had been doing with their handker-
chiefs, but he was angry, and he said, snappishly : " Loqk
here, if you boys can't behave any better than that, you
had better stay at home ! I didn't come here to amuse
gigglers, and 1 won't do it. No ; I'll stop right here ; I
won't go on with the experiment."

Charles knew that this was only an idle threat, but he
said, hastily : " Now, George, you're too old and too
sensible to be vexed because we laugh at what is comical.
To-morrow you'll laugh yourself. And besides, what did
we come here for ? To rout the necromancer, or to be
routed ourselves ? " • , ;

" Of course ; we came here to enjoy ourselves and haV^4
some fun," chimed in Stephen.

" Yes, but you might behave yourselves," the Sage
growled. " Now, where was I ? Oh, pshaw ! it's all a
muddle! Only two or three more lines, and it. would
have been finished. Well," brightening up, " perhaps the
charm isn't spoilt ; and, Steve, hand me your bow aaad
arrows."

• }

h3.

ii' i

If,

■*: 4.

liilili

220

A BLUNDERING BOT.

The boy still felt aggrieved, and he now fired furiously
towards the sky.

The arrow rushed into the air, and came down
moment later, striking the water fairly.

The archer's face beamed with smiles ; he spoke.
" Boys» that is as it should be ; and when we get warmed
up in this game, it will be sport."

" It will certainly be warm work if we dig down six
feet in this dirt," Will growled.

The boys changed their positions before George shot
the next arrow, and, as luck would have it, Will took his
stand near a horrible, miry hole which had been scooped
out by the river in a great overflow that very spring. He
threw his paddles down carelessly, and fixed his eyes on
the experimentalist.

That worthy now fitted another arrow to the bow-
string, and after taking deliberate aim at a star overhead,
he gravely " fired."

Every head was bent to observe the arrow's flight, and
each one was prepared to spring aside if it should come
down too close to him. Each one except Bob Herriman.
He, poor wretch, had placed himself in so cramped a
position that he could not see it fly.

Having made this clear to the reader, surely he will
guess what happened.

The arrow descended fairly in the evergreen, struck a
branch, glanced, and Mr. Bob received a stinging blow on
the back of the head. He wriggled and nearly fell out of
the tree. His mouth flew open, and a half-suppressed
ejaculation escaped him.

The arrow then struck the ground in such a manner
that it ran along it, and finally ceased its wanderings
within a few feet of George.

" How strangely everything is fulfilled ! " he said, with
evident satisfaction.

The boys grinned — even Marmaduke was amused at the
Sage's behaviour. ,

" I believe that tree is inhabited," Stephen remarked.
" I'm sure there was a great rumpus in it when the arrow
struck it, and I thought I heard a groan."

THE LITTLE VILLAIN IX DANGEB.

221

" Go to grass, Stunner ! " said Charles. " "You don't
know a groan from a wasp's nest."

" I guess you're about right, Charley ; " Will added.
" I guess George's arrow smashed an ancient and worn
out bird's nest."

Let it be understood that none of these boys were
aware of Bob Herriman's presence. They accompanied
the Sage only to see to what extremes he would go, and
to while away the timfe. But probably they had hopes
that some unforeseen incident would happen to cause
merriment.

Again George fired deliberately into the air, and again
the arrow was narrowly watched. This time it ctEime
down so perilously near Stephen's dog that Stephen was
grievously offended. :>!-

But as this was the last arrow to be shot upward, &Ad
as all wished the proceedings to be continued, he was soon
pacified.

George looked complacently at the arrow, and at last
seemed ready to make use of the paddles and spade.
With some pompousness he traced a circle round his
arrow, and looked so important that the boys could hardly
suppress their laughter. But it seemed to them, boys
though they were, that practical George was out of his
sphere.

" Now, William," he said, " bring me those paddles of
yours."

Will smiled to hear himself addressed by his full name,
and turned to pick them up.

Steve, still thinking about his dog's narrow escape from
injury, snarled : " Don't William him, or he'll make you
ivilt"

" Stop ! " the Sage shouted to Will, even as Steve spoke.
" I forgot. It is necessary that an arrow should yet be
shot."

" As your grammar would say," supplemented wicked
Stephen.

The Sage took no notice of these jeering words, but
continued : ** Yes, I must shoot an arrow through the
very middle of the evergi-een. '

. . .. ^tztp'm

>-.

''-)

•I
If

■

t'i

222 A BLUNDERING BOY.

Bob Herriman, who could hear every word, now had
reason to be alarmed. Up to this time he had looked on
calmly, intending to keep still till the boys should be
very much engrossed, and then terrify them all in some
mysterious way — how, he had not yet determined. Now,
however, he lost sight of e'arything except his owu
safety, and not stopping to collect himself, he gave vent
to the most ear-piercing, heart-appalling howl, shriek, and
roar, combined in one, that the tx)ys h^ ever heard.

Boys, imagine a deep-chested lad of sixteen mechani-
cally drawing in a full breath, and then suffering it to
escape in one long cry of mortal terror.

3£.n\':

Chapter XXIV.
The Sage Unearths a Treasure.

The effect on the boys was startling.
'In the confusion of the moment, George probably took
it for one of his " sprites ; " and he dropped Steve's bow,
stepped on it, and broke it.

Marmaduke felt that there must be something ghostly
and necromantic in such a cry, coming, in the hush of
evening, from a shapely evergreen that rose beside a
rolling, moonlit river.

i' Jim was seized with a painful attack of his chills, and
ran bellowing homewards.

Stephen, impetuous and heedless as ever, picked up a
stone and threw it furiously into the tree.

The reader of fiction does not need to be told that " all
this happened in an instant."

Where the stone struck Mr. Herriman is not known;
but with a crash he fell headlong to the ground, rolled
over twice, — roaring, meantime, with rage, pain, and
terror, — and before the thunderstruck boys could recover
'from their stupefaction, he had disappeared in the water.
" j Then Stephen, with great presence of mind, exclaimed :
• " Boys, 1 told you that tree was inhabited ! "

" Save him ! Save him ! Whoever he is, save him !

i»»

Steve's presence op mikd

223

Charles cried. " Get George's rope, and throw it out to
him I" f

He and Stephen made a rush for it, and stumbled over
each other, but finally managed to get all but a few
inches of it into the water. There their rescuing ceased.

Mr. Herriman, whose feet touched bottom, floundered
and sputtered about in the water like a madman. He
could easily have made his way to the shore, but appar-
ently he had lost his wits. Every other second he gave
utterance t9 some pithy interjection. Doubtless he would
have yelled continually ; but every time he opened his
mouth a small cupful of water and animalcules poured
down his throat, and well-niglj choked him.

A panic seized upon the boys, and although chattering
and gesticulating like monkeys, they were powerless to
help him. And so Bob struggled in the river, in some
danger of being drowned.

But a deliverer was at hand. Carlo awoke to what
was going on, and, more sensible than the boys, plunged
into the river, and an instant later was beside demoralized
Bob. He caught first his coat, then his pants, then his
coat again. Bob insanely striking him off each time.

The truth is, it galled the boy to be rescued by Tip's
successor. :

The noble dog persevered in his efforts, however, and
Bob, eventually seeing the folly of resisting, suffered him-
self to be towed to the bank.

Then the brave boys exerted themselves, and succeeded
in hauling bewildered Robert Herriman on shore.

His first act betrayed his cowardly nature.

" Get out, you brute ! " he said, and struck the gallant
dog which had just saved him, and which stood by, wag-
ging his tail to express his delight.

Then, with a jeering laugh at the dog's low growl, he
darted away from the now enraged boys.

He ran a few steps, then halting, he picked up a stone,
and heaved it among the experimentalists.

" Take that for throwing stones at me ! " he said deri-
sively, as he took to his heels again. " Look out for your
dog, Stepping Hen, and good-bye till I see you again," he
shouted as he ran.

r . '

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i ■.

11 'S.

%24,

▲ BLUNDERING BOT.

, This was more than human nature could bear. With
fury in their eyes, and uttering a warwhoop that electri-
fied the flyiug wretch, they all oroke into a run and gave
chase, determmed to wreak dire vengeance on him.

Bob yelled fearfully, — well he might, — and redoubled
his speed.

The pursuers were gaining on him, when a wild cry, a
beseeching, almost despairing, ^appeal for help, reached
their ears.

They stopped and stared vacantly at each other. The
look each one put on seemed plainly to inquire, " What
next?"

" It's Will," Charles said. " Where on earth is he ? "

"Follow the sound," the Sage said, philosophical as
ever.

The pursuit was instantly given over, for all the boys
bore Will too much love to neglect him. One and all, the
four ran back to the scene of their late exploits, and
Herriman escaped.

" Who saw Will last ? " George asked anxiously.
^ " The last I saw of him," said Steve, " was when you
iold him to bring the paddles."

In fact, poor Will was so startled at Bob's appclling cry
that he had tumbled backwards into the pit. He and his

E addles. In the confusion that ensued he was not missed,
ut was left to his own resources while the others were
engaged in " rescuing " and dealing with Rob.

Unhappy boy, he found himself in narrow quarters.
The hole was large at the top, but small at the bottom,
and he was unable w climb out of it. Soon he found
himself sinking iat j the horrible, sickening mire, which
gave way beneath him.

He heard the shouts of his companions, and struggled
manfully to save himself — and his paddles.

Why didn't he cry out for help immediately ? That is
very easily explained.

Will got into trouble so often and made so many
egregious blunders — which invariably provoked the
laughter of others — that he had fallen into the habit of
keeping as many of them secret as possible. He had a

WILL IN tROUBLK

^26

preternatural horror of being made a laughing-btock, and
consequently, when he found himself out of sight in a
pit, he was desirous to work his way out of it before he
should be missed. • .

Besides, after his exploits in the cave, this experiment
of the Siur-e's was but ignoble pastime, and it would ill
become him, the hero who had delivered and cured his
insane uncle, to come to grief in this slimy hole.

He struggled heroically to gain dry land, but the more
he struggled the deeper he sank in the mire. At last,
hearing his comrades chasing some one, he concluded that
he should have to cry out for help, or else be left to a
horrible fate.

But it grieved him to thiuk that he was not missed and
searched for.

" Whatever is the matter, among so many there might
be one to think of me," he muttered, sadly. "Don't
1 amount to a button, that they don't miss me ? Or is
something awful going on ? "

Then, with great reluctance, he shouted for help.

When the four gathered round the hole, they beneld its
tenant with wonder.

" How in this world did you get down there ? " Steve
asked.

" Fell down," Will said, laconically. " I knew there
was a hole in these regions, and, botheration ! I found it,
and tumbled overboard into it ! But say, what was all that
row about ? "

" So you've missed all the fun ! " Charles said,
pityingly.

Then the boys told him all that had happened.

" But why didn't you yell for us to help you at first ? "
Steve asked.

" Why didn't you miss me ? " Will retorted, sourly.

The boys could not be blamed for this. Probably not
more than ten minutes had elapsed from Bob's first cry
of terror till Will's cry for help ; and they had been very
much excited and distressed all that time.

"This is no way to get Will out!" Charles said,
angrily. " Stop talking, Steve, and bring George's rope
here."

.la

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l\ fa*'
' r.

226

▲ BLUNDERING BO^*.

" George's rope ! " said Will. "That will be the very
thing ! Get it, Steve ; you're used to hauling donkeys
out of pits, you know, so show us your skill."

The boys laughed for a full minute, and Steve said, as
he darted away for the rope, " Will, that's blunder num-
ber ten thousand seven hundred and one for you."

The rope was found, but it was wet from end to end.
However, it proved more useful than when the boys
attempted to rescue Herriman with it, and Will, with
considerable detriment to his clothes, was puUed out of the
hole — his paddles, too.

Although coated with disagreeable slime up to his
watch pocket— which, by the way, contained fish-hooks
instead of a watch — he took it coolly, as became a
redoubtable hero.

In order to turn the conversation from himself, he said,
hurriedly, " Now, go into details about Herriman, and
then I must pack off home."

Foolish boy, he need not have been alarmed ; he was
an object of pity rather than of laughter.

" We told you about Herriman," growled Steve. " I
wish I could have got my claws on that boy ; I would
have made him strain his voice and his muscles ! "
" " You had better go home this minute, Will," Charles
said, kindly. "As for Herriman, Steve, I guess he has
strained his voice and his muscles and his joints enough
already. Well, Will, I'll go home with you, and tell all
about Herriman as we journey along. Stephen, I suppose
you will stay here to go on with the necromancy busmess,
which was so meanly interrupted. Be sure to bring home
Will's paddles and everything else."

" Yes, the necromancer must be routed," Steve replied.
,** I'll see to everything ; good-bye."

" Good-bye," said Charles and Will, as they plodded off.

" I say, Will,'* Charles said, with a grin, as soon as they
were out of hearing, " I say. Will, by to-morrow I guess
ni be the only one to see any fun in this business ; for
Jim ran howling away. Bob got the worst of it, you
robbed the hole of much mud, Steve's dog was insulted
several times, and before Steve gets through with the
Sage and Marmaduke, all three will be sick of it."

A DEADLY WEAPOy.

22t

Thus let thei/i go.

The sport seemed to have lost much of its zest after all
these interruptions and departures ; but George and
Stephen mended the bow as well as they could, and then
the former, v.ith due solemnity, shot an arrow through
the tree lately occupied by Herriman.

If the complicated plot of this and the preceding
chapter has not proved too great a strain on the reader's
memory, he will probably remember that the next thing
to be done was to dig. ,

Marmaduke came up with the paddles, and tried to
make a spade of one of them ; but it rebounded and
jarred his hand till it ached.

" Stop ! " screamed the Sage. " You'll spoil the charm I
The sods must be raised with something sharp, of course.
Boys" solemnly, " they mu8t be raised with a knife that
has alain something ! "

" Slain ! " Marmaduke repeated, aghast.

" Yes ; and I've brought along a knife that once killed
a deer and a lion."

" George, this is going a little too far ; what business
have you to tote around a hunter's weapon ? " Stephen
inquired. " Why, if you had fallen into the river with
that horrible knife hitched fast to you, you would have
been ruined." "'

"Don't be jealous, Steve," George said, sarcastidally.
" You know there isn't a boy in the State that owns such
a knife as this ; you know it has a romantic history; you
know my grandfather willed it to me ; you know it once
saved Seth Warner's life ; you know an old Turk

once-

" Yes," interrupted Steve, " I know ; I've heard you
talk about that knife ever since I first knew you. But
if you don't look out, it will come to grief like all your
other wonderful knives — you'll lose it. — Well, never
mind, George ; I was only surprised to think you could
bring along that keepsake — no, relic — to dig up sods !
So," mildly, " go on, George." ' ;

George " went on," and soon the sods were raised, and
a circle of earth exposed. Then the paddles wete used

228

A BLUNDERING BOY.

very laboriously, first by one and then by another. It
was hard work, but at last a hole was scooped out, and
Steve, in despair, took up the spade and dug with ease.

" How do you suppose Herriman came to be in that
tree 1 " George asked.

"That's a mystery," Steve replied. 'Likely he was
prowling around, and saw us coming, and scrambled into
the tree to hide himself. Well, I never hankered to make
a squirrel of myself in an evergreen."

" Let me dig," George now said.

Stephen handed over the sjmde to him, and after a
vigorous attack with it, with a thud that startled the
three, he struck something very hard.

Visions of gold and precious stones fiashed through
their mind ; George trembled with excitement ; Marma-
duke was in ecstacy ; Steve was bewildered.

George stopped for a moment, panting and eager ; then
he turned to digging again: — so furiously that the sweat
streamed from every part of his body.

Not a wor«i was spoken.

Dirt enough was soon removed to discover — what ?

An iron-bound box !

Again the Sage paused. Although Steve was as much
excited as the others, he thought this a fitting time to
observe : " Well, George, we have exposed the necro
mancer's fable, and it is getting late ; so let us pack up
and go home."

" Go home ? " echoed George. '■' Go home — without
seeing what we have found ? "

. " Certainly. It can't be a treasure, you know ; because
it isn't six feet down in the ground ! "

George was thunder-struck. But he soon rallied, and
made answer : " Well, so many queer things have hap-
pened, perhaps the spirits got demoralized, and raised tlie
box." ^ ,

" No they didn't," Steve retorted ; " spirits never get
demoralized. And besides, I'm ashamed of you, George,
for staying here any longer. You know you don't believe
a- single word of it," with cutting irony. " So, let us do
what the copy-book tells us, and make the most of time
while we are young. Let us hurry home."

WHAT ?

229

Whilst this talk was going on, Marmaduke — much to
the secret satisfaction of both boys — was busy, trying, by
using the spade and paddles as levers, to get the iron-
bound box out of the hole. Not finding it so heavy as he
expected, he succeeded without much effort.

Now that it was out of the ground, George, Stephen,
and Marmaduke, pounced on it, pried off the lid, and
found — what ?

A heap of mouldy old boots, a cracked cow-bell, a worn-
out vest, several broken articles, a few door-knobs, a de-
faced copy of the Constitution, rusty nails, the works of
a clock, the rudder of a toy ship, a heavy flat-iron, the
head of a medieval image, rubbish, all sorts of things.

Steve, foolish boy, laughed till he was obliged to sit
down. As for the other two, they were, to use a polite
expression, " deeply chagrined."

As soon as Steve recovered himself he said, " This is
some of Crazy Tom's work ! Of course, you two have
heard of him ; he used to live in these parts, and spent all
his time gathering up all kinds of trash, and the boys say
he buried it sometimes. Now I know that story is true.
Oh ! what a treasure we have found ! Our fortune is
made ! "

George and Marmaduke were familiar with the legends
respecting Crazy Tom, and they were mute.

" Oh dear," groaned Steve, " we must get this box back
into the hole, and shovel in the dirt, before we can go
home."

This proves that there was something good in Stephen,
after all. A great many boys would have gone away,
leaving everything in confusion.

" There might be something valuable in it," Marmaduke
suggested.

" Yes, of course," Steve replied. " But I don't know
who'd want to rummage among all these disgusting old
things."

George and Marmaduke thought of the bones in the
woods, and with one breath, bDth said, " No ! "

" To be sure," Steve continued, peering into the box,
" if we could find some fellow that hadn't any respect for

i i

',2 (J

'H'i

V !

'' (

230

A BLUNDERING BOY.

himself, we might hire him to handle its contents, and
separate the good from the bad. Now, I've a good mind
to take out this Roanwer ! "

" What's ^he matter ? "

" Matter ! " roared Steve, starting back, " My gracious !
That box is inhabited with some awful looking grubs ! "

Without further parley the lid was laid on, the box
shoved into the hole, and the dirt shoveled in.

" Steve," said George suddenly, " 1 believe you knew
about this. Why were you all at once so eager to go, and
why did you pick out this tree, and guess the box was
Crazy Tom's so quick ? "

" Now, George, don't be foolish. I came for the fun of
it, that's all. Now, didn't you shoot all the arrows, and
didn't I do all I could to help you ? Didn't I work hard
digging ? Why did I know about where Crazy Tom
buried his treasures ? Why, George, are you losing your
wits ? Come, now, be sensible ; and think it's a great
joke."

George looked full in Stephen's honest face, relented,
and said desperately, " Well, I suppose it is very funny ;
but I've made an aw^ful fool of mj^^self."

Everything except the big rope was taken home. It
was enough for the Sage to carry it when in excellent
spirits, unruffled temper, and fired. with "enthusiasm."
Now, his spirits were broken, — for the time only, — his
temper was soured, he himself was sore and weary, and
the rope was " forgotten."

The three wended their way homeward in a different
frame of mind. Steve was so light of heart that he
chuckled to himself and his dog, and swung his arms
furiously. Marmaduke was uneasy about his lessons for
the next day ; George was glum and miserable, full of
bitterness against necromancers, sprites, and Crazy Toms.

" I'll never meddle with nonsense again," he muttered,
as he jogged on. *' And as for Captain Kidd "

From that day, he had another name — the Necro-
mancer, It was not much used, however.

: it \

181-

THE PHILOSOPHER. 231

Chxipter XXV.
The Bitten Boy Takes Revenge.

After that, George renounced all literature that treated
of the magical arts, but his reading was as varied and
extensive as ever. He carefully avoided the subject of
necromancy, but when his companions referred to it, he
put up with their jokes and cruel remarks about " iron-
bound " " treasure-chests " with the calm indiiference of
a true philosopher.

Charles was mistaken in saying that he would be the
only one to see any amusement in the affair after it was
all over, for Stephen never tired of calling up George's
look of misery when the box was opened.

" Oh, if you and Will had only waited ! " he often
sighed to Charles.

Stephen almost forgot the insults heaped on himself
and his dog during the earlier part of the evening, and as
Bob Herriman prudently kept out of his sight for a few
days, he almost forgave that wretch his wickedness.

One day he asked George if he might see the book of
necromancy.

At first the Sage was inclined to be vexed at such a
question; but fina ly, pointing upwards, he said, with a
peculiar smile : " Well, Steve, I guess the smoke of it is up
there. And now, don't say any more about it, please."

" George, that night we passed through an expeinence
instead of an experiment ; " Stephen replied solemnly,
looking wondrous wise. " I promise not to bother you
about it any more."

Stephen kept his word religiously.

As for Will, strangely enough he took no cold, but was
minus one suit of clothes.

Bob Herriman kept out of the boys sight for a few
days. He had several very good reasons for doing so.
In the first place, he was sore and stiff from many bruises ;
secondly, his cowardly nature dreaded meeting with the
boys for whom he had lain in ambush, and whom he had
exasperated beyond endurance; and thirdly, he wished
to avoid Steve's dog, which he now feared.

I :

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^32

A BLUNDERING BOY.

On account of this, the boy kept quiet near home,
although his parents probably thought him at school. In
these " holidays " he worked out a plan for revenge.

Revenge for what ?
i The only answer that can be given is that the boy was
so vindictive in his nature that he wished to do the boys
and the dog some injury — simply because he had fallen
out of the evergreen ; been humiliated, stunned, and hurt ;
had an unpleasant struggle in the water ; and generally
" got the worst of it," as Charley put it.

At last he hit on a plan that pleased him greatly.

Suppose that, in order to lend variety, animation, and
digr^ity to these pages, we forbear giving the details of
hii: 'ot, and keep the reader in a state of mild suspense
and wonder ? Such a course would smooth our task, and
not seriously disturb the reader's peace of mind.

...vlthoagn a raft has not been referred to specially as
one of the attractions of the river, yet, for all that, an ill-
made and disproportioned, but substantial and floatable
one was moored a mile above the falls. Many hours had
been spent by the boys in building and repairing this
raft, and many times they had sailed proudly up and
down the river on it. It was a source of great amusement
to them all.

Some ten days after the adventure last narrated. Bob
Herriman built a little " house," which, seen from one
end looked like a hen-coop, from the other like a dog
kennel, while a stupid person behind might take it for a
clumsy woodbox, another equally stupid person in front
might take it for a modern home-made bee-hive. One end
was three feet wide, the other three feet six inches. By
laying a brick underneath it, its roof was level, with the
spirit-level. By placing it on a perfectly smooth floor,
without the brick underneath it, it rocked gently — just
sufficiently, in fact, to lull a person to sleep. Brieiiy,
Robert was not intended for a carpenter, and this
" house '' — which was almost worth its weight in nails —
to be still further disproportioned, was much wider than
it was long. Its width has already been given ; its
length was two feet and two, thr^e, four and five inches.

BOB BUILDS A HOUSE.

233

Its height was in exact proportion to its width and length.
Tlie door of j, disused cupboard was brought into use, and
once more did duty as a door.

Boys, exercise your ingenuity, and draw a correct
pictuie of that " house." It may help you to understand
r)ob's plot.

Into this building its architect put several things which
lie thought would be needed to carry out his schemes .
successfully.

Every Saturday afternoon Stephen and his dog went
swimming in the river. The other boys generally, but
not always, swam with him. This was well-known to
Heiriman, and he took his measures accordingly.

The next Saturday Bob set out immediately after
dinner, getting a boon companion of his to take his
contrivance in a light waggon to the falls. This boy,
whose thoughts never soared above the driving of his
nag, asked no questions, and scarcely noticed the " house "
or its contents. At the falls Bob set it down carefully,
and then the two went their several ways — the youth
with the waggon turning back and going to market, the
plotter getting his building laboriously up the hill by
the falls. The few people near stared at him in wondq^r,
but said nothing.

When this wicked boy got his contrivance a few rods
above the falls he stopped, took out of it and stowed
away upon his person whatever water might damage,
and then took an enormously long and very strong cord,
which had hitherto been inside, and tied one end fast to
a staple in what was supposed to be the roof of the
" house."

Having done this, he shoved the unwieldy thing into
the river, and eyed it wistfully.

" No, it isn't coming to pieces," he exclaimed, joyfully,
as he saw that his work bore the strain of floating in the
water.

Then he grasped the rope — which will be described
presently — and towed his invention — it was an invention
—rapidly up the river.

Arrived at the raft, he fastened this thing (we don't

\\\

1.V:

it ■:

'■■ 1

234

A BLUNDERING BOT.

,H •:

know what else to call it) firmly on it. Then was shown
the beauty and usefulness of the staple spolj^en of. Bob
ran a strong cord through it and through some of the
many staples and rings which were planted in the raft.

You perceive, gentle reader, that this boy was much
better at scheming than at building.

Then he loosened the rope from the — let us call it cage
— from the cage, and tied it fast to a ring in one end of
the raft. This rope, or cord, was new and strong, and
was actually one thousand feet in length ! Bob did not
believe in doing things by halves — ^^but he had another
object in view when he procured the long rope. Excepting
a few yards at the end made fast to the raft, it was as yet
coiled up neatly. About the middle a heavy iron ring, or
sinker, was attached.

Bob arranged everything to his satisfaction, and had
just set the raft afloat and made it stationery with an
anchor, in the form of a sharp stick, when he espied
Stephen and Carlo coming for their customary bath. He
himself was screened by friendly shrubs and trees, but
Stephen was in plain sight.

AH that he had to do was to remain quiet and keep
the raft to its anchor, and Stephen, he felt assured, would
not see him.

In this belief the crafty plotter was right. Stephen
hurriedly undressed a few rods below him, and plunged
headlong into the river, Carlo beside him. Carlo, how-
ever, seemed uneasy, as though he suspected the presence
of an enemy.

Bob examined the raft to see that it was securely
anchored, and then stepped lightly ashore, an old muzzle
and some pieces of rope in his hands. Unobserved, he
stole along behind the shrubs, trees, and ridges, till he
gained a hollow which completely hid him from Stephen,
and then he stopped. Probably no boy in the neighbor-
hood knew the lay of the land better than Mr. Bob.

Suddenly, he uttered a cry like a squirrel's, which pro-
duced the effect he thought it would.

Both Stephen and his dog, not far away, heard it.
Steve immediately stopped swimming, and said, " Sic it,
Carol! Sic it! Fetch him out I "

hown
Bob
)£ the
raft,
much

it cage
end of
g, and
lid not
mother
cepting
sas yet
ring, or

md had
with an
e espied
3ith. He

:ees, but

^nd keep
d, would

Stephen

plunged

^lo, how-

I presence

securely
muzzle
^rved, he
Js, till he
Stephen,
leighbor-

Job.
Ihich pro-

I heard it.
"Sic it,

THS AMBUSH.

235

Bob chuckled, again uttered the cry, and was rewarded
by hearing Carlo flying towards him. " Now, to keep
out of the dog's sight till he gets into this hollow," he
muttered, suiting the action to the word. " If Steve
should come, too," — and he grew pale at the thought, —
" I'll get the worst of it ! But Steve won't come."

In this conclusion Bob was quite right ; for Stephen
preferred a good bath to a doubtful chase after a squirrel.
Besides, he could not hunt the squirrel without dressing
himself ; and before that could be done. Carlo would
probably have caught it, or else have given up the pursuit.
Therefore, Stephen wisely determined to enjoy his bath,
and let his dog hunt alone.

Crafty Bob had considered all these points, and felt
quite easy in his ambush. He was wise in his day and
generation.

"Sic it ! " Stephen cried again ; and Carlo, with his
nose bent to the ground, ran hither and thither, trying
to get scent of the " squirrel."

Bob gave another encouraging squeak, and the dog
plunged through the shrubbery into the hollow.

He feared the dog, and knew the risks he was running ;
but revenge spurred him on, and he remained collected
and resolute, while Carlo, quite surprised, was taken at a
disadvantage. - i

They grapple with each other, almost human dog and
almost brutal boy, have a severe struggle, and fight
desperately ; but in the end. Bob slips his muzzle over
Carlo's nose, fastens it, and then binds his feet with the
cords and straps.

Bob is master of the situation.

Swiftly he dragged the helpless animal by the way he
had come, till he arrived at the raft. It was the work
of but a minute to haul it on board, tear up the
" anchor," and shove off". When fairly afloat, the door
of the cage was opened, and Carlo ignominiously thrust
in.

Thus the reader perceives that this mysterious cage
was to do duty as a prison. Had not its manufacturer
been perusing some of the "literature" of the present

II'

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286

▲ BLUNDICBIKQ BOY.

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Ill-

day when he contrived his plot ? Only, he varied the
stereotyped form by abducting an heroic dog instead of
an heroic fool.

Stephen gave up his whole attention to the delightful
and thoroughly boyish pastime of swimming. In all
probability he thought no more of his dog, believing him
to be in full pursuit of the " squirrel." But Bob had no
sooner got under way than Stephen spied him.

Contrary to all the laws which regulate the actions of
the heroes of romance, he engaged in conversation with
the depraved youth. A hero in a book would have
looked the other way in dignified silence when such a
wretch came in sight, but not so Stove.

" Hollo ! " he called out. " Why, Bob, I haven't seen
you since the night you yelled so bravely, and fell over-
heard into this very river. Have you got the plasters off
your bruises yet? You ought to be as tender as
pounded beef -steak after all your tumbles that night.

"But I say," in a quarrelsome tone, "what are you
doing with our raft ? That raft isn't common property ;
it belongs to us."

If Who is * us ' ? " asked Bob, mockingly.

Now that he was on the raft, all his impudence
returned. He knew that he could work his way into
deep water before Stephen could reach him ; for, unlike
most rafts built by ooys, this one was managed with
ease, and propelled with something like swiftness.

"Who is* us'?" Steve echoed in amazement. "You
know well enough that that raft belongs to us four-
Will, and me, and Charley, and George, and Marmaduke,
and myself — "

Bob could not deny the justness of Steve's claim on
the raft, so he waived the question, and cut him short,
saying derisively, " Steve, I reckon you'd better stop, if
you can't count straighter'n that."

"Well, you have no right to use it," Steve replied.
" What are you doing here anyway ? Are you spying on
me again ? "

" Where is your dog ? I thought he always followed
yoUi '* Bob observed, oaring briskly away.

THE LiTTLfi VILLAIN TRIUMPHANT.

i the
kd of

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[n all
g him
ad no

ons of

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have

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ire you
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laduke,

laim on
short,

stop, if

1 replied,
lying on

)Uowed

"Carlo? So he does. He went after a squift^l a
minute ago. Ton my word," as if the thought had just
struck him, " it's very strange that I don't hear him hark!
Now, what's the matter ! Carlo, Carlo, Carlo, Carlo."

Bob heA now floated the raft down stream into deep
water, and with a burst of idiotic laughter, he swung it
half-way around. Up to this time, that side of the cage
which looked like a dog-kennel had been toward Stephen;
but the side which looked like a hen>coop was now, in
turn, presented to him. '

The raft had drifted down so far that it was nearly
opposite to Stephen; and now, for the first time, he
beheld his beloved dog, bound and helpless, in the
clutches of an enemy.

An agonized cry of astonishment and horror broke
from his lips.

Bob's revenge had begun, and like all approved villains,
he was destined to have a short, but brilliant, career.

" Why don't you swim out and save your dog, Stepping
Hen ?" he asked mockingly, well knowing thai 'he could
soon out-strip an ordinary swimmer.

" Oh, just wait till I catch you, you abominable sneak!"
yelled Steve. " I ought to have taught you a lesson
before ! Oh dear ! O-o-h ! Carlo ! C-a-r-1-o 1 " }

But Carlo could only whine piteously. '^»

" Stay where you are," Bob yelled back, " and when I
get across the river you'll * see sport,' as you said on the
island, at the picnic."

Lustily and swiftly this thirster for revenge worked
his way across the stream, jeering at poor Stephen's
threats and entreaties. The raft grounded near the
bank, and, the coil of rope in his hand, '; jumped ashore,
and shoved it off. Then, oh most humane action. ! he
jumped on the raft again, opened the door of the cage,
and cast off the cords and straps that bound Carlo's feet,
thus leaving the poor, beast at liberty to struggle feebly
in his narrow prison. Having made the door of the
cage fa^t, he landed once more, this time, however, getting
his feet very wet
To set the dog free was evidentiy ajo^after thought/or

r tr.

■,■'

t i

838

n :r A BLUNDBBINO BOT.

ii I Ir

1 !^

!f' ' jj.

III

m '^'ffl

9 ' '1' liffi

mB t'tirJ't^itf

l"j

iii

Ii!

he would have done so before, and so have saved hitnsell
time, trouble and a wetting.

Meanwhile, poor Stephen danced excitedly about in
the water, shouting and gesticulating wildly. In fact,
the poor boy was at his wits' end. He made several
desperate efforts to swim after the "jolly youngf water-
man/' but failed in each effort. He lacked Gei 3 great
self-possession, and allowed his anger to get the oetter of
his judgment. Thus he acted, and there he remained, until
his teeth chattered and his limbs turned into what is
known familiarly to the boys as " goose-flesh." Then he
rushed out of the water, and pulled on his clothes pro-
miscuously.

it, To the frantic boy's horror, he next saw Bob running
iip the stream, along the bank whilst the raft, with the
the dog still on it, was drifting do^vn the stream.

" The scoundrel 1 " Steve gasped. " Is he going to run
away, and let my dog drift over the falls ? "

Such was not the case. Bob's left hand v s toward
Stephen, while in his right hand he (iarried a n wound
as he ran, the coil of rope. No ; Bob was on*^ paying
out the cable." But Stephen was too far off to see this.
uiThis one thousand feet of cord, however, did not work
so harmoniously as Bob had imagined it would ; it
became most mysteriously and provokingly entangled at
every step. The sinker on the cord kept the greater
part of it under water ; and when Bob at last reached
the end of it, and turned, he changed it from his right
hand to his left hand, so that it was still out of Stephen's
sight.

Bob stood still a moment, puffing and perspiring, and
the raft stopped drifting and pulled gently, very gently on
the cord. Then he moved on slowly, and to Stephen on tha
opposite bank, there seemed to be no connection between
him and the raft.

If Steve had looked narrowly, however, he would
certainly have seen the cord coming out of the water in
front of Bob ; for, if a boy can see the string leading to
his new kite when his mischievous brother is flying it
nearly a quarter of a mile away, ^mark this, we do not

HOW BOB EXPBISBIB TlRIUMPH.

ISO

say that any one else eoald see it, — then turely, in spite
of the distajace between him and Bob, he could have seen
what little of the cord there was in. sight.

But Steve's attention was centred upon the raft, where
his dog was. j M

Let not the peruser of this work of fiction suppose
thrt the raft was really one thousand feet below Bob.
By no means ; sundry loose knots, kinks, or snarls,
shortened the distance ffreatlv.

But it was undoubtedly a long way below him.

" Hollo, Stepping Hen ! " Bob yelled. " Don't you see
that yov/r raft and the dog are sailing towards the falls I
Why don't you stir around and save *em ?" /t/»-;aij:

Stephen heard him distinctly, and it seemed to him Uiat
Carlo's doom was sealed. He was now runnine madly
up and down the margin of the river, in the vam hopd
ot finding some craft on which he might set out m
pursuit But he could find nothing that would serve his
turn. : . ■ r /bjj8

Bob saw the boy's dilemma, and like all orthodoi
villains, when successful in their wickedness, he could
not conceal his delight. His powerful imagination saw
a log in each broken twig, a huge boulder in each little
stone, a frightful chasm in each slight depression in' the
ground ; and he passed along by leaps that bore consid-
erable resemblance to those of an Alpine hunter. He
writhed his whole body, distorted his features, rolled hi$
intensely blue eyes, hallooed, sang and uttered origintU
and untranslatable interjections, expressive of tiiumph. <

Such actions could not but be injurious to his system ;
but — fortunately for himself and the rest of the world, —
as Bob afterwards invented and patented an ingenious
saw-horse — they were to be of short continueunce.

. AiUf^l^P 4 V^^^'^

\\\.

t. ii'.l

'A \

f *

I'i!

'nwk

240

A BLUNDERING BOT

IP'f

r ■

Chapter XXVI,
- bob's downfall.

To Stephen's intense relief, he now saw Charley and
George coming towards him from the village. He wel-
comed them with feverish delight.

" Hollo, Steve ! " Charlie shouted. " What perform-
ance is that on the other side of the river ? Who has
set our raft afloat, and what is that thing on it ? "

A hoot of defiance came booming across the river from
Boh. He still felt himself secure ; and instead of one
witness of his triumph, there would now be three.

Stephen ran to meet the new-comers, and told them all
that he knew about the matter, not sparing the arch-
villain.

Their expressions of hopelessness and anger exceeded
even Stephen's.
i'** Isn't there anything we can float over on ? " Charles
asked.

" Not a thing. Do you suppose I'd be here it I could
cross ? " Steve retorted, angrily.

*' Take it cooilj'', boys," the Sage advised. " We are net
going to let that Herriman have it all his own way;
sorely we can wcrk some plan to outwit him."

Bob looked on in ecstasy, and hallooed as barbarously
as a wild Indian on the war-trail. His plans had suc-
ceeded in every particular — almost beyond his expecta-
tions. Why should he not rejoice and be merry ?

This shifting of the scene from one bank of the river
to the other is not conducive to the reader's happiness or
the writer's reputation. It would be better to single out-
one party and let the other go.

After a critical examination of how matters stood, the
Sage said abruptly, " Look here, boys ; there is room for
hope. In the first place. Bob and the raft are moving at
the same rate ; second place, he has a cord fastened to the
raft, with the other end in his left hand — but it's an
enormously long cord ; third pickce, Will crossed the river

THE LITTLX VILLAIN'S DIFFICULTY.

S41

»y and
le wel-

erform-
^\iO has

er from

[ of one

-»•

them all
he arch-
exceeded
• Charles
i I could

^e are net
ryn way;

fbarously
had suc-
expecta-

ithe river
Ipiness or
tingle out

stood, the
room for
ioving at
led to the
it it's an
the river

in the village, and he will soon be coming up on the other
side. Now, look at Bob and the raft, and see for your-
selv<58."

But before he had finished speaking, Steve and Charley
had descried the rope in Bob's hand.

" Oh, (George ! " cried Stephen, " you a/re a philoso-
pher ! "

George was right about Will A few minutes later, he
was seen coming up on the other side of the river» and
accompanied by Marmaduke and Jim.

Thus the whole band of heroes was assembling ! Qentle
reader, when that event takes place, you know that the
villain's downfall is at hand.

Stephen and Charles, beside themselves with delight,
screamed to the three heroes to pounce on Bob and save
Carlo.

The Sage — puffed up with pride at hearing himself
called a philosopher by Stephen, who never flattered any-
body — took another survey of affairs, and remarked:
" Look here Steve, that raft is only drifting slowly, and
by swimming out I could easily reach it, and then let
Carlo free. The only objection to this plan is, that I
should have to stay on the raft without my clothes on
until I could get to them again. But there is no one to
see me, and I don't mind when Carlo's fate hangs by a —
a — tow-line. And by doing so, Will and the rest can
chase Bob ; for Bob will move nimbly somewhere in a
minute or two."

This striking idea took well with Charles and Stephen.

" Oh," groaned the latter, " why didn't I think of doing
that before you came up ! "

Will, Marmaduke, and Jim, hastened on, taking in the
whole plot at a glance.

" Look out for Bob ! " they heard from the three on the
opposite bank. " See to Bob ; we'll take care of Carlo."

Bob, however, had awakened to a sense of his danger.
He saw Will, Marmaduke, and Jim, approaching ; but not
so soon as the boys across the river, as the intervening
shrubs and inequalities in the ground obscured his view.

In all his nioe little calculations he had not thought oi^
9

H^lIP

I '., U

242

A BLUNDERING BOT.

! S

nor provided for, such a ciisualty as this. In the midst
of his triumph why should three boys all at once come
upon him ? Why should they be coming up on his side
of the river, when he had never known them to do so
before ?

But there was no time to be lost in idle speculation.

Should he fly ? Then in which direction ? To fly
towards home seemed madness, for the three would have
to be passed, and he knew well that at least one, Will,
could outrun him. Or he might go up the river, as he
would have a start in his f&vor. But he was already a
long way from the village and his home ; of course he
would be pursued ; and where would the pursuit end ?

His wila behaviour now gave place to gravity, and his
last exultant shout died away on his lips.

He considered a moment, and then rejected both these
possible means of escape, and determined to take what
seemed the only course left open to him. The raft was
under his control — he would haul it up and sail away on
it!

If Bob had been a boy of George's sententious terse-
ness, he would have said, " I can defy my enemies when
I am on the raft." If he had been a hero of romance:
" So shall I balk my persecutors, and frustrate their evil
designs." But being neither, he simply said to himself,
" I'll mount the raft ; and then let 'em sing and holler as
much as they want to ! And the dog will be under my
thumb, too ! "

If Bob had reflected a little longer, perhaps he would
not have resorted to this extreme measure ; for, although
he would be at liberty to float whither he pleased, in i
reality he would be as much a prisoner as the dog. Five]
resolute boys and one willing-hearted candle-holder, Jim,
would sooner or later contrive some plan to entrap him.

Not a little to the boys' astonishment, he now began toj
di^w the raft hastily towards him. He worked cms thoughj
his life depended on his agility ; and as the rope came
hand over hand, it fell in a loose coil at his feet If tli
raft had caught on a snag or run into the bank, he woul
have been left in a sad predicament ; for the faster

BOB S DOWNFALL.

243

ilation.
i To fly

ould have
one, Will,
iver, as he
i already a
t course he
ait end ?
ty, and his

both these

take what

•he raft was

ail away on

Qtions terse-
lemies when
of romance*.
lie their evil
\d to himself,
knd holler afi
[be under my

drew in the rope, the faster Will hounded towards him.
It was a strange, exciting race — not a race for life, but a
race between meanness and its inevitable punishment.

The three on the opposite bank could not at first guess
Bob's intention. George was undressing himself prepar-
atory to swimming out to the raft ; but this manoeuvre
caused him to desist, and with the other two he stood
stupidly gazing at the plotter, eagerly awaiting further
developments.

But when the truth dawned upon him, he cheered Will
so heartily that all the boys, together with the squirrels
and birds, took up the cry, and made the place ring again.
In fact, there was d«nger that all this hubbub might
draw on them the wrath of some peace-loving pater-
familias.

Bob had reason to fear that the boys would take dire
vengeance if they should Overhaul him, and he toiled
worthy of a better cause. Yard after yard of the rope
passed through his hands, but notwithstanding all his
efforts, he saw that Will was gaining on him. Although
at his wit's end, he yet had the sagacity te pull steadily
and not too fiist — that might break the rope.

At last the raft was alongside ; and having gathered up
the folds of the rope, — which he durst not leave behind,
because that would put it in the power of Will ea.sily te
secure boy, dog, and raft, — he made a desperate and final
effort, and sprang almost at random.

At the time of the leap Will w^as almost upon him.

Bob sprang courageously, but wildly. Alas ! " the best-
I laid schemes of mice and men — " the rest is not English.

The tangled rope in his hands proved his downfall ; it

[coiled round his feet with a merciless grip, and he alighted

[on the raft in a sorry plight. There he lay, sprawling

[and struggling, a most ludicrous sight The more he

struggled to free himself, the more tightly he was encircled

V the terrible coils. Boys, the youth who becomes en-

ingled in one thousand feet of rope is to be pitied.

To add te his misery, shout after shout of laughter
[|urst from the entire six. Their hour of triumph had, in

turn, come.

■ ■

K H

II.

244

A BLUNDERING BOT.

The impetus given to the raft carried it on a little
farther, but Will soon reached it, sprang, and almost fell
over struggling Robert. No need to make him a prisoner ;
both hands and feet were bound fast by the long rope.

Will's first act was to liberate poor Carlo, and take off
his muzzle.

Bob groaned and shivered, but the noble dog stretched
himself and frisked about the raft, scarcely noticing him.

" Carlo, Carlo, come. Carlo," Stephen called joyously.

Carlo plunged into the river and swam towards his
master, who, half beside himself with exultation, cried :
" Steer for this port. Will ; and bring the prisoner."

" All right !" Will shouted back, and put the raft to
the bank to take on Marmaduke and Jim, who soon came
up.

The raft sank low under the weight of the four, but
still it floated them ; and Will and Marmaduke took up
the oars and began to work their way slowly across the
stream. Jim sat on the cage and pretended to steer ; but
his eyes roved from the prisoner to the boys on the oppo-
site bank, and then, by way of the oarsmen, back to the
prisoner.

The hearts of the six beat loud with triumph ; but
poor Bob's heart sank, and beat very faint. " Oh," he
gasped piteously from among the serpent-like coils of the
rope, " Oh, let me go ! For mercy's sake, let me go ! Don't
take me over to Stephen and his dog ; and 111 promise
never to meddle with you boys any more."

Will looked pityingly at the abject creature, but
answered with firmness : " No, Bob, I must take you to
Stepjien. You have played a mean trick on him, and he
must settle with you. But," whispering in his ear, "I
guess you'll survive,"

THE ENTHUSIASM OF YOUTH. 245

Chapter XXVII. ■

THEY PROPOSE TO TUBN THE TABLES.

Bob saw that it would be useless to crave further for
mercy, and he remained sulky and silent ; but Jim looked
in vain to see him blubber. No ; in everything except
age Bob was an orthodox villain ; and an orthodox villain
never whimpers when his schemes topple al>out his ears.
On account of his youth and inexperience, he had not
provided himself with poison in the event of failure —
nay, he did not even attempt to roll off the raft into the
river.

" This is rather a home-made rabbit-house, eh, Will ? "
Marmaduke observed, inclining his head towards the cage.

•' It's kindy weak," Jim chimed in. " It looks strong
enough to hold me, but it keeps cracking every minute. '

" Hush ! " breathed Will.

He had many fine qualities. Even at his early age, l^e
could respect the feelings of a fallen foe.

" Hello there, Steve," he said, as they drew near the
group of three. " I killed Tip, but I've saved Carlo, so
my mind is easy."

The three returned Will's grin of pleasure with a shout
of applause. So eager were they to welcome the victors
that they tore off their boots and stockings, rolled their
pants nearly up to their knees, and waded out till the
water was two or three inches above their knees.
Youth manifests its enthusiasm very recklessly at times.

At this moment Will experienced some of the triumph
of a conquering hero.

" Now, Bob," Charles began, as they floated the raft
into its harbor ; " now, Bob, you will be tried by us for
your misdoings."

" He has surely had punishment enough ; let him go ; "
said tender-hearted George, sitting down on the bank and
looking pityingly at the wild-eyed captive.

" Yes, Steve ; let him go ; for how on earth can we
punish him ? " Will supplemented.

246

▲ BLUNDEBING BOT.

'■ .) I

" No ! " Charles said resolutely. " The boy who can
float another boy's dog over these falls is a scoundrel,
and—"

" I never did ! " Bob here put in.

"And," continued Charles, "he ought to he court-
martialed ! "

Bob did not know what this meant; neither did
Charles ; the former looked awe-struck, the latter, wise
and august.

Steve, however, added promptly : " Of course. His
father must have court-plastered him the other night for
his bruises ; and now we must court-martial him for his
wickedness."

" Well," said Marmaduke, seating himself with great
composure, *' I am going to be neutral."

Poor boy, he thought " neutral " had an imposing look
in his history, and he would seize this opportunity to
illustrate its beauties.

With that, the entire six sat down in a circle around
the raft. Charles and Stephen were resolved on punish-
ment Jim also. For some reason, George and Will were
in favor of pardon.

" Well, boys," said Will, "of course you can do what you
like, but I believe I should let him go — box, and rope,
and straps, and all. I perished poor Tip, but I've rescued
Carlo, and I'm satisfied."

No doubt Will thought this a very genteel expression.
Not so Marmaduke ; he sprang to his feet with a gesture
of surprise, and said earnestly, " Oh, Will ! perish is a
neuter verb!"

Will flushed, and moved uneasily from right to left.

" What is all this nonsense about neuters and neutrals ? "
Steve asked, angrily. "What do we care about your
neuters ? Botheration, you boys have put off this trial
long enough. But," with a mischievous twinkle in his
eye, " tell us what a neuter verb is ; and then, I hope, we
may go on."

Marmaduke was ill prepared for such a question, and
he was never prompt in giving explanations. His face
blanched, he sank dejectedly to the ground, took off his

lO can
mdrel,

couri-
er did
r, wise

s. His

ight for

for his

h great

ing look
inity to

e around
I punish-
V^ill were

irhat you
,nd rope,
5 rescued

pression.
a, gesture
risk is a

,0 left,
eutrals?"
out your
this tiial
:le in his
hope, we

Ition, and

His f ax;e

Ik oiF his

MARMADUKE IS CONFUSED.

247

hat and toyed with it nervously ; took out his handker-
chief and feehly tried to blow his nose ; looked appeal-
ingly at the Sage ; and at last began, hesitatingly : " Well,
hem, Steve, Stephen, I'm afraid I can hardly make it
clear to you, because — because— well, you know, Stephen,
you don't understand grammar very well. Well, perish —
but," brightening and rising, " I'll just illustrate it for
you. Now, you see, I'm standing up. Well," suiting the
action to the word, "I sit down when / go to the ground ;
but," suiting the action to the word, " I set down my hat —
or you, or any other hoy, or a thing, or a word in a book."

Marmaduke put on his hat and picked up and pocketed
his handkerchief with the air of a man who has
triumphed.

" Yes," Steve admitted, " you make it pretty plain,
Marmaduke ; but these neuter verbs, and conjunctions,
and things, were always a muddle to me. But," guile-
lessly, " tell me this, and then we must attend to Bob : Is
it right to say, I sit myself down, or I set myself down ?"

Poor Marmaduke ! He was struck dumb ; he had a new
view of neuter verbs. A look of woe that would have
melted a heart of stone passed over his face. He arose
and took a seat where Steve could not see him, muttering
confusedly : "A neuter verb can't do anything, but active
verbs do."

Stephen chuckled : " I always knew those rules in the
grammar wouldn't work both ways."

Charles and Will did not seem inclined to help Marma-
duke out of his difficulty — probably they were as much
puzzled as he. As for George, he was not at all discon-
certed: when he understood a thing, he knew that he
understood it. He looked on with supreme indifference,
not thinking it worth while to give his views.

" See how Bob behaved himself the night of the experi-
ment," Charles observed, coming back to the matter in
hand. *' He will always be trying to do us some harm if
we let him off this time."

" Yes," chimed in Steve, glancing at the helpless cap-
tive, who was still on the raft, " we let him go that night
and see how he has rewarded us for our mercy ! "

?',

•^ H,;:*:!

248

A BLUNDEBINO BOT.

" You wouldn't have let him escape it' it hadn't been
for me ; " Will corrected.

" We didn't hunt him down the next day, as we might
have done ! " Steve rejoined, as though that settled the
question.

"I hope we are hardly such a set of cold-blooded fellows
as that ! " George said. " And besides what great harm
did he do that night?"

" Oh, you, George Andrews ! " Stephen retorted wrath-
fuUy. "I suppose you think we're harping on your
performances that night, but we're not."

" You had better not, Stephen Goodf ellow ! " said
George also becoming wrathful. "You promised that
you wouldn't speak of that to me again."

It is a lamentable fact, hinted at in the outset of this
history, that these heroes quarreled occasionally. When
one of these differences took place, each one had the
strange, boyish habit of calling the other by his christian
name and surname. If you doubt this, fair reader, [she
for whom this is written will understand,] be so good as
to play the eavesdropper on two small and quarrelsome
juveniles disputing about the color of an absent play-
mate's marble.

" I'm not ; I'm keeping my word ; " Steve replied
seriously. "But perhaps your mind is running on
clemency, that bothered you so much the other day. '

" Perhaps yours is running on the term * Lynch law !'"

At this juncture neutral Marmaduke, who was begin-
ning to recover his equanimity, and who doubtless felt
spiteful towards Stephen, hopped up and declared, in the
tone of a dictator rather than of a peacemaker : " Gentle-
men, the jury have disagreed ; the case is dismissed."

" Marmaduke Fitzwilliams," cried Charles, rising in his
turn," four or five boys don't make a jury ; you don't know
what you're talking about."

"Lawyers would say, constitute a jury," Marmaduke]
corrected.

."Well, let 'em say it; we aie not lawyers;" CharlejJ
roared.

" It would not be acting politically to punish hii

!|!|

MARMADUKE 8 IDEA OF ADVERBS.

249

in't been

ve migbt
ttled the

sd fellows
reat harm

ed wrath-
on your

,^1" said
[oised that

:set oi this
Uy. When
Qe had the
[lis christian
reader, [she
e so good as
quarrelsome

ibsent play-

teve replied
runnin^^ o»
lerday.' ,
Tynch Id'^}
\o was begin-
loubtless felt
[clared, in the
ler : " Gentle-
Ismissed."
i, rising in nis

>u don't kno^
Harmaduke
era;" CharleSI
punish hill

ourselves," the neutral one contended. "There is a
whole court-house full of men in the village, that make it
a business to punish people."

Poor Marmaduke ! He seemed to have a preternatural
longing to figure in the courts of justice.

" Marmaduke," George said musingly, " don't you
suppose you are out of your reckoning when you say
' acting politically ' ? "

" Yes, what does * politically ' mean, any way ? "
Stephen inquired, thinking to ensnare the boy once
more.

This time, however, Marmaduke answered without
hesitation. " Why," said he, " it's an adverb, and adverbs
always mean, in a manner — politically, in a 'political
manner"

Steve did not seem much enlightened, and Charles
with a merry twinkle, asked, " Always ? " ■

" Always ! " firmly.

" Oh, then, 'politically ought to mean, in the 'manner
of a policetnan ; ahed, in the manner of a bedstead ; and
80 on."

Marmaduke looked aghast, and Charles the persecutor
continued mercilessly : " Alongside, in the manner of a
man who wears a long side."

The neutral one was now quite discomfited, and he
arose and stole back to his seat, trying to collect himself
and make out what " in a manner " really signifies.

But Steve yelled after him : " And to go means in the
manner of a goner"

At this dreadful outrage it is a wonder that Words did
not take to themselves a voice to howl in the offender's
ear : " We cannot all be adverbs ! "

As for Marmaduke he was utterly demoralized.

" Whatever you do, boys, don't leave Bob to {stiffen in
his coils on that raft," Will meekly suggested.

Charles and Stephen were so eager to have some one

I side with them that they took it for granted that Will,

jfor very weariness, was now in favor of punishment;

[and Stephen, on the spur of the moment, made this

startling observation ;

I \'

I
I

(

r
1

:lif

250

A BLUNDERINQ BOT.

ff I ! i

; I

" Why not do with Bob as he did with my dog ? He
has got himself all in a jumble on the raft---let us give
him a ride up and down the river. It will be good for
his constitution."

Strangely enough, this idea was favorably received by
the boys. They laughed, and applauded Stephen.

" It would be a very V/^ht punishment," he continued,
pressing home his advantage. " Don't you all agree to
it ? Come, Will, what is your opinion ? "

" It was you Bob was molesting, Steve, and you must
stir up your conscience to see what it says, and then go
ahead," Will answered. *' You put it very mildly, but I
suppose your meaning is, to cram Bob into Carlo's prison,
untangle the rope, and then float him around as he floated
Carlo around."

" Y-e-s," Steve assented, somewhat discomposed at this
plain statement of his views.

" I'm tired of all this," George exclaimed, with a sigh.
" Fire ahead, Steve, and do whatever you like."

" Hurrah, then," Charlie cried gladly, " let us give
Bob an airing."

At this instant Marmaduke again appeared before the
boys, and opened his mouth to make some sage remark ;
but Stephen, — now all animation, — in tones whose cheer-
fulness took away the harshness of the words, silenced
him, saying : " Stop your noise, Marmaduke. You're a
neuter verb, you know ; and they mus'nt do anjrthing."

" Perhaps you ought to consult Bob himself," Will
suggested. " He might observe some valuable observa-
tions about his punishment."

" Let the prisoner speak," chimed in the irrepressible
neutral one.

" Well, Bob," said Charles languidly, "moisten your
lips and tongue, and let us have your views. In the first
place, what was your plot ? What did you intend to do
with Carlo?"

Bob scowled at the speaker and was silent. But
finally, having thought better of it, he did as directed,
and said, " I was only going to fool you fellers ; I never
meant to do more'n scare him," looking at Stephen, " and

? He
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BOB PLATS THE CONSUMMATE VIIXAIN.

251

then I was going to let his dog go. But," sorrowfully,
" you came along and spoilt it all. '

" Suppose Carlo had gone at your heels when you let
him out of the box ? " Charles asked.

Bob turned pale and muttered something in confusion.

" Well, what do you say about our turning the tables
on you ? " George asked.

" Nothin*," the prisoner answered stoically, still playing
the part of an orthodox villain. No ; he, a boy of nearly
seventeen years, would not again beg for mercy at the
hands of his inferiors — in age ; and he awaited his
punishment with well-feigned indifference.

If the boys had been better versed in human nature,
they would have known that this passive submission on
his part boded evil to their future welfare.

Although Bob was acting like an orthodox villain, the
six, in taking upon themselves to judge and punish him,
were not acting like orthodox lieroes. By no means.
They were not the irreproachable youngsters who figure
in octodecimo volumes. They all had an idea of the
fitness of things; and all — even George and Will —
thought it just and right that Bob should know, by
actual experience, what Carlo's feelings had been during
his imprisonment.

Chapter XXVIIL

THE TABLES TURNED WITH A VENGEANCE.

The six judges arose, and stood before the culprit.

Thv cage was critically examined, and Steve seemed to
find it very amusing to point out its defects. Bob was
pestered with questions about it, but he maintained a
sullen silence, submitting doggedly to the inevitable.

" We must put you into narrow quarters for a little
while. Bob," Stephen said good-humoredly, " and try to
disentangle a few leagues of this good cord."

Two of the heroes supported Bob while Steve freed
him from the rope. The discomfited plotter was too stiff

J- ,

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252

A BLUNDERING BOY.

to make much resistance, yet when he found himself free
he struggled nervously, but feebly, to break away from
his tormentors. Then Jim, who was trying to make
himself useful, threw open the door of the cage, and
Charles and Stephen dumped him gently in.

Now, Bob had not built the cage for such a purpose ;
consequently, he did not sit comfortable in it — worse still,
it threatened to burst asunder. But it did not.

His feet and legs were got inside somehow, but his head
was mercifully left out, exposed to the sun and air. His
hat had fallen oft' when he sprang upon the raft, and been
taken over the falls ; but George, more humane than the
others, took off" his own hat, and placed it firmly, but
gently, on the exposed head.

Unknown to the soi-disant judges, the boy was wedged
so fast in his cage that he was powerless to help himself.
Thus he was virtually a prisoner in the very prison that
he had prepared for another! This was turning the
tables with a vengeance ! This was poetical justice !

Poor litMe villain ! He must have been in an exceed-
ingly cramped and uneasy position ; but his pride and his
orthodoxy came to his relief, and he would not complain
to the pitiless arbitrators of his fate.

" Look here, boys," George cried, " if you are bound to
punish him, you ought to kick out the end of that box,
so that he could sit up straight, like a man, and be com-
fortable."

" Yes, it is too bad," Steve said pityingly. " But it
will soon be over ; and if we should go to tampering with
the box, we might kick Bob in the stomach. Besides,
Bob looks more forlorn than he i? ai i wt . .ve no busi-
ness to destroy his boxes and *^ —Now, where's the
rope, and then we will hurry t .gh with it nd let Bob
out ? "

About three hundred feet of the cor< were disentangled,
and once more the raft was set afloat with a prisoner
on it.

In order to humble Bob still further, Steve intended to
let Carlo carry the end of the rope in his mouth for a
little way. But now he had not the heart to do it. As

if free

from

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complain

THE PBOOESSION.

253

the raft floated alon^ lazily, Steve essayed to give a shout
of triumph, but it died away in his throat.

The dog, however, began to gambol, sneeze, and bark,
in an extraordinary manner. During the trial he had
been the only really neutral one, and now he seemed to
enjoy himself more than any of the self-styled judges.
Bob looked on in some uneasiness, but he need not have
been alarmed, for the dog made no motion to swim out
and attack him.

The boys did not exactly understand it, yet somehow
they seemed to take no pleasure in floating Herriman
down the stream ; and instead of an exultant procession
along the bank, they marched solemnly onward, hardly
speaking, and each one becoming more and more ashamed
of himself. George had a theory of his own about this,
but he did not make it known.

Seeing that matters had gone so ^ar, Steve and Charles
did not wish to stop till Bob had had his ride ; but they
felt ill at ease, and their conscience almost persuaded
them that they were in the wrong.

So with the entire five (Jim being, as the reader has
doubtless divined, a mere supernumerary in this history,
although he figures conspicuously once or twice.) From
the moment they placed the boy in his cage they began
to relent.

To any person coming upon them, this risible spectacle
would have been presented : six boys marching gravely
down the stream ; some three hundred feet in advance a
raft drifting lazily along ; on said raft a box, from which
protruded an enormous head, — large enough for a genius,
—neatly covered with a now battered but once respect-
able — nay, fashionable — straw hat.

Thus the raft drifted till within a quarter of a mile of
the falls. Then Stephen said, " Ever since I went over
the falls I've felt too nervous to prowl around very near
them ; so let us pull her up stream now, and let Bob go
when we get into port."

A.11 agreed to this, and the rope, which had hitherto
been slack, was pulled taut. The raft stopped its down-
ward course, and was drawn towards them — perhaps, half
a foot

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254

A BLtJNDERINa BOT.

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Then something that might have been expected from
the beginning happened.

The rope broke !

Unknown to them, the jagged edge of the raft had
worn the rope all but in two while Bob was hauling the
rait towards him. In this place it now parted.

There was consternation among the self-constituted
punishers. In truth, it is impossible to describe their
terror, anguish, and remorse. All through their own
foolishness a fellow-creature was in imminent danger.
To be swept over the falls in his helpless condition meant
Death. And whatever was done must be done quickly

The boys felt as guilty as criminals ought to feel.

" Bob," Charles screamed, " climb out, and jump into
the river, and swim ! "

" Oh, he can't ! he can't ! " Will cried, seeing that Bob
was struggling desperately and vainly to get out of the
box.

" George," Steve cried wildly, " you spoke about swim-
ming to the raft while Carlo was on it — swim now!
Quick ! "

" Of course," the Sage replied, still a philosopher, but
a perturbed one. " Yes, of course, I'll go."

To add to the confusion, stunning screams now came
from Bob. He forgot that he was a villain ; all his ortho-
doxy and stoicism forsook him ; and he again brought Lis
stentorian lungs into play. Far from having impaired
his lungs on the night of George's "experiment," he
seemed oniy to have strengthened them ; and now he
howled and bellowed like a wounded giant.

Cannot this be explained logically ? Tho age of the
romance ''s younger villains ranges between twenty-seven
and thirty-nine ; while the age of older villains varies
greatly among different authors, and, much to the reader's
sorrow, is not always given. From this it would seem
that Bob was too young to set up for a knave.

In view of this, the reader, having more discernment
than the writer, suggests the following : The only reason
why Bob had taken it so coolly was because he knew the
I toys too well to fear any harm from them. Besides, he

"OH, dear!"

255

had heard all that was said during the " trial," and he saw
that the boys' anger towards him had abated. But when
he found that the raft was no longer under their control,
he naturally became alarmed.

Yes, Bob again began to discharge atrocious and high-
sounding interjections.

All the boys saw that George was more composed than
they ; and by mutual consent, he was left to plan a rescue.
His coat had been off ever since he prepared to swim to
Carlo's relief ; and now he stripped oft' the rest of his
clothes, plunged into the river, anc^ 3wam boldly fur the
imperilled boy.

He had, however, more self-confidence than self-posses-
sion ; or he would have run down the bank till opposite
to the raft, and so have gained time. He now swam as
fast as possible ; but the raft was some distance in ad-
vance, and steadily drawing nearer the falls.

The boys wat'jhed George anxiously, but were too de-
moralized to aid him in any way.

" Hello, you vagabonds ! " was thundered behind them.
" What does all this noise mean ? "

The heroes were startled ; and on turning, were appalled
to see a burly rustic coming towards them at a round
pace.

" Oh, dear," groaned Will ; " why does this fellow want
to come here just at this time ? "

" Oh, dear," echoed Charles, Stephen, Marmaduke, and
Jim.

" What does all this mean, you young villains ? " roared
the new-comer,

" A boy is floating over," Marmaduke gasped.

" Well, do you mean to let him float ? Why don't you
get up and save him ? Oh, you awful boys ! This is
murder — parricide — manslaughter — abduction — ^gravita-
tion — parsimony ! What do you suppose the law s going
to say about this ? It — it is un-con-sti-tu-tion-al ! "

The five trembled — Jim exceedingly. In fact, he
seemed on the poiri of betaking himself to flight.

"I say, I'll persecute you all for litigation I" the new-
Comer next observed,

. I!

V i

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{'•• ft

S56

A BLUNDERING BOY.

! •■

^''He was an ignorant, brutal man, an inhabitant of the
village. In his boyhood he had been snubbed by old and
young ; and now, in his manhood, he took delight in
bullying all the boys he met.

o ! "Oeorge Andrews, there, is trying to save him," Will
said, pointing at the swimmer.

"Humph! much he'll do!" growled the rustic. "Well,
I'm going to set here (at this Marmadmke shuddered) till
that boy is lost or saved. It's my duty to the Govern-
ment, and I'll do it if it takes all day."

His duty to the Government, however, did not prompt
him to take an active part in rescuing Bob, and he
stretched himself along the bank and looked on with
dogged composure.

George did not know of this man's arrival. He swam
bravely, but gained on the raft very slowly. His heart
sank when he saw this, but he kept on hopefully, and
just at the critical moment the raft grounded on a snag,
and was held fast. Bob was saved ! Not through human
agency, however.

Bob ceased from howling, and George called out
cheerily: "You are all right,'Bob; and I'm — "

At that instant a little wave wq.shed down his throat
and effectually cut him short.

He had never swum so close to the falls, but he pro-
ceeded warily, and managed it so that the shock of
striking the raft eased it off the snag. Then he
scrambled on board, took up an oar, and for a full
m'.nute feared that the current would carry them both
over. But the raft was brought under control, and
slowly, very slowly, rescuer and rescued left their
dangerous position.

"Bob, when we get a little farther up, I'll try and get
you out of that, and then we can go faster, if you will help."

The joyful cries of the boys now attracted his attention,
and, to his horror, he perceived that some person was
with them,
i' >VOh, Bob," he groaned, "who is that man on the bank?"

Bob peered in the direction indicated, and said, hesi-
tatingly, "I — I guess it's somebody else."

SOMEBODY ELSE.

267

"Now how mean!" (Greorge growled "I can't land till
that fellow goes away; and here I am in a great hurry
to get my clothes on, for fear a crowd should gather
round us! Bob, did you ever moralize how it is crowds
gather? Let anything happen, and a crowd is sure to
come along to see how it will end."

"No, I never morry-lice," Bob replied, good-humor*dly.

"Well," said the Sage, fetching a great sigh, "a don't
know but that you are just as well off."

One by one the five were now coming along the bank,
each one looking pleased, yet crest-fallen.

"C-can we help you in any way, George ? " Marmaduke
asked.

George looked his indignation. However, he soon
recovered his equilibrium, and said, frigidly, "If one or
two of you would bring my clothes down here, and if
the rest of you would stay up there with that man, to
keep him from coming here, I should be very much
obliged to you all."

This was done, and George brought the raft to the
bank and dressed, screened by three of his doughty
school-fellows.

" I'll see you all again," shouted the law-abiding rustic.
And he walked away, muttering learnedly about "bur-
glarious incendiarism."

George was soon dressed, and then he set about
liberating Bob, who was still cooped up in his cage.

"I'm afraid ^his will have to be broken open," George
said.

"Break it, then!" said Bob, glaring fiendishly at his
sometime darling contrivance.

The Sage, with the help of the other boys, then forced
the top, or roof, off the cage; and Bob was again at large.
Poor boy! he did not linger, nor make any threats, but
after mumbling in George's ear, "you're the best of them
all," set forward at a busmess-like pace.

Then, at last, the boys got over their fright.

George was quite satisfied with himself, and he looked
about him with a peaceful expression on his face that the
others tried in vain to assume. But now and then he

[

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258

A BLUNDEBING BOT.

I Hi

Would glance furtively up and down the river, to the
right and to the left.

"What are you looking for, George?" Steve finally
asked, breaking the silence.

"I — I — well, it's rather strange that a crowd doesn't
come. Now in all that you read, in newspapers or stories,
a crowd always gathers."

"Not generally in murders — in the stories," Marmaduke
corrected.

"Well, this is a pretty nice business!" Will said, rue-
fully. "I — I'm ashamed of myself!"

" So am I," said Charles and Stephen.

"George, I couldn't possibly have swum out and saved
that boy," Charles admitted, frankly. "My heart was
beating like a "

"Yes you could," George interrupted, not wishing to
receive more praise than he deserved.

" How is it that it turned out so badly?" Steve asked.
Bob used us very badly; and we got the worst of it
when we punished him ! "

"We ought to have been merciful, and let him go as
soon as Will gave him up to us," George commented.
"That's a good way to cure some people of meanness,"
he added, in a "moralizing" mood.

"Well, now!" Steve ejaculated. "Jim has made oflf
too! I guess he skedaddled while Mr. Reiter was around."

"Yes; and Bob has left the spoils in our hands!" Will
observed. "What shall we do with them?"

"They are not ours, but Bob won't hanker for them,"
Charley replied, jocosely. "Suppose we let the prison float
over the falls, with the long rope dragging behind. Per-
haps we should not be so melancholy doing that as we were
when we made a floating battery of Bob."

"Hurrah! Hurrah! Bravo! Well done! That's just
what we want! Now, we can sail up to our harbor on
our raft, and tow this oriental bird-cage behind, and let
it drift away whenever we choose."

This felicitous expression was made by Stephen, of
course.

This programme was carried out, and then the boys

iJ :tS

THE LAST OF BOB.

259

went home, feeling that they had had a little satisfaction
from Herriman, after all.

Although a crowd refused to gather on the banks of
the stream, yet the news of this exploit travelled throi^h-
out the village, — which established moralizing George's
theory, — and as each hero passed through his doors, a storm
of righteous indignation burst over his devoted head ; for
very properly, honest parents were scandalized to find
that their children could commit such atrocities.

Whether Bob still meditated vengeance is not known,
as shortly after this occurence, Mr. Herriman borrowed
some of Mr. Horner's romances, which so unhinged his
mind that he turned gold-hunter, — or silver-hunter, he was
not morally certain which, — and removed, with his family,
to a far-off Territory, and the six heard of Bob no more.

Poor Bob! The horror of being swept over the falls
made a deep, but not lasting, impression on his mind.

As for the six boys, they profitted little by that lesson.

It would be wise to close this chapter here ; but doubt-
less the reader is aware that the writer of this iale is not
wise.

That night Marmaduke waded through the verb and
adverb in five different grammars: — one, a dog's-eared,
battered, and soiled volume, which his father was sup-
posed to have studied in his youth; another, a venerable
ruin, which, tradition said, had been his gradfather's;
still another, his mother's, whose bescribbled fly-leaves held
the key to a long-buried and almost forgotten romance;
his little brothers "Elementary;" and his own "Logical
and Comprehensive."

What wonder is it that the poor boy went to bed with
an aching head, feeling, like Stephen, that it is "all a
muddle," and that he did not understand it at all ?

The object is not to ridicule the noble science of gram-
mar, but to point the finger of scorn at those grammarians
who suppose that children can understand that science ;
and also to check those juveniles who flatter themselves
that they are perfect in it.

i'"'

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260

A BLUNBERINQ BOY.

Chapter XXIX.
A Horrible Plot. — The Haunted House.

The summer holidays were again at hand. Before
school closed, however, the head master, Mr. Meadows,
intended to give a prize to the " student " who should
^rite the best composition. Each one was at liberty to
choose his or her own subject ; and the whole six — ex-
cept, perhaps, Steve and Jim — were resolved to do their
best to win.

Of course this prize was to be given with due ceremony
aiid parade. Still, it was not thought that any thing
specially noteworthy would take place, and the affair
would not be brought up except to show the mournful
blunder made by Will.

A few days before this, the four most distinguished
heroes — Will, Charles, Stephen, and George — assembled
at their favorite resort, a mossy bank bordering the river.
Here they hatched a horrible plot — a plot far exceeding
in enormity and inhumanity the pitiful one contrived
and executed by Bob on this same river a week or so be-
fore.

In order to show that these boys had no notion to what
lengths their unchecked fancy might lead them, their
wh >le conversation on this memorable occasion is given.
- "Boys," Charles began, "I wish we could plan some
j&musement for the holidays — something that would make
it lively."

' ■ ' " I think we have had enough of playing tricks," Will
said with disgust.

" We are older and wiser now than we used to be,"
Charles replied, "and we should have more sense than to
get ourselves into trouble any more."

"What about Bob's punichment?" asked George.
''Didn't" we get into trouble enongh then, and is that so
very long ago ? "

" Exceptions prove the rule ! " Charles triumphantly
retorted.

s! " Well, what is it that you mean to do?" Steve in-
quired lazily.

THE STARTLERS.

261

" Oh, I don't know ; nothing in particular ; " Charles
answered. " But let us lay our heads together, and plan
something startling."

" Very good ; but who is the one to be startled ? " the
Sage asked. " According to all accounts, we boys have
startled the inhabitants of this village quit« enough.
Only the other day I heard a good old lady say, in speak-
ing of us, ' Those awful boys ! They carry consterna^tion
with them!"'

" Of course ; " put in Steve. " And now that we've got
our reputation up, we must keep it up. It would be very
wrong for us to let our talents dwindle and rust away ;
so, Charley, if any new idea has come to you, let us know
it."

" You all know the old house away up this riverl"
Charles asked. i ; Hf

"Well, I guess we are acquainted with it," Will re-
plied. " But what about it ? What could we do there ? '•)

*' It seems to me that it would be a good thing to go
there and inspect it. I never went through it, but I
should like to do that now. And when we get there, we
should feel so romantic that we might hit^on something
— we might even lay a plot ! "

" What would the owner say to us for inspecting his
house ?" George asked. i»lh>jT',l

" Don't you know that it has no owner ? " Charley
asked, in some surprise. " I've heard my father say that
there has been a sign with 'For Sale' on it swinging
there for twenty years. It's such a crazy wreck that no
person will rent it ; and I guess by this time it is a heap
of ruins, and not worth tearing down and carting away.
There is only half an acre of ground belonging to it, and
likely that is full of great weeds. The man who owns
the place has more property, and he lets' this go to ruin
without remorse ; but every yeai* he comes along and
picks the ten or twelve apples and pears off the old trees
in the yard. He doesn t care any more for it, and the
house has been empty so long that it's called ' Nobody's
House.' No one cares to live in such a place, so lonesome
and gloomy, and with those ghostly fruit-trees and the

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262

A BLUNDERING BOT.

!'!* M

neglected fence, all looking like spectres. In fact, there
is a story that the place is haunted ! "

" You seem to know all about it, Charley," said Steve.
" I've seen it a long way off, and I've heard that it is
haunted, but that is all."

" Yes, I asked pa to tell me about it, for I want to go
and explore the place some day," Charles replied. " And
it seems to me that it would be fun for us all to go some
day. What a hubbub there would be if we all got there
together ! And I'm certain the ' owner ' wouldn t care, if
we tear the old ruin all to pieces."

" That's a good idea ! " said Steve, with sparkling eyes.

" Don't you see, we might even take up our quarters
there, it's so far out of the way," Charles continued. " No
one would come to molest us ; for more people than you
suppose, believe the house is haunted, and never go near
It*

" I see what you're thinking of," said Steve. " You
mean to bring that old ghost back to life ! "

" Well, that might be done for a little by -play, but that
isn't what I meant," Charley returned. " I know that
boys in stories try to raise a ghost or two sometimes,
when everytning else fails them, but it wouldn't be a
profitable business for us. We don't want to copy after
such vagabond heroes ; let us strike out in another line."

" Well, if you have laid any plot, tell us what it is,"
Stephen said impatiently.

" Boys, I want to hatch a plot, with that shell of a
house for our head-quarters ; but I want your help, for I
don't know how to go to work. As I said before, I
haven't thought of any thing yet. "

" Don't tell us what you ' said before,' Charley ; " said

' Will. " It sounds too much like a lecturer reminding the

people of what he has said, just as if he thought they

didn't pay attention enough to him to remember a word

of his speech. "

" Well, boys, I have an idea at last," Charles said
slowly, after a long pause. " Let us persuade some one to
go there, thinking a great villain has a prisoner there."

" Pshaw ! Who would believe that ! " said George,
contemptuously.

AN IDEA.

268

" Wait till we get everything arranged," Charles re-
joined grimly. "This is a good idea, George, and I can
prove it to you. And now that I have thought of it, I am
going to work it out. We might even compose a letter,
begging for help, and seeming to come from some lonely
prisoner in that house, guarded by jailers and villains,
and afraid of being put to death. "

"I don't know who would be foolish enough to be
caught by such a letter," George replied laughingly.

"Well, let us try it, anyway ; and if we succeed it will
be capital sport," said Stephen, interested already in the
schefne. " But who will be the victim, the fellow to be
imposed on ? " he asked suddenly. " Surely none of us,
after what we have said, will be foolish enough to be
trapped. "

" Hardly," said Charles, with a smile. " But Marma-
duke isn't with us ; let us make him the dupe."

" Why single out Marmaduke ? " asked Will.

" Well, the victim must be one of ourselves, and Marma-
duke knows nothing about our plot, of course. And besides,
he is so full of mysteries and romance that if he should
get such a letter, he would believe every word in it,
and be mad to plan a rescue. His notions about such
things are so queer that it will do him good to be
wakened up."

" If Marmaduke is the one to be awakened," George
said, " I think your plan may succeed very well ; because,
poor fellow, he is always expecting to light on some pro-
digious mystery. I must give in, Charley, that it would
be fun to drop such a letter some place where Marmaduke
would be sure to find it, and then we could hide ourselves
and see the result. How he would rave at the thought
of rescuing a captive ! "

" Doesn't it seem to you, boys, that it would be rather
a mean trick to play on anyone, especially on a school-
fellow.?" Will asked.

" Certainly it seems mean," Charles replied, " but it is
only for fun, and Marmaduke would enjoy it at the time,
and soon get over his anger when we explained every-
thing. Of course, we will be and careful not to do any-
thing too wicked,"

.f-

*:-

;• H

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264

A BLUNDERING BOT.

il? !»

" Well, it is bad to stir up such a boy's anger," Will
persisted.

" Let me improve on your plot," Steve ventured to say.
"Let us suppose that a beautiful French young lady
was stolen by an enemy of her father's and brought over
to America, and imprisoned in * Nobody's House.* Let
her write a wild appeal for help, which we will drop in
Marmaduke's path.'

" That's going a little too far," Charley said decidedly.
" I shouldn t like to meddle in such a desperate game
as that."

" Wouldn't a French captive be apt to write a letter in
her own language ? " Will asked, as though he were
overseting that scheme.

" That would be the fun of it," Stephen answered. " A
letter in genuine French would draw a less romantic boy
than Marmaduke."

" Very true," said George. " But could you write such
a letter?"

"Of course not— Mr. Meadows himself couldn't, per-
haps. Ten to one, Marmaduke would think he could do it
perfectly."

" Marmaduke may be rather foolish," said Charles, " but
X doubt whether he would write such a letter, and then
be imposed on by it ! "

" Do you take me for a fool ? " cried Stephen, with the-
atrical indignation. " Now, Will's cousin Henry can
scribble French like a supercargo. Will says — let us get
him to do it."

" The very thing ! " cried Charles and George in a
breath. " Come, Will, we are going to do this, and you
must help us," the former requested.

" I don't like your ideas at all, boys," Will replied, " but
if you are bound to do it, ^v^y, 1 don't want to be left
out, and so I'll write to Henry, and get him to come here.
He spoke of coming soon when he wrote to me last ; and
now I'll ask him to hurry along as soon as the holidays
begin." ,

: " STou're a jewel, Will I " all three exclaimed in excite-
ment,

"WE MUST TAKE OUE CHANCES."

%66

" Oh, we'll hatch a famous plot, won't we, bovs ? " and
Steve, the speaker, clawed the ground as though he were
a demon or a hag.

" It's my turn to suggest something now," the Sage
observed. " When Marmaduke sets out for the prison-
house, we, of course must go with him. Let Henry and
Stephen, or whoever we may t>hink best, slip on in
advance, and represent the prisoner and the fiendish
villain when we arrive "

A shout of acclamation greeted this new proposal.

" The plot is getting pretty thick,' said Steve. " And
now, what about the ghost in the back-ground ? "

" Oh, we might manage to have a ghost appear to Mar-
maduke, but we can attend to that afterwards/' Charles
returned. " Now, Will," he added, " its your turn to im-
prove on our plot — what do you suggest 1 " ' '

" I shall leave that for my cousin to do," Will answered.
" Unless I'm out of my reckoning, he will make improve-
ments on the original plan that will astonish us all ; for
it is as natural for Henry to lay plots as it is for Steve to
play tricks." i^ris-i

" Yes, Henry will make great improvements," Charles
commented. *' Well, now that it is settled that the thing
is really to be, we must all vow to keep it to ourselves,
because if any more boys get hold of it they will spoil «
everything."

" Very true," George observed. " Now, if we want
our plot to work well, we must go to this old building
and explore it thoroughly, from the cellar floor to the
rafters. But our plot can't come off" till holidays begin,
nor till Henry gets here and understands it, so there will
be plenty of time."

" If it is such a crazy old hulk," Will said gravely, " ten
to one something will give way, and bury us all under
the ruins."

" We nmst take our chances," Steve said heroically."

" There is one great objection to all this," Will continued.
" This building is so far from our homes in the village."

•* Yes, that is too bad," Steve sighed. " But we won't
mind that when we consider all the fun in store for us.

n!fi- (.

* 'M

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1 1 i ■

266

A BLUNDERING BOY.

[f. i

Why not go to the place now ? Eh ? There's lots of
time, and we are so far on the way."

" Hurrah ! " cried the conspiring four. " Let us be off,
as Steve says."

They arose, and turned their faces up the river. The
untenanted house which was to be the field of operations
was two miles farther up the river, which flowed past it,
but which, at that place, was so narrow that it would re-
quire a very wide stretch or imagination to call it any-
thing else than a brook, or creek.

Stephen's first proposal had been received, when fully
explained, as so decided an improvement tliat he now
suggested another addition to the plot. " Boys," he said,
" let us make a man of straw, or something, to look like
a scarecrow, and then stow it away in the house a day or two
b*)fore we do the rescuing. Then when Marmaduke and
the rest of U3 arrive, we can seize on it as the villain, and
hang it to a, fruit tree. Marmaduke can be rescuing the
prisoner at the time, and he'll certainly think we are
hanging the persecutor."

" We will see about that afterwards," said George.

" Marmaduke has been more or less a Frenchman in his
ideas ever since the day he proudly wrote, ' Nous a deux
chiens,' or in English, ' We has two dogs,' " Charles
observed, intending to be very sarcastic.

But he could not speak French well — in fact, he could
not apeak it at all. However, the others thought this must
be a very weighty remark, and so they laughed approv-
ingly.

Then Charles continued, as though he took a fatherly
interest in the lad : " Perhaps this great conspiracy of
ours may induce him to become a good American again."

Will's conscience was now at work, and he said as
severely as he knew how : " It's a shame to serve a boy
of his notions such a boorish trick, and you boys needn't
flatter yourselves that such a performance will do him a
. bit of good. Let us explore the house as much as we
please ; but let us give up the intention of preying on
nim."

" No I " cried the others, with fixed determination, " We

THEY ARRIVE.

267

J lots of

IS be off,

er. The
)erations
i past it,
vould re-
11 it any-

tien fully
t he now
,," he said,
look like
lay or two
iduke and
illain, and
scuing the
ik we are

ieorge.
man in his
ous a deux
Charles

, he could

this must

d approv-

a fatherly
ispiracy of
can again."
he said as
erve a boy
>ys needn't
11 do him a
[uch as we
ipreying on

lation, " We

have hit on this, and we'll go through with it, if it makes
our hair turn gray ! Will, if you want to leave us, after
all, why, goMahead ; but you would be a very foolish fellow
to do it. Come, now, give your reasons — what is there so
very wicked and horrible in our plot ? "

" I am not a moralist, boys, and so I can't explain it.
All that I know is, that it seems a mean thing to do.
And, yes, I have a presentiment that something t/crrible
will happen."

" So nave I, boys," Steve chimed in. " I have the
worst kind of a presentiment. But just to prove that
presentiments are superstitions and nonsense, I'm bound
to help Charley work out his plot."

" Well, then, ' said Will resignedly, " if you will do it,
I promise to stick by you through thick and thin."

" Then it's settled, boys," said Charles eagerly. *' And
whatever happens, we four will stick by each other, and
hold on to our plot."

" Yes," commented the sage, bringing his learning into
re({uisition, " we four are a cabal, a taction, a junto, a
party of intriguers, a band of — "

" — Of good-for-nothing school-boys,'' Charles said
quickly, not wishing to be ranked as a greater personage
than he was.

In due time the house was reached. It was a forlorn-
looking building, truly, and in a solitary place ; but it
was hardly so dilapidated as Charles supposed. It was
now old, uncared for, and weather beaten ; but when new,
had been a handsome and pleasant house, suitable for a
small family. It was a story and a half in height, with
four or five rooms on the first floor and as many on the
second. If built in a less dreary locality, it probably
would never have been without a tenant. But the man
who built this wayside dwelling must have had more
means than brains.

Even the rough boys of the village shunned this place ;
consequently, after all these years, there was still here
and %ere a whole pane of glass in almost every window-
sai As for the doors, the best of them had been taken
awb md the two or three that remained, w6re, as may
be s", >-3ed, worthless and useless.

e It

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.^68

A BLUNDERING BOY.

The floor of the first story was still sound. Up the
creaking stairs the plotters went recklessly, and found a
state of even greater desolation than beio>:\ The rooms
here had never been particularly elegant, and now they
were filthy and horrible with accumulated dust, mould,
and rubbish. Th j roof was full of holes, through which
the water evidently streamed whenever it stormed. The
roof was originally set off with two picturesque chimneys;
but inexorable Time had already demolished one, and
was playing havcc with the other.

Next they went to explore the cellar ; but the earth
had caved in and partially filled it up, and it was so
dark and loathsome that even the hero Stephen hesitated
to descend. Then, as the front door had been taken
away and the entrance secured with boards, they
crawled through a window, and once more gained the
pure air.

All things considered, even a pirate would have shrunk
from passing a night in this house. But a peaceable,
home-keeping ghost, in search of a summer residence,
could not have found a more suitable one than this. The
parlor would have served him admirably for a bed-room,
while the dining room could have been fitted up for a
laboratory ; and in case any chance comers should intrude
on him, he could have buried himself in the cellar, where
he would have been perfectly safe.

In fact, this was an excellent building for a ghost's
headquarters; but it would require unlimited faith in
romance to believe it a likely place for a prison-house.

Evidently the plotters were dissatisfied with it, and
Steve said disconsolately, " Well, such a rum old bomb-
shell of a hole I never saw ! I guess our plot will have
to find other quarters, or else be given up "

*' Oh, we can come here and tinker it up," Charles said
hopefully.

" Yes, it's bad enough ; but it's a good deal better than
Charlev seemed to think," Will observed. " As Steve
says, or means, it isn't exactly the place that a French
viUain would choose for a prison, when the whole world
is before hiuL*'

CHABLES GIVES REASONS.

269

" Did we decide how the Frenchman was to bring his
prisoner from France to our sea-coast, and then on to
this place ? " George asked, beginning to have a just
appreciation of the difficulties that lay oefore them.

" It will be safe to leave all that for my cousin to
arrange," Will said proudly. " He will make everything
clear in the letter, I'm sure."

"Of course he will," Steve said promptly. " Now, I
say, boys, there is one thing that puzzles me: this
place is worth exploring and I should like nothing
better than to ransack it again ; but why have we never
been here before ? "

" Exactly;" chimed in the Sage, as another doubt arose
in his mind. " Charley, if this place is really so worth-
less, and if it is free to all, why haven't we been in the
habit of coming here often, to fool away our time ? "

Charley reflected a moment, and then said, boldly,
" Well, if we look at it as a play-house, it's too far gone
for that ; and if we look at it as a heap of romantic and
interesting ruins, it isn't gone far enough, — not destroyed
or broken down enough, for that; — so why should we want
to come here, except on account of our plot ? There's
nothing else to draw us ; and ten to one we should never
have thought of coming here at all, if it hadn't been for
the plot. And as for being a place worth keeping up, I
don't know about that ; but the man it belongs to doesn't
seem to think it is. Why, boys, we can have it all to
ourselves ; it will be just the place for our prison."

" Well," said Steve, " by the time' we get it cleaned,
and scoured, and, tinkered, and made respectable and
ship-shape, we shall all be good housekeepei ,, and house-
maids, and masons, and carpenters, and tinkers, and —
and — . Boys," suddenly, " we needn't stand here staring
in at this window, when we haven't been through the
garden yet."

The yard, or garden, was then viewed, as suggested ;
and certainly it did not seem as though care or labor had
been bestowed on it for many years. It was overrun
with a growth of luxuriant v/eeds and thistles ; and
Charles, — the head plotter till Henry should arrive, —

i ■(

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270

A BLUNDERING BOY.

ii':'.

after escaping, by a hair's breadth, from being swallowed
up in an out-of-the-way and only partially covered old
well, concluded that they had had glory enough for one
day, and proposed that they should go home.

So the heroic four turned their faces homewards, and
jogged on, plotting and exultant.

That night one of them was troubled with fitful and
I'.'ieasy dreams, in which he saw Marmaduke struggle
manfully with frightful monsters, fashioned of old
clothes and villains ; whilst hideous French whales oared
overhead, winked their wicked eyes, and swo vj they
would catch every boy and dismember huii in the
deserted and spectre-peopled house.

When the dreamer of this dream awoke, he muttered
" Well, this is a presentiment ; but, to prove that presen-
timents are humbugs, I'll go through with this plot of
ours, it —

Further comment is needless.

It is cruel in a romancer to anticipate, but sometimes
it is necessary in order to make both ends meet. In this
case, it is justifiable ; therefore it may be said that as
soon as the holidays began, frequent journeys were made
to ' Nobody's House,' and the sound of the hammer and
the saw, together with strains of popular airs, rang out
in its deserted chambers. The plotters worked with a
will, and with the utmost disregard for the noxious
vermin which abounded in their midst, and which they
I'd not attempt to exterminate. Their efforts were
rewarded ; for the house was so transformed that the
ghosts, who, in their heart of heart, they fancied inhabited
it, would have failed to re -cognize it.

In the upper story a dangerous place was found, where
a person might fall through the floor. This was marked
out and avoided.

In this world everything proves useful one day or
another ; and this house, after lying idle all these years,
after being a nuisance to its owner, a by-word in the
community and a reproach to it, was at la^t to prove of
the greatest usefulness to these boys and to the writer of
this history.

EVERYTHING PROVES USEFUL.

271

It is now in order to return and chronicle the events

that took place before the holidays opened.

Chapter XXX.

The Blunderer at Work Again.

Will was now at work on a very learned dissertation
on " Philosophical Ingenuity." That is the name he gave
it, — bul the name had nothing in common with the sub-
ject, " Socialism " would have been quite as appropriate, —
and according to his views, he handled it in a graphic,
original, and striking manner .; and he was firmly con-
vinced that he should make a very good thing of it.

Poor boy, it was too bad, after all the pains he took.

Wliat was too bad ?

This. The same evening on which he wrote out hiy
composition for the last time, he sat up late and wrote
to his cousin Henry, inviting him to come and pay them
a visit in the holidays.

When this boy (Will) gave Stephen gunpowder instead
of fire crackers, and again when he loaded Henry's pis-
tols with wads, his mistakes were glossed over, and he
himself was laughed at, ra^iher than blamed. But now
the truth must be made known ; he cannot be excused
any longer. Right over his eyes, where the phrenologists
locate order, there was a depression.

There, the secret is out, and the writer's conscience is
easy.

Boys, it is hard to have to deal with a hero who is not
a paragon; but you must be indulgenl;, and we will do
our best.

After finishing and directing the letter to his cousin,
Will went to bed and slept peacefully, little dreaming
of the thunderbolt which would soon burst over his head,
and which he himself had prepared.

Next morning he found his writing materials strewn
over his table in great confusion, and in a lazy, listless
manner he set to work to put them to rights.

'S.J
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272

A BLUNDERING BOY.

If: 4

In order to keep his composition, or " essay," perfectly
clean, he intended to put it into an old envelope. Alas,
poor boy, he made a blunder, as usual ; and mistaking
the composition for the letter, he thrust it into the
envelope directed to Henry, which he sealed on the spot,
and stowed away in his pocket. Then he put the letter
into the old envelope and put it carefully away in his
satchel.

Not one boy in fifty could possibly have made so
egregious a blunder, but nothing else could be expected
from Will.

On this eventful day, the" essays," as Teacher Meadows
saw fit to call them, were to be read, and the prize was
to be delivered over to the " successful competitor."

Full of his expected triumph, Will set out. for school.
He knew that his composition was good, and he could
judge what the others' would be. He was a little uneasy

about George and Charles, but as for the rest pshaw !

the rest couldn't write !

He imagined he saw his schoolmates watching him as
he went home that evening with about the biggest book
ever printed. He even heard their disappointed tones,
and saw their sullen and envious looks, as he peissed
through the streets.

And that old lady wh^ often cast admiring glances
towards him — she would call next day and say, " Well,
Mrs. Lawrence, your boy is just the smartest boy in the
whole village."

In a day or so Stephen would drop in and let him
know what was said about it by the villagers, in general,
the schoolboys in particular.

And when his uncle and aunt heard the news, they
would certainly be overjoyed, and send him (just what he
wanted, of course) a monkey I As soon as it could be
done, his father would buy him a little gun.

Full of these dreams, he went on, stopping at the post
ofhce to send, as he supposed, his letter to Henry.

Time wore away, and the hour for the " essays " to be
read, came at last. Teacher Meadows took his seat, and
they were laid on the desk before him. Good man,

THEY don't know THAT.

2n ,

perfectly
le. Alas,
aistaking

into the

the spot,
the letter
f&y in his

made so
> expected

r Meadows
prize was
tor."

for school,
i he could
ttle uneasy
-pshaw !

ling him as
ggest book
nted tones,
he passed

ing glances
say, " Well,
boy in the

md let him
in general,

I news, they
list what he
lit could be

at the post
nry.

^ays " to he
|iis seat, and

Good man,

he himself would read them all, lest the " composers "
should not do themselves justice.

Only a dozen or so had competed for the prize, but all
these had done their best, and the handwriting was so
plain that it was a pleasure to read it.

A few of the competitors' parents and " well-wishers "
were present, " to see justice done to all," as they pleasant-
ly put it. But they served only to increase the master's
pompousness and self-esteem, and the " essayists' " bash-
fulness and inquietude ; while they themselves were sure-
ly neither very much instructed nor very much delighted.

In fact, the truth was probably forced home to the
more intelligent of the audience, that schoolboys and
schoolgirls who would soar to the pinnacle of fame by at-
tempting to write beyond their capabilities, generally
find themselves floundering about in the slough of igno-
minious failure.

Mr. Meadows certainly read the different compositions
with great care and earnestness, and took as much pains
with the worthless ones as with the tolerably good ones.

By some chance, Will's was the last to be read, and
dead silence was observed till it was tinished.

Whenever a new idea had struck the boy, he had set
it down without the slightest regard to consecutiveness ;
and if the same idea was afterwards seen in a diflferent
liiiht, lie had promptly expressed his views, though in the
midst of a paragraph.

A mere handful of words had been sufficient for him
on this occasion, and these were rej^eated with unwearied
persistency. A schoolboy writin^; a letter excels in re-
petition, at least.

If either Mr. or Mrs. Lawrence had reviewed it for him
it would not have been so iucomprehensible.

The letter ran as follows :

Dear Henry, — I am troin<? to write to vou all about
us hoys and our doings, and tell you ail about a great
plot that all of us are going to have. I received your
letter of last month safe and sound, and I expect you
expected to hear from me right oft'. But, Henry, I've
10

l-"

' ■ '

M'- ■

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v ■

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• I

274

A BLUNDERING BOY.

had all sorts of things to do, and just now we boys are
trying for a prize. I expect it will be a beauty. I would
not write till it's all over, but we boys want me to write
to you right off to come down and help us in a plot we've
got made up to impose on one of our number. I've been
puzzling over'my essay for the prize for nearly three weeks
or more (the boys here don't know that) or I shomd have
written before ; and so, just to please them, I'm sitting
up late and writing to-night instead of day after to-
morrow.

They expect it will be the most tremendous fun that
ever was, and of course it will. I'm rather tired of play-
ing tricks, but they say this isn't playing tricks at all.
In your last letter you asked me if the boys were the
same rum old poligars that they used to be. I don't
know what that means, Henry, but I guess the boys are
juBt the &ame — only worse. Well, Henry, I guess I'll try
and give you a better idea of them than I did when I
was with you. You know all their names ; so first there
is Charley. He is a capital good sort of a fellow, and
he often helps me. But he is a very queer sort of a fel-
low, and he thinks its tremendous big fun to use big
words when he talks with us — well, so do the others.
It seems natural for George to use them, but I don't
know why Steve does. I expect l»« iJ»ijaks it's tremen-
dous big fun too.

Stephen is a great fellow to play tricks. My father
says if he lives, and keeps on at this rate, he and the law
will meet with violence some of these davs.

But I hope Stephen will never get into such trouble.
He makes us laugh more than all the other boys put
t<:^th«r, and I expect when you come down and we get
fairly started rt^scuing the captive, we'll laugh ourselves
sick in bed. Marmaduke, he's the one, is not to see you
till in the haunted house.

Charley likes to have me tell him stories about the
demon. Marmaduke — he's the next one to tell about.
W ys are not very well satisfied with the way we get
om in French. We haven't a genuine Frenchman for a
master, as you have. We all like Mr. Meadows, but lu

B boys arc
. I would
le to write
plot we've

I've been
hree weeks
tiould have
['m sitting
' after to-
ts fun that
■ed of play-
icks at all.
3 were the
3. I don't
le boys are
uess I'll try
lid when I
o first there

fellow, and
>rt of a f el-

to use big

the others.
>ut I don't
it's tremen-

My father
and the law

ich trouble,
er boys put
and we get
h ourselves
to see you

J about the
tell about.
way we gtt
hman for fi
lows, but h*

will's views of his school-fellows.

275

has not the knack of making us understand French,
though he is a splendid teacher in other things. But the
boys all say that Marmaduke is satisfied.

Because he can write " A red-haired sailor dressed in
blue says the physician's house is burnt," " The king's
palace is built on the river," "The neighbor's wicked little
boy has stolen the carpenter's hammer," and so on, he
thinks he and the French language understand each
other. Mr. Meadows himself isn't satisfied with the
Method he uses. One boy here says the reason he doesn't
get a better one is because he studied it when he was a
boy, and, etc., etc. But that is a very mean thing to say,
eh, Henry ? and I don't believe it a bit. That's the
reason we want you to come, to write us a good letter in
French. George is a nice boy. He always says, look
here, boys, when he has something on his mind. He
reads a great deal, but it doesn't spoil him from being a
boy a bit. Ask him what he reads, and he'll say, Oh,
anything from an almanac to an unabridged dictionary,
and I expect that is so. Marmaduke is just the wildest
boy in his notions that I ever saw. The boys mean to
take advantage of this, and delude him. But I have
explained all that. Jim always, generally, goes with us,
and he is the most first-rate coward that I ever saw.
We've shut him out this time. But he is a nice fine boy
in lots of things.

In reading over what I've written I'm afraid I haven't
explained our plot at all, Henry ; but it's too long to
explain now, because I'm tired, Henry, and I expect to
see you soon, Henry, and then I can explain it better
than I could m writing. Perhaps I've written too much
about the boys, bnt you know just how much I think of
them. They are all good fellows and we would do almost
anything for each other. We don't care much for the
other boys here, only ourselves. I can tell you this much
about our plot, we pretend to rescue a prisoner out of an
old house. Goorg-e calls it the necropolis, and Charley
the scare-crow's factory ; but Stephen has a better name —
at least, it sounds better. He calls it the Wigwam of the
Seven Sleepers. Last time I ibrgot to ask you to excuse

'^1

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•

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i-1

276

A BLUNDERING BOY.

my writing, so I might as well now, this time. I'm too
tired to write any more this time, and my letter is pretty
long, anyway. Don't wait to write again, but come as
soon as possible next week, for our plot will come off as
soon as possible.

I am, I was, and I always mean to be.

Your Sleepy Cousin Will.

If -ih '

^ ^

Chapter XXXI.
will mends his ways.

Teacher Meadows read this remarkable letter as
though uncertain whether he were asleep or awake. It
wQuld be difficult to describe the effect on the "audience."
They were not particularly emotional people, but this
letter seemed to affect them strongly.

Poor Will ! his cup of sorrow was full ! The first words
told him the mistake he had made, and he listened, with
the anguish of despair, while Teacher Meadows read on
remorselessly to the end. He could neither creep under
his seat nor steal out of the apartment. He knew that
every eye was fixed upon him — oh, what would people
think ! Once, when the letter was nearly finished, he
ventured to glance towards some of his school-mates ;
but their faces were so full of anger, astonishment, and
horror, that he hastily looked in another direction.

But in the midst of all this suffering, there was one
consolation — ^his parents were unable to be present. He
knew how grieved they would feel, and so he rejoiced at
their absence, and bore his misery as patiently as he
could.

And yet he was tortured almost beyond endurance.
Oh, why had he written so freely about his school-fellows
in this letter ? Why had he written so disrespectfully
about Mr. Meadows, who was always so kind to him ?

Teacher Meadows, who scarcely ever spoke unkindly
to his pupils, now said to the hero, in a constrained and

THE EFFECTS OF THE LETTER.

277

harsh voice : " I cannot understand how any boy could
think such a subject — say, rather, ^vant of subject — and
so free an expression of his views, could possibly win him
the prize."

In a low and faltering voice, Will said something about
" a great mistake."

" Oh, a mistake," said Mr. Meadows. Then he added
sarcastically : " That is too bad ; for if your friend Henry
had received this letter, he would have had a very vivid
idea of your comrades' characteristics and of your
teacher's incapacity."

Then, remembering that others were present, he
checked himself, and said more mildly, " Will, I am dis-
appointed in you ; I had formed a much better opinion
of you. There, let it pass ; I shall say no more about it."

Poor boy, he was certainly to be pitied ! Censure was
to him intolerable ; and censure before all these people I
Truly, he was being punished for his carelessness.

After all, he had not said anything so very wicked
about either teacher or school -fellows ; and perhaps an
impartial judge would have decided that, all things con-
sidered, the writer of such a letter deserved the prize.
But Mr. Meadows' judgment was biassed; he felt insulted;
and he thought otherwise.

" But," chuckles the astute reader, " surely Marmaduke
could not be duped after that !" We beg your pardon,
gentle reader ; but if you think that, you are not skilled
in the art of writing stories.

Marmaduk •xiso, was unable to attend school that day ;
and if you read the letter carefully once more, you will
perceive that it is so vague and incoherent that no one
except the four in the plot could make anything out of
it. Thase who heard it would not perceive that any
great danger menaced Marmaduke ; and even if they
should warn him to be on his guard, he would hardly
connect this letter with the one he was to receive in due
time. No ; Marmaduke would be as unsuspicious as ever,
no matter how much he might be warned.

And thus it happened that Will's muddled wits pre-
served the plot.

■M

-I

D -: <i

:l ^■

278

A BLUNDERING BOY.

But the other boys! Ah, they had reason to feel
aggrieved and insulted !

All except George were indignant at poor foolish Will.
Mr. Meadows had decided that the odds were in favor of
George, and, much to the chagrin of four ink-loving
youths who knew they would win, he bore away the
prize. He was a philosopher, but not a stoic, and now
supreme content played over his visage. In fact, he felt
so joyous and exultant that he could laugh at Will's
blunder.

Not so, the others. Out of sight and hearing of the
people, they pounced on Will, (figuratively speaking,)
and glared at him with the most ferocious and horrible
expression of countenance that they could put on.

Even good-natured Charles was vexed to be thus
openly criticized, and he said sullenly, '* Well, Will, I
guess you needn't call our plot mean after this."

Will heaved a sigh, but said nothing.

" Look here, boys," the winner of the prize interposed ;
" suppose that one of us had been asked by a cousin a
long way off to give an opinion of his school-fellows,
would it have been as mild and as sincere as the one
Will gave ? I know that a great many boys would
have said far meaner things than Will did ; for, when a
boy comes to speak of his school-fellows, he will hardly
ever say a word in their praise. I've often wondered
why it is," musingly, " and I think sometimes a boy is a
blockhead, anyway. Well, perhaps it isn't so; perhaps
I'm mistaken. Come, Charley ; be just to poor Will."

" Listen to the orator !" mockingly observed a defeated
competitor [not one of the six] " He talks as though he
made it a business to study a * school-fellow's 'habits !"

" The prize has made an oracle and a hero of him,"
chimed in another, who probably felt that there was
more or less truth in the Sage's remarks.

" What's the name of his prize, anyway?" queried still
another defeated one, with considerable interest in his
tones, but not deigning to glance towards the victor.

" Oh, it's some mighty good book, I suppose;" answered
the first speaker. " In fact, so good, that it's bad ! "

GEORGE PLEADS FOR WILL.

279

The four inky-fingered youths who knew they would
win, thought this so comical that they laughed derisively.

George's eyes flashed fire and his blood boiled, but he
said, as calmly as he could, " I've often noticed that boys
that guess at things hardly ever hit the mark. Now,
your ideas about this prize are very wild ; for it's about
a midshipman's cruise round the world."

The four defeated ones scowled at him, and one of
them said, as he turned to go, " Well, boys, we might as
well be off, for these fellows don't care for us, they say."

And they strode away, leaving the four plotters to-
gether.

It may not be pertinent to the subject to picture here
so dark a side of life, but now the reader will understand
why the six avoided the society of the other boys of the
village, and clung to each other. Poor fellows, with all
their faults, they were free from such jealous passions.

As soon as they found themselves alone, George said
eagerly, " Come, Charles, don't be too hard on Will."

" Well, George, I don't know but that you're right in
what you said," Charles admitted ; '* but it was very un-
pleasant for us, and what will people think ? "

" Pshaw ! what do we care about that ! " the Sage
exclaimed contemptuously, hugging the prize to his
bosom. " After all, 1 don't know but that Will said
more in favor of us than against us ; and wasn't it worse
for him than for us ? If he can bear it, we can."

" George is quite right," Stephen declared. " Will is
more to be pitied than all of us put together."

" I don't want anybody's pity," Will said sourly.

" Marmaduke and Jim got it the worst," said Steve.
" The only thing that troubles me at all, is that our plot
is spoiled ;" in a doleful tone.

" Spoiled ! How is it spoiled ? " the Sage inquired.
" Marmaduke wasn't there to hear the letter, and no one
else could make any sense out of it. — I — I mean," he
added quickly, " no one would know what it meant."

" Well, how are we to patch it up again ? " Charles
asked uneasily.

" I think we had all better make up friends with Will

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280

A BLUNDERING BOT.

this minute, and get him to write to his cousin again,"
Qeorge said, smiling brightly.

Charles and Stephen were of the same opinion, but
poor Will was in a bad humour, and he said sullenly,
" I won't write to him any more ; so that you needn't
make up with me on that account."

The boys were appalled. George's words had revived
hope in their breast, but now it seemed that their darling
scheme must fail ; for, without Henry to write the letter
and help them forward, it would be only a humdrum
affair ; and unless Will would send for him, he perhaps
would not come — or, it he should come, he would spend
all his time with \V)ll, at«d have nothing to do with
them. Consequently, the three crowded round Will,
made him so sensible of his own importance, and played
their parts so well, th»^i he finally smiled, relented, and
promised to do any thing they wished.

" And you will write soon, won't you ? " Charles a,sked
eagerly.

" Yes ; I'll write as soon as I can ; " Will returned.
" Say, boys," anxic' -sly, " do any of you know what Mr.
Mesulows did with my — my letter? "

" Yes ; he kept it for a witness against you ;" wickedly
and promptly answered quick-witted Stephen.

" «lim is the next one for us to deal with," said George ;
" and," sighinff profoundly, " there's the rub ! "

Then Charles, who had been reading a novel of the
" intensely interesting " sort, said jocosely, " Perhaps we
can buy his silence."

" As the nervous old gentleman said when he gave ii
nickel to a little boy to stop his noise," Steve subjoined.

" He will have to be soothed and let into our councils,"
4)he Sage observed, " and perhaps it will be just as well,
because we shall need more than five to manage our plot,
and * the more, the merrier,' you know."

" I know something, too ; I know that 'too many cooks
spoil the pudding,'" said Steve, in a tone of melancholy
foreboding.

" Stephen Goodfellow, we are not cooks ! " Charles
retorted.

jain,"
Q,but
eedn't

Bvived

Larling
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ndrum
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Charles

WILL PROFITS BT HIS MISTAKE.

281

Soon afterward the plotters separated; Will, to go
sorrowfully homeward ; Qeorge, to hasten gladly to ms
parents and be congratulated on his success ; Charles and
Stephen to find, " soothe," and let into their councils, the
boy called Jim.

It is sufficient to say that Jim was overjoyed to take
part in their plot, though vexed at them for having kept
him in the dark so long, and at Will for having spoken
of him €ks a " first-rate coward."

Thus the bad effects of the exchanged composition
were remedied, though mischief enough had been done
by causing Teacher Meadows to have a bad opinion of
Will. And Will, foolish boy, fancied that by this means he
had been cheated out of the prize.

Perhaps it was the best thm^ that could possibly have
happened to him,for, from that day forward, he cultivated
order so assiduously and determinedly that in course of
time he became more orderly than even George. He
vowed to wreak dire vengeance on himself if such a mis-
hap should ever again befall him, and it was noticed by
his mother and schoolfellows that his ridiculous blunders
were on the decrease. With all his belongings in perfect
order, it was much easier to keep out of trouble; especially,
as he was also more circumspect in all his movements
than heretofore.

An additional advantage. Two bumps, one over each
eye, took root, and grew, and grew, and continued to
grow, till they bulged out exceedingly. Not knowing
the cause of this, Will, continued to cultivate order, and
his bumps continued to grow and bulge out, till he be-
came the most distinguished looking youth in the village.

Boys, never mind the bumps, but take the moral to
heart, and if any of you are untidy, reform before your
want of order exposes you to disgrace and pain, as Will's
did him.

, 1.

' 1 ?■;«»!::

282 A BLUNDERING BOT.

Chapter XXXII.
The Arch-Plotter ARRivEa

On the next day Will wrote another letter to his
cousin, in which he invited him to come and pay them a
visit He gave a rambling explanation of the " essay,"—
which, he thought, would not only puzzle, but also
astound, poor Henry — and avoided mentioning his school-
fellows at all. In fact, he had resolved in his mind that
hereafter, in writing letters, he would confine himself to
the matter in hand, and not discourse on the virtues and
vices, the wisdom and folly, of his school-fellows. As for
the plot, he said simply that they had " a game on foot, "
filling up his letter by giving an interesting record of the
weather for the past month, and a touching account of a
lump on his horse's hind leg.

will posted his letter with a light heart, feeling that
his presentiments must have related to the exchanged
composition, and that now all would be well.

In the eloquent words of sundry novelists : " It was
well for him that he could not look into the future."

The holidays had now begun, and, as was said above,
the plotters spent a great part of their time in fitting up
the deserted house, which was to be the scene of uieir
comedy — or tragedy, as the event should prove.

Having done this, the plotters, Jim included, again
assembled in solemn council, to deliberate on certain
features of their plot. They wished to make themselves
thoroughly acquainted with all the details, so that every-
thing snould work smoothly.

" Now, when Henry comes," said Will, " we must meet
him at the station, and keep him out of Marmaduke's
sight till he sees him in the * Wigwam ' as the captive.
l£i.rmaduke will be all unprepared, and will take him for
the captive without a doubt. '

" Yes," Charles assented ; " but will Henry consent to
be rigged out as a French captive ?"

" Oh, he will have to do that," said Will ; " he will have
to do whatever we tell him ; and we shall have to do

THET HOLD ▲ COUNCIL.

288

bo his
Kem a

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whatever he tells us. Oh, we shall work together just like
a — a — like a — "

" Like the works of a clock," suggested Steve, never at
a loss for a similie, however inapt it might be.

" Well, " Charles observed. " let us make a being of
straw, or old clothes, to look like a discomfited trampr in
effigy, and then hang him out of a window up-stairs.
Marmaduke will take it for the persecuting captor, of
course. And besides, we shall want something to do
while Henry and Marmaduke are rescuing eadi other.
This is your idea, Steve," he added, " and I give you all
the credit for it."

All the plotters were in favor of doing this, and so thcU
question was settled.

Jim — who bore the plotters a grudge for not having
acquainted him with their designs till torced to do so —
was suddenly struck with a peculiarly " bright " idea.
He said nothing to them, but chuckling grimly to him-
self, he muttered fiendishly : " It would serve 'em right,
I guess, anyway ! "

Stephen was suddenly struck with a horrible fear ; he
gasped faintly: "Boys!— say, boys! Oh, dear' Boys,
won't the French young lady be supposed to speak in her
own language ? And how could Marmaduke understand
that ? — that is, if Heniy could speak it right along ? "

The plotters were appalled. With consternation in
every face, they stared at each other in utter hopeless-
ness, whilst their beloved plot tottered on its foundations.

But presently the Sage, with his customarv philosophy,
came to the rescue. Said he : " Look here, Doys, all that
is necessary is to have the captor and the wicked jailers
teach the beautiful captive to speak English, broken Eng-
lish, a little. Alas, it seems to me that this captive will
be an endless trouble to us, and I think Henry will wish
himself himself a^ain. Yes, I shall be glad when it's all
over. "

" Never mind " ; said Stephen. " Now, this broken
English will settle that question ; but. Will, can Henry
sp€^ broken — I mean cracked — English ? "

" Of course he can, " said Will coimdently ; " he can do
anything."

284

A BLT7NDEBIN0 BOT.

,r ,

Hie self-styled conspirators breathed freely, for their
plot was now established on a firm foundation.

The work of fashioning a " being " progressed rapidly ;
and the day before Henry arrived they put the finishing
touches to an object that was a monstrosity indeed. If
the curious reader wishes to know what this object, or
" being," or monstrosity, looked like, let him turn to the
picture of the fourth giant in his baby brother's " hand-
somely illustrated" "Jack the Giant-Killer. " The
resemblance between that giant and this "being" is
striking.

Yes; they had hit upon their vocation at last; and if
they should remove to the haunts of savages in the
Polynesian islands, or in the unexplored regions of Africa,
and set up in business as idol-makers, their fame and for-
tune would soon be an accomplished fact

But this story drags already ; so let it be suificieht to
add that the " impostor," as they fondly called it, was
lovingly and secretly conveyed to the lone house, and
hidden away till it should be needed.

Thus time passed with the plotters. They often had
great difficulty in keeping all their movement and plans
a secret from Marmaduke ; more than once he came upon
them in their journeys to and fro, and it was only by
using the greatest tact that they prevented him from fol-
lowing them to the old building.

Poor Marmaduke ! he was at a loss to know why the
boys should act in so strange a manner. He would come
upon them sometimes, seated, and talking earnestly ; but
the moment they caught sight of him, all were silent. At
last he began to think that he had offended them in some
way — ^how, he could not guess. However, the time when
he should be rudely awakened was at hand.

Henry Mortimer, the boy-lover of the sweet little blue-
eyed heroine, was somewhat surprised to receive through
the post a very 'earned dissertation on "Philosophical
Ingenuity " ; but two days afterwards Will's letter of ex-
planation and invitation followed it, and then he was all
eagerness to be off, as he anticipated having a delightful
visit with his cousin and his aunt But there were other

RSNBr AND TBS HEROINS.

reasons why he was glad to go away from home ^ or a tesr
days, or even weeks. His school, also, had closed for the
holidays ; and consequently, he saw but little of — (It must
be tiresome to the reietder to see the writer of this history
continually using circumlocution in speaking of this little
girl, but as there are private reasons why her name
should not be made known, he [the helpless reader] will
have to make the best of it.) Moreover, a handsome and
clever youth, a first cousin of the little blue-eyed heroine's,
was spending the holidays at her parents', with her elder
brother ; and Henry's feverish imagination (poor boy, he
was jealous as ever) immediately conjectured that he and
she would fall in love with each other ! To be sure they
were first cousins ; but Henry had latterly taken to the
bad habit of reading English novels, and so he let his
fears get the better of his judgment, and thought it only
logical that she should eventually shake him oif, and
marry the cousin. As if to crnfirm his fears, he had seen
her, tile heroine who had given him the glass ink-bottle,
walking down the side-walk, accompanied by the stal-
wart cousin. This had worked his jealous passions up to
boiling heat, but feeling his Miter helplessness, he had
affected to be unconcerned ; and now, to prove how little
he cared, he would go away on a visit, and rtay — w<)ll,
perhaps he might stay two weeks.

Preparations were immediately begun, but it was hard
for Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer to part with their son, if for
only a short time. The " game on foot " hinted at in the
letter troubled the latter — the more so, as she was aware
of her son's recklessness, and was firmly persuaded that
her young nephew was totally devoid of common sense.
But, at last, when the holidays were a week old, the
redoubtable hero departed, with repeated warnings to
keep out of danger, and to be very, very careful of him-
self, ringing in his ears.

The same day Will was delighted in two different ways.
He received a telegram, directed to himself. Delight
number one.

The telegram ran as follows : —

" Your cousin Henry will be there to-morrow morning ; .
meet him. * " M. MoRTiMEa'*

286

A BLUNDEBmO BOT.

Deliffht number two.

Willnastened to inform his fellow-plotters of this good
news, and joy reigned among them all.

The next morning came, and with it came Cousin
Henry. Each one of the heroes, except Marmaduke, was
at the depot to welcome him ; each one was struck with
his commanding appearance ; each one thought what a
beautiful heroine he would make. Proudly, but very
awkwardly, Will introduced them to each other, and then

{)roposed to his cousin that he should bind a handkerchief
oosely over his head, so that it should partially conceal
his features.

" What for ? " asked Henry, with surprise. " I haven't
the tooth-ache, nor I'm not ashamed to be seen."

" Yes, but there's a boy here not in our plot ; and if he
should ha^jpen to see you, all would be spoiled," Will
pleaded.

" We might meet him, any minute, Henry, for he's
always prowling round at this time of day," Stephen
riiimed in.

Stephen and Henry looked each other full in the face :
congenial spirits met.

"Well," said Henry resignedly, " go ahead, and trick
me out as you please." Then, a woe-begone look over-
spreading his lace, he added : " There is no one here to
know me, so that it makes no difference how I am trussed
up."

Ah ! his heart was with the loved ones at home, and he
cared little what these boys did with him.

But " tricked out " and " trussed up ! " Those words
took well with the simple village boys ; they held their
breath for admiration.

Then the cleanest handkerchief (which was Henry's
own) that could be found, was bound about his head, so
as to flap over his mouth unpleasantly, and wanton in the
sultry July breeze.

Needless precaution, for nothing was seen of Marma-
duke.

Weary as Henry must have been after his long journey,
he was hurried away to one of the boys' retreats, in a

BEVBT MAPS OUT HIS COUBSE.

287

retired quarter of Mr. Lawrence's garden. At first the
boys were quite reserved, for Henry nad been represented
to them as a very ei traordinary personage ; but in the
course of half an hoOL* they became as well acquainted'
with him as if they had known him from the days of the
plesiosaurus dolichodeirus.

For a full hour they talked almost at random ; narrat-
ing their late adventures with Bob, touching gingerly
upon Will's last lamentable blunder, and giving a minute,
but bewildering and disjointed, account of their darling
scheme.

Then, after Henry had received confused notions of
various matters, the party dispersed ; and the poor boy
was allowed to see his aunt and uncle, wash, partake of
some food, and snatch a wink of sleep.

They had appointed, to meet early in the afternoon, to
discuss their plot in aU its bearings, and to have Henry
compose the vexatious letter ; but he and Will spent a
short but very pleasant time in each other's company, and
when the hour came for them to repair to the rendezvous,
the former had grasped the boys' idea, and mapped out
his own course.

To say that Henry was delighted with this plot, would
be to do him gross injustice — in fact, to speak out boldlv,
since yesterday the writer has racked his brains in a vam
endeavor to hit upon some single adjective that would
adequately describe the boy's ecstasy.

■ «.. ,■■

:;i|

Chapter XXX III.
"A Lesson in French."

" Here we are ! " Steve joyously exclaimed, as the last
one of the plotters arrived at the rendezvous in Mr. Law-
rence's garden. " And now, then, let us go to work."

" Are you perfectly sure this Marmaduke will believe
the letter is genuine, and fly to the rescue ? " Henry asked
dubiously.

288

▲ BLUNDEBINO BOT.

" He would believe anything, Henry," Charles rejoined
" And the more romantic the letter is, the more he will
believe it."

"Why," said Steve, "I shouldn't be surprised if he
lldli in love when he meets you all tricked up— tricked
ou^as a heroine ! "

Henry smiled grimly, but said nothing.

" Oh, no," said George dogmatically. " Henry's eyes
are blue, and so are Marmaduke's ; and you know — at
least, I've often read — that people alike in that respect
seldom fall in love with each other."

Oh, how indignant Henry was ! Who was this imper-
tinent little boy, who had opinions (and such opinions !)
on all topics ?

" Are you in the habit of reading love-stories ? " he
asked curiously.

"No," said the Sage slowly, "I've never read many
genuine love-stories ; I don't care much for them ; they're
not solid enough."

" You'll see the day when you'll care to read nothing
else," said Henry, melodramatically.

Perceiving that the plotters were looking at him in-
tently, he said hurriedly, for he did not wish these boys
to guess his secret, " You haven't told me yet when the
plot is to come off."

" We never settled that ourselves ; but if to-morrow
evening is pleasant, let us go then," said Will.

" We have had so many unfortunate expeditions in the
night that I think we had better set some other time,"
the Sage observed.

" The evening is the time, of course ; " said Henry de-
cisively. " We can take care of ourselves, I think, if we
try. To-morrow forenoon I must disguise myself and go
and see this old house with some of you ; and then, as we
are coming back, if the rest of you could come up with
Marmaduke, I could hide, and look on while he ' finds '
the letter. Have you settled that point yet ? "

" Yes," said Charles, " we planned to fix the letter in
a bottle, and fling it into the river a few rods above him.
The river« you know, flows past the house ; so that when

^-morrow

HENBT MAKES ▲ SUGGESTION.

289

he reads the lettor he'll think the prisoner threw the con>
cem into the river, and that it floated do«ni. Marmaduke
will think that is romance itself."

" I understand," Henry commented ; " and when we
write the letter we can say something to that eflfect.
Now, what do you say to mixing up a priest in the
plot ? "

" A priest ? " they askrd, at a loss to guess his intent

" Yes, a poor old priest, that found out the villain in
his capturing schemes, and had to be seized and brought
alonff, or else made away with.

" 1—1 don't — see why," Charles stammered.

" Will tells me that Marmaduke is to suppose I'm the
captive, and that I'm to be dressed accordingly," Henry
said lazily. " Now, if you boy's can't see what I mean,
keep your eyes and ears open, and when the time comes,
there will be so much the more sport for you."

The plotters did not see what Henry was driving
at ; but, thinking it must be an " improvement " that had
suggested itself to him, they were content to wait.

"Now, we must all swear that none of us will laugh,
no matter how droll things may be," Will observed.

Henry could never be guilty of such a misdemeanor.
He was a boy who could do and say the most absurdly
ridiculous things without the slightest smile on his face ;
and the others had tolerB,ble control over their facial
muscles.

" Don't be too hard on Marmaduke, Henry ; " said
Charles, still at a loss to conjecture to what use the
imaginary priest was to be put, and beginning to fear
that some great danger menaced hapless Marmaduke,

" I will be careful," Henry replied.

" About the letter — let us write it," Steve cried, impa-
tiently.

" I have the materials to write it in the rough," said
Henry. " To-night I shall polish it, and write it off on
French note paper, and to-morrow I shall hand it over to
you."

" Make the letter very strong," Charles suggested.
" The more extraordinary and whimsical it is, the more

«MJ

; f't.

^i ■

4 J'

290

A BLUNDERING BOT.

poor deluded Marmaduke will be delighted. Poor fellow,
if it is hard to make it out, he will stammer over it till
his face and hands cct damp with sweat."

" Doesn't he understand French very well ? " Henry
asked.

" None of us do," Charles dolefully acknowledged.

" Well, is he in the habit of wandering through the
dictionary ? "

"I — don't — know," said Charles, wondering what Henry
was driving at now.

"Well, then, I will. run the risk," said the master-plotter,
like the hero he was.

Not allowing the curious boys to ask any questions, he
continued : " As you don't understand French very well,
I must read the letter carefully to you to-morrow, for it
would be jolly fun if none of you could make it out.
Well, fire ahead, and I'll write ; but after I polish it,
your letter may be very different from the original
draft."

With that he produced pencil and paper, and then
slowly, like a blood-thirsty author hatching his plot, a
draught was made of the letter ; each particular, as it
occurred to the boys, being set down at random. When
finished, it was, like Will's letter, so incoherent that it
would give a person a headache to read it. But in their
own room that night Henry wrote and " polished," whilst
Will looked for words and phrases in his dictionary.
They worked long and carefully, and about midnight the
letter was transcribed for the last time ; and with dizzy
head and heavy, blinking eyes, poor Henry tumbled into
bed, saying, drowsily, " I have portentous ap — apprehen-
sions that by — by to-morrow night — I shall need — need
some — some Cayenne pepper mixture."

But he slept long and well, and felt himself again the
next morning.

We give the letter in French, just as Henry wrote it.
This is not done because of a morbid love of writing
something in a foreign language — which seems to be so
strong in some people, whether they understand it or not
— but because of three very good reasons : First, to show

AN OBSERVATION.

291

the length to which the boys went in carrying out their
plot ; secondly, to give the good-natured reader an insight
into Henry's character — for a man is best known by nis
writings ; thirdly, because it is a well-known fact thac
intelligent youths who are studying a foreign language
have an eager desire to read, or attempt to read, whatever
they can find in that language ; and it is well to gratify
such healthy desires.

After holding forth in this strain, perhaps it will be as
well to observe, that the youth who expects to perfect
himself in French by a careful perusal oi this letter will
be most bitterly deceived.

One word m6re : Henry, and Henry only, is responsible
for this letter, therefore all the praise must be giver to
him. But is it reasonable to suppose that the Fionch
Academy will survi^ 'i Vie publication of this letter ?

The envelope enclosing ^he letter bore the following
superscription :

" A celui qui trouvera : Lisez le contenu de cette Icttre
sans d^lai ! "

" To the finder : Read the contents of this letter without
delay ! " as Henry read it to the boys.

That is good ; that is orthodox.

The letter ran as follows :

LECTEUR, je suis prisonnifere ! Un mdchant homme
m'a prise, et m'a emport^e de mon pays. Je suis la fiUe
d'un des seigneurs de la France, le Due de la Chaloupe en
Poitou. Un des ennemis de mon pfere — quoiqu'il soit le
meilleur homme du monde, il ne laisse pas d'avoir ses
adversaires, mais c'est parce qu'il est favori de notre
enipereur puissant, Napoleon trois — je r^p^te, un de ses
ennemis, un faquin impitoyable — un vmiaerahle — un demon,
consid^ra tous les moyens de le perdre.

Enfin, voyant qu'il n'a pas d'autre moyen de blesser
mon papa, ce monstre r^sout de lui ddrober sa fille. II
ourdic finement sa trame, et conspire k dresser des
embuches pour m'attraper. II fait emplette d'un yacht a
vapeur, un vaisseau bon voilier, et il I'^quipe. Puis il
ancre dans une petite crique. pres du chateau de mon p^re.

■St?

? Ti t,

■.'■ 11

292

A BLUNDEBINO BOT.

Ne songeant pas au danger, mon pr^cepteur et tnoi nous
sortons pour voir ce vaisseau stranger ; et en nous prome-
nant le long du rivage le capitaino nous prie d'aller k
bord, pour en faire le tour. Nous le font ; mais k peine
sommes-nous months sur la tillf^e, qu'on nou^ saisit et
nous enferme dans deux petites cabines ! O perfide ! il
s'empare facilement de sa prise ! Et moi ! Depuis ce
moment j'ai 6prouv^ beaucoup de malheurs.

Ses droles ingambes se mettent en train ; I'^quipage
Ifeve tout de suite I'ancre ; le pompier vole k sa pompe a
feu ; les matelots d^ferlent les voiles ; bientdt le yacht
vogue ; tout a 1' heure il marche a pleines voiles. La
fenetre treillissde de ma cabine, ou prison, donne sur la
demeure de mes ancetres, et je vois courir 9a et la res
serviteurs, avec des cris aigres de chagrin et d'horreur.
Trop tard ! le maroufle s'^vade avec sa captive ! Oh,
mon cher p6re et ma chfere ro^re ! Qu' etes-vous devenus !

Le yacht a march<^ quelques heures quand il entre un
homme dans ma cabine, suivi de mon precepteur, le bon
pretre. Je reconnais Belitre Sc^l^rat, I'ennemi de mon
papa ! C'est lui qui m'a captiv^e. " Tranquillisez-vous,"
me dit-il ; je ne vous ferai pas de mal. Je suis I'ennemi
de votre p6re le due, mais je ne suis point votre ennemi.
J'en userai bien avec vous, tant que vous n'essaierez pas de
vous 6chapper. Ce pretre sera votre instituteur comma
a I'ordinaire ; et vous pouvez y etre aussi heureuse que
si vous dtiez chez vos parents." Je le prie de me rendre,
mais j'ai beau supplier. Le pretre, a son tour, raisonne
avec lui, mais le monstre hausse les ^paules et il est sourd
a nos pri^res.

Aprfes un voyage de long cours nous abordons en
Am^rique — c'est-^-dire, je crois que c'est ce pays. Un
complice de mon capteur i'aide a transporter le pretre et
moi dans le sein du pays, oil Ton a pr^pard une prison
pour nous. Je fus captiv^e le cinq mai ; c'est maint^nant
le dix juillet. II y a done soixant^-six jours que je n'ai
vu m«s parents! J'ai passd le temps dans solitude et
tristesse. Le bon pretre m'encourage, mais il est le seui
sur qui je puisse compter. Ah ! je deviendrai folk si
personne ne vient me secourir.

t i. :

1. VILLAIK EXTRAORDIKABT.

293

II semble que je sois pr^s d'un chemin de fer,
parce que j'entends quelquefois le hennissement du
cheval de fer. La prison dans laquelle je me trouve
couronne la cime d'une petite colline, aupr^s laquelle il
serpente un beau courant. Quant k la prison, elle est
fortifi^e en forteresse ; et le pretre et moi nous sommes
gardes comme des betes sauvages par les guichetiers
durs. Le voisinage est la solitude meme. Pour surcroit
de malheur, la place est I'abord de revenants ! J 'avals
coutume chez moi de rire de I'id^e de spectres, mais j'ai
vu dans cette prison une infinite d'afireuses apparitions,
de lutins ail4s.

Bdlitre Sc^l^rat nous traite passablement, c'est-^-dire,
il ne nous menace pas. II ne nous voit pas souvent,
comme il va partout le pays, pour conf ^rer avec ses agents,
ou bien il court la mer en forban. Ses ge61iers, pourtant,
out soin de nous, et ils nous gardent rigoureusement. Je
n'ai jamais 4t6 hors de Tenclos, et toutes les fois que j'y
vais pour aspirer de I'air frais les geoliers montent la
garde pour me surveiller. Belitre Sc^l^rat dit qu'il
m'affranchira aussit6t que mon papa lui paiera une
ran9on ^norme ; mais il ajoute qu'il compte me tenir
prisonni^re long-temps, pour que mon papa paie la ranqon
promptement.

J'ai ^crit cette lettre en secret, et j'ai dessein de la
mettre en surety dans une bouteille. Puis j'essaierai dela
Jeter dans le ruisseau, dans I'esp^rancc que quelqu'un la
trouvera. Lecteur, ayez piti6 de moi ! Venez a mes
secours, ou c'est fait de moi ! Je vis en espoir d'etre
sauv^e. Suivez le cours dans lequel vous trouvez cette
lettre, et vous arriverez a la maison qui est ma prison.
Si vous ne pourrez me d^livrer, envoyez ma lettre au Due
de la Chaloupe, et il viendra avec une<J arm^e pour me
sauver. H^las ! peut-etre mon illustre p^re est-il mort !

Si le lecteur est a raemc; de me sauver qu'il se d^peche
car Belitre Sc^ldrat ne sera pes a la maison cette
semaine, et les gardes sont plus poltrons 'rue braves.
Ainsi mon ^largissement se fera ais^ment ! Mon p^re
le due r^compensera qui que ce soit qui me sauve, j'en
suis sure. Peut-etre sa majesty I'empereur desire-t-il

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294

A BLUNDERING BOT.

encore un gdn^ral. Voulez-vous etre ce personage honord ?
Mon pfere le due est un de ses conseillers : — le sage
entend a demi-mot !

J'dcris mon placet en frangais, parce que je n'entends
bien aucun autre langage ; niais si le d^couvreur n 'est
pas en 6tat de le prouver, — c'est-a-dire, si je suis f;n
Am^rique, oil Ton ne parle point fran^ais, il ne faudra pas
qu'il la d^truise. 11 pourra trouver aux environs
quelqu'un qui sait le fran9ais, car ma langue incomparcble
est sue par toutes les parties de la terre.

J'attends ma liberty. Venez avec des hommes braves,
et les projets de mon persecuteur seront ren versus. Hatez
vous.

Sauterelle Hirondelle de la Chaloupe.

This is the letter as Henry wrote it. Lest the reader
should not be able to make out this " langue incompar-
able " as rendered by him, we give the translation which
he gave to his admiring fellow-plotters next morning.

*' Oh reader, I am a prisoner ! A wicked man has
captured me and taken me away from my country. I
am the daughter of one of the lords of France, the Duke
de la Chaloupe, in Poitou. An enemy of my father—
although he is the best man in the world he has his
enemies, nevertheless, but it is because he is a favorite of
our mighty emperor, >iapoleon the Third — I repeat, an
enemy of his, a pitiless scoundrel — a wretch — a demon,
cast about to hit upon some plot to ruin him.

Seeing that he had no other means of harming my
father, this monster resolved to rob him of his daughter.
He hatched his plot artfully, and conspired to lay an
ambush to entrap me. He bought a steam yacht, a fast
sailer, and manned and equipped it. Then he anchored
in a little cove, near my father's castle. Little dreaming
of danger, my tutor and I went to see this strange ship,
and while we were walking along the shore, the captain
invited us to go on board, to examine it. We did so ;
but we had scarcely got on the main deck when we were
seized and shut up in two little cabins ! treacherous

THE MONSTER SHRUGS HIS SHOULDERS

295

nage honor^ ?
jrs : — le sage

je n'entends
juvreur n'est
i je suis f;n
le faudra pas
lux environs
ineomparfble

names braves,
v^ers^s. Hatez

Chaloupe.

st the reader
je incompar-
jlation which
. morning.

ed man has
country. I
ice, the Duke
my father-
he has his
a favorite of
-I repeat, an

-a DEMON,

harming my
lis daughter,
d to lay an
yacht, a fast
he anchored
tie dreaming
strange ship,
, the captain
We did so;
len we were
treacherous

man ! how easily he got possession of his victim ! And I ?
Fr^m that time I have experienced many misfortunes.

His agile knaves sprang to their work ; the crew
weighed anchor immediately ; the engine-driver flew to
his engine ; the sailors unfurled the sails ; soon the
yacht was under way ; presently she sailed away under
full sail. The grated window of my cabin, or prison,
looked upon the home of my ancestors, and I saw our
retainers running to and fro, with shrill cries of grief and
horror. Too late ! The villain escapes with his captive !
Oh, my dear father and mother ! What has become of
you !

The yacht had sailed a few hours when a man entered
ray cabin, followed by my tutor, the good priest. I
recognized B^litre Sc^lerat, the enemy of my father ! It
was he who had captured me. " Compose yourself,"
said he, " I will do you no harm. I am the enemy of
your father, the duke, but I am not your enemy. I will
treat you well, so long as you do not attempt to escape.
The priest will be your tutor the same as before ; and
you may be as happy here as if you were with your
parents." I implored him to return me, but I implored
in vain. The priest, in his turn, reasoned with him, but
the monster shrugged his shoulders and was deaf to our
entreaties.

After a long voyage we landed in America — at least,
I believed it was that country. An accomplice of my
captor assisted him to convey the priest and me into the
heart of the country, where a prison had been prepared
for us. I was captured May fifth, and It is now July
tenth. Sixty-six days, therefore, have passed since I
saw my parents ! I have spent the time in solitude and
sadness. The good priest encourages me, but he is the
only one on whom I can rely. Ah ! I shall go mad if
no one- comes to help me.

It seems that I am near a railroad, because I often
hear the neigh of the iron horse. The prison in which I
find myself crowns the top of a low hillock, past which
winds a fine stream. As for the prison, it is fortified
equal to a fortress ; and the priest and I are guarded like

i ■ !

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296

A BLUNDEBINO EOT.

fi.

wild beasts by the remorseless turnkeys. The neighbor-
hood is solitude itself. For greater misfortune, the place
is the resort of ghosts ! At home I used to laugh at the
idea of ghosts, but I have seen a great number of hideous
apparitions, of winged hobgoblins, in this prison.

Bdlitre Scdldr^t treats us tolerably, that is to say, he
does not threaten us. We do not see him often, as he
goes all over the country, to confer with his agents, or
else he cruises as a pirate. His jailers, however, take care
of us, and they guard us rigorously. I have never gone
out of the enclosure, and whenever I go there to breathe
the fresh air, the jailers mount guard to watch. B41itre
Scdl^rslt says that he will set me free as soon as my papa
pays him an enormous ransom, but he adds that he intends
to keep me a prisoner a long time, so that my papa shall
pay the ransom promptly.

I have written this letter in secret, and I intend to
secure it in a bottle. Then I shall try to throw it into
the stream, in hopes that some one may find it. Reader,
have pity on me ! Come and help me, or it is all over
with xne ! I live in hope of being saved. Follow the
stream in which you find this letter, and you will arrive
at the house which is my prison. If you cannot release
me, send my letter to the Duke de la Chaloupe, and he
will come with an army to save me. Alas ! perhaps my
illustrious father is dead !

If the reader is in a position to save me, let him make
haste, for B^litre Scel^r&t will not be at home this week,
and the watchmen are more cowardly than brave. Thus
my release will come about easily ! My poor father will
reward whoever saves me, I am sure. Perhaps his majesty
the emperor might wish one more general. Should you
like to be that honored person ? My father, the duke, is
a counsellor of his : — a word to the wise is sufficient.

I write my petition in French, because I do not under-
stand any other language well ; but if the finder is not
able to make it out — that is to say, if I am in America,
where French is not spoken — he need not destroy it. He
will find some one in his neighborhood who knows it, for
my incomparable language is known throughout the
world.

A SUPEBIOB BEING.

297

I am waiting for my freedom. Come with brave men,
and the schemes of my persecutor will be overset !
Hasten !

Sauterelle Hibondelle de la Chaloupe.

If Henry had been an authorized translator, he would
have exerted himself and made the translation entirely
different from the original ; as he was only a school-boy,
he gave a close, but not excellent, rendering of it ; and by
employing the past tense instead of the present, all sub-
limity was lost. In fact, like everything else translated
into English, it did not equal the original.

In the whole of this letter not a single reference is
made to the beings of Mythology, to the state of affairs
in France, to the goblins of the Hartz Mountains, to
Macaulay's New Zealander, nor to our own Pilgrim
Fathers 1 This neglect is intolerable ; but remembering
that Henry was only a boy, we must judge him with
leniency, and give him credit for writing in a straight-
forward and business-like style.

The boys listened with rapt attention while Henry
read this letter. To them, it was grand, sublime, awful ;
and from that moment Henry was looked on as a superior
being, as far above ordinary' mortals as an average Ameri-
can citizen is above any ** crowned head " in Europe.

Their admiration was graciously acknowledged by
Henry. But he made several innovations, some of which
I took the embryo villains by surprise. In their wildest
dreams they had never soared so high as to think of
giving the imprisoned one a title — and Henry had made
her a duke's heiress ! Ah ! they were not so well
acquainted with the ways of the world and the laws of
I romance as Henry.

But perhaps what pleased the plotters more than any-
jthing was the liberal use made of notes of exclamation.
ICharles counted them carefully, and reported their number
Ito the gaping boys. The more the better, in this case, at
lall events, thought Steve. Poor innocent ! he did not
hnow that villainy and notes of exclamation go hand in

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298 A BLUNDERING BOY.

Chapter XXXIV.

HENRY TAKES HIS BEARINGS. — A STAMPEDR

" I MUST have a copy of that letter ; " Charles declared,
emphatically.

" Yes ; as a lesson in French, it's worth from twenty to
thirty of Mr. Meadows'," Stephen chimed in.

He, however, had no great desire to obtain a copy and
buzz over it. (Steve always buzzed when he " studied.")

"I don't doubt that Marmaduke will believe in it,"
Henry said, with pardonable conceit in his own produc-
tion ; " but the question is, will he act on it ? I know if
I should come upon such a petition, I should let somebody
else do the rescuing, and fly the other way as if I were
pursued by — "

" A demon ! " Steve interposed, grinning foolishly.

" No," continued Henry, " by worse than a demon — by
an algebra ! "

Stephen hated the study of algebra — hated it with
deadly hatred ; hence he smiled in sympathy.

" Yes," Charles commented, " most boys would be apt
to run away ; but Marmaduke isn't like most boys."

" Henry, there is one point I don't quite understand,'
George observed. " Why do you say in the letter, ' if |
you cannot rescue me, send this letter to my father ' ?
Suppose that Marmaduke should take it into his head to |
send it! Then— then— "

" Well, George, I put that in to make the letter seem I
less like a fable. Don't you know that a, person in trouble
would naturally say or write something to that effect;
and besides, right under that I wrote, ' perhaps my father
is dead.' Therefore, he will hardly send the appeal off to
France ; but if he speaks of it, use your wits and per-|
suade him to hurry to the rescue."

The plotters held their breath for admiration, and their]
honor for Henry increased. To them he was a wiser ai
greater being than any of the grave heroes who figuredl
in their dog's-eared, mutilated histories — wiser than thel
great Solon — deeper than the emissaries of MephistophelesI

GEORGE PLAYS THE CRITIC.

299

—more learned than — than — ^but here their well of
eloquence ran dry, and they could not express themselves
further.

Will was quite happy now ; his cousin had come ; the
plot was well under way ; the genius who was to direct
it was admired, honored, reverenced. It was glory
enough for him to have such a phenomenon for a near
relative.

But George was bold enough to point out another
irregularity. Said he : "Look here, Henry, we didn't give
any account of the journey fn)m the coast to the prison !
Marmaduke is very particular to have little things
explained ; and that is passed by."

" George, don't be foolish ; " Will returned angrily.
"Henry couldn't explain everything; and the letter is
long enough as it is."

" Of course ; no one can improve on it ; " Charles
declared.

" Leave that to Marmaduke," said Steve. " His imag-
ination will soon find the ways and means."

" Yes," chimed in Charles, " his imagination will supply
all defects — but there are none. The letter is perfect
perfection."

" That about * the general ' is a happy thought," Stephen
remarked. "Marmaduke will snatch at that like a hungry
hawk."

" Yes, I changed your draft a good deal, and added new
points," Henry observed. " But it is greatly improved by
them, I think," he added complacently.

Alas ! Henry was beginning to have a very good
opinion of hituself. Two days before he was not aware
that he was so clever.

But the Sage, actuated by — what ? seemed determined

i to criticize the letter still further. " Henry," said he,

poring over the letter with knitted brows, " Henry, near

the end you have written, ' if the reader is not able to

I make this out,* and so on. Henry," smiling pleasantly,

"I didn't know you were an Irishman before, but that

1 sounds like it!"

Henry was about to reply, but Charles took up the de-

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300

A BLUNDERING BOT.

'.J

fence, saying: "George, give me that letter; you do
nothing but find fault with it. Don't you see that
Marmaduke will take that passage as a piece of refined
French na — nave — knavery! Botheration! You know
the word I mean, Henry."

" Naivete ? " Henry suggested.

" Yes, that's it. Marmaduke will take it for na-a-a-a-— .
Yes; for that;" he concluded, gulping down a sob, and
becoming somewhat flushed and perturbed.

"Charley, listen to a little sound advice," Henry said,
with the air of a great philosopher. "In the first place,
that isn't the right word in the right place. Second place,
never speak in a foreign language, nor whisper even
a syllable of it, till you know it, and not then, unless
you are learning it, or unless it is necessary. Some people
who can write their address in French strike out in
print in the village 'Weekly' with half-a-dozen mean-
ingless words, that they themselves don't understand.
But the printer who knows even less, and cares for no
one's feelings, always makes an interesting muddle of it
all. So, Charley, take warning and steer clear of such
nonsense. English is the best, as long as you are where
it is spoken."

All looked admiringly at the oracle, Charley by no
means angry at being thus reproved.

"How did you manage to get the pretty French
names?" Jim asked, innocently enough.

Will scowled at the boy, but Henry answered readily:
"They are not real nameSy Jim ; only common nouns. I
relied on Marmaduke's ignorance of French to bring in
some rather uncommon words instead of names. Besides,
I didn't know of any names long enough, and grand
enough, and sonorous enough, to suit the occasion; but
still, some of these words may be family names for all I
know or care. First name, Sauterelle, a grasshopper;
second name, Hirondelle, a swallow; Patronymic, de k
Chalov/pe, of the longboat. Now BUitre Scelerat really
means Atrocious Scoundrel ; but Scheming Scoundrel
sounds better in English — it has a true poetic ring. Of
course, boys, when he finds the letter and you help him

THE KNIOHT-ERBANT'S SUN-BONNET.

801

to make it out, you will read the words as they are in
the letter, not as I have explained them."

The plotters' admiration knew no bounds. The substi-
tution of Tiouna for Tiarnea was, in their eyes, the very
acme of wit ; and Henry was no longer an ordinary hero,
but a veritable demi-god.

How learned this boy must be, and how ignorant they
must seem to him ! In fact, this so worked on the feelings
of one boy (it is immaterial which one, gentle reader, —
no, we defy you to guess which boy it was) that, in order
to demonstrate he, at least, knew the difference between
nouns and names, he laughed so hard, so monotonously,
and so patiently, that long-headed Henry perceived the
cause, and w<as, very rightly, disgusted.

" Well, boys," said Henry, " I haven't seen the prison-
house yet, and if you will bundle me up in your disguises,
we'll set out for it, 'The Wigwam of the Seven Sleepers,*
as George says Stephen calls it, and arrange everything
as it should be and is to be."

At this time they were in Mr. Lawrence's garden.
Will ran to the house and soon came back with a head-
gear which Charles compared to a Russian Jew's turban,
but Henry said it looked like a knight-errant's sun-bonnet.
Then Steve, not wishing to be outdone, said it was one of
Father Time's cast-off nightcaps. Then, having fitted it,
whatever it may have been, to Henry's head, and pinned
it fast to his coat collar, — he had first changed coats with
George, and turned his neck-tie wrong side out, — the
plotters declared that he was admirably disguised, and they
set forward in high spirits. However well Henry r;iight
plot, they were not adepts in the art of disguising ; and
this strange garb, far from concealing Henry's features,
served only to attract the attention of passers-by.

But they had not gone far when Henry pulled his
Scotch cap out of his pocket and put it forcibly on his
head. Then Charles mildly suggested that if a hand-
kerchief were tied so as to pass over one eye, Henry might
stroll through the streets of his native city without
clanger of being reco^ized.

" Well," Henry Sfti4? reluctantly," if you can tie it to

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302

A BLUNDERING BOY.

give me the appearance of a wounded soldier, go ahead ;
but if it makes me look like an old woman sick with the
neuralgia, I'll — I'll — no, you mus'n't."

A handkerchief had no sooner been tied over Henry's
eye so as to suit all concerned, than it occurred to Stephen
that one amendment more was needful to make the dis-
guise complete.

" Your ears are peculiar, Henry," he said, " and very
pretty. Now, Marmaduke always notices people's ears, —
at least, I guess he does, — so let me pull the flaps of the
sun-bonnet clear over them."

But good-natured Henry was only human, — or perhaps
if his ears were so pretty, and somebody else had said
they were, he did not wish to hide them, — and now Ite
turned his one blazing eye full upon the boy, and said,
almost fiercely: "Stephen, let me alone! I can barely
manage to work my way along the road, as it is ! Don't
you know. Steve," he added mildly, " that it is hard
enough for a fellow to get along in this world with all his
five senses in full play ? "

" It is too bad for Henry to go all the way there and
back twice in one day," Charles kindly observed.
"Couldn't we manage it for him to go only once, say in
the afternoon, and then wait till Marmaduke and the rest
come on ? "

"No; I want to go now, with you all;' Henry .'^lid,
firmly. " Suppose that I should take a pailful of supper
with me, and not go till the afternoon — what if Marma-
duke shouldn't come, after all! Somethinnr nii'dit
happen, you know, that he could not or would not come;
and then," putting on a comical smile, " I should have to
stay in that dreadful haunted house for who knows how
long ? "

" Yes, it is better for Henry to get familiar with the
old ruin while we are with him — I mean, it is better for
us to go with him," Will said. " Then to-night, about
half an hour before Marmaduke and the rest of us start,
he and Stephen will leave in advance of us, with a bundle
of disguises and lanterns ; so that when we, the rescuers,
arrive, the place will be lighted and the captive clothed
properly."

HENRY ARRIVES AT THE PRISON.

303

" And the priest shaved," Steve chimed in.

" Exactly," Henry commented. " And, Steve, I can
meanwhile drill you to act the part of a priest, shaved or
not shaved. Don't fret about the extra travelling, boys,"
he added ; " for if my boots dilapidate while I'm here, I'll
add them to the pile of rubbish in * Nobody's House,' and
patronize one of your shoemakers."

In due time the plotters arrived before ii.e house. It
was no longer the grim wreck described to che reader at
the time the boys first visited it. No ; thanks to their
industry and ingenuity it was in much better repair;
and, yes, it looked very much like — like a prison ? — no !
very much like a gigantic hen-coup.

" Why," Henry cried in pleased surprise, " I wasn't so
far out of the way after all when I ventured to write
about its being fortified equal to a fortress ! But say,.
boys, where did you get the iron bars for the windows ? "

" Irons ! " Charles echoed, in ecstasy. " If you take
'em for iron bars, Marmaduke certainly will ! No, Henry ;
no iron there ; nothing but painted laths nailed on. We
had two good reasons for putting on those laths ; first,
because in nailing up a crack every pane of glass left
shivered itself all to flinders, and therefore the empty
window-frames had to be hidden ; and next, we put them
there to make the place look like a grated prison."

" And they do ; " declared Henry, stripping ofi'his " dis-
guise " and heaving a sigh of relief.

" Yes, and they made me nail on all their laths," said
Stephen, " because I was foolish enough to say I could
straddle a window-sill and whittle out a steamboat, or do
anything else. You see that top window to the right ? —
Well, I was sitting there, struggling to drive an obstinate
nail, when suddenly I pitched head over heels down to the
ground ! "

" Hurt yourself ? " Henry inquired.

" No-o-o ; but their hammer disappeared and lost itself
ever since ! " Steve chuckled.

" Stephen wouldn't consider that he was in a post of
honor," Charles observed, " and when the hammer could
not be found, he said, ' serves you right.' "

■ ff

304

▲ BLUNDEBINO BOT.

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" I ffuess 2/ou would have said it, too, if you had had
your best coat-pocket and flap torn otf on a nail that TOU
pretended to drive ! " Stephen wrathfully retorted.

" What ? Did you have an encounter with a nail in
your way down ? " Henry inquired.

" I did."

" Steve didn't tell us about all those losses," Charles
commented ; " but he said he was going home, and he
went."

" It's the first I've heard about the coat-pocket," the
Sage observed.

•' Hurrah ! where did you make the acquaintance of
this awful door !/' Henry exclaimed. " It — it looks like
the door of a castle in the air."

" No, Henry, it's too strong for that," Will cor-
rected. " That door used to be our raft ; but we had to
make a door, and there was nothing else to make it of ;
so we hauled it up stream, pounced on it, and tore it all
to pieces."

This was too true. The gallant old raft, which had
served so useful a purpose as a source of amusement,
had been sacrificed by the remorseless plotters to fill up
the gap in the front doorway. But they, in their eager-
ness to further their darling scheme, would not have he-
sitated to destroy anything to which they could lay claim.

" It was too bad to waste a good raft on this old hen-
house," Henry observed.

" Oh, a prison without a door would be rather too much
for even Marmaduke ; " Will replied. " And the timbers
of the raft are here yet, and we can build it over again
next week."

" Henry," said Stephen, who had quite recovered his
equilibrium, " it is in front of this door that the sentries

do the patrolling, and ground their muskets, and and

what else do sentries do, George ? "

" Will," said Henry, grimly, as his eyes roved over the
yard, or orchard, " I guess it would need several pretty
smart and nimble sentries to prevent any one from escap-
ing from this ' inclosure.*"

Then they opened the door and passed in. By the

^i;i^

TrnjTT

ATROCIOUS SCOUNDREL.

305

way, there was somothinjy very remarkable about that
door — so remarkable, in fact, that the writer, who has had
groat experience in the building of playhouses (don't
l()(jk for this word in a dictionary, O foreigner, but ask
any little boy to interpret it for you,) here pauses to note
it. Though made by boys, it not only played smoothly
on its hinges, but even entered the door-case, and ad-
mitted of being fastened !

" It must have cost you fellows a pfood deal to fit up
this old hulk," Henry remarked, as the boys showed him
proudly through the house.

" Cost ! " Stephen ex"^ '>d warmly. " I should think
it did cost ! Besides ti- amer that I lost, an old worn-

out axe perished somew x*e around here, after Will had
hewed a pair of new boots all to pieces while dressing
the new door. Among the five of us, we've worn out
two suits of clothes, and made three hats ashamed of
themselves, just since we started to tinker up this prison
house. I've used all the salve and plaster in our house,
and the day before you came I got another cut. That
reminds me, Henry, when Will hewed his new boots he
cut his big toe nearly clean off — come here, and 1*11 show
you the bloody mark."

" Never mind," said Henry. " I've just noticed, Steve,
that the doors and walls and windows are thick with
bloody gore."

" Well, it's all ours, " Stephen declared. " We've
broken a band-box full of old tools and things, and des-
troyed all our jack-knives. We have used heaps of
nails, and — and — all sorts of things. Henry, we have
suffered!"

Really, in heroism and fortitude these boys equalled
the ancient Spartans ; for they would have encountered
any danger, undergone any hardship, to secure the success
of thej^ plot. Yes, they toiled as if they had a better
cause in view.

The "Imposter" was next unearthed, It excited
Henry's liveliest admiration ; and Steve said, as they de-
posited it in its hiding-place, '* we'll make it hot for you
to-night, you old Atrocious Scoundrel, you ! "
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A BLUNDERING BOY.

" Why, this is Mr. Atrocious Scoundrel, isn't he, boys ?"
Henry said, beaming with delight.

" Of course he is, the rest answered promptly.

But hold ! Did not the letter state that this personage
was away from home, that is from the prison ? Surely,
here was an oversight ! Here was a quicksand ! In good
truth, the plot was too much for those boys to manage,
and it had turned their brain.

It had turned their brain. Mark that, gentle reader,
for it may help you to understand what is to tollowshoi tly.

A guilty look was on Jim's face whilst the boys spoke
thus, but it escaped their notice. No, they did not sus-
pect that there was treachery in the camp — least of all,
that Jim was the traitor.

Then Henry donned his various " disguises," and the
little band of little plotters set out for the village. But
Henry had not taken fifteen steps when he stumbled lieaJ-
long over a submerged wheel-barrow (submrrged in dense
grass and rank weeds, gentle readei ) and fell heavily.

•'What the mischief!" he ejaculated. "Is this a de-
moralized sentinel, i-r a trap set bv the liobgohlins ?"

" It's a wheel-ban ow, Henry," Will cxp allied, " that be-
longs to this place."

" Oh it belonjs here, does it ?" IIen»y asked, struggling
to rise.

*' Yes, it's a fixture, Henry, fi fixture ; " piped up Steve,
who had stumb'ed upon this word in a tiu.e-woru docu-
intent a few days before

Then Henr\' essayed to trundle H out of the way : but
its wheel howied sopiteously for grease that he desisted,
saying in disgust, " V\ hy this is as rusty and as worthless
as an heir-loom. '

"Oh, we mostly turn it upside down and straighten
nails on it," Steve said, deprecatingly.

" Now," said Henry, as they strode on, " when^^-ou res-
cuers come, I shall be just behind the front door, and
Stephen will be in another room or up-stairs."

" All right," replied one of them. '

f^'

DEMORALIZED PLOTTERS.

007

though they had prepared for such a contingency they
did not expect it. Did they put faith in cheir " dii^ise,"
and advance cahnly to meet him ? Not for one moment !
Instantly the g,reatest consternation prevailed, and they
stopped and stared at each other in blank hopelessness.

" Oh, this is awful 1 " groaned Charles. " Our — plot —

" Is ruined ! " Steve gasped.

" dear ! " sighed Will. " Henry, do — do you sup-
pose — "

Mannaduke continued to advance, and presently he
hailed them.

Then Will lost all control of himself, and cried wildly :
" Oh, Henry, we must run for it ! "

" Yos, Henry ; unblind 3'^our eye, and run ! " Steve
counselled.

The Sage, who had just hit upon a stratagem to get out
of the difficulty, endeavored to restore order. But he was
too late, as usual ; and so, seeing that the boys were bent
OR flight, he hpd sufficient presence of mind to shout:
" Split, boys, split ; so that when Marma— "

But Henry had already torn off the handkerchief, and
he and the other demoralized plotters were flying as
though pursued by a regiment of light — armed B^litre
Sceldrats.

When Will and his relative gained the security of their
own chamber, the latter said frankly : " Well, there is a
lot of nice fellows here, and I like them well." »

" Yes," said Will, " but you haven't seen Marmaduke
yet ! " ^

" Will, I never ran away from anybody before — and
this fellow is only a harmless and innocent schoolboy I "

^, I!

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Chapter XXXV.

Marmaduke Grasps the Situation,

Early in the afternoon, according to a^eement, the
boys betook themselves to the banks of the stream.
Here Marmaduke was to be entrapped. Henry, with his

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A BLUNDERING BOY.

peculiar " disguises " still about him was securely hidden
in a tree, from which he would be able to see and hear the
whole performance.

Charles had spent the noon in making himself tolerably
familiar with the letter, which he now had in a bottle in
his pocket. The others were gathered round the tree
which was Henry's hiding-place. Stephen was not with
them, he having gone to look for the victim and induce
him to come to the river.

Just as the plotters were beginning to fear that Mar-
maduke would not come, after all, he and Stephen ap-
peared, striding along towards them. They were then ail
excitement, knowing that if their plot succeeded it would
be now or never. Charles quietly moved a few rod 3
farther up the river, and concealed himself behind a con-
venient bush.

At this the enraptured reader is heard to mutter vhat
along that extraordinary river all the bushes seem to
grow just where they will be most convenient.

" Hello, Marmaduke ! how are you ? " Will asked, in
friendly tones.

" Hello, then ! Boys, I'm vexed ; how is it that you
shun me, and run away like shooting stars whenever you
see me ? "

"Well, old fellow, let us make up friends, and have no
more hard feelings," Stephen said cheerfully.

Marmaduke did not know why there should ever have
been any " hard feelings ; " but, not wishing to press the
matter, he heaved a sigh of relief, heartily said " all
right," and sat down among them.

Then they were at a loss to know what to talk about.
But finally Will hit upon the topic of mowing-machines,
and then each one was called upon to give his views.
Then the conversation flagged, and for full five minutes
there was silence, during which Marmaduke tranquilly
pared his nails, while the plotters looked at each other in
growing uneasiness. Where could Charley be ? Why
didn't he fling the bottled letter into the river ?

" Boyst what are your plans for the holidays ? " Mar-
maduke suddenly inquired.

nd have no

CRAFTY STEPHEN

8d9

At that instant a faint splash, the bottle striking the
water, was heard by Jim.

" There it is ! " he blurted out.

The plotters knew what he meant, though the dupe
certainly did not. Nevertheless, it seemed to them that
such blunders must be put down ; and accordingly they
bent their brows, and cast such annihilating glances at
the offender that he quailed, and felt decidedly " chilly."

Will arose and said, " Let us stroll up a little way."

All cheerfully agreed to this proposal, though Marma-
duke probably thought that by " stroll " Will meant a
tramp of perhaps three or four miles. They had taken
only a few steps when all except Marmaduke saw the
bottle floating lazily along. The question was, how
should they draw his attention to it without arousing
suspicion ?

Sttphen was equal to the emergency. Stooping, he
picked up a smooth stone, gave it a legerdemain fling, and
it shot forward, performing all sorts of whimsical gyra-
tions. As Stephen had foreseen, all the boys, Marmaduke
included, obseived every movement of the stone from the
instant it left his hand. Then he repeated his trick with
a second stone, and lo ! the second stone fetched up very
'lose to the bottle ! In order to keep up appearances and
carry out the deceit, he was about to cut a geometrical
curve with still another stone, when Marmaduke ex-
claimed, " Boys, what is that floating down stream ! It
looks like a bottle."

Crafty Stephen ! His ruse was entirely successful.

" It is a bottle ! " Jim cried, in intense excitement.
" A bottle ! A floating bottle ! Isn't that very strange,
boys ? "

" Yen, it's rather curious, but it isn't a natural pheno-
menon, so don't make so much stir about it," Will said,
fearing that Jim might overdo the matter. " I'll strip off
my clothes and swim after it, boys, unless some of you
would like to take a plunge into the water."

*' Let us go out on our raft ; that would be the proper
way to get it ! " declared ceremonious Marmaduke, not
knowing that the raft had been turned to better account

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A BLUKl>£&lKO BOY.

"Come ; the raft isn't much farther up ; let us get it out,
and we can soon overtake the bottle."

Ah, plotters! your troubles were beginning already!

" Pshaw ! " cried Stephen, in seeming disgust. " It
would be a loss of time to go up stream to sail after a
wayfaring bottle like that. But we must get it, of course.

Now, hello, who is this fellow whistling and paddling

on a home-made punt across over from the other shore
down towards us ? Ton my word, it's Charley, without
his clothes on ! No ; they're strapped over his shoulders.
Well, this is funnier than Jim's wonderful bottle ! "

Stephen's astonishment was not feigned, for the boys
had not planned how Charles was to rejoin them after
setting the bottle afloat, and his sudden appearance in
this guise was a great surprise to th^m all.

On Marmaduke's arrival, Charles had paddled across
the river on a stout plank, launching the bottled letter on
his way, and drifted down by the opposite bank till
abreast of the boys. Then, having turned his rude canoo,
he struck out for them boldly ; and the inference was
that the boy, being on the right bank of the river and
seeing his comrades on the left bank, had hit upon this
semi-savage means to join them. Thus Marmaduke never
suspected that there was any connection between Charley
and the floating bottle.

But Jim felt insulted at Stephen's last words, and he
muttered sullenly : " 'Taint my bottle ! / never put it
there ! "

" You look like an alligator, Charley ; " Marmaduke
hallooed. " Where do you come from ? "

"Oh, I've been prowling around,'* Charles shouted
back.

" There's an old bottle about opposite us," Stephen
yelled ; " heave ahead and bring it here ; we want to see
what it means."

" The raft would be the best to get it," Marmaduke
murmured.

Ah ! if he could have known that the plank bestridden
by Charley was the foundation timber of their late raft 1

" You see that our plot is working ! " Stephen mumbled
iin the Seine's ear. " He will believe it all 1 '

*"«i1

MARMADtrttE IS BOtfiEltED.

Sll

Charles directed his barge to the mysterious Bdttle,
seized it, and then worked his way to his companions on
the bank. While he unstrapped and huddled on his
clothes the bottle was passed from one to another.

Marmaduke, who had hitherto taken only a languid
interest in the matter, exclaimed feverishly, on seeing that
the bottle held a paper, " Give it to me ! It's mine, because
I saw it first ! "

In a trice he had the paper out, and was endeavoring
to make out its contents. As these have already been
given, it would be only a wanton waste of time and fools-
cap for the reader to reperuse them with Marmaduke.
It might afford a hard-hearted reader considerable amuse-
ment to hear his absurd interpretations, but it it is both
unwise and immoral to laugh at the mistakes and the
ignorance of others. It is sufficient, therefore, to say that
the great ditference between Henry's style and the style
of teacher Meadows' Method bewildered the young
student.

Charles waited impatiently to read for him, while the
rest moved down the river and took up their stand under
the old tree in which Henry was ensconced.

Marmaduke and Charles soon followed, and presently
the latter ventured to say, " Perhaps I could help you^
Marmaduke." '"

" No you couldn't ; it's French, and I understand French
just as well as you do," was the ungracious answer.

" Oh, is it ? Well, perhaps if we should put our heads
together we might be able to decipher it ; for," he added,
truthfully enough, " I've taken a great interest in French
lately, and studied it tremendously. But, say, how did
French get into that bottle ? "

" Let me alone ; I understand French ; " Marmaduke
growled, becoming more and more bewildered. But at
last, after ten minutes' unceasing study of the letter, he
turned so dizzy that he was fain to give it up in
despair. " Here, read it, if you can," he said, handing it
to Charles. " All I can make out is that it speaks of
nobles, and steamboats, and castles, and anchors, and
priests, and sailors, and an English king's yacht, and

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312

A BLITNDERING BOY.

America, and pumpers, and — and — castles, and — and
General Somebody — ."

Charles had made himself tolerably familiar with the
letter, but he could not yet read it very readily. How-
ever, his memory served him well, and he managed to get
the main points. But after all the time and learning
Henry had squandered on the letter, it was too
bad that it should be "murdered" thus. Marmaduke
listened eagerly, too much absorbed to wonder how it was
that Charles could read so much better than he. As for
the other auditors, to all appearance they were at first
more startled than even Marmaduke.

" Well, boys," said he, as Charles folded the letter, and
wriggled uneasily in his damp clothes, " well, boys, you
jeered at me about the bones, but at last we have
stumbled upon romance ! Here is something mysterious !

" Boys, let us solve the mystery ! If we were only
gallant knights of old, what glorious deeds we should
perform ! "

The speaker strutted up and down as pompously as a
schoolboy can, while the plotters exchanged villainous
winks, and glanced eloquently at the boy in the tree.

** Read that again ! " was the command, and Charles
dutifully obeyed, the dupe listening as eagerly as at first.
The others made no remarks, but endeavoured to look
grave and horror-stricken, while the master-plotter over-
head was highly entertained.

" Oh, the monstrous villain ! How durst he steal away
a French noble's daughter ? " Marmaduke exclaimed
vehemently. " And she, the heroine, how bravely she
endures her lot ! What a heroine ! "

"Well, what shall we do about it?" Will asked,
anions that Marmaduke himself should propose going to
i' " -escue. Foolish plotters ! they supposed he would
.; , , ' la with their views without any demur !

'*^ X iiy, we must send it to our Government ; it is a fit
*i ;» ' for our new President to deal with. There will
bb u^ ' jiiiations about it between France and America ; we
shUl become known all over the world as the finders of
the letter; and finally the illustrious prisoner will be

od — and

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TOO tlOMANTlO.

delivered with great pomp. Yes, hoys, we must write to
Washington immediately."

The plotters were appalled. Marmaduke was rather
too romantic. He viewed the matter too solemnly.

There was silence for a few moments, and then Charles
said quietly, as though it made little difference to him
what steps Marmaduke might take, *' I hardly think that
would be the best way, Marmaduke, because, as you say,
there would be negotiations between the two countries,
and the imprisoned, lady might remain a hopeless captive
a long time before the business could be settled and her-'
self set free. We are too chivalrous to let her pine away
in 'Solitude; and besides, by rescuing her ourselves our
renown would be increased millions ! "

These words, (especially the last dozen of them), so
sonorous, so eloquent, so logical, had a telling effect on
Marmaduke.

" You are right ! " he exclaimed. " Yes, my brave com-
panions, we will to the rescue ! We may revive the days
of chivalry ! Now, who will dare to go with me ? "

Then those wicked plotters laboured to suppress a burst
of laughter, and declared that they would all " dare " to
accompany him on his hazardous expedition.

Henry in the tree looked on in wonder. " What sort of
of a boy was this! He talks like a sixty-year-older!"
he muttered ; " well, I didn't expect him to bring on the
heroics till he met me as ' Sauterelle,' O dear ! this limb
isn't so comfortable as it used to be."

" Oh, what a glorious day this will be for us ! " the
enraptured one continued.- " The emperor will dub us all
knights I I must have that letter, Charley ; but read it
agam first."

Charley did so, but the letter was growing decidedly
monotomous to him.

" Boys," said Marmaduke musingly, " it seems to me
that there are hardly interjections enough in it — no ex-
pressive ones at all, and, you know, a good Frenchman
never says anything without several strong interjections
and expletives."

" If she was a French soldier, that would be quite right/'

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ai4

A BLUNDEBINO BOY.

Chajrles admitted carefully. " But, she is the daughter
of a noble duke.'/

" If she were," Marmaduke corrected, triumphing
even in defeat. But he was open to reason, and said no
more about interjections.

From time to time every boy except Marmaduke was
irresistibly tempted to shoot a cheering glance toward
Henry ; but whenever this worthy could catch an
offender's eye through the feafy branches, he scowled so
horribly that the offender instantly beheld something
very attractive down the river.

"Now then, let us draw our conclusions," said Marma-
duke ; " first, where can this prison be ? "

" The letter says up this stream," the Sage returned.
" I — I guess perhaps it must be ' Nobody's House.' "

" That place ! George, you are getting very crazy to
say that ! Well, we shall see as we go up the river ; for,
of course, as soon as we see the prison we shall know it's
the prison. Now, boys, see what an interesting fact is
given us. The letter is dated July 10th, yesterday ; there-
fore it has been floating only one day ! How fast the
current has swept it along ! "

The boys had paid no attention to the date that Henry
affixed to the letter, but they did not think the velocity
very great.

" But, biys, there are some things strange in this ; "
Marmaduke observed. " In fact, there is one thing very
strange — ^yes, very strange."

The plotters, Henry included, qaaked with fear. Was
their ingenious scheme, the much-loved plot, which had
cost so much " blood and treasure," to come to nought ?
Had Marmaduke detected some flaw in the letter which
had escaped their notice ? Were they about to be un-
masked in all their wickedness ?

plotters, your scheme, which was based and reared
on fraud, was to proceed successful to the end.

" Wh-what is wrong ? " Charley asked, with a quaver-
ing voice, his lips of that " ashy hue " which good ro-
mancers delight in introducing,
„^WJbi7,'*.^£rraaduke began, " don't you observe, some-

I !

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A SmtlOnS OBJECTtOK.

sis

times the writer addresses the finder distantly in the
third person, and then again familiarly and imploringly
in the second person ! Now, that is ridiculous. Grammar
says not to mix the second and third persons together in
writing ; use either the one or the other."

At this, Henry crammed the strings of his headgear,
together with his fingers, far into his capacious mouth,
and forgot that the limb on which he roosted was no
longer comfortable ; whilst the others heaved an audible
sigh of relief, perceiving that Marmaduke, instead of wish-
ing to find fault with the letter, wished only to display
his great knowledge of things and people in general,
grammar in particular.

But the plotters, one and all, had been in ignorance of
this gross insult to grammar. Whether Henry had not
been aware of the rule as quoted by Marmaduke, or
whether he had been too sleepy to observe it, is an open
question. It is stated (he stated it himself, of course, for
no one heard him), however, that he muttered in his
throat : " Certainly, this Marmaduke is no boy at all !
His language is too far-fetched for a Yankee boy. Yes ;
he is some stunted old crack-brained dwarf of sixty ! "

As soon as Charley could collect himself sufliciently he
replied in these words : " I presume that the captive was
in too disturbed a state of mind to pay particular atten-
tion to such minor matters as grammar. And besides,
her grammars were probably at home in France, for
likely she didn't go aboard with a satchel of school-books
in her hand. Now, the person considered most was evi-
dently the person who should fly to the rescue.'*

"Don't treat her woes so lightly," Marmaduke said
angrily, beginning to suspect that the boys were making
fun of him.

" That ghost story is queer ; what do you think of it ?"
asked Will, anxious to have the grammarian's opinion of
that.

" Well, you know the French are a more excitable and
romantic race than we are," was the answer. " In her
solitude and misery perhaps she fancies that ghosts are
hovering near, for all French people have a powerful
imagination,"

* I .

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m t

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316

A BLUNDERINO BOT

Ah f the boy overhead was gifted with a more power-
ful imagination than any one believed.

" Or," continued Marmaduke, recollecting what he had
read in a book at home, " or, who knows but that it is
some trick of Scdl^rat's to terrify her ? Perhaps the
monster thinks to drive her distracted ! "

" Perhaps he does," sighed Steve.

"Marmaduke, how do you suppose Bdlitre Sc^l^rat
managed to transport the prisoners from his yacht to this
prison ? " George had the curiosity to ask.

The deceived one ruminated a moment and then said
sagely : " Well, as modern Frenchmen are so perfectly at
home in balloons, for all we know they came that way.
It would not take long, and the authorities could not
overhaul them."

"The very thing!" cried delighted Stephen. "And
when we go to the rescue we can capture the balloon, if it
is still there ! Yes, I've heard before that Frenchmen love
balloons."

" Stephen," shouted Marmaduke, " you have no finer
feelings."

" Well, let us hurry to the rescue ! " Charles said im-
patiently. " Come, when shall we go ? "

" I am to be your leader in this, because I take more
real interest in the prisoner than any of you," Marma-
duk.e returned. "Yes, / must be the favored one to
restore her to freedom. As to when the rescue can be
made, I can't possibly complete my arrangements till next
week."

The boys stared blankly, knowing that it would never
do to defer the " rescue "till the next week. Marmaduke
would certainly detect the imposture before that time.

Charles, however, soon recovered his equanimity, and
said calmly : " That would be very wrong, for don't you
know the writer says she shall go mad if not rescued im-
mediately ? And she urges the tinders to come this week,
as B^iitre Scel^rat will be away. We are only boys, of
course ; but we are pretty lively boys, and more than a
match for all his jailers."

"Yes J but I want to meet this very man, this
Sc616rftt."

.ti

pooE will!

" O dear ! " groaned Will, " if he is so anxious to meet
the Atrocious, I'm afraid he'll pounce on the * impostor '
as we go to hancf it ! "

Poor Will ! Tiie plot had quite turned his brain !

" Try chivalry again," Stephen whispered to Charles.

" Well, we are too chivalrous to put ott" the rescue, only
because one of us wishes to encounter this B litre
Sc61drat," cunning Charley observed. " At least," he
added, " I hope we are too chivalrous — in France they
would be."

In his hands cl iralry was a mighty lever, one by
which foolish Mar.naduke could be turned, and made to
act as they saw fit.

" Well, then, let us go this evening,"^Marmaduke an-
swered.

The plotters were delighted. By skilful management
their would-be leader j^ioved very tractable.

Will, who had hitherto held his peace, now exclaimed
with unfeigned enthusiasm, " How eagerly Sautereile
will welcome us ! "

A grievous frown darkened the champion's brow.
Confronting Will, he thundered : " How dare you boys
speak of her in that way ? — her, the daughter of one of
France's proudest nobles ! When it is necessary to men-
tion her name, speak of her as the Lady de la Chaloupe."

Henry did not know whether to feel complimented or
not. He was slowly forming a very unfavorable opinion
of Marmaduke, not knowing that the boy was now in his
element, and hardiy responsible for his actions. When
nothing mysterious occurred to arouse him, Marmaduke
was very much like any other boy ; but let him stumble
upon a mystery, and he was entirely changed.

But Stephen, fearing that Marmaduke did not yet
sufficiently realize the magnificence of the duke's gene-
alogy and title, said excitedly, " That Duke Chalopsky is
the descendant of a whole gang of peers, and lords, and
such people, just like any other duke ; isn't he Marma-
duke?"

Will trembled and whispered, " Hush I "

The deceived-knight errant felt insulted, and asked,

. - Vt.' » W Jk ^ ^ K^'

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318

A BLUNDERING BOT.

haughtily, " What do you know about it, Stephen Good-
fellow ? '^

Stephen quaked, but finally answered meekly, very
meekly, " Oh, I've studied about dukes that ran back to
the Conquest of sometliing or other, and so I thought
likely he did."

The Conquest ! Marmaduke's face brightened ; he
smiled ; he spoke. " 0-o-h, Stephen ! " he said, " your
notions of history are as much a muddle as all your other
notions ! But I haven't time to enlighten you now. Now,
boys," he continued, affably, " let us take a lesson from
Will and his cousin when they set out to hunt the demon.
We must not carry firearms, but we must go armed with
pikes and sabres."

" Where shall we procure * pikes and sabres ?' " Steve,
no longer confused, but smarting and angry, sarcastically
asked. "I can't imagine, unless we airve 'em out of
broomsticks and staves, and such * pikes and sabres' don't
amount to much. So, let us go to the rescue armed like
the dusty warriors of the forest — with hatchets, and
bows, and George's grandfather's great knife, and slings,
and levers, and catapults, and arrows."

Steve probably meant dusky warriors. However,
either expression is correct.

Marmaduke very properly paid no attention to Steve's
insulting suggestions, but condescended to ask, " How
many jailers do you suppose there will be ? "

" There were to be three, weren't there, boys V* Will
blunderingly replied to him, and asked oi the others.

" Why, how do you know ? " Mjirmad ake asked in
surprise. " The letter says nothing aboirt, the number of
jailers ; so, how can you tell ? What do you mean, any-
way. Will ?"

Will looked so disconcerted that Marmaduke, although
his faith in Sauterelle was still unshaken, began to
suspect that the boys were trying to impose on him in
some way.

At this crisis the traitor Jim grinned, and said, " Well,
you fellows needn't make faces at me after this ! Will has
said worse than I did"

THE PLOT SAVED.

()

Let it not be supposed that Jim's treachery lay in
seeking to overthrow the plot. By no means ; he rejoiced
in it, and spoke as be did only to revenge himself on the
others for scowling at him so wickedly, as related in the
beginning of this chapter. Such was Jim, who could
bear malice for a long time ; while the others, although
they might be very angry for u few minutes, soon SUD-
dued their passions, and never " nursed their wrath."

And yet these unguarded words nearly made an end
of the entire plot. It was now in real danger ; again it
tottered on its foundation. Only the greatest tact and
presence of mind could save it from utter destruction.

Charles was the one to avert such a disaster, and he
said jokingly, as though the salvation of the plot did not
depend on him : " Here are two extraordinary juveniles ;
one thinks because a white man in his school-book was
captured by Indians and guarded by three jailers, every
captive is bound to have just three ! The other thinks
because a boy makes a face at him he is brewing sonqie
great wickedness !"

It was not so much the words he said as the noncha-
lant way in which he said them. The happy boldness of
acknowledging that somebody had " made faces " at Jim
disaiTned Marmaduke, and for the time, at least, his
suspicions were allayed.

Will had too much sense to be offended at being thus
ridiculed. If he had answered back vsharp'y, a quarrel
would certainly have ensued, and then the plot would as
certainly have been blown up. As for Jim, though sulky
and wrathful, he also held his peace.

Chapter XXXVI.

TO THE RESCUE 1

Th^s plot was saved ; but the plotters saw that a great
deal of immoral scheming was required to keep it up, and
that, after all, it was a volcano which might at any
moment — not exactly "hurl them to destruction," )?ut
tear itself to pieces.

II 'ii

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320

A BLUNDERING BOY.

The time and place of meeting were then appointed,
and all the boys departed for their respective homes ;
all excepting Will and Stephen, who lingered to escort
Henry.

As soon as the homeward-bound party was out of sight,
the latter slid down from his perch, stretched himself
with many a groan, and readjusted the knight-errant's
sun-bonnet, as, the plot being now so near completion, he
was very anxious to take every precaution.

" Well," he growled, " it took you a mighty long time
to arrange matters ; and that tree is the most abominably
uncomfortable and hard-hearted tree that I ever saw.
Boys," dolefully, " I don't like this hiding around in
strayed forest trees, and it is a good thing you persuaded
him not to wait till next week, for I couldn't have kept
out of his sight so long."

" Well, what do you think of him !" Will asked eagerly.

" Oh, he is as much like a musket as a boy," Henry
replied indifferently. " But " with some show of interest,
' what did he mean by wanting to sail out on the raft,
just to get the bottle ?"

" Oh," said Will, " Marmaduke thinks if it is worth
while to do anything, it is worth while to do it with
great ceremony. If the raft had been where he supposed
it was, and if we had let him alone, he would have spent
half an hour floating around after the bottle, and very
likely have got as wet as if he had gone in swimming for
it with his clothes on ! "

After digesting this explanation, Henry proposed that
they also should go home. Will and Stephen were
agreed, •'nd the trio slunk off towards the village as fear-
fully as '< i a minion of the law were in hot pursuit. Now
that their plot was an accomplished fact, it would be very
unfortunate if they should be caught napping.

After supper henry was joined by Stephen, and the
two archplotters set out for " Nobody's House " in the
most exuberant spirits. Already Henry felt a little tired,
(let it be remembered that he had not yet recovered from
the effects of the preceding day's journey,) and he was
obliged to get Stephen to carry a mysterious-looking

Stephen's viewj<.

%■ ;]

ever saw.

bundle which ho had brought away from his aunt's. This
bundle contained the fantastic " disguise" in which Henry
"vas to figure as Sauterelle.

From the tender age of two years, Stephen had been a
regular attendant of picnics, where he had imbibed many
extravagent notions, and arrivod at a very boyish and
extremely absurd conclusion respecting lovers. According
to his views, a lover is a young man, who, after perfum-
ing his handkerchief and smearing his head with hair-oil,
escorts a young lady to a picnic, breaks her parasol, fails
to provide ice-cream enough, and finally sees her escorted
home under the protection of his hated rival.

" Henry," he said, as they hurried on, " I saw Marma-
duke tricked out for the rescue, and, he didn't mean me
to lind it out, but I did ; he had put hair-oil on his head,
and, as he had no scent, on his handkerchief, too! Henry,
I was so — so — "

"Demoralized?"

" That's the word, Henry. I was so demoralized that
I said, without thinking : ' why, Marmaduke,' said I,
'you look more like a genuine lover than any boy I ever
saw!'"

" And what did he say to that ? "

" Nothing ; but he looked so insulted and heart-broken
that I apologized, and told him he was a bully boy, and I
always was a fool, anyway. Well, Henry, when he
( omes to the rescue, things will be lively, according to
that, eh ? "

" Well, Steve, I once cured a broAC boy of his bravery,
and if I don't cure this fellow of his romance and
credulousness, I shall at least make awful fools of us
both."

" How did you cure a boy of being l)rave ? " Stephen
asked eagerly, regarding Henry with respect and admira-
tion.

But here the writer remorselessly shifts tlie scene to
the others.

As soon after the departure of Henry and Stephen as
was prudent, the " brave men " who were to be the
rescuers — Will, Charles, George, Jim, and the heroic

:: U

322

A BLUNDERINa BOY.

'1?

"leader," Marmaduke — assembled and set out for the
rendezvous, armed very much as Stephen had suggested.

Visions of figuring on future battle-fields of Europe as
Marshal Marmaduke Fitz- Williams flitted through the
hero's brain, and he strove to deport himself with as
martial an air as possible. But such an air hardly ever
sits easy on a school -boy's- shoulders.

" Comrades," he began, using, as far as he knew how, the
identical phraseology of a French soldier when addressing
his companions in arms, " comrades, we are embarking in
a hazardous undertaking, but the nobleness of our work
will spur us on to deeds of victory. It is a noble deed
that we are called on to perform — the release of a
daughter of one of the potentates of earth ! Let this
thought inspire us with enthusiasm ! Let us fly to the
rescue, fixed in the resolution to win or die ! We shall
warrior like the doughty knights of old ! "

Poor hero ! he had yet to learn that warrior is not
used in that way. His eloquence, however, was entirely
lost on his hearers, it being too grandiloquent for even
the Sage to appreciate ; and like many another orator,
he but " wasted his sweetness on the desert air."

" Fellow -soldiers," he continued,"! will use my influ-
ence to procure your promotion, and you will all one day
be renowned generals of the empire."

Alas ! about the time the speaker took to singing love-
songs and reading love-stories that empii'e was disrupted !

" That about the emperor's wanting one more general
was a good stroke, eh. Will ? " Charles whispered.

It would be foreign from the purpose to record all
Marmaduke's bombastic speeches as he and his fellows
marched to the field of battle. Let it be taken for granted
that in due time they drew up before the fortress.

Marmaduke reconnoitred the grim old building with
its grated windows and formidable door, and soon decided
that here was the prison, though it was patent to all that
he was disappointed, having expected greater things —
having, in short, expected to see a structure bearing more
or less resemblance to the Bastile itself.

Marmaduke screened himself behind the dilapidated

BEFORE THE FORTRESS.

323

fence, and called out, in commanding tones : " Hist ! I
call a halt ! " ' ^

As his troops had already halted, they sat down, think-
ing that it' Henry and Stephen were not yet prepared to
receive them this delay would be in their favour.

" Corporal James Horner, do you perceive a sentinel
on guard before the prison?" the would-be commander
asked.

" Corporal Horner," who could not see that part of the
prison so well as the questioner himself, was struck with
awe, and answered timidly, " No, sir, I don't see
nobody."

" Str to me ! You would do better to call me General."

" Yes, sir," Jim returned, feeling his terrible chills
creeping on.

" Lieutenant Lawrence," said the young general, " keep
order among your forces ! Positively, no straggling ! "

The newly- made lieutenant executed his superior's
orders promptly and eftectually. " If he keeps on at
this rate," he whispered to George, " there will be fun
enough to last for a year ! Oh, if Henry and Steve were
only here to enjoy it ! "

" Silence in the ranks ! " roared the general. " Commo-
dore Charles Growler. I call a council of war."

This was too much for the more deeply read George,
and he cut short the general's programme, saying : " A
commodore commands a squadron of ships. There are
no ships here that I know of — only a squad of boys,"

The general was nonplussed. He even felt inclined
to dismiss this arrogant fellow from the service ; but fears
of encountering a swarm of amied jailers induced him
not to dismiss so good a warrior as the Sage was known
to be. So, after deliberating a moment, he said, meekly
enough, " Boys, we are only losing time here. Let us
make a charge, and burst the door open, and then we can
fight our way right on."

Burst open the door ! Then indeed the timbers of their
raft would be destroyed ! But this was no time to reason
with Marmaduke, and they consented to the sacrifice
pheerfully.

■ ■ n 1

324

A BLUNDERING BOY.

Charles very readily came upon what had once been a
pump ; and after great and violent efforts the corporals,
lieutenants, commodores, generals, etc., succeeded in rais-
ing it to their shoulders ; and then, with soldier-like dis-
regard for the hideous grubs which nestled on it, they
marched, with martial tread, to force an entrance into the
prison.

" This will do instead of a genuine ram," the general
observed deprecatingly. " Such people as we are often
have to resort to various shifts to do what they wish to
do."

" So do hoys'' Charles commented sarcastically, but
without a smile.

" Charge ! " cried the general valiantly, when about
thirty feet from the door.

A blind rush was made ; but barely five steps had been
taken when the general, who of course led, tripped over
a stone, and the entire "squad" fell headlong, the "ram"
and its grisly inhabitants descending on their backs with
a cruel thud.

Of course no bones were broken, gentle reader, for it is
impossible to kill a hero, and, as a general rule, impossible
to hurt one. And all these were heroes.

Yet much of their enthusiasm escaped with the " ohs ! "
that started from each pair of lips.

" Such little accidents are disheartening," the general
gasped, as he struggled to his feet ; " but we are above
letting them deter us from our duty. Charge again!
Only, be more careful."

As he alone was blamable for the mishap, this advice
was superfluous.

The ram was shouldered again, somewhat reluctantly ;
a furious charge was made ; and the ram was brought
against the " blood-bought " door with considerable force.
A peal of thunder ensued, and the nowise strong door
was shattered, fatally. Truly, this was effecting an
entrance in warlike style.

Bub a catastrophe might have been the result. Henry
was seated in the hall, not aware that the besiegers were
at hand, and little dreaming that they intended to force

THE LAST OF THE RAFT.

325

an entrance. When the door wps suddenly burst open,
he was started into action in an unlooked for manner —
tlie flying timbers striking his crazy chair so forcibly that
it gave way, flinging him headlong to the floor.

More startled than hurt, Henry sprang to his feet, and
recognizing Will and some of the others, shrieked, in
accents unmistakably English : " Saved ! Saved ! "

The appearance presented by the rescued one was
superlatively ridiculous. None of the boys had seen him
attired in this disguise, and they were thunder-struck at
the metamorphosis. Even Marmaduke stared aghast at
the sight he beheld.

In a spirit of mischief Stephen had clothed Henry thus,
saying, " Poor Marmaduke ; he'll never know ; he'll think
you're dressed up in the height of fashion. But he will
think that Paris fashions, in crossing the seas, lose much
of their beauty ; and while your costume is all right,
other people's must be all wrong ! "

As a hoodlum boy would have put it : He looked like
all possessed !

Chapter XXXVII.
Marmaduke Struggles with Romance.

Kings, ghosts, sea-nymphs, heroes, heroines, all beings,
are made to act and spealc in romance just as the exigen-
cies of the plot demand ; and yet it is iniimated, in the
same breatli, that " it is all quite natural, just as it would
be in real life ! " In this story every one certainly acts
as the writer pleases, but, so far as he knows, these boys
behave as like boys under similar circumstances would
behave. In this ciiapter, however, there is an exception,
where a change from nature is nece-isary ; aud without a
moment's hesitation, they are made to throw otf all
restraint, and talk and act as betits the occasion. In a
word, the boys are here no longer boys, but the noble
beings of romance.

We do not pretend that any boys would carry on a
conversation in their high-swelling strains, the narrative

I- iff''!!

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326

A BLUNDERING BOY.

I '

bein<» couched unrler such strains for a particular and
well-meant purpose. The object being, throughout the
story, to cast ridicule on all sorts of things, this freedom
to write in whatever style is most pertinent to the matter
under discussion is our prerogative, and we use it. In
short, we act here on the principle, that a writer should
be hampered by no conventionalities or restrictions that
interfere with the plan of his story.

It seems to be a well-established principle, that love
cannot be expressed in romance except in a poetic form.
We do not believe this holds good in real life, yet, wishing
this story to be accounted a romance, we have thought it
well to abide by the rule in this instance. After a short
deliberation, we have decided to write their passionate
colloquy as thou»,'h it were only prose ; but the intelligent
reader can easily ^ea , t as verse — in fact, if he chooses,
he can set ii all to music.

After digesting +his preamble in connection with what
goes before, the rea • :• oi mature years, if not entirely
witless, will be able to grasp our meaning and discern our
motive — or motives, for in this chapter the aim is to kill
several birds with one stone. But the boys — for whom,
after all, the story is written principally — had better skip
this turgid preamble, because a boy always likes to believe
a story is more or less true, and we should be grossly in-
sulted if any one should insinuate that this story is true.

Considered in this light, the chapter appears to be only
a piece of foolishness, after all. But, in a measure, it may
be considered logically also. For instance, there seems to
be a " vein of reason " running through it all, and if the
reader is on the watch, he will see that this " vein of
reason" crops out frequently. After this preamble it
opens very rationally.

"Considered logically," says the reader, "how could
this Henry, a veritable lover, stoop to play the fool, as he
did ? How could he do this, if he had any respect for his
passion, or for the one whom he loved ? "

Considered logically, gentle reader, Henry was a hoy ;
his heart was sore from fancied slights ; he was desperate ;
it occurred tQ him that, placed as he was, he might " view

SORRY EXCUSES.

327

irticular and
oughout the
this freedom
io the matter
B use it. In
writer should
rictions that

le, that love
poetic form,
yet, wishing
e thought it
^fter a short
r passionate
le intelligent
f he chooses,

a with what
not entirely
I discern our
im is to kill
Ufor whom,
I better skip
3s to believe

grossly in-
ory is true.
5 to be only
sure, it may
jre seems to

and if the
IS " vein of
preamble it

how could
i fool, as he
)ect for his

^as a hoy;
desperate ;
ght " view

the question from the other side ! " Furthermore, although
he and Stephen had conspired to torment Marmaduke, it
is plain that almost everything he said, he said extempore.

As for Marmaduke, he had no sisters, was scarcely ever
in the society of young ladies, and knew nothing of their
wavs.

'* These are but sorry excuses," sighs the reader,
" unworthy of even a school-boy ! "

Very true. But they are the best that we can trump
up, and therefore it would be better for you to consider
this chapter as founded on the opposite of reason and
logic.

Marmaduke was anxious that he alone should be
recognized as the liberator, for he wished to receive all
the glory of rescuing the captive. With that intent he
pressed nearer Sauterelle, directing his followers, by an
imperious wave of the hand, to disperse in search of the
enemy, and, when found, to give them battle.

Interpreted into language, that command would have
run : Hound down the mercenary crew, and spare them
not ! Their evil deeds have brought this fate upon their
heads !

The avenging party understood this, and, thirsting for
blood and glory, they hurled themselves out of the
apartment, whilst Marmaduke turned his attention to the
captive. He saw gratitude, admiration, even reverence,
in the two blue eyes that looked at him. No fear of not
being acknowledged as the rescuei-in-chief : Henry would
acknowledge him, and him only.

"Ah, my deliverer!" he cried, in so-called French;
" you have come to rescue me, to restore me to freedom !
You have found my appeal for help, and these brave men
are your followers ? "

Marmaduke tried hard to understand this, but was
obliged to ask if the conversation could not be carried on
in English.

" Yes, yes, I can speak Enprlish," came the reply. " The
good priest has taught me English."

At that instant a fierce combat was heard in an ad-
joining room, and horrisonous cries of rage and terror

S28

A BLUNDERING BOY.

filled the whole building. The hero knew at once that
his followers had encountered, and were waging deadly
contest with, the wicked jailers, and his heart swelled with
emotion.

He was right ; his followers had drawn their home-
made weapons, and while Chnrles, Steve, and Jim, per-
sonated these wicked jailers, Will and George personated
the gallant liberators. Having had a rehearsal a few
days previous, they now fought easily and systematically,
and with such heroism and iury that victory must inevit-
ably perch upon their standard. But, after all (and in
this they were quite right), they fought as much with
their lungs as with their arms, so that the din was tremen-
dous. For full five minutes the combat raged without
abatement. The gray light coming in through the open
doorway cast a greenish and peculiar hue over our hero's
grand lace, and he stood stock-still, collected but voice-
less ; while the other, wholly unprepared for such an
uproar, longed to thrust his fingers into his ears, and
pitied himself with all his heart as he thought of the
rackinor headache that must soon seize him.

But finally they vanquished t. g enemy, and all except
Stephen, who had not yet turned priest, rushed into the
presence of the hero and heroine, shouting wildly :
" Routed ! Worsted ! Slain ! "

" All ? Are all slain ? And is the battle past ? "

" All ; one and all ; and we have w^on."

" And so my freedom comes to me again ! " cried Sau-
terelle. " And I am free, free as the birds, for all his evil
schemes are baffled now ! "

Then, as w^as right on such an occasion, Sauterelle sank
at our hero's feet, and began in the "bursting heart"
style, without which no such scene ouf;ht to be drawn :
" Oh, my deliverer, accept my thanks! Through you I
thus am freed ! through you I once again shall see dear
France, — dear France, that land of heroes ! — Heroes ?
Ah ! all are heroes here, in this, the land of liberty ! Oh,
gallant men, you have done well ! "

" Ah, yes, 'tis for the brave to battle for the fair in
every land," our hero said, as though he, too, had fought.

B^LlTRE SC6l£RAT IS DOOMED.

S29

Sauterelle still kneeled before our hero, expecting to be
lifted up. But an immense, pyramidal head-dress, many
inches high, which only Steve could construct, towered
upwards till almost on a level with our hero's eyes, be-
wildering him.

" Noble American, this is a rescue worthy of a prince ! "
Sauterelle cried, suddenly rising and grasping our hero's
hands in a bear-like grip.

" Your ladyship — "

" No, no ! My title here is but an empty sound, so call
me simply Sauterelle."

" Sau-ter-elle Hi-ron-delle. What sweet and pretty
names ! " our hero murmured softly, as Sauterelle let go
his hands.

" What is the name of him who sets me free ? "

" Fitz- Williams is my name ; my first name, Marma-
duke."

Our hero's followers, still hot, exhausted, and bruised,
but not particularly blood-stained, now rose and stole
away, and presently another great uproar was heard from
them. They had seized the impostor and were carrying
it, or him, roughly along.

" Here is the great chief villain and arch-plotter of them
all ! Here is B^litie Scelerat himself ! " they roared.

" B^litre Sc^l^rat ? How comes he here ? J understood
that he was far away," our hero said, much puzzled.

They paused in doubt and consternation. Then a flash
of reason penetrated to their darkened intellect, and dimly
conscious that some one had plotted too much, or not
enough, they started into action and pressed tumultuously
on with their captive.

" Oh, for a sword, that I might pierce the monster's
heart ! " our hero sighed, but sighed in vain.

At that instant, Steve, now the priest, passed pompously
through the room, and catching our hero's last words, re-
plied : " No, no ! Soil not thy hands with such a perjured
wretch, nor soil thy sword. These soldiers here should
pierce his ears, not thee," wilfully mistaking the word
heart for ears — or perhaps he did not understand English
so well as his pupil. " Brave men, go forth and hang this

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330

A BLUNDERING BOY.

captured knave from some great height, and leave him
there to crumble into dust."

Our hero's blood-thirsty followers lugged Belitre Sc^-
l^rat out of the room and up the stairs with a haste that

f)roved how well and strongly he was made, and remorse-
essly prepared to consign him to his ignominious fate.

Then our hero and heroine a^ain broke out into their
poetry, the latter saying, " And now, my freedom is
achieved. Ah me ! I almost now regret that we should
leave these shores, this land of blessed liberty, and travel
back alone to our loved France ! Ah, in my hour of
triumph am I sad ? Yes, woe is me, I am ! — Oh, Marma-
duke, there is no need of this ! The priest is here, the
bridegroom and the bride ! Oh Marmaduke, there is no
cause why I should go alone. Ah, thou wilt soon be
mine, and I shall soon be thine ! Thy husband, — wife, I
mean. Oh, Marmadike, dear Marmaduke !"

As Sauterelle ran on in this strain our hero grew pale
and sick with dismay. Was he to be made a sacrifice of
thus ? Must the rescue of necessity lead to this ? Oh, it
was too awful !

" A beauty here that would befit a queen ; and, yes, I
feel love springing in my heart ! But should / marry ?
/, a boy, and this, the daughter of a duke ? Oh, that it
might be so ! As I have said, the French are more excit-
able than we. But am I not the rescuer-in-chief ? In
such a case as this, what should I do ? "

A triumphant shout of sated vengeance now rang
through the buildin^^r Belitre Sc61(5rat was securely
fastened, not exactly hanged, out of an upper window.
A minute later the executioners came clattering noisily
down stairs, then filed respectfully past our hero and
heroine into another room, and took up a position where
they were screened, but from which they could see and
hear all that was going on. This action on their part
was more conformable to human nature than to the laws
of romance or the dignity of heroes.

A sidelong glance disclosed the fact that our hero's face
was of the hue of polished marble, and that large tears
of heartfelt emotion were starting from his eyes, while

tAYiNO TRlfttJTa

ddi

id leave him

Belitre Scd-
a baste that
md remorse-
Qious fate,
ut into their
freedom is
a,t we should
y, and travel
my hour of
-Oh, Marma-
, is here, the
3, there is no
Bvrilt soon be
Eind, — wife, I

ro grew pale
a sacritice of
this ? Oh, it

; and, yes, I
id / marry ?
Oh, that it
more excit-
chief ? In

le now rang

as securely

>per window.

^ring noisily

r hero and

lition where

luld see and

»n their part

to the laws

hero's face
large tears
eyes, while

others tears were welling from the pores of his neck and
forehead.

" P^re Tortenson, P^re Tortenson," cried Sauterelle.
" Is he not here ? Then go, some one, to look for him,
and bring him here to me. The marriage may take place
without delay."

" Dear Sauterelle," our hero said, " I feel I love thee
well indeed, but yet I may not marry thee. Thy friend,
thy humble servant, guide, and helper, I will ever be ;
thy husband — ah !"

Our hero's grammar says miine and thine are used only
in solemn style. Our hero and heroine were aware of
this — they were but paying tribute to the solemnity of the
occasion.

" No ! say not that ! You own that you love me as I
love thee. What is there then to come between us and
our happiness ? Is it, alas ! my title and my rank ?
Think not of them ; they shall be nought to us. My
Marmaduke, I'd lay them all aside for thee. Or what is
it ? Speak, Marmaduke ; I wait to hear thee speak.'

" Alas, dear Sauterelle, — if really I may call thee so, —
I am not worthy thee. It is indeed thy title and thy
rank. How couldst thou wed a non-commissioned officer
like me?"

" Perhaps you are the kidnapped heir of some great
English lord."

" Oh, covXd it be ? Oh, would it were ! Then I thy
equal — Oh, say not that ! No ; do not torture me."

" I understand it now, — my love is not returned, — you
do not care for me."

" Love thee ! Indeed I love thee well — love thee, as boy
never loved before — love thee, as I ne'er can love again !'*

" Oh, Marmaduke ! dear Marmaduke ! you cause me
joy. My Marmaduke, I'll call again the priest."

" Thy father ! — No, no ! I dare not meet thy father !"

" Dread not my father's ire. He loves his child ; his
child loves thee. Ah, thou art all mine own, for all that
thou hast urged is but a paper wall."

" Dear Sauterelle, I must admit I love thee well. To
be thine own — oh, joy ! But no ; it cannot be. I have no
wealth, no heritage at all A wife is far from me."

"( I'll

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332

A BLUNDERING BOY.

" Wealth ? What is wealth to me ? Wealth is an idle
word — non-enity — a ^in — a snare — a clap-trap. How
should we live ? Let no such thoughts occur to thee.
Though wealth is nought, 'tis true, my father hath it, and
thou couldst have enough to live as princes live."

" 'Alas,' you said, ' perhaps my father lives no more.' "

" Ah, then am I his heir, and all his riches ours. Oh,
Marmaduke, why should you longer hesitate to take this
step, or longer pause for foolish whims ? Then call again
the priest. \N hy loiters he ?"

But our hero was not yet sensible of the duty that
devolved upon him — he did not yet fully realize his
position — he still hung back — and his poetical objections
having been one by one confuted, he now had the excess
of baseness to offer another.

"Alas, I know not well thy foreign tongue. How
couldst thou hear me always in my rough tongur, v^^hen
thine, so sweet, so soft, so beautiful — "

"No! speak not so!"' cried Sauterelle. "I will not
hear thee speak so ! Oh, slander not the language that
is thine. And, ah! — thou art a ready youth, I see it in
thine eye, — how sweet the task of teaching thee my
polished mode of thought and speech ! But yet, even as
it is, we can converse quite easily ! P^re Tortenson, the
time for marrying is here."

" Ah, that is truth !" our hero cried. " You speak my
Ene^lish quite as well as I !"

Then, in a rational moment, he said rationally, " As
you have said, dear Sauterelle, we love each other well ;
but being still so young, so very young, we must not
think of marriage yet a while. 'Tis hard to part with
thee, — our lot is doubly hard, — but fate is ever merciless.
Farewell, my love, we part."

He tore himself away, as though he would have fled.

" 'Tis true that we are young," said Sauterelle. " Our
hearts are warm and young, not chilled and seared with
age and woe. To leave me ? No ! it shall not be 1 Thou
must not go I"

" To love is either happiness or pain ; to love, and to
be loved again, — oh, this is ecstasy I"

th is an idle
brap. How
iccur to thee.
hath it, and
ive.
?s no more.' "
iS ours. Oh,
} to take this
en call again

le duty that
' realize his
cal ohjections
id the excess

Dngue. How
tongur, V'^'hen

"I will not
anguage that
1, 1 see it in
ng thee my
yet, even as
ortenson, the

)u speak my

ionally, "As
other well;
we must not
to part with
ler merciless.

have fled,
relle. " Our

seared with
iot be ! Thou

love, and to

•'DUTY IS NOT ALWAYS WHAT IT SEEMS." 333

" Oh, Marmaduke, you thrill my heart with joy !"

" Alas, dear Sauterelle, that love and duty should thus
clash ! But, oh, I must not marry thee ; I am so far
beneath thee. Dear Sautirclle, thou wilt return to
France and be the wife of some girat prince, while I,
alas ! shall wear my life away in hopelessness and grief.
And yet, oh Sauterolle, I love thee so ! 1 love thee so ! I

.1 I yet shall yield to love, forgetting duty."

Then Charles stepped out of his lurking-place, and
said respectfully :

" Forgive me, sir, that T should speak to you, but duty
is not always what it seems. How can this helpless one
return to France alone ! A priest at hand, a marriage,
sir, is duty in this ease. Your father's house is near —
live there till Duke Chaloupe hears of this rescue and this
marriage. Then Duke Chaloupe will send us funds for
all to go to France."

" Oh, would that I could think that you are r'ght ! I
should no longer hesitate."

Then, forgetting himself and his position, he fell back
prose. " Why should not Lady Sauterelle and the
p* lest return ? Are there no hoards of jewels and treasure
here in this building, that would pay the passage, at
least ? Scdldrat, perhaps, has millions buried here, which
can be found."

" N-o he hasn't," said Will, thrusting his head into the
room. " Not a cent. What did you expect the captive
to do after the rescue ? What w^ere your ideas on that
point?"

" Alas," groaned Marmaduke, " I had none ! 1 never
thought whau any of us would do immediately after the
rescue ; my thoughts w^ere far ahead in the future. Oh,
if I had only sent that letter to the Government ! "

At that moment a person with majestic mien strode
into the room, saying, " I come, I come ; who calls Pfere
Tortenson ? Is it a marriage, lovely Sauterelle ? If so,
quite right. Who is the honored bridegroom ? "

As Marmaduke's chivalric notions of right and wrong
still admonished him not to enter into marriage with a
person of noble birth, he had the uprightness to resist the

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S34

A BIUNDERINO BOY.

■31

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feelings of his heart once more, though it cost him a hard
struggle to do so.

Then the other, casting on a tragic air, said, " Alas for
the decay of chivalry ! In the old days it was not thus.
Then no weak whim of fancied right e'er came between
two loving hearts."

Charles whispered to our hero's followers, and then,
having stepped into the room, they chorused, their voices,
attuned by war and conquest, tilling the place with har-
mony : " Your duty, sir, is very plain, and we are grieved
that we should have to point it out : a marriage, as you
are. A few years hence, and you will be the mighty king
of some great land."

Then Marmaduke shone forth in all his native noble-
ness. He reverently took Sauterelle's hand in his own,
but before giving the word to the priest he chanted : " In
rank, in ti-tle, and in birth ; in rich-es, age, and clime ; in
all things, thou surpassest me, O lovely Sauterelle."

" Yea, even in height ! " chimed in Pfere Tortenson.
' " Proceed, sir priest," said Marmaduke.

The plot was now, they supposed, at an end. It would
be as well to consider its framers as boys again.

Henry did not wish to prolong the scene, and he whis-
pered to Will : " This is as far as I dare go ; but try to
think of something — anything — to keep up the fun a
little longer."

Stephen pretended to be fumbling in the pockets of his
robe. Turning to the Sage, he whispered imploringly,
" Oh, George, can't you * ventriloquism * a little — ever so
little?"

" The ghost ! " George muttered. " Let us bring in the
ghost 1 "

" The ghost ? My stars 1 we never settled how that was
to be done ! " Steve said blankly.

" Oh, Steve, I wish you were free to play the spectre ! "
Will sighed. " What was it that we intended the ghost
to do, anyway ? "

" Oh, my gracious, I don't know ; I'm all a muddle ! "

JBut the moments were slipping away very fast. Mar-

\mT VILXAINS MtrtTER.

maduke heard their mutterings, though he did not under-
stand them, and he was hecoming uneasy.
" Proceed v^ith the ceremony," he repeated.

Chapter XXXV III.
The Startlers Themselves are Startled.

But the tables were to be turned in a startling and
wholly unlooked-for manner. The boys had had their
day of imposing on simple Marmaduke ; and now, in their
turn, they were destined to suffer acutely from uneasiness
and remorse for several hours.

Such a sentence always tinds a place in romances at
certain conjunctures, and, if judiciously worded, reflects
great credit on the romancer. But the reader cannot
always perceive the beauty of such a sentence, and there-
fore it would be showing more respect for his feelings to
follow our Jim.

This hero had slipped away from his companions
shortly before Stephen at last appeared as priest. Being
only a figure-head on this occasion, his absence or presence
did not concern them in the least, and he was suffered to
slip out of the backdoor without comment.

He wished to make his way into the upper story with-
out going u|> the stairs, as to do that it would be neces-
sary to pass tlie hero and heroine. However, being well-
acquainted with the building, and knowing how to climb,
he easily made his way into the upper story from the
rear. Then he stole noiselessly across t!ie gloomy cham-
ber, and felt his way to the window, where the "iraposter,"
Be litre Sc^lerat, hung in state.

It is a fundamental principle that villains, when about
to perpetrate their dark crimes, should express their
wicked thoughts in "hurried whispers." This is very
foolish on the part of the villains ; but it is not easy to
see how novels could be written if it were otherwise.
Of course the romancers do not always overhear these
" hurried whispers," but the walls in the vicinity have
ears, and probably the romancers get at them in that way.

> I*

AM
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8S6

A BLUNDERING BOT.

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^ fl^ow, then," muttered Jim, "I'll teach 'em better
tlian to liBave me out of their plots till they have to let
me in. Charley and Steve intend to come along for this
to-morrow, do they, and take it away, and float it burn-
ing down the river ? I'll bet they won't ! I'll burn it all
to smoke and ashes now, as it hangs on its pins, and serve
*em rijiht ! "

" Hum, this is Jim's treachery ! " sneers the reader. "I
was led to expect somethinoj better ; I am disappointed."
" Gentle reader, if you are a faithful peruser of novels,
you must have a great fund of patience. Draw, then, on
that fund, and more of Jim's designs will presently be
unfolded. Draw on your imagination, also ; for his
treachery was never fully made known.

Suiting the action to the word, Jim fumbled in his
ipocket and took out a bunch of matches, which he had
put there for this very purpose. He knew he was doing
wrong, and his hand trembled as he struck a light. He
knew that his terrible disease might seize him at any
moment ; and so, fearing to stay longer where he was, he
hastily applied the light to the spectral figure, and turned
to steal away.

The inflammable material of B^litre Scdl^rat's clothes
instantly caught fire, and he himself was soon ablaze.

" Now to run and tell Marmaduke he is fooled," Jim
muttered.

In this way, poor simpleton, he thought to ease his
Conscience ! But the " still small voice " will be deceived
by no such flimsy excuses.

" Then to yell ' Fire ! ' — Oh, if any ghost should be up
here, now, — if there are such things as ghosts, — this is the

place for them ! Now, to get away. " Ow ! Ow !

duowh ! "

, The cause of these unmusical yells from Jim was that
he heard hasty footsteps issuing from a room to the left, and
and then a ghost-like figure appeared in the flaring light
of the burning impostor.

Jim had almost expected to encounter something
ho^rrible, and when this apparition hove iu sight his terror
wis all the more intense.

''M

JIM TO THE RESCUE.

387

em better
mve to let
iig for this
at it burn-
burn it all
I, and serve

eader. "I
ippointed."
r ot* novels,
w, then, on
resently be
; for his

bled in his
lich he had
I was doing
light. He
him at any
I he was, he
and turned

at's clothes
ablaze.
)oled," Jim

to ease his
De deceived

ould be up
-this is the
3w! Ow!

jsomething
his terror

Setting up horrisonous howls, that would have been a
credit to Bob Herriman himself, he forgot all about the
dangerous place in the floor, — which, as has been said,
the explorers discovered, carefully marked out, and
avoided, — and rushed blindly upon it. A groan, a
trembling, and it gave way beneath him with tne crash
of an earthquake.

Marmaduke had just given the word to the priest for
the second time, when a succession of frightful howls and
yells of agony struck their ears, and a moment later a
blinding cloud of dust, plaster, and splinters, pervaded the
apartment.

Jim, a scratched and woe-begone object, also fell.

Thus the plotters' little difficulty was obviated ; thus a
ghost came to them.

But that was not all. It so happened (rather, of course
it happened) that Sauterelle and the general were in the
course of the faller.

Before any of the demoralized plotters could think
what was the matter, or even think at all, Jim dropped
heavily downward, and his feet caught in the rescued
one's outlandish headdress. It was rudely torn off, and
Henry's aching head received so violent a wrench that
he could have roared with the pain,

Although Jim's fall was not stopped, its course was
deflected, and his head and body were thrown furiously
into Marmaduke's and Stephen's arm's. He thus escaped
with sundry painful bruises, owing perhaps his life to the
accident of striking Henry's headdress and being thrown
upon Marmaduke and Stephen.

These two, also, were stunned and slightly hurt ; and a
pair of unique goggles, that Steve wore as a partial dis-
guise, went the way of the hammer, the axe, and the
band-box full of rusty tools.

Confusion reigned for a few moments ; but as soon as
the general could think at all, his thoughts reverted to
Sauterelle.

" Oh, where is Lady Sauterelle ? " he cried.

He flew to Henry's side, to behold — oh what ?

Henry had seized his opportunity to strip ofl* .his dis*
12

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388

A BLUNDERING BOT.

•Ifttiie; iiad now stood revealed in coat, vest, and poati— a
venr boy-like boy.

The plotters, somewhat recovered from their surprise,
'^md seeing that no one was much the worse for the fright,
4(aw the dupe's look of horror and consternation, and
could restram themselves no longer. The long pent-up
laughter burst from each mouth in one deafening roar.
This was what they had plotted for, and it had come.

With a tragic and truly pathetic air, Marmaduke threw
up his hands, cried, in piteous tones, that the plotters will
'Temember till their last hour, " I am betrayed ! " and fled
out of the house like a madman.

i> For the first time the boys felt heartily ashamed of
themselves, They all ran out to call him back and beg
his forgiveness, and discovered what they would have
known before, if they had not been so engrossed with
Jim's fall and Henry's unmasking.

The building was on fire and burning furiously!
Though it was not five minutes since Jim struck his
match, the fire had gained too great a hold to be extin-
'guished.

Jim was appalled. Nothing was further from his
thoughts than the burning of the prison-house ; though a
little reflection would have shown him that a figure
fashioned of greasy clothes, and stuffed with rags, straw,
shavings, and sundry valuables that slipped in unawares,
t)ould not bum within a few inches of a wooden building
without setting it on fire.

"Fire! fire!" yelled the heroes, hardly knowing
whether to be delighted or otherwise at the prospect of
■such a bon-fire.

In the excitement of the moment the search after
Marmaduke was given up.

" Are — are we all out, or is somebody burnt up ? " Will
masked, wildly, but with rare presence of mind.

'^ Oh, boys, I did it, but I didn't mean to bum the
house," Jim confessed. " All I wanted was to bum your
impostor, and tell Marmaduke the truth, and — Ou ! on !
ou t ou ! " be shrieked. " There it is again ! ou, ou ! " And
the boy with the chills took to his heels.

IS IT A GHOST ?

389

dr sur|)rise,
r the fright,
nation, and
ng pent-up
Eening roar.
Bid come,
duke threw
)lotters will
I" and fled

ashamed of
ck and beg
w^ould have
rossed with

r furiously!

struck his

to be extin-

5r from his
e ; though a
lat a figure
rags, straw,
n unawares,
len building

Y knowing
I prospect of

search after

b up ? " Will
i

bum the

bum your

— Ou 1 on !

u, ou ! " and

t Jim practised running : on this occasion ~ he wasr aQC||||i
out of sight. r-!? /

The rest looked in the direction pointed out by iTim,
and beheld a figure in white gliding towards them^ Was
it a ghost, or some one wrapped up in a sheet, so foolish
as to play the part of a ghost }

" Oh, dear ; ' gasped Steve, " what is going to happien
next?"

All the boys were wrought up to a pitch of great
excitement, and were more terrified than they car^ to
acknowledge. Henry's thoughts reverted to his Greek
history and Nemesis.

But after a moment the Sage observed, with his
habitual philosophy, " Well, if it's the ghost that inhabited
that house, he is wise in seeking other quarters, for.it wiU
soon be nothing but red-hot ashes." ■^r^^'vd^_

Then, afraid that Henry might think him weak enough
to believe in ghosts, he added, hastily, " Of course, you
know, boys, that there are no such creatures as ffhosts ;
only—"

At this juncture the speaker broke off abruptly, and
whatever information he had to impart was lost. The
app^tion was now quite close to the boys, and as the
last words left George's lips, it flung off something very
much like a sheet, and exclaimed, in a voice quite as
human as ghostly :

" Well, young gentlemen, since you hesitate to take rae
for a supernatural being, I shall reveal myself to you.'

" Do it, then," said Steve, in street Arab style. " Do it,
for we must be off to look for a comrade."

" This to me !" cried the new-comer, angrily. " I'd have
you know that I am Benjamin Stolz."

" Oh, horrors ! " groaned Steve. " It's the mswi that
owns 'Nobody's House.' "

Mr. Stolz spoke again. (By the way, his full name
was Benjamin Franklin Stolz.) Laying aside the banter-
ing tones in which he first addressed them, he spoke
fiercely : .^oar/fr

*" Young men, I want to know who owns that burning,
house?" ^

m '

•:rf|

. l!i; ifl:;

W-

340

A BLUNDERmd BOT.

•'The one straight ahead of us ?" Will asked, as if they
were in the midst of a burning city, with buildings on
fire on every side.

Mr. Stolz stooped, picked up a small stone, and flung
it towards the fire, saying, " That is the building I have
reference to, unhappy youth. If you can't see it yet, I
will carry you up to it. I repeat, who is ewpposed to own
that place?*'

" I am to blame for all this, Mr. Stolz," Charles had the
courage to say. " I persuaded the boys to come and make
use of it ; but I thought it was so useless, and had been
left idle so many years, that no one valued it. I beg
pardon, Mr. Stolz."

Stolz hesitated. The boy's willingness to receive all
the blame touched him. " He is a fine little fellow," he
said to himself, "but now that I have started this I must
go through it."

Charles gained, rather than lost, by his confession, yet
he did not escape punishment. Perhaps he did not
expect that.

"Well," began Mr. Stolz, " think twice, or even four or
five times, before you plan to * make use of ' the property
of others again. When I choose to bum down my estab-
lishments, I shall do it myself, and not call in school-
boys to do it for me. Did any of you ever hear what
the law says about burning a man's house ? Law, and
the newspapers, and insurance agents, call it incendiariam.
Judges and juries call incendiarism a very nefarious
6c<;upation. Now, don't wait to see the walls collapse —
begone ! all of you ! To-morrow I shall send a writ of
summons to each of you ! Begone ! Good night."

Having discharged his horrible threat about the writ
of summons, Stolz turned and strode towards the blazing
and roaring fire, a very odd smile on his lips.

The " incendiaries " did not see that smile, and they
stood staring at his retreating figure, speechless and
hopeless. Iriis was the end of meir plot! Ah, its
gtcwth had been diflScult and uneven — its end was
sublimely tragical !
^ Notr one of them had accused Jim of firing the building,

UNHAPPY BOYS.

though, from his own confession, each one knew that Jim
only was guilty of the deed. However, they deserve no
praise for this, since thy were all so utterly confounded
that not one of them remembered it. But as Mr. Stolz
was the ghost that caused Jim's panic, flight, and fall, he
must cei^inly have known all about it, and consequently:
it was better that they should hold their peace. .^'S' itiw

After a solemn silence, Stephen asked faintly, " Boyd,;
what's a writ of summons ? Isn't it something awful ? "

The Sage brightened and answered him thus : "Yes,
Steve, it is a dreadful instrument of justice to deliver
culprits up to the fury of Law — to trial, punishment^ a^dj;
torture." ; -t

Steve, who had a very vague notion of what the word
instrument means, instantly thought of thumb-screws,
racks, and divers other engines of torture, that our
" chivalrous " forefathers were so ingenious as to invent,
and so diabolical as to use.

" Boys," said Charles, " we are in a worse scrape than
ever before. It would be an awful thing if we should be
sent to prison ! Oh, it would kill my mother ! Heniy,
do you really think Stolz could send us to prison ?"j ,,v.Hf

" I don't know," said Henry, in a mournful voice, little^
above a whisper. , >ij

"Look here, boys," spoke the Sage, with his time-'
honored phraseology, " we have lost track of Marmaduke
altogether. We must find out what Uas become of him.'^

" O dear, if he is missing, I shall not care to live I**
Henry declared sincerely. " Where do you suppose he
is, boys ? Is he a boy to take such a thing very much
to heart?" ,.

" I'm afraid he is," Will acknowledged. " He takes
everything so seriously that this will be almost too, ^\2C^
for him." , r J.f,

" Why didn't you tell me that before ? " Henry asked
bitterly.

With wildly beating hearts the little band began to
search for the missing one, calling him imploringly by
name and begging his forgiveness. The search was
continued till Henry became so completely exhaust

-m

'Mil

■I

iiiilp

iii

A BLUNDEBINQ BOY.

Uw^ be. could no longer drag himself along; and then it
pBs incumbent on the others to take him home.
V ,i^ they drew near the village, one of them proposed
to stop at Marmaduke's home and inquire after him, in
the faint hope that he miffht be there. The others agreed
tOt iihis, but with little nope of receiving a favorable
answer. ,

" Is Marmaduke at home ? " Charles asked timidly, as
Mir. Eitz- Williams opened the door.
J ." !No, he is not," came the answer, " and we are very
uneasy about him."

The plotters did not explain themselves, but turned
^yiray, more heart-sick than before. Suppose that he
shou],d wander off, and be . found dead some time after-
wards, would not they be held guilty ? Would not they
be goaded by remorse to the end of their days ? Or
suppose that he should follow the slighted schoolboy's
bent, run away to sea, and never be heard of again for
tWMity years.

Stephen was so distressed that he actually said to his
fellow-sufferers : " Boys, if he would only come back, I
wouldn't tease him aliout getting married. I intended to
tease him about it for months ; but I won't now, if he
will only come back ; I won't, not a bit ! "

Stephen was a boy of boys ; and for him to say that
was U> express his contrition in the strongest possible

Chapter XXXIX.

BEPENTANT PLOTTERS. — THE HEROES RE-UNITED.

The discomfited plotters were forced into a confession
of all their deeds for the past few days, and a party
headed by Mr. Fitz- Williams set out to scour the country
for the missing boy. Then, contrite and woebegone, the
evildoers slunk into their respective homes, there to
receive what punishment their outraged parents should
aee ^t to inflict,
f J^ is- not best to enter into details ; it would be too

STEVES IDBA.

^(^

harrowing. It is safficient to say that when their weatjjr
heads at length sought their pillows, sleep refused "to
come to their relief, and such a night of tcnrture few of
them ever passed.

" If it wouldn't make us appear guiltier than '#6*.'w^,'*
Henry said, with feverishly bright eyes, " you and I
woulq pack up, too. Will, and run away, and travel «di
around the world." , ,

As Henry did not deign to state how this might tk
accomplished, we are left to infer that he had an idea of
a flying-machine in his mind.

Stephen and Charles wore out the night in wondering
what they should do with themselves if sent tb prison.
The former resolved that he would undermine the prison
foundations with his jack-knife, and make his escape tb
Robinson Crusoe's island. '- '■

" There I shall spend my life," he sighed heroic^^^
"thinking of Marmaduke. Robinson lived alone tweiit;)^-'
eight years ; I'm only sixteen, I shall probably live aloil^
about sixty years, if the cannibals don't catch me and
eat me up." -w<aI»!

Poor dreamer ! He was not sufficiently well versed ill
geography to know that Robinson Crusoe's island is not
now so desirable a place to play the hermit in as it was iii
the seventeenth century.

George, who was of an inquisitive disposition, fbally
left his bed, broke into the lumber-room of his ancestrtlf
home, and after diligent search, found a bulky tome,
which, years before, had been consigned to that dreaiy
region as being more learned than intelligible. This
tome was entitled " Every Man his own Lawyer."

With this prize he returned to his bedroom, muttering,
" Now I shall see just what the law can do to us boys,
and all about the whole business, and what we ought* to
do and say." • "^ij

After an hour's careful study of this neglected " Miii<^
of Wealth," the Sage let it slip out of his hands, antl'
tumbled into bed again, muttering : " Yes, one of us is
guilty of the crime of arson. That is very clear. All of
us are liable to ]be sent to. prison. That is pretty clear.

't I

I ?

■'
!il-

844

A BLUNDERINQ BOT.

As I make it out, the sentence ranees between six months
and a hundred years. Which will the judge oouclude
we deserve, six or one hundred? Oh, well, it will be
hideous to live in a prison at all, for there will be no
books there I "

, . >^ccoi'dii^ to the Sage's notions, the worst fate that
eould possibly overtake him would be to be depriyed of
l^is booka

" But, O dear," he pursued, " I should be willing to
give up all my books if Marmaduke could be found."

Homing dawned on the reformed plotters with mock-
ing serenity. There could be no enjoyment for them
while such a cloud of mystery hung over their companion's
fate.

The searchers were not so successful on this occasion
as when they used to rove over land and sea for Will
and his companions; not the slightest clew to Marmaduke's
whereaboute being found.

.The news of the preceding day's doings was already
k;^own throughout the neighborhood, and the boys were
spoken of in no flattering terms. Those villagers whose
phraseology was refined, called them "whimsical juveniles,
wise beyond their years ; " while those villagers whose
phraseology was terse and expressive, brutally gave them
Greek and Japanese nick -names for the Evil One.
t,^ As the hour of dinner approached, a grim-visaged man,
who looked like the descendant of a long line of execu-
tioners and muleteers, so grave and stem were his
features, called on each one of the five boys who had had
an interview with Mr. Stolz, and delivered to each one a
formidable envelope that bore the impress of the Law,
and a single glance at which was sufficient to freeze one's
blood. Having done this, the " minion of the law," as the
terrified boys supposed he was, left the village at a round
pace, looking less and less grave with every step. Reader,
this person was a bosom-friend of B. F. Stolz's, disguised
with a lawyer's neck-tie, hat, and cane, or cudgel.

Fearfully the awe-inspiring seals were broken, and the
legal missives were found to mn as follows :

/mil

i-v

■Mi

THE WRtT OF SUMMOHS.

I months

couclude

will be

U be

'ate that
priyed of

trilling to
und."
:th mock-
for them
mpanion's

I occasion

for Will

nnaduke's

ELS already
boys were
jers whose
juveniles,
ers whose
rave them
ne.

aged man,
of execu-
were his
had had
lach one a
the Law,
eeze one's
' as the
,t a round
Reader,
disguised
A.
, and the

"Having observed a party of urchins prowling around
my place up stream, and having, by the merest accident;
learned the ccmtents of a certain ' letter ' written by a
certain William, I was so long-headed as to put this* and
that together ; and I resolved to make myself acquainted
with what was. going on. Accordingly, I watched, and
waited, and hovered lovingly near you, when you knew it
not. I discovered your plot. Last night I was hidden
away up-stairs, within earshot, prepared to spring among
you suddenly as a ghost, when I had an unexpiectel
meeting with Jim. The rest I believe you know. Don't
be at all alarmed about the fire ; Jim alone is responsible
for that ; -I will take no further notice of the affair. I
wished to punish you, however, and hit on this little plan.
Whether I have succeeded or not, you yourselves know
best. If you were kept awake by uneasiness last night as
much as I was by laughter, I am more than indemnified
for the loss of ' Nobody's House.'

" In the matter of Marmaduke, I believe he is keeping

house in the big barn on the road to . I have already

notified his parents of this. To the Rescue, O ye Heroes 1

"I have the honor, your excellencies, to sign myself yoMt
humble servant. " B. F. Stolz."

This Stolz was a remarkable man — almost a senius.
Professionally a farmer, he was wholly taken up with the
pastime of playing practicail jokes. No subject, no per-
son, was too exalted to escape him ; and, as his letter
proves, he stooped to play off his tricks on even boys ! In
this instance he had actually spied on them, and let them
make free with his house, intending to electrify them as
a hobgoblin when they sh ;uld have worked themselves
up to a proper pitch of excitement.

But, like every one else concerned in this scheme, he
himself was a sufferer.

The boys were relieved. No more haunting fears of
being sent to penitentiary ; no more ingenious specula-
tions as to how they should occupy themselves there.
Better than all else, they had news of Marmaduke. ''*^"M'^'

When Marmaduke discovered the imposition, and fled.

U '■■ l:!

M i'Sfi

A BIUNDERIKO BOY.

Iw WM almost beside himself with grief, horror, and
anger. It seemed to him that boys who could deliberately
contrive and execute so base a scheme must be exceed-
ingly depraved — cruel, and lost to all sense of honor. It
seemed to him, in short, that they were worse than they
were. After having been duped so completely by them,
he could not endure the thought of ever seeing them
again, and so resolved to abandon his country.

Poor Marmaduke ! He was of a sensitive temperament,
and believed that his heartless school -fellows would ridi-
cule him for evermore.

H& wandered on till he came to a large and empty
bam, and then it occurred to him that it would be proper
for him, as an exile, to take up his quarters in it for a
short itime. He reasoned, also, that if he should be looked
for, it would be well to keep hidden till the search was
over, when he could continue his flight towards the sea-
coast, or any other place, in peace and safety.

" I am resolved that they shall not take me," he said
in^himself , " for I could not survive another attack from
those' boys. No, I shall wander off to some happy land,
whene my merit will be appreciated. Then I shall set to
work, become rich and famous, and after long years have
passed I shall return for a few days to my insulting
cotmtrymen, a great man ! Then people that think it is
hiffdly worth while to say ' good-day ' to me now, will be
gild to catch a glimpse of me from behind a window-
cltrtain; and that horrible old woman that says /look a
little like her son, the carter, will discover that the Gov-
ernor of the State looks just like me ! Then those boys
-^they will be men then —will remember that I used to
be Marmaduke, that they used to sit in the same seat
with me, and that they used to study out of my bookf
sometimes ; and they will come around me, humble anci
cringing, and try to get me to recognize them. But I
wiont recognize them — by even a look or a turn ! "

Ftill of his future triumph and of his most original
mamner of slighting his persecutors, Marmaduke effected
ail entry into the old bam in a very burglarious way, not
aixall compatible with his dignity. To speak plainly, he

PEBHAPS HE WAS HUNOBT.

r,<.i

Dr, and
)erately
exceed-
aor. It
an they
►y them,
ig them

erament,
uld ridi-

d empty
)e proper
1 it for a
36 looked
irch was
i the sea-

' he said
ack from
Ippy land,
lall set to
ears have
insulting
hink it is
V, will be
window-
\ I look a
the Gov-
lOse boys
I used to
,me seat
ly book^
ible anci
. But I

original

effected

way, not

fainly, he

picked the lock with a pair of tweezers, wbieh he^'hadl
used a few hours previous for a different, a very differmt
purpose.

Here he spent the night, dozing, fuming against hti^
school-fellows, and speculating on his future glocy ;
while his nearly distracted parent was dragging poi^,
snappishly replying to the impertinent questions otouri^'
ous old women, sending little boys and big men hither
and thither on a fool's errand, and goading s^py knights
of the telegraph almost to frenzy.

Next mornmg as Mr. Stolz was passing the old bara^
he fancied he heard strange sounds within. He slid > off
his horse, warily drew near, and looking through a knot-
hole, discovered the missing boy lying on the noor, hold-;
ing quiet converse with himself, as he matured his plans,
for the future.

Stolz hurried back to his horse, almost beside himsell
with laughter, and thinking that the boys' plot was moftt
sublimely ridiculous.

Just as the dreamer was in the midst of composing an
elaborate letter of farewell to his mother, his sterner
parent appeared on the scene, and poor Marmaduke's trip
to " some happy land " was postponed indefinitely.

Strange as it may at first seem, Marmaduke was more^
pleased to return home than he cared to acknowledfie* >
Life as an exile in a gloomy old bam was decideSgr!
monotonous ; and his curiosity as to who the prisosier
represented by Sauterelle could be, was becoming excited.
It was a mystery which he must fathom.

His poor mother and his remorseful companions wel-
'^o -^'^ him with heart-felt joy ; and twenty-four hours
after lie and Henry first met, they were debating— with
consif' rable constraint, it is true — whether there is more
fun iu fishing with a spear than with a pole and line..

Such is life — among school-boys. v

What effect did this have on the tricksters, in a moral
point of view ? Only a slight one, certainly not a lasting
one. Though shocked and conscience-smitten for a time,
they were soon as reckless and perverse as ever ; and tlm>
lesson their suffering should have taught them was vm-^i
heeded.

■' ii

iiiv

m 1

:r'i;i;!

A BLUNDERING BOY.

i I

^^'Cbttsidering the teniency with which Mr. Stolz treated
them, they should have felt grateM towards him. On
ille contrary, whenever this practical joker hove in sight
6tL his goggle-eyed old charger, instead of advancing to
tbiich their hats to him respectfully, they regarded him
with such deep-seated rancour that they invariably
jumped over the handiest fence, and strolled off some-
where through the fields.

The gossiping villagers had a new subject of comment,
and they took delight in jeering at the " French lords,"
a^ they insultingly called the ex-plotters. For that
reason it was dangerous, as long as the holidays lasted, to
say anything to Ihem about France or Frenchmen ; and
Stephen fell into such a habit of looking furious that his
left eye was permanently injured.

' As fbr Henry, be became so home-sick and heart-sick
that, after a visit of only ten days, he packed his valise
ind returned.

Mt^e !--.''''

Chapter XL.
The Heroes Fiqure as Hunters.

-" Perhaps the reader may think that while the seven
heroes were together, instead of packing Henry, the
seventh (observe the comma immediately uffcer Henry ;
observe, also, that it is not written Henry VII.), off home,
it would have been better to relate a few more of their
exploits. Not so. In imposing on Marmad^ke, each one
was guilty of a breach of trust, so that it would not be
right to have them ajpear with such a stain on their
reputation. As for Jim, he pre. aeditated villainy ; and in
good romances no villain can long be regarded as a hero
^unless he happens to be a highwayman, and it would
be preposterous to attempt to have Jim. play the high-
wayman. Now, the intention is to write this story on a
moral basis ; therefore, a few years are suffered to elapse,
and they are supposed to reform in that time.
^<^ Marmaduke aid no wrong, so that his history might be

WHAT THE READER LOSES.

349

continued, without doubt. But this story could not go
(m, unless all the boys, Jim included, were in ii .^ ,^

Suppose, therefore, that six years have passed since the
burning of " Nobody's House.' The boys, now men, are
still alive, and in good health and spirits. How they
have spent those six years is not difficult to imagine. All
of them regularly attended school till they were big and
awkward, when most of them were sent to a university,
to complete their education.

It was originally the intention to relate some thrilling
incidents that took place while they were students : but
being too lazy to collect sufficieni< scientific facts to do so
with effect, that intention was relr.ctantly given up.

Gentle reader, if you are ever at a loss for something
to sigh about, just think what you have missed in not
readmg how four sophomores barely escaped blowing
themselves and a leaky steamboat up into the clouds,
fancying that they understood the theory of working a
steam-engine. To torture you still further, imagine, also,
a scene in which a learned professor's " focus cannon "
mysteriously, unadvisedly, and to the heroes' amazement
and horror, shot a ball into a pair of glass globes, which
the affectionate students were about to present to himu

It was autumn ; and the seven young men, heroes still,
were preparing to journey far northward, to hunt deer,
or whatever else their bullets might chance to strike.

Will and Henry prevailed on Uncle Dick to accom
pany them — ^greatly to the satisfaction of the elders, who
fondly hoped he would keep a fatherly eye on the reck'
less hunters, and prevent them from destroying them-
selves.

Fully equipped, the party of eight set out for the
" happy hunting grounds," firm in the resolution to kill
all the game still remaining in the great northwest. If
plenty of ammunition and fire-arms would avail, then
certainly they should bring home a great supply of anipnal

But whether the fourfooted creri>ures of the forest
were forewarned that a band of mighty hunters was on
the war-trail, and fled from their sylvan haunts, or

'.U

H - i\

111'':
It .

m m

i n

■fH^ii I

"^m

A BLUNDERING BOY.

'A'
[1 'i^

'tf

Wfaeiiher they obstinately remamed, and bade defiance^ to
the Nimrods' balls, is a mooted point, which the intensely
interested reader may set at rest as he pleases.

Having arrived at the outskirts of a growing settle-
ment, close to fx genuine forest, the eight hunters fell to
work, and soo.a built an uncomfortable and unsafe little
shanty.

" This will be life in earnest," Charles observed joy-i
ously.

The young ladies of his native village politely spoke of
him as " Mr. Growler ; " but his moustache was still so
white that we should not be justified in so honoring him.
"Yes; this is the artless life our forefathers lived;'.'
8ei.id Marmaduke, poetical as ever.

" No," corrected Stephen, " our forefathers didn't range
through the forest with Castile soap in their bundles and
charms dangling on their watch chains."

" Come, now, considering that you smuggled the soap
into Marmaduke's pack, you are rather hard on him," said
Will.

" Oh, I smuggled it there for my own use as well as for
his," Stephen explained.

This proves that Steve was as fond as ever of monkey
tricks.

Of course the hunters were to depend on what they
kiPed in the chase for food ; and so, as soon as they were
fairly settled, Will and Henry set out to shoot something
that would my.ke a delicious stew for dinner.

All at once a strange, shadowy form was espied by
Will, lurking in the edge of the wood ; and without a
moment's hesitation he raised his gun and fired. Now,
at home. Will was considered an excellent marksman ;
therefore, Henry, who was beside him, was not surprised
to see that, whatever the animal might be, it was stone
dead.

They hurried to the fallen prey, and were almost as

much disappointed as the small boy is when he finds that

his nsh-hook has captured a demonstrative crab instead

<jf a^good^natured chub.

' " WeU," the destroyer said, with a grim smile, " I have

A LARGE AND FEROCIOUS BEAR.

fiance to
intensely

\g settle-
srs fell to
(af e little

•ved joy-
spoke of
s still so
ring him.
s lived ; "

In't range
ndles and

the soap
lim," said

«rell as for

f monkey

rhat they
hey were
omething

jspied by
rithout a

Id. Now,

irksman ;

Isurprised
ras stone

Imost as

inds that

instead

" I have

351

^yrrl

done'what Steve has often tried to do, but never

have slain a gHmalkin ! " v^ -^fij

" Cats have no business to prowl around here, and they
deserve to be shot, though we haven't come all this dis-
tance to shoot them," Henry said peevishly. " But let us
hide this hoary fellow ; for if Steve should hear of it, he
might be tempted to box it up and send it home as your
first deer."

It would not be worth while to give the weary and
fruitless tramp the cousins took ; it is sufiicient to say
that they shot nothing that a civilized cook would take
pride in preparing for the table. At last Henry was for-
tunate enough to disable a brace of woodcocks, and after
an exciting chase they secured them, and then returned
to their quarters.

Next morning the entire party went hunting, resolved
to kill something. They penetrated far into the forest,
talking as freely as if they were in a desert or on the
ocean. Consequently, they did not see much game.

" Hist ! " Mr. Lawrence suddenly exclaimed. " What
enormous beast is that yonder ? "

" It's a bear ? " Will cried with rapture. " A genuine
bear!"

" Are there bears here, in this part of the world ? " Jim
asked uneasily. " Did we come to hunt bears ? "

" Of course we did ; of course there are ; " Henry said
with disgust. " Jim, I wish our good old professor could
have you among his students, '^here would be virgin
soil, and you would make an apt student, I am sure."

" Yes, it is a bear," George said emphatically. " A
large bear, and probably a ferocious one. There is the
true bearish head, thick and heavy ; the cropped ears ;
the thick snout ; and the long shaggy coat. It is larger
than even the one in the museum, isn't it, Henry ? "

Henry thought it was.

" I see the very place to plant a fatal shot," George
hinted.
. " Plant it, then," Steve growled.

George, eager to slay the monster, fired quickly, .
■ ^ The smoke cleared away, and there lay tht* bJNw, in
•xactly the same position.

It;

!?i:

l^'i;

S5i

A BLUNDERmO BOY.

ft \

|?1 '

. f

h, \

\ <■

-'f

- ^' It is stone-dead, surely enough ! " Will said, as though
ourprised.

•>** Np ;I fancied I saw it move a little," Mr. Lawrence

said;iJAj4-'f;v.5

> i^Then let us all fire a round of balls into it," Steve
suggested.

i H J won't have it riddled with shot ! " George said
an^ly. " I saw just where to hit it, and I hit it there,
and it s dead."

But his wish was disregarded, and some of the hunters
cowardly fired. Then tney advanced cautiously, still
fearing that the bear might have life enough in him to
give battle. But the " bearish head " was not raised ; the
" thick snout " was not dilated.

Steve, who was ahead, suddenly gasped out a plaintive
"Oh." Then the others also saw. The sun shone through
the trees, and left a peculiar shadow on the grass and
l^shwood. That was the bear. «

' **Let us clap this bear into the museum,"^ Stephen
presently observed.

The disgusted hunters concluded to separate, and meet
at a certain time and place, if they didn't get lost or eaten
up,

Will wandered off alone, and shot scores of useful birds
and animals — not useful to him, as a hunter, but useful
in the economy of nature. But after one shot had been
thu8< thrown away, a yell of anger and terror rang through
the forest, and with his heart beating time to his foot-
steps. Will hurried in the direction of that yell.

He soon came up to a man, sitting on a fallen tree, dis-
torting his features, and nursing his finger in his mouth,
with a gurgling noise, peculiar to a sobbing school-boy
trying to soothe the pain inflicted by a hasty-tempered
wasp,

" Hello, there ! " cried this man. " Did you shoot that
Iwllet ? "

" Yes, I have just discharged my gun," Will answered.
" Did — did it hit you, sir ? If so, I am extremely sorry,
for, I assure you, I had no intention — "
4" That'll dol" broke in the wounded man, removing

A BULLY GOOD SILVER RING.

Us finger for a moment. " It is plain enough that you
are no hunter," contemptuously. "A genuine huoter*
doesn't go cracking around like a boy with a pop^'gun,
nor talk like as if he was writing to the post-master;
seneral. But, I say, do you know what you have done ?
You have smashed my little finger ! " u^

" What ? Are you really hurt ? Did the ball strike your
finger?"

" Of course it did," angrily ; " and it'll be the dearest
bullet you ever bought ! I tell you, I'm sick of having
city chaps tearing through our woods, and scaring the
deer and things, and if they keep it up much longer, th^i
whole population '11 be shot oft'. Oh, cracky, but my.
finger smarts ! I was never shot before." i.u'j

" Let me see your wound," Will said. ' '^^':

But the " child of nature " showed no disposition to let
Will examine his injured member, and Will was both
amused and relieved to hear him make the following
observation : " No, it ain't so much the finger that troubles
me ; it'll soon heal ; but I had a bully good silver ring on.
it, that I found in an old dust-heap, and that there bullfet
has busted it." . ;:

Then the shooter stepped up to the rustic, sayings
" Come, I must see your finger. If it is badly hurt I will
bind it up for you ; I have the materials all. ready in my.
pockets." i03i» aii? m

" Well, you are quite right in carrying rags, and ftalveV
and thread, and pins, and soft cotton, and strings, and
such trash, always stuffed in your pockets, for you look
like as if you might blow your head off any minute," the
wounded man insultingly said, as he got a nearer view of
Will

Without further delay he submitted his finger to Will's
examination. Will presently observed : " I think your,
strong silver ring saved the finger, if not the entire hand,
from a severe wound, as the bullet struck its ornamental
carvings and then glanced. In a day or so y6ur finger
will be as sound as ever. Well, I'm sorry I hurt yott,
but I must be oft*. Good-day." .^ etmss I tol

jfi* Now, just wait a minute," said the man with t)it

t ;

-TT^

354

A BLUNDERING BOY.

\\y

siipvrer ring. "You don't know how much I ihink of &
good ring. I'm a very affectionate feller, and as there's
nothing else for me to take to, I think a heap of a good
ring. And this one's ruined and busted now. It may
be ever so long before I can get as good a one — and you
made fun of it, too ! I say, what did you say about
'carvings.'"

" But the ring sa-^ed your hand," Will persisted.
• ** I don't say nothing about that ; but your bullet has
spoilt my ring, and I mean to have the worth of it. Do
you understand that ? I ask for the worth of it."

" Certainly ; how much is your ring worth ? "

" Eh ? Well, I don't know ; it was a pretty valuable
ring. How high will you go ? "

Poor Will was becoming tired. He longed to leave the
barbarian's company, and was fumbling in his pocket for
a^small gold piece that was there, when a rustling in the
underwood drew his attention.

" Wumblers ! There'll be another bullet here next !
Whoop ! here comes another hunter full drive ! Oh !
cracky, there's buck after him ! Lemme see your gun, and
I'll show you how to knock 'em over."

This was quite true. Romantic Marmaduke had
stumbled on the fresh track of a deer, and following on,
had soon come up with it.

So much he freely confessed to his inquiring fellow-
hunters. But how the ueer came to give chase — whether
he showed the white feather at the critical moment, or
whether he chanted poetry to the hunted creature, and so
infuriated it past endurance — is a question which he
could not,-or would not, answer.

Will's heart beat fast. Here was a large deer within
range of his rifle. If he should kill it on the spot he
would achieve a valiant deed, as well as put an end to
Marmaduke's ignominious flight.
, " Lemme see you gun," the man said eagerly. .
^ 'Will did not choose to comply with his request, but
levelled his rifle at the approaching animal, and fired.

While hunting the last two days, he had suffared so
many disappointments that he himself was perhaps some-

MARMADtJKE IS MISUNDERSTOOD.

955

what surorised to see the deer plunge forward and gasp
out his life in a short but awful agony.

" Good for you, old feller ; you can shoot some, after
all ! " the forester ejaculated. "

Marmaduke stopped his flight, saw Will, heaved a sigh,
and said pathetically, " It is hard to see the noble beasii
cut off" in all his pride and strength."

" Yes, but better than to suffer from his fury, I hope ; "
Will replied. "But how under the sun did the cnase
begin ? ' he asked, glancing from his rifle to the deer
with intense satisfaction.

But the chased one was reticent on that point, as stated
above ; and to evade an answer, he turned to the man
with the marred silver ring, and asked, " What gentlemant^
is this?"

" What was it you said about cutting up the buck, just
now, stranger?" this gentleman eagerly inquired. "If
you're going to cut him up, V\\ help you ; and for my
share I'll take a haunch." '

Alas ! Though forest-bom and familiar with woodland
scenes and noble deer, this man had not a poetic soul, and
he interpreted Marmaduke's beautiful apostrophe as a
wish that the deer should be cut up ! ' «1''

" Your share ! What have you to do with it ? "
Marmaduke inquired, coming down to the things of this
world with startling abruptness.

" Well, this here feller went and shot me ; and I'm
going to help you cut up your deer ; and for all my
trouble and suflering I only ask for a haunch. I'll have
it, too ! " determinedly.

Chapter XLI.

HOW WILL LOST HIS DEER.

Marmaduke now demanded and received a brief
explanation of aflairs.

Seeing a way out of the difficulty, he pointed obliquely
over the injured man's shoulder, and said, " Will, there is
a plump and sweet partridge in that tree ;— no, lower

;llii

356

A BLUNDEBINO BOY.

down ;— further on; — hadn't you better shoot it for him ? "
«:^ After a moment's deliberation the man who loved a
good silver ring agreed to be satisfied with the partridge.

Yet an evil smile curved his lips — a smile that fore-
boded mischief to something — perhaps to the partridge.

Will had no sooner fired than a howl of awful agony
burst from the man's lips, and having spread his huge
hands over the region where the ignorant suppose their
vitals are situated, he bowed his body downwards, and
there passed over his face a look of sufiering that, in
sublime tragedy, almost equalled the frightful spasms so
graphically portrayed in our patent medicine almanacs.

Almost — ^nothing can quite come up to the patent
medicine almanacs in that respect.

With a voice that was appalling in its unrestrained
vehemence, he fell to delivering hideous ecphoneses, —
too hideous, in fact, to be repeated here, — and then gasped
faintly, " You've done it now ! " .

Poor Will ! He was nearly crazed with grief.

** Oh ! " he groaned, " have I killed him ? Have I
taken a fellow-creature's life ? Has my hastiness at last
had a fatal result V

" Oh," Marmaduke murmured, " how could Will's ball
glance so as to enter that man's body ? "

For several seconds the two unluckv hunters stood
perfectly still, held to the spot by devouring horror and
anguish.

During this time, the forester seemed to be undergoing
exquisite pain ; but presently, with an effort worthy of a
hero, he struggled to an erect posture, and said, with a
faltering tongue : " SToung men — perhaps — I'm, I'm gone.
— I-^can't blame — you, sir; — a man — can't tell — how his
ball — may glance. — Go, — both of you, — go— -and get a —
doctor. — Bring a — doctor — ^you," to Will; "and you — "
to Marmaduke, " go east — from — from here — half a —
mile — to my — father's. — I — I — can stay — alone."

" Poor, poor fellow," said Will, with tears in his eyes.
" Can you stay here alone and suffer till we come back ?"

'' Yes," groaned the wounded man. " I can — stay — till
—the other — fellow — finds my — father. — It won't— be
long."

for him?"
\o loved a
s partridga
that fore-
partridge,
riiil a^ony
[ his huge
>pose their
wards, and
Qg that, in
spa3ms so
almanacs.
>he patent

[restrained
honeses, —
[len gasped

Have I

ess at last

WiU's ball

ers stood
lorror and

dergoing
)rthy of a
d, with a

!'m gone.

how his
d get a —

you-"

lalf a —

his eyes.
e back ?"
tay — till
on't—be

VERT HUMANE.

go," Will
even bavo

h6id

I'U-

^' Let me at least see your wound before .
entreated. " Perhaps I could ease you, or
your life."

" Go ! oh go ! " urged the wounded man.
out — if you are— quick."

Then the two hunters strode sorrowfully away in their
different directions — Will with a vague notion that the
nearest surgeon lived several miles to the south — Mar-
maduke thinking that the "peasants" of his country are a
hardy and noble race. .1

They were barely out of sight on their errands of
mercy when a change most magical came over the
sufferer's face. Two minutes before, and his features
wore the tortured look of an invalid " before taking our
prescription ; " now they wore the happy smirk of a
convalescent, relieved from all pain, " after taking our
prescription."

Then, villain-like, he muttered : " I hardly expected to'
make so much out of the two fools — a whole deer ! That's
striking it pretty rich ! I don't shoot a deer in a month ;
but this is just as good, for I can make off with this one
at my leisure. Well, I reckoned that little ' wound '
would work."

A horrible chuckle escaped from his lips, he sprang to
his feet as sound in health as a person could expect to
be, walked up to Will's deer, and coolly began to drag it
away into the depths of the forest. All that part of the
forest was known to him, and he soon dragged his prey
into a place of concealment where its rightful owners
would hardly find it.

" There," he muttered, " I guess I have dragged the old
feller far enough. He's safe enough here till I can take
him home. Now, they haven't been gone long, and if
they keep on, they may get lost ; and it's mean to have
'em get lost on a fool's errand. Perhaps this'U bring 'em
back on a keen run. How they will hunt for me and
the deer ! "

As the thief spoke he retraced his steps a little way,
discharged a pistol concealed on his person, and then
slunk back to his hiding-place. Yes, he was so humane

.5;i

a58

A BLUNDERING BOT.

that he did not wish the two deluded huntors to bring
succor to a man who did not need it. .-.ot

The report of his pistol had the desired e#ect. Both
Will and Marinaduke heard it ; and fearing that the poor
wretch was attacked by some foe, human or otherwise,
they hastened back to the scene of bruises and wounds,
meanness and trickery.

Of course they found nothing, and, although they were
heroes, they were unable to track the knave to his hiding-
place. Will was furious. He had felt so grieved at
having wounded a fellow-creature ; so proud, a moment
before, of having been the first to kill a deer ; and now
he naturally and correctly concluded that the " wound "
was a mere ruse on the rogue's part, in order the more
surely to get possession of the deer.

" Will, 1 took the fellow to be a very fair example of
our peasants ; an honest, ingenuous and hardy forester.
How bitterly I am deceived."

Will replied : " Well, / took the fellow for a hypocrite
and a downright knave from the first. It isn't so much
the deer, — though that is really a great loss for me, — but
the depravity that the man has shown, that grieves me.
And I was just going to give him a new dollar gold piece
to squander his afiection on ! But, Marmaduke," with a
flash of his old jovialness, " don't talk about peasants
and peasantry y for free America knows no such word.
Marmaduke, I'm afraid your trip to Europe in the
summer filled your mind with some ridiculous notions.
Shake them oft", and be yourself again."

" Well, Will, you are in the right. Now, suppose that
we look for the partridge, for I believe your ball killed
it.

"No, Marmaduke, I missed it, for I saw it flyaway
Untouched, just as that man doubled himself up and
began to howl."

-." Then you took it for granted that he received che
ball?"

"Yes. Well, it is useless to remain here, so let us
hurry on to the trysting-place, due west, if we want to
meet the others. But if I don't unearth that wretch

s to bring

'ect. Both

at the poor

otherwise,

id wounds,

they were
his hidincT-
grieved li
a moment
; and now
" wound "
' the more

example of
y forester.

I hypocrite
't so much
p me, — but
rieves me.
gold piece
" with a
peasants
uch word,
in the
notions.

»pose that
all killed

fly away
up and

ived iihe

lo let us

want to

wretch

STEVE POINTS TWO MORALS.

35d

to-morrow, it will be because — because his ill-gotten deer
poisons him ! "

Having taken this dreadful resolution, the two set off"
for the rendezvous, where they arrived just in time to
meet with the other hunters.

" Ho ! " cried Steve, when he observed Will's gloomy
looks. "Ho, old fellow! your face iTidicates a moody
mood*'

" Well," snarled Will, " have you shot some school-
boy's grammar, and read it through ? " ' ;

Then he narrated his encounter with the man in thb
forest.

It was received with plaintive cries of astonishment,
anger, and horror.

" Well, Will," said Steve after the first paroxysms of
rage had subsided, " I gather two morals — morals full of
instruction, too — from your narrative."

As no one inquired what these " morals " might be,
the speaker was obliged to resume his discourse rather
awkwardly. But no one could cow Steve into silence.

" Yes, boys ; two morals "

A pause — in vain.

" Two morals, I say. In the first place, when you are
in a forest like this, always protect the fourth member of
the left paw with a sculptured silver ring. In the second
place, never fire at a partridge when a jewelled rustic oc-
cupies a log some thirty feet southeast of your left ear,
as Marmaduke hints this one did. It is as dangerous as
a nest of hornets on the North Pole."

" Don't be so atrocious," said Charles. " In my mind's
eye, I can look back eight years or so, and see a battered-
knuckled urchin called Steve Goodfellow, wriggling on a
bench in a certain Sunday School, and turning idly round
and round a beautiful silver ring, that adored first one
and then another of his fingers." -5^

Steve sat down so suddenly that he burst the paper
collar around his neck. However, he took no notice of
this, but changed the subject and diverted the boys' at-
tention by saying : " I say, Will and Marmaduke, George,
aft- well as you, has had disappointments to-day. I
shouldn't relate this little anecdote, if George hadn't given

360

A BLUNDBRIMO BOY.

me permission ; because it would be too mean for even
me, and that is saying a good deal. O dear ! I'm sorry,
boys ; but T can't help it !"

" Well, Steve, there is one thing in your favor," Charles
said soothingly. "You always confine what you are
pleased to call your meannesa to us boys ; and we can
survive it all — in fact, we expect it from you, old fellow."

" Thank you, Charley ; you can see below the surface,
and see just how heavily and guiltily my great heart
beats when I attempt to insult over you boys. Rut now
for my anecdote. George and I meet in a ' bowery glade.'
Though we glare wickedly round in search of prey, I see
nothing but Nature's loveliness. George espies a phe-
nomenon high up in a monster of the forest, ' an old
primeval giant,' whose branching top fanned the blue
sky. In other words, he espies something queer, perched
high in a grand old fir. It is large ; it is strange ; it
moves. ' It is a creature of the air,' thinks George. ' It
18 1 It is a bird new to science ! Oh, what pleasmg dis-
covery do I make ? Am I about to cover myself with
glory ? I am ! I feel it in my inmost heart, my heart of
heart. Steve,' he continues, ' I know my destiny — the
pursuit of science. My fate is now marked out ; I shall
write ornithologies ! Now I must shoot this percher
down ; I cannot climb to catch it, though more's the pity.'
O boys, it was, alas! a bird's nest ! A great big bird's
nest ! And when he fired, it was no more. This is my
mournful tale ; this is my anecdote."

*' Steve, don't relate any more such anecdotes," said
Charles, " or you will burst your ' great heart ' as you
have burst your paper collar."

" Steve, did George tell you how you might relate that
incident ? " Will asked suspiciously. " But, Steve," he
added gravely, " be good enough to tell me what you
have shot to-day to make you so merry."

" With the greatest pleasure," Steve replied grimly. " /
shot the hai^et of ray gun all to jyi^ces"

" What ?" Will asked, at a loss to take Steve's mean-
ing.

" In other words," Mr. Lawrence said, " Stephen over-
charged his gun, and it burst — burst with a vengeance. '

bD for even
I'm sorry,

r," Charles
t you are
nd we can
>ld fellow."
he surface,
rreat heart
Rut now
ery glade.'
prey, I see
lies a phe-
it, * an old
i the blue
3r, perched
itrange; it
jorge. ' It
easing dis-
yself with
ly heart of
3tiny — ^the
t; I shall
is percher
the pity.'
big bird's
^his is my

^tes," said
as you

[elate that
)teve," he
'^hat you

piraly. " /

's mean-

len over-
reance. '

DOES ALL THIS HANQ TOGETHER.

361

" It seems to me that a good many things have burst,
or failed to burst, to-day," George muttered.

Then they proceeded to their camp, — as Marmaduke
loved to call the miserable shanty that barely afforded
them shelter, — affecting to carry their guns and their
almost empty game-bags as though they were veteran
hunters.

Each one was thinking about the deer which was
rightfully Will's, and each one felt that the affair was not
over yet.

It is with some real reluctance that the scene with the
forester is introduced, because romancers take altogether
too much delight in parading villainy ; but at one time
this scene seemed, in a measure, to be necessary to the
construction of this story. Afterwards the writer had not
the moral courage to leave it out.

Most readers can remember that in almost all novels
that they have read, (excepting, of course, the " intensely
mteresting " ones,) there was at least one chapter which,
taken by itself, seemed tiresome and useless ; but which,
woven in skilfully, and taken in connection with the
whole, was necessary to the perfection of the novel.

After writing these two paragraphs, in order to disarm
all hostile criticism, we shall imagine a conscientious
reader's referring to this chapter, after he has carefully
perused the entire story, and saying, with a horrible fear
that his usual insight into things has forsaken him : "Well,
I can't see the particular need and worth of this chapter,"
while we furnish this consoling information- " Neither
can we ! "

Now, carpers, if you can apprehend the meaning of all
this, draw out your engines and bring them into play.

Another point : Let not the conscientious reader rack
his brains in a vain endeavor to discover what particular
"follies," or "foibles," are attacked in this chapter, for
the writer himself does not know ; though he is morally
certain that he has not written these two chapters just to
injure the trade in silver rings.

lit"

M''

i > i

96a ' A BLUNDBBINO BOY.

Chapter XLIl.

WHAT CURIOSITY COST THE HUNTERS.

! Next morning the mighty Nimrods breakfasted, in
imagination, on their deer ; and then struck out into the
forest, resolved to unearth the rogue v^ho had gulled poor
WUl.

But soon the tickle hunters concluded to secure the
services of an officer of the law, and on reaching the edge
of the forest they were directed where to find such a
person.

They came up with this man in his orchard, but
whether he was gathering apples or only eating them they
could net guess. He listened patiently to the story of
their wrongs (they did not give ii exactly as it happened,
but they did not falsify it at all), and then told them that
they might go on with their hunt and not trouble their
heads about it further, for he would soon overhaul the
villain.

The hunters lingered irresolutely, but the man seemed
to know his own business best, and with a peremptory
" good day " he scrambled into a patriarchal apple-tree,
and fell to shaking down his apples so recklessly and
disrtspectfuUy that they thought it prudent to with-
draw.

-. "I will catch the rascal myself, after all," Will de-
ciared.

" Yes, let us penetrate far into this old forest," Marma-
duke added. "If we explore its length and breadth,
perhaps we shall find some trace of our game."

" Perhaps, if we set to work in earnest, we shall be
more successful hunting for man than we have been for
beast," the young man who used to be called the Sage
observed.

With that the hunters struck oat boldly.
'■ " Boys," said Charles, (they still used the familiar ap-
pellation of former years,) " did any of you ever read a
romance in which a scout figured as the hero, or in which
the hero sometimes plpyod the part of a scout, or spy ?"

LOST !

368

" I have," said two or three.

" Well, how did they go about it ? " Charles asked.

" Oh," said Stephen, who took it upon himself to an-
swer, " they always woie leather breeches, moccasins, and
shot-belts ; they always struck the trail at once, smoked
the chiefs' peace-pipe, and slew the common Indians;
they always followed their trade alone, — or if they had
a mate, doth went alone, — and chewed home-made tobacco
with the few tusks still left them ; they always toma-
hawked deserters, other people's spies, or scouts, and wild-
cats ; and finally, they always found out secrets that got
them into trouble, but lived to receive a gold snutf-box
on the occasion of the hero's wedding. What they did
with the gold snutf-box I don't know ; for there the
romancer, being too much exhausted to write 'The End,'
which has six letters, always wrote ' Finis,' which has
only five."

" Thank you, Steve," said Charles. " But according to
that, it is hopeless for us to act the orthodox spy, so we
shall have to go on blindly and take our chances."

And they did go on blindly — so blindly, that five hours
later, when hunger began to show her hand, they per-
ceived that they were lost ! Lost in a vast forest, which,
for all they knew, was infested with robbers !

" It is strange that we have not travelled in a circle,"
George mused. " You all know, of course, that when a
man loses his way, it is a fundamental principle that he
should travel in a circle.''

" Well, if we keep on diligently, probably we shall have
the pleasure of finding that we are travelling in a circle,"
Charles commented.

" I tell you what it is, boys;" Steve said, making use of
an expression that had left his lips at least once daily
since his twelfth year ; " I tell you what it is, boys; now
that we are lost, let us make the most of it. I have had
a hankering to get lost ever since I cried myself to slieep
over the mournful tale of the ' Babes in the Woods ; ' and
now I am going to enjoy the novel sensation of being
lost ! Hurrah ! "

And in the exuberance of his spirits careless Steve

■' I

sa4

A BLUNDERING BOY.

plucked off his hat and flung it aloft so adroitly that it
caught in a tree and dangled there tantalizingly, quite out
of his reach. However, a ball from Charles's rifle induced
it to fall.

" That is the most useful thing I have shot, Steve," he
confessed dejectedly ; " and if it had been a thing of life,
I should have terminated that life," pointing to a ghastly
hole in the crown of the hat.

" Don't be so much moved, Steve," George observed ;
"for you may ff/e worse than even the 'Babes in the
Woods.' Poor little creatures, they died happy, at least."

'* Oh," said Marmaduke, also delighted to think he was
actually lost, " we can live very well for a few days in
this magnificent old forest. We can, of course, procure
all the animal food we shall need, together with roots,
herbs, and berries — no, it's too late for berries. A man
can live on fish, fruit, and roots, without injury to his
system ; and in a few days we shall find our way out, or
else be rescued by others."

" Very good " said Will , " but where are we to catch
the fishes?"

*' Oh," Steve said promptly, " Marmaduke bases his
argument on the supposition that whenever a hunter gets
lost, he and a * pure stream,' stocked with fish, presently
fall into each other's arms."

" Speaking of rescue," said Charles, " many a poor lost
hunter is rescued from his sufferings by wild beasts that
devour him."

" It is sheer nonsense i,o talk of becoming lost here,"
Will declared dog: a iticaliy , "because this forest is not
extensive enough for any sensible man to remain lost in
it for any great length of time. I see daylight to the
north, now ; though where we are is more, I must acknow-
ledge, than I can tell."

" My compass persists that that Ijght comes from the
west," Stephen soon said ; '* but of course, Will, you are
too sensible a man to get lost or make such a mistake,
therefore my compass has become demoralized."

Will took out his compass, looked at it very hard, and
then pocketed it with a sigh.

A PRETTY LITTLE BOY.

365:

;ly that it
, quite out
le induced

5teve," he
ing of life,
) a ghastly

observed ;
tbes in the
J, at least."
ink he was
3W days in
se, procure
with roots,
5s. A man
jury to his
\-ay out, or

ve to catch

3 bases his
lunter gets
, presently

a poor lost
beasts that

lost here,"
[•est is not
lain lost in
Iht to the

ft acknow-

f rom the

|1, yoa are

mistake,

Ihard, and

The hunters moved towards the light, and soon found
themselves in a clearing of ; )me extent. A strong log-
hut stood in the centre of this clearing, and divers emblems
of civilization and occupation were strewed around its
What seemed most strange, to even the most inattentive
of the hunters, was certain implements which are seldom
seen in the midst of a forest. These were such imple-
ments as are used in the construction of railroads.

" Hello ! " yelled Steve, glancing at all these imple-
ments, "hello! we have stumbled on a new railroad,
hav< we ? Well, we ought to be able to find our way out
no pretty easily ; for railroads don't spring up in wilder-
uesses."

" Yes, we are just within the woods ; outside we shall
find the rai' ')ad and civilization," Will returned. " Well,
I don't see much romance in getting lost for an hour or
so."

" Hello, what is this ? " Steve cried suddenly. *' Here
is a *?;».?■• Kttle tube, something like a cartridge. Now, is
it a cartridge ? "

" Be careful, Steve,'" Will cautioned. " There is no
knowing what dangerous things may be lying about here.
I remember, when I was a pretty little boy, my father
told me horrible stories about gun-cotton. He made it
out to be a frightful explosive, in order to deter me from
meddling with things strange to me. Now, perhaps — "

But at this point the prudent one was interrupted by
a shout of laughter from Charles. " Will," he said, " what
do you mean by ' a pretty little boy ? ' Do you mean,
when you were a handsome, though diminutive, urchin,
or simply, when you were rather small ? "

George now drew on his knowledge, and prepared to
enlighten them. " Gun-cotton, boys," he said, '* is a com-
T osition which con — "

Doubtless George would have given a very lucid ex-
planation of the nature and virtues of gun-cotton ; but at
this point, Steve, who still held the little " tube," said
mpatiently, " Now, what do I care about gun-cotton ?
There is no cotton here, and as for a gun — go to grass !
This tube can be made to fit the blunt end of my pencil
very neatly ; and what is more, it shall be put there."

.966

A BLUNDERING BOY.

* t

"Why, Steve, I didn't give you credit for bfeing so
sensible," Henry observed. " I didn't believe yoti were
studious enough to carry a pencil."
, " Oh," Charles ingeniously replied, " Steve doesn't
carry a pencil for studious purposes ; I doubt whether he
ever takes notes; but whenever he finds a clean and
smooth surface, — such as a new shingle or a solid fence
built of nciy planed boards, — he draws his name, or a
mythological figure, or the Phantom Ship, on it, with
dazzling flourishes."

" Draws his name, eh ? " asked Henry.

"Exactly."

" Well," sighed Steve, " it is one of the few things I can
do well."

With that he took out his penknife.

He was not the only one that had found one of ihe
little tubes. For some minutes Jim had been silently
filling his coat pocket with them, intending to take them
home. It is not easy for us to guess his object in doing
this, but perhaps the poor fellow, despairing of shooting
anything, wished to bear away some trophy, or souvenir,
of this hunt.

George, seeing all this, and that his proffered explana-
tion was contemptuously rejected, resolved to make an
" analysis ; " but, acting on the spur of the moment, he
went about it in a very puerile way. He set one of the
mysterious little tubes on a flat stone, then seized a
smaller stone, and prepared to grind his particular tube
to powder.

Truly, here was Genius laboring under difficulties!
Here was a scientific philosopher endeavoring to solve the
appallinff mystery by utterly annihilating a tube ! But
his hand was so unsteady with the awfulness of the
revelations he was about to make that (fortunately for
him) his first blow overshot the mark, and he paused be-
fore aiming a second.

Meanwhile Mr. Lawrence, Charles, and Will, expostu-
lated in vain. Henry, not dreaming of danger, looked on
with great curiosity, and was almost tempted to examine
some of the mysterious little tubes for himself.

STEVE LOOKS FOOLISH.

•3«7

being so
yoti were

^e doesn't
whether he
clean and
solid fence
name, or a
m it, with

hings I can

one of ihe
en silently
) take them
3ct in doing
of shooting
or souvenir,

ed explana-

to make an

Imoment, he

one of the

m seized a

iicular tube

Idifficulties !
Ito solve the
Itube 1 But
\ess of the
funately for
paus^^d be-

ill, expostu-

\y^ looked on

to examine

If.

All this happened simultaneously ? Certainly. Just
as George struck his fruitless blow, Steve began to carve
out the ornament for his pencil.

Reader, do not look upon this scene as savoring of
levity. This incident is true in every particular, a party
of would-be hunters having experimented with little
cartridge-like tubes just as our heroes did here. The
story as told by them is the same in substance with this,
though, of course, we have touched it up a little here apd
there.

Having thus kept the reader in suspense long enough,
it is now in order to return to Stephen. He had barely
begun to *' dig out the stuff," as he phrased it, when a
loud report started the eight hunters. Steve's tube had
exploded with more violence than any fire-cracker he
ever handled.

Appalled, his penknife fell unheeded, and he gazed at
tiie others with a silly, bewildered, and horrified expres-
sion of countenance, that at any other time would have
provoked a roar of laughter.

George's second blow was never struck, but springing
to his feet, he fixed his eyes on Will with a look of ex-
treme horror.

Will's actions, in fact, attracted the attention of all.
As soon as the tube exploded he sprang high into the air,
and then fell to bounding about like a harlequin or a
piece of black rubber, shouting franticly : " Oh, my head's
off! my head's ofi"! my head's off! "

His head was certainly not off, though blood was
streaming down his cheeks.

" Oh, Will," groaned Steve in agony, ' what i» the
matter ? Oh, Will, speak ! Have I killed you ? "

"My head's off"! My head's off!" was Wills only
answer.

" Nonsense ! your head is all right ! " Uncle Dick said
sharply.

But now Will struck another note, ^roanefl J' Oh, my
knee ! " and fell down in a swoon. Foolish fellow he had
danced till his knee slipped out of joint.

(N.B. — O youth, let this be a warning against dancing.)

aes

A BLUNDEBINQ BOY'

Mr. Lawrence and George anxiously bent over him ;
and, for the first time, Charles and Stephen looked at
each other.

" Your face ! " shrieked Steve.

" Your fingers ! " gasped Charles.

Then poor Steve perceived thau his thumb and first and
second fingers were shattered. It was a sickening sight,
and he now felt a severe pain in them.

From his fingers Stephen again looked at Charles.
Several small pieces of the metal had pierced the flesh
around the eyes, making painful, but very slight, wounds.

At that instant Jim set up his peculiar cry of terror.
Poor wretch, his terror and his mode of expressing it still
clung to him ; but it was a hundred times more ridiculous
in the man than in the boy. The explosion (if it may be
called so) and Will's amusing performance, cut short by
his sad accident, had kept him quiet up to this time, but
now he broke out into loud and plaintive cries. This
time, however, he was not a prey to " the chills."

" Oh, boys," he wailed, " I have some of them — a lot of
them — in my pocket ! Oh, boys, they will explode there !
They will explode and tear us all to pieces ! " And here
his voice increased in volume, and rose higher and higher,
faster than even the scale of C. " Help me, some one, for
/ can't get 'em out ! — Oh ! I explode ! '

" Console yourself, Jim," Henry laughed ; " I'll help
you to disgorge them."

" Have you any about you ? " Jim quavered.

" No," said Henry ; and with that he took the explosive
little tubes out of Timor's pocket.

" Boys, Mr. Lawrence. 1 know now what these horrible,
cartridge-like tubes are," Ge^>rge here observed " They
are dynamite — a new explosive, very useful to fire other
explosives, I belie vt. I have read about them lately, but
I never saw one Wfore, and don't know much about their
properties, except that — "

" George," Stev*^ interrupted, " if you had told us all
this ten minutes ago, you would have spared us much
imnoyance and sulferii^ Excuse me, George, but this
has roiled my emotions «ore than anything that ever

STEVE'S EMOTIONS.

369

>ver him;
looked at

i first and
ling sight,

b Charles,
i the flesh
it, wounds.
' of terror,
jing it still
ridiculous
it may be
it short by
3 time, but
ries. This
Is.

[n — a lot of

lode there 1

And here

,nd higher,

e one, for

"I'll help

explosive

se horrible,

\d " They

fire other

I lately, but

ibout their

I told us all
us much
but this
that ever

happened. Yes, you have knowledge of sundry curious
and useful facts, I admit; but that knowledge is not
turned to account till the mischief is done. Some day,
when you see me all torn to pieces, you will discover that
what I took for a pretty music-box was an infernal ma-
chine ; and then you will chuckle over your profundity,
but I shall not hear you."

" Well, they had no business to leave dynamites scat-
tered about so loosely," Charles said, his eyes tingling
just enough to make him surly.

" Had we any business to meddle with them ? " George
growled.

" Oh," sighed Will, now revived, " I'm afraid I made
an egregious fool of myse.f ; and 1 was probably the least
hurt of all. Some pieces entered my ears, cheek, and
neck ; — an ordinary hurt for a little boy ; — but through
my foolishness I have disjointed my knee ! "

Marmaduke now joined them. He had taken the affair
most unconcernedly, and strolled otf to make a reconnais-
sance.

" Boys," he began, " we are within four or five rods of
a railroad, surely enough ; and we have been meddling
with the company's dynamite. But if we had observed
the notice on the other side of the little log-hut, or store-
house, we should certainly have been more careful ; for
there, on the door, is written, in red-chalky letters,
' Powder Magazine.' "

*• Marmaduke, it seems to me that your style is not so
pure as of yore," Steve grinned, in spite of his pain.
" The animals in this forest have corrupted it. * Hed-
chalky-letters,' forsooth ! "

" I found, also," Mr.rmaduke continued, passing by
Stephen's taunt, "that tlie shortest route to a surgeon's
is due east, through the forest. We can easily reach him
by following our compasses."

" Did you inquire of some one outside ? " George asked.

" Yes, George, I had a talk with a man there. Now,
Steve and Will must have their hurts dressed as .soon as
may l)c ; so let us start. Will will have to be carried, of
course."
13

l,P

- .. !!tff

370

f'A

A BLUNDERING ^^Y,

Steve shuddered. The immo surgeon had an unpleasant
sound ; it graied his ears. Then lie perceived that Mar-
w»a hike had been carlnji^ for his coml'«)rt, and his con-
science was stun<r with remoi*se. Acting on the impulse
ol* his better nature, he strode up to Marmaduke grasped
his hand, and murmured : " Old fellow, you must forgive
me, and not mind anything 1 say ; for 1 don't mean it, I
assure you. It is too bad for me to be continually jeering
at you in particular, Marmaduke, and from to-day I will
try not to do it again."

Notwithstanding Steve's protestation that he did not
mean what he said. Marmaduke !r«aw he was in earnest
now, and replied : " Say no more about it, Steve, for each
of us has his little peculiarities. Now, sit down here,
beside me, and I'll bind up your hurt for you."

Then the two sat down together, and Marmaduke took
off the handkerchief which Stephen had hastily and
clumsily wound round his thumb and fingers. Abused
Marmaduke had many gentle ways, and now he tore the
handkerchief into strips, and as neatly and carefully as a
woman could have done it, bound up each hurt sepai*ate,
Steve awkwardly trying to help him.

This incident of binding up his hurts so kindly touched
Stephen's heart, and from that day the two have been
firm friends. Stephen is now Marmaduke's sworn de-
fender ; and if any person brings up the latter's romantic
notions with a view to make him appear ridiculous,
Stephen will say something so sarcastic that the aggressor
will wince and immediately speak of something else.

Meanwhile the others were taking care of Charles and
Will.

■ *■ »:

Chapter XLIII.

THINGS BEGIN TO GET INTERESTING.

Reader, do not turn faint with disgust at these heart-
rending details, nor imagine that the writer is a half-
reclaimed desparado all the way from "bleeding Kansas ;"
fortius is just as it happened to those hunters in the

NOT A desperado:

87i

flesh. But if he ever attempts to narrate a true story
again, he will toi^e it down as well as touch it up.

" Let us be thankful that it is no worse," Mr. Lawrence
said. " We have had a narrow escape ; for if Steve's
tube hadn't exploded immediately, George would cer-
tainly have struck hia, and then we might all have been
hurled into eternity."

" Do you think Steve will lose his thumb and fingers ?"
George asked, faintly.

/' Oh, I hope not ! " Uncle Dick said, fervently. Then
dolefully : " I am afraid I shall have a heavy account to
settle when laee your parents again."

Then the sound hunters framed a rude litter, and laid
Will on it gently. Georaje and Henry were to taku tutns
with Mr. Lawrence and Minnaduke in tarrying him.
And then the little p''o 'essicm pxssod solemn ly through
the woods, with but little of that sprightliness which
had hitherto characterized the p irty.

"I think this hunt will last me for a lifetime," Will
groaned.

" 1 am afraid you will feel the effects of your hurt all
the rest of your life," Uncle Dick sorrowfulh rejoined.

" There is one consolation," said Steve, who wajs walk-
ing with his well arm linked in Marmaduke's. "Next
time we see a ' dynamite ' we shall know what it is, and
probably I shall not care to make a plaything of one
again."

After a weary march due east, they came to a small
cleared space, in which stood a miserable hut. A faint
line of smoke was curling out of t ; loof, but no person
was in sight.

" Now, this isn't another powder magazine," said Steve ;
"^therefore it must be a 'wayside hut.' My wounds
have made me thirsty, of course, and we can probably
get a drink here, whether any one is in or not, so I am
going in."

The others, also, felt thirsty ; and Charles was advanc-
ing to knock at the door, when Steve softly called
him back.

" Now, Charley," he said '* I haven't read romanceg for

111

1i
I

■

1 :

4
I.

I I

If i

372

A BLUNDERING BOY.

nothing, and if there's villainy any where in this forest,
it's here. Of course you've all read that villains have
what is called a ' peculiar knock ? ' "

" Yes," whispered four out of the seven.

" Well, I'm going to give a ' peculiar knock ' on that
doer, with my sound hand, and you must mark the efTect
it has. You needn't grasp your weapons ; but just keep
your eyes and ears open. Then will you do whatever I
ask ? "

" We will," they said, smiling at Steve's whim.

Then the man who had not read romances for nothing
stole softly to the door, and knocked in a peculiar
manner.

Without a moment's hesitation, a voice within said,
" Well done! "

Steve faced the others and winked furiously, while he
reasoned rapidly to this effect : " Evidently, here is a nest
of knaves. The fellow on the inside thinks his mate is
in danger, and knocks to know whether it is safe for him
to enter."

Then the voice within asked uneasily, " Jim ? "

" Will," said Marmaduke, leaning over the litter, " we
are certainly on the track of the man who stole your
deer!"

" Oh, I had forgotten all about the deer," Will groaned.

Steve started, but collected himself in a moment, and
whispered to Jim, " Come along Jim ; this fellow wants
to see you. Now be as bold as a lion ; blow your nose
like a trumpet ; and observe : ' By the great dog-star, it's
Jim ; lemme in.' "

Jim managed to do this ; but he basely muttered that
he wasn't brought up ^.or a circus clown.

' Then come in ; the door isn't locked ; " the voice
within said harshly, but unhesitatingly.

Stephen flung open the door and strode proudly into
the hut, closely followed by the others. One scantily
furnished room, in a corner of which a man lay on a bed,
was disclosed. This man's look of alarm at this sudden
entrance filled Steve with exultation.

" What does all this mean ? What do you want ?" the
occupant of the bed demanded.

,^j

his forest,
dins have

' on that

the effect

just keep

hatever I

)r nothing

V peculiar

thin said,

, while he
'e is a nest
is mate is
£e for him

itter, " we
stole your

groaned,
ment, and
ow wants
your nose
g-star, it's

;ered that

the voice

)udly into
e scantily
on a bed,
lis sudden

ant ?" the

THE SMALL-rOX !

373

" A glass of water," said Steve.

" Well, you can get a dish here, and there is a spring
outside," with an air of great relief.

" Is this the man ? " Steve asked of Marmaduke.

Marmaduke sadly shook his head.

" I am very low with the small-pox," said the unknown,
" and those of you who have not had it, nor have not
been exposed to it, had better hurry out into the open
air."

This was said quietly — apparently sincerely.

The hunters were struck with horror. It seemed as
though a chain of misfortunes, that would eventually
lead them to destruction, was slowly closing around them.
Small-pox ! Exposed to that loathsome disease ! They
grew sick with fear !

" Was it for this we went hunting ? " Charles groaned.

For a few moments the hunters lost all presence of
mind ; they neglected to rush out of doors ; they forgot
that the sick man seemed wrapped in suspicion ; they forgot
that they had gained admittance by stratagem ; Steve
forgot that he was playing the hero.

A cry of horror from Jim roused them from their
torpor.

" What a fool I am ! " cried Henry, " I had the small-
pox when I was a little boy ; and now, to prove or dis-
prove this fellow'r statement, I will run the risk of
taking it again. The rest of you may l^ave the room or
not, just as fear, or curiosity, or thirst, jr anything else,
moves you. I believe, however, that there is not the
least danger of infection."

" No, no ; come out ! " Mr. Lawrence entreated, not
wishing to be responsible for any more calamities.
" Come out, Henry, and leave the man alone."

" Believe me, Mr. Lawrence, I run no risk," Henry
declared. " I shall "

" Ha ! " shrieked the sick man. " Lawrence ? Did you
say Law — "

He stopped abruptly. But it was too late ; he had
betrayed himself.

" Yes, my man ; I said Lawrence ; " Henry said, excited-

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ly. *^ C6me, now, explain yourself. Say no more about
BTtuM-pox — we are not to be deceived by any such'
pretence."

The sick man looked Uncle Dick full in the face;
groaned ; shuddered ; covered his face with the bed
clothee ; and then, villain-like, fell to muttering.

After these actions, Jim himself was not afraid.

" Mr. Lawrence, Will, all of you," Henry said hoarsely, .
"1 think your mystery is about to be unriddled at last. ,
This man can evidently furnish the missing link in your
history. He is either the secret enemy or an accomplice
of hia" Uncle Dick trembled. After all these years
was the mystery to be solved at last ?

Stephen's hurt and Will's knee were forgotten in the
eagerness to hear what this man had to say. All were
familiar vrith Uncle Dick's story, as far as he knew it
himself, and consequently all were eager to have the
mysterious part explained. The entire eight assembled
round the bedside.

After much inane muttering the sick man un6overed
his head, and asked faintly, "Are you Eicharct Lawrence ?"

«Iam."

" Were you insane at one time, and do you remember
Hiram Monk?"

" Yes, I was insane, but I know nothing of what hap-
pened then."

" Well, I will confess all to you. Mr. Lawrence, I have
suffered in all these three years — suffered from the agony
of remorse."

" Yes," said Uncle Dick, with a rising inflection.

" I will keep my secret no longer. But who are all these
youn^ men ? " glancing at the hunters.

" Ixiey are friends, who may heai' your story," Undo
Dick said.

" To begin with, I am indeed sick, but I have not the
small pox. That was a mere ruse to get rid of disagreeable
callers."

At this Steve looked complacent, and Henry looked*
triumphant ; the one pleased with his stratagem, the other
pleaised with his sagacity.

IC^GB BEMOR^^t:.

ar^r

i about
f such

3 faoe;^
le bed

Mireely,
at lasi ,
n your
jniplice
I years

in the
Jl were
:new it
ive the
iembled

Covered
rence?"

nember

at hap*

I have
e agony

Jl these

Unde

lot the
reeable

looked*
,e other

At that very instant quick steys were heard ouside.and
then a " peculiar knock " was given on the door, which,
prudently or imprudently, Steve had shut

" It is a man who lives with me," Hiram Monk said to
the hunters. " We shall be interrupted for a few minutes,
but then I will go on." Then aioud : " You may as well
come in, Jim."

Jf this was intended as a warning to flee, it was not
heeded, for the door opened, and a man whom Will and
Marmaduke recognized as the rogue who on the previous
day had feigned a mortal wound in order to steal their
deer, strode into the hut.

On seeing the hut full of armed men, he sank down
hopelessly, delivered a few choice ecphoneses, and then
exclaimed : " Caught at last ! Well, I might V known it
would come sooner or later. They have set the law on
iny track, and all these fellows will help 'em. Law be-
hind, and what on earth in front! — I say, fellows, who
are you ? "

. '.'Hunters," Henry said laconicly.
'« Then the new-comer recognized Will and Marmaduke,
and ejaculated, " Oh, I see ; yesterday my ring was ruined,
and now I'm ruined ! "

The officer of the law, whose nonchalance had provoked
the hunters in the forenoon, was indeed behind, and soon
he, also, entered the hut, which was now filled.

"Just like a romance," Steve muttered. "All the
characters, good and bad, most unaccountably meet, and
then a general smash up takes place, after which the good
march off ia one direction, to felicity, and the bad in
another, to infelicity — unless they shoot themselves. Now,
I hope Hiram and Jim won't shoot themslves ! "

"Jim Homiss," said the officer, " I am empowered to'
arrest you."

" I surrender," the captured one said sullei^ly. " You
ought to have arrested me before. I'd give back the deer,
if I could ; but I sold it last night, and that's the last of
it"

" That will do," the officer said seve /ely.

Up to this time the writer has studiously inasked hiii

.;:jai.-^ji.-^.--=3;«<aL-r.;r.;i

376

A BLUNDERIKO BOT.

ignorance by. invariably speaking of this man as an officer
of the law. It seems fated, however, that his ignorance
should sooner or later be manifested ; and now he declares
that he is so utterly ignorant of Law, in all its forms, that
he does not know what that man was — he knows only that
he was an officer of the law. But fur the benefit of those
who are still more ignorant, it may be stated that he is
almost positive the inun was neither a juryman, nor a con-
veyancer, nor a piaintifi*.

The hunters now held a short conversation, and it was
decided that Mr. Lawrence and Henry should stay to hear
what Hiram Monk had to say for himself, but that
the others should go on with Will and Steve to the
su^eon's.

The officer of the law thought it might be necessary
for him to stay in his official capacity, and so he took
a seat and listened, while he fixed his eyes on Jim
Horniss.

And the confession he heard was worth listening to.

The hut was soon cleared of all save the five ; and the
six first introduced to the reader were again together,
and on their way to the surgeons.

" Well," said Will, " it seems I have lost my deer ; but I
have the comforting thought of knowing that the rascal
will receive the punishment he deserves. *

" How strange it all is," said Marmaduke, " that your
uncle should stumble on the solution of his mystery when
he least expected it ; and that you could not find the thief
when you looked for him, but as soon as you quit, we
made straight for his house."

" No," Steve corrected good-humoredly, " that isn't it ;
but as soon as I took to playing the part of a hero of
romance, ' events came on us with the rush of a whirl-
wind.' "

A HORRIBLE SUSPi^IOM

877

1 officer
lorance
leclares
Ds, that
ily that
3f those
t he is
r a con-

[ it was
to hear

ut that
to the

jcessary
he took
on Jim

igto.
and the
ogether,

• ; but I
i rascal

it your
•y when
he tliief
uit, we

isn't it ;
lero of
whirl-

adopter XLIV.
Is THE Mystery Solved ?

Leaving the wounded and the unwounded hunters to
pursue their way through the forest, we shall return to
the hut and over-hear Hiram Monk's longdelayed con-
fession.

As soon as the door was shut on the six hunters,
he began. His face was turned towards Mr. Lawrence,
but his eyes were fixed on his pillow, which was hidden by
the coverlet ; and his punctuation was so precise, his style
so eloquent and sublime, and his story so methodical,
complicated, and tragical, that once or twice a horrible
suspicion that he was reading the entire confession out of
a novel concealed in the bed, flashed across Mr. Lawrence's
mind.

If this dreadful thought should occur to the reader,
he can mentally insert the confession in double quotation
tnarks.

We are too humane to inflict the whole confession on
the long-suffering reader ; this abridged version of it will
be quite sufficient, as it contains the main points.

" Seventekn years ago, I was an official in K. Hospital.
My duties were to keep the record of the hospital ; but
still I passed considerable time with the maniacs, as my
influence with those unhappy creatures was very great.
I am a man of some education and ability, I may say,
without ostentation ; and till I met you, Mr. Lawrence, I
was honesty itself.

" You were brought to our hospital a friendless man and
astranger ; and it was rumored that you had been attacked
l»y thieves, who, however, failed to get possession of your
treasure. A great chest of gold and silver, labelled, * R.
Lawrence,' to be retained till your friends or relatives
could be found, was brought and deposited in our maga-
zine. It was a most romantic story, a man travelling
through the country with a vast sum of money in a strong-
box !

mmmm

A BLUNDEBIKO BOT.

** The demon entered into me, and I resolved to make
it still more mysterious. In a word, I resolved to appro-
priate your fortune to my own use ; and in order to do
so the more easily and safely, I set about destroying every
clue to your identity. All papers found on your person,
which mightlead to discovery, I carefully burned. It was I
who wrote an account of the affair to the journals, and I
purposely distorted your name beyond recognition. This,
of course, was considered a mere printer's blunder, and
the ' mistake' was never rectified.

" Here was a great step taken. I now flattered myself
that none of your friends could possibly trace you to our
hospital, and that all I had to do was to wait a short time,
and then quietly slip away with my ill-gotten richea

" But many difliculties lay in my way. Your bodily
health and strength gradually improved, though you still
remained disordered in inteUect. Then, in order the
better to work out my plans, I caused myself to be ap-
pointed your especial attendant, or keeper; andlmadeyouto
understand that you had a large sum of money, of which
your enemies sought to rob you, deposited, for safe-keep-
ing,in ourvaults. With all a madman spertinacity,you took
hold of this idea, and eagerly listened to all that I said.
You ordered the chest of treasure to be brought into your
own apartment, and you became suspicious of every one
but me.

" Here was another great point gained ; and I now
matured my plot to get the money. I induced you to
believe that you were soon to be robbed, and that we
must flee, as you were now strong enough to quit the
hospital at any time. I obtained leave from the supeiin-
tendent to go on a flying visit to a friend of mine in
another state, and I made all my arrangements to depart
openly. You were to have another keeper, of course ;
but I plotted with you to return at night, and we would
escape together. I believed that the superintendent
would never suspect me, — at, least, not till too late,—
but would think that you had eluded your new keeper's
vigilance in the night.
" '■ That afternoon I set out ostensibly for Frankfort in

STRUCK WITH' ASTONISHMENT.

87^

make
appro-

to do
J every
person,
twasi
, and I
. This,
er, and

myself
i to our
>rttime,
les.

bodilv

^ou still

der the

be ap-

leyouto

f which

^e-keep-

outook

I said.

ito your

ery one

I now
you to
hat we
uit the
lupeiin-
nine in
depart
course ;
would
bndent
late,-^
eeper's

:fort in

Kenti^cky ; but I remained in the neij(hborhood, and at
night I returned to keep my appointmeuc with you. As
I was perfectly familiar wit^ all the entrances into the
hospital, as well as with all their regulations, and as I
had given you your instructions prior to my feigned
departure, we easily made our escape with the chest of
ti'eaaure.

" And now I had you and all your money wholly in
iny power ; I could do what I pleased with you. But,
to do myself justice, I must add — no, I affirm positively-;—
that I had no intention of harming you. My design,
matured beforehand, was to reach a certain cave, estab-
lish you in it, make provision for your subsistence and
comfort, and then slip away with the hoards I coveted.
,,' "I do not know whether we were pursued or not;
1but, if so, we eluded the pursuers, and in due time arrived
at the cave, which, as I had supposed, would serve my

Surpose admirably. Yes, it was an excellent place to
esert you so treacherously — an excellent place.

" But ^7e had barely arrived when you seemed to grow
suspicious of me. That must be stopped immediately,
and I hastened to make preparations for departure. I
ipft you dlo,!ie for a time, went to the neighboring city,
and engaged a trader to take necessaries to a certain man
who purposed living in ' The Cave,' as it was called. I
represented you as being deranged and idiotic, but quite
harmless, and chained him to deal fairly with you, and
keep his own counsel for a short time, in which case all
would be well. Then I returned lo the cave, and ac-
quainted you with such of these facts as you might know.
That night I gathered up my own effects, as well as the
stolen money, and fled.

" I did not suppose that you would remain long in the
cave. On the contrary, I supposed that through the
trader, or by some other means, your identity would
soon be established. But I vvished to placed myself
beyond the reach of pursuit before that should happen.
To that end I had compacted with the trader ; to that
end 1 now fled precipitantly.

" My better nature returned for a moment, and I

380

A BLUNDERINO BOY.

thought of advertising your retreat, or even of calling
upon your kinsmen. But I was dissuaded from this by
fears of incurring danger of being apprehended by the
superintendent of tlie hospital, whose suspicions must,
by this time, have been aroused. May I enquire how
long you remained in * The Cave,' Mr. Lawrence ? "

" Ten years."

" Ten years ! Then, indeed, I deserve the severest
penalties that the law can inflict ! Ten years ! I could
not believe that from other lips than yours ! And that
man knew you were there all that time, and yet took no
action to set you at liberty ! But no ; I had told him
that it was better so, and I suppose he took it for grant-
ed that it was. Yes, he is guiltless in the matter.

" To resume my confession. I escaped with the money
intact, as I imagined ; but when I came to open the re-
ceptacle, far away from you and the cave, I found, to my
consternation, that more than half of it was missing, and
its room taken up with stones and earth ! You had evi-
dently grown so suspicious of me as to abstract the
money and conceal it in the cave during my absence in
the city. That was the only solution of the mystery
that occurred to me.

" How I raged ! My punishment was beginning al-
ready. But I was not softened ; if I had dared, I should
have returned to the cave, and dug up every foot of
ground within it. But I feared that detectives were
already on my track, and I hurried on, a baulked and
furious man.

" Greater misfortune was yet to overtake me. The
box containing the stolen treasure was torn asunder in
a steamboat explosion on the Mississippi, and the treasure
was scattered and lost beyond recovery in the muddy
waters. Thus I lost what remained to me of the trea-
sure, and was left, penniless, friendless, homeless ; a
fugitive, an outcast. Since that time, I have lived I
know not how ; at one time stricken with fever in the
tropics ; f*i anotlier time languishing in prison for some
petty crime ; sick, persecuted, longing for death. Minions
qi the law often pursued me for minor irregularities ;

I ! I

TORTURED WITH REMORSE— A'^'CURIOSITY. 381

Ailing

lis by
^y the
must,
9 how

iverest
could
i that
x)k no
Id him
grant-
money
the re-
to my
ig, and
ad evi-
bct the
ence in
lystery

ing al-
should
bot of
were
}d and

The
Ider in
reasure
luddy

trea-
less ; a
lived I
lin the

some
linions
irities ;

but the secret of my one great crime never came to light
In my distress I joined the army, and hoped to hnd
reliof in fighting the battles of my country — my country,
to which I was an oilious reproach ! I often thought Gf
returning to the cave, to discover what had become of
you, and to make such restitution as lay in my power ;
but I never had the moral courage to do so. ior the
la-^t year, I have lived in this forest, in fellowship with
this man, James Horniss.

" I now surrender myself to outraged justice, — volun-
tarily, even gladly, — for I can endure this way of life no
longer. Forgive me, if you can, Mr. Lawrence, for I have
been tortured with remorse in all these years."

The villain's story was ended ; and Uncle Dick, Henry,
the otficer of the law, and Jim Horness, fetched a sigh of
relief.

They felt extremely sorry for the sick man who had
confessed so elo(iueutly and prolixly ; but Mr. Lawrence
was not so " tortured " with pity as to plead for his re-
lease from punishment. In fact, he had nothing to say
against the law's taking its course with him. However,
he spoke kindly.

" Mr. Monk," he said, " I forgive you freely, for it was
my own foolishness that led me into your power. As
for the money, it seemed fated that it should melt away,
and to-day not one cent of it remains. I an'i glad to see
you in a better frame of mind, sir ; but I must leave you
now to see how it fares with mv nephew. Come, Henry."

" And your story ? " asked the confessor, with a curious
and eager air.

" Excuse me, Mr. Monk," said Uncle Dick ; " but my
story would seem prosaic, exceedingly prosaic, after
yours. Good day."

And he and Henry brutally strode out of the hut,
leaving the ex-villain " tortured " with curiosity.

Thus those two villians, Hiram Mcmk and Jim Horniss,
pass out of this tale.

If the reader thinks it worth while, he can turn back
to the twenty-second chapter, and compare the story

882

A BLUNDERNIO BOT.

."b

which Mr. Lawrence told Mr. Mortimer with the storv
narrated by Monk in this chapter. But seriously, gentle
reader, it is hardly worth while to compare the two. Time
is too precious to be fooled away in trying to comprehend
the plots and mysteries put forth in certun romances. ,,

Mr. Lawrence and Henry hurried on in the direction
taken by their fellow-hunters an hour before.

" Mr. Lawrence," said Henry, "I think I shall never go
hunting a^ain ; I consider it a wicked waste of gui^'^^
powder and shoe-leather." j

" Yes, for a company of heedlessannocents, who know;
little or nothing about fire-arms, and still less about the
habits of animals, it is all a piece of foolishness ; " Mr.
Lawrence replied. " For those who are prudent enough
te keep out of danger, who can understand and enjopr
hunting and trapping, and go about it systematically, it
is all very well.'

Parents and guardians, accept this as a warning — not
that your sons, or wards, will clear up any appalling
mystery by going hunting, but that they will be far more
likely te destroy themselves than te return burdened with
game.

Chapter XLV.

THE LAST BLUNDER —A LAST CONVERSATION.

Td the heart-felt joy of ^the entire party, the surgeon
declared that, by taking grekt care, Steve would not lose
his thumb and iingers, though they mights be stiff and mis-
shape* 1 for life.

As to Will's knee, that was really a serious matter, and
he would probably suffer more or less with it te his dying
day. This was appalling to poor Will, who was so fond
of physical exertion, but he bore it as bravely as he
could.

As for the cuts made by the Hying pieces, the surgeon
regal dbd them with unutterable disdain. " A schoolboy,"
he said, "wouM chuckle over such hurts, and make the
most of them while they lasted ; but he wouldn't degrade

monk's mistake.

383

le sionr
y, gentle
ro. Time
iprehend
inoes. ^
clirectioii

never g;o
of f^n^\

iio know;
kbout th^
88 ; " Mr.
t enough
nd enjojr
iically, it

ling — not
appalling
far more
ined with

3 ■:\:'l"4^-

iN.

9 surgeon

1 not lose

and mis-

liter, and
lis dyinff
s so fond
ily as he

surgeon

loolSjy,"

^nak<i the

degrade

himself by bellowing — unless Iiih sister happened to dress
them with vitriol. But if a piece had entered an eye,
now, there would have been a tale to teil."

And yet those hurts, slight as thev were, hlld fright*
ened Will so much that he had injured himself for life.

After all their wounds had been dressed, the Nimrods
wended their way back to their humble cabin, stiii carrv-
ing Will, of course. As they wont along they naturally
oonvpi'sed. Seeing that it is their last conversation, we
deliberately inflict the whole of it on the hapless reader.
However, the hapless reader cannot be forced to read it
all.

'* Let us have a little light on the subject, as the bloody-
minded king said when he dropped a blazing lucifer on
the head of a disorderly noble of his," Steve observed, as
they left the surgeon's.

" What are you driving at now, Steve ? " Charles in-
quired.

" The confession made by Monk, if Mr. Lawrence has
nd objections."

" Certainly ; " said uncle Dick. " Henry, you can give
it better than I can ; do so."

" I wish, with all my heart, that I had taken it down,"
said Henry, " for I consider it the best thing I ever heard.
That man is a born romancer ; but he wasted his talents
keeping the records of his hospital, and afterwards dodg-
ing the ' minions ' and his own conscience. However, 1 11
give it as well as I can."

The six, who had not heard it, listened attentively —
even Will ceased to moan, in his eagerness to hear every
word.

" What an extraordinary story! " cried Steve. " I hope
he didn't devise it for our amu.sement, as he devised his
fiction about the small -pox ! " he added grimly.

" Oh, he was very solemn about it," Henry asserted.

" Didn't Mr. Lawrence get back any of his lost for-
tune ? " Marmaduke asked. " Surely he should have !
Why, there is no moral at all in such a story as that ! "

" Even so, Marmaduke ; Hiram Monk made a grave
mistake when he suffered the remainder of the fortune

rcz

^9!

884

▲ BLUNDERING BOY.

to be ingulfed in the 'muddy waters' of the Mississippi.
He should have swelled it to millions, and then buried it
near the lirst parallel of latitude, so many dej^rees north-
east by southwest. When he confesseil to Mr. Lawrence
to-day, he should have f^ven him a chart of the hiding-
place, and in three months from this date wc should have
set out on the war-trail. After having annihilated sev-
eral boat-loads of cannibals, and scuttled o pirate or so by
way of recreation, we should have found i^he treasure just
ten minutes after somebody else had lugged it off. But
of course we should have come up with this somebody,
had a sharp struggle, and lugged o(i the treasure in our
turn. Then we should have returned, worth seven millions,
a tame native, and an ugly monkey, apiece. But, alas! I
don't take kindly to that kind of romance any more,
Mannaduke; I don't pine to shed the blood of villains,
cannibals, and pirates."

So spoke Charles. A few hours before, and Steve
would have said it, or something like it ; but now Steve
was looking very grave, and seemed already to pounce
on Charles for speaking so.

" Charley," he growled, " you talk as if we read Dime*
Novels ; and I'm sure / don't, if you do."

Charley winced, but could not hit upon a cutting
retort.

" What Charley says is very good," Marmaduke, un
moved, replied ; " but I don't si^e why a whole fortune
should be utterly lost, nor why Mr. Lawrence should
spend ten years in idleness without some compensation
I hope you haven't let Monk escape ! " he cried, turning
to Henry with such genuine alarm that the whole party
broke into a laugh.

Even Steve forgot himself and joined in the laugh,
Marmaduke's expression of hoiror being so very ludi-
crous.

But he checked himself in a moment, and turned
fiercely upon Charles : " Charles Growler, I am astonished
at you! We do not know Marmaduke's thoughts; we
cannot judge him by ourselves. By nature, he is of a
finer organism than we, and he sees things in a differ^t

STEVB IS MISUNDERSTOOD.

siflsippi.
uried it
} north -
iwrence
hiding-
Id have
icd sev-
3r so by
lire iust
ff. But
nebody,
e in our
nillions,
, alas! I
ly more,
villains,

d Steve
V Steve
) pounce

id Dime'

cutting

ike, un
fortune
should
nsation
turning
e party

laugh,
hy ludi-

turned
lonished
hts ; we

is of a
lifferent

light Some day, when he is i^ poet amons poets, he will
hold us poor shallow creatures up to ridicule in some
majestic and spirit-stirring satire."

Stephen was in earnest now, but the others were not
accustomed to this sort of thing fi'om him, and thinking
he meant to be only unusually sarcastic, their laughter
broke forth again ; and while Charles laughed uproar-
iously, Hlnry said severely — so severely that Steves was
almost desperate : " You ought not to be so personal in
your remai'ks ; you ought to have a lifile n?.spect for
another^s feelings."

Marmaduke remembered the promise Stephen ha»l
made on the log, and he now lookt ' at him reproachfully,
thinking, with the rest, that Steve was jeering at him.

Poor misunderstood boy ! H' knew not ^uw to explain
himself. This was the first Wime he hui had bccasion to
rlay the champion to Marmaduke, t\ .i he was making an
egregious fool of himself.

" Oh, you stupid fellows !" he roared. " I'm taking
his part ; and I mean to take it after thir, for he is the
best fellow in the world."

" I'm glad to hear you say so," Henry said heartily.
"As for Hiram Monk, like all worn out villains, he is
anxious that the Law should. care for him ; and the officer
who secured Jim Homiss will secure him, also. As for
the confession, let us make the most of it as it is ; for we
can't make it either better or worse if we stav here till
we shoot another deer."

" Well, boys, what about going home ?" George asked.

" If you are ready to go, I'jna morally certain / am,"
said Steve.

Now that the subject was broache*!, the otheis werie
willing to acknowledge that they had had enough of
hunting, iand would gladly go home Charles, however,
thought it would be more decorous to offer some plausible
excuse for returning so quickly, and so he said, " Yes,
boys, I must go immediately ; I have bu.siness that calls
me home imperatively."

"' Business ? ' What ' business ? ' " Steve asked in great
perplekity. " .

▲ ULUltDERINO BOt.

He knew that Charley did not yet earn his own living
at l^pme ; he knew, also, that Oharley was not learning to
pW^ii ibe violin ; hence his curiosity.
,. Chiurl^ waH not prepared for such a question. He
wante4^ actually cra.ved for, a elass of lemonade and one
f^f his wother^s pi^n^pkin pies ; hu^; this seemed so flimsy
an excuse that he hesitated to say so. He stammered ;
his clicks flushed; and at last he said, desperately,
^IVell, boys, I should like to see how these cuts Iqpk in
^hgmifror!'*

^ iVill, who shrewdly suspected what Charles was think-
ing of, said softly, in French— *which he understood better
^QW than he did six years before — with a faint attempt at
a smile, ** And in the eyes of that dear Uttle girl."

"'Xhis is a great change in our plans,'* Henry observed
''We intended to stay three weeks ; and now, at the ena
of three, days, we are disgusted and homesick.''
,^ Jt was evident that Steve had something on his mind,
and he now asked, inquisitively : " Should y<m like to go
home, Henry?"

''Stephen. I am goinff home immediately — even if Will
|Uid I have to go eSone. ' /

, Stephen was about to make a sententious observation ;
but he checked himself abruptly, and his voice died amiy
In one long, guttural, and untranslatable interjection.
.; The day l^f ore, Stephen had come upon Henry alone
in the depths of the forest, leaning against a tree, and
whistling as though his heart would oreak— whistling
passionately, yet tenderly — whistling as only a lover can
can whistle a love-song. Yet it was not a love-song that
Qenry was whistling, bu^ a piece of instrumental music,
T— " La Fille de Madame Angot," by Charles Godfrey, —
the, first piece that, some three or four years before, he
had eyei* heard his blue-eyed sweetheart play ; and the
las^ piece, that, jn memory of those old days, she had
played for him before he set out to go hunting.

.Steve had stolen softly away, feeling that the person
who could whistle that waltz as Henry whistled it, did
no^^wish to. be ^dist^irbed. He now refrained from mak*
iikg ms observation, and said to himself: " Wellj now, 1

NOW TBET

*0''

m.:^.

I living
aing to

n. He
nd one
flimsy
mered ;
irately,
Iqpkin

think-
l better
impt at

•served
he end

} mind,
:eto gQ

if Will

iratioaj

1 away

on. ,

' alone

ie, and

listling

rer can

ig that

music,

rey,—

)re, he

id the

e had

)erson
It, did
mak*
low, J

feel just about as happy as if I had said whftt I wA^i«ed
io say I Only, it was 90 good l"; ' " '

'^Of course; that's Just what we should have t^^fM
of first," said Charles, beginning where Heniy kft^ffi
^ Will must be taken hom6 this very night~;^ih^t is, a
start for home niixst be made this very lii^ht We will
go with him, of course; for we don't want' t0 stay ai(d

hunt alone/' . . - -

" Of coiirse," chornsedHhe ot^er|, nbi wikhiag; t6\h#i
"ialone.'^--- ■^' -• --• ■' ■■ "- ■■■■■ ■ " •• ' '= .,

" Shall we buy some deer of regular hunters ? " ^^
meekly suggested. " £very one wiU lat%^ at u^ if %e go
home without even a bird, ^r^'^' • ' V^*^ ^l' w?!

" Steve answered him : " No t If we ton't shoioi a 4©^
to take home, we had better go empty-handed. MiA
besides, we can buy' deer nearer home thieai this. As for
hvrda, I didn't know that amatei^r hunters take home birds
as an evidence of their skill — unless they happen, Ho
shoot an eagle. As for the lauah, why, I tell you, we
shall be worshipped as wounded heroes ! " 'fj ^'* *'^'^^

"Perhaps, as stupid blunderers!" George said, tesrtili^.

For the first time, Qeorge*s whole skin troubled him.
He had not received even a scratch ; while all the others
had some hurt, bruise, or mark, as a meniento of this
hiint Even Jim had not escaped, a vicious hornet having
inhumarily stung his nose. ' ' ' ^""T*

They were now drawing near the place where they
supposed their cabin stoc^L But everything seemed
strange — very strange.

"Are we lost again?" was the cry that burst frotti
Wiirslips.

"Notio«f, but huimt out!** Steve exclaimed. "Tii*,
boys, we are burnt out of house and home ! Now, in
6uch a case, who is going to stay her^ and hunt V Why,
our bitterest enemies wouldn't expect it of us ! Hurrah !
But," he added, gravely, "I'm afraid I'm reconciled to
this disaster!"

"I think we all are," Charles said, with a. hidepus

grin-

. "Now, I want to know how and why that

caught fire ? '* WiU ejaculated. ' ^ '■'

wmm

388

A BLUNDERING BOY.

By this time the hunters had reached the spot lately
occupied by their cabin, and they now stood around the
pile of still smoking ruins, with probably " mingled
emotions."

" You cooked the few morsels we had for breakfast,
Will ; therefore you ought to be responsible for this,"
Henry observed.

" 0— h ! " groaned Will, " so J am ! I didn't put th6
fire entirely out this morning, and I forgot a box of
matches on the hearth — the homemade hearth. They
have met ! "

" At first I grieved that our hovel was so small," said
Charles ; " but now I'm glad it was, or else the fire might
have gone into the forest." *

" And burnt us alive ! " Steve said, with a shudder.
Then he left Marmaduke, bent over the sufferer on the
litter, and whispered in his ear : " Will, as soon as ever we
reach home, I intend to deliver you over to Mr. B. F.
Stolz!"

Having discharged this horrible threat, Steve returned
to Marmaduke, muttering : " A hunter. has no business to
build a shanty to live in ; he ought to pitch a tent, if it's
nothing but a parasol on a fish-pole."

" What about this fellow's bumps ? " chuckles the
reader.

It is very ungracious in the reader, after all our kind-
ness towards him, to throw out such insinuations, and we
refuse to give him any other explanation or satisfaction
than this : Will's bumps were not so prominent as usual
that day. - •

George now spoke. " Look here, boys ; stop your
foolishness and listen to me. Didn't we leave some valu-
ables in that building ? Where are they now V

" Gh ] " gasped the others, in one breath.

"Where are they now ?" George roared again.

As no one seemed to know, he continued : " Well, I'm
going to look for the wreck of my fowling-piece." And he
set his feet together, and deliberately leaped into the
midst of the smouldering ruins. "

: He alighted on his feet, but they gave way beneath
him ; he staggered, and then fell heavily, at full-length. '

QEOROE HAS. PLENTY OF WOUNDS.

389

your
valu-

The hunters were alarmed. Was he. hurt?

" George ! — George ! " they shrieked. " Oh, George ! "

" Well, what's the matter ? " he growled, as he struggled
to his feet.

" Oh, George, come out," Charles pleaded. " You must
be hurt."

" Am I ? " George cried, wildly, hopefully. " Am I hurt,
I say?"

" You will probably have a black eye," Mr. Lawrence
sorrowfully observed, as the explorer emerged from the
cinders.

" Am I much bruised ? " he asked, turning to Stephen,
certain that that worthy would do him justice. " Am I,
Steve ? I don't feel hurt or bruised a bit."

Quick-witted Steve saw what was going on in the
questioner's mind, and replied, promptly : *' Bruised ?
Why, you're a frghtful object — a vagabond scare-ciow !
You must be wounded from your Scotch cap to the toe of
your left boot. You've secured not only an exceedingly
black eye, hut also a swelled cheek, a protuberant fore-
head, a stiff neck, a singed chin, a sprained wrist, and, for
all I know, a cracked skull ! Why, George, you're a
total wreck ! The folks at home will think that we took
yiou for some wild beast, and that each of us fired at yon
and hit you."

The Sage turned away with a happy smile on his lips.

" Surely," he soliloquised, " Steve wouldn't go so far
if there isn't something wrong. But I hope there is no
danger of a black eye ! "

Then aloud, and cheerfully : " Yes, boys, let us go
home."

Do not imagine, gtatle reader, that this hunter fed
purposely. He was not so foolish as that; but when he
did have a fall, he wished to profit by it. Still, he could
see neither romance nor poetry in gaining nothing but a
black eye.

It is worse than useless to prolong their conversation,
so here it closes.

The hunters felt somewhat crest-fallen when they
found that the fire bad consumed almost everything leit

X BLXnXUESaW 90T»

^iiv -the cabin. However, they packed their remaining
effects in some new boxes, and then set out for home in
pi^etty good sfiirits. They arrived safe, and were wel-
comed as wounded heroes, as Steve had foretold.

For the consolation of those readers who have an anti-
pathy to mutilated heroes, it may be stated that Stephen's
. niirts he|kied» leaving no other bad e^Te^ts than xigly
..scars^p'. ^'-... n' ' ,.' _ .: ■. /■r.-^\ /: ,.■

For the consolation of conscientious readers, it may be
jitated that Hiram Monk and Jim Horniss were tried by
law, and sentenced to. t^e punishment they deserved. If
a learned lawyer should be beguiled into reading th|s
story, he might know what punishment those, wretches
deserved — he might even guess at what punishment they
received. '

But the majesty of the law is possessed of a fickle mind.

Chapter XLVL
The Story Closed.

Some novels, like an endless chain, seem to have neither
beginning nor end ; others, while they give every little
incident with wearisome minuteness, stop suddenly when
they come to the colophon, pause in doubt and trepida-
tion, and finally conclude with two or three sentences of
sententious brevity, in which the word marriage occurs
at least once. The writer of this history, like all right-
minded scribes, becomes disgusted when the last diflSculty
is surmounted, but yet has sufficient moral power to
devote a whole chapter (though a short one) to the con-
clusion. Gentle reader, you ought to be indulgent to one
who has such self-abnegation — such firmness of purpose
— such greatness of mind.

This story draws to an end for several reasons : first,
there is no ^reat affinity between schoolboys, for whom it
professes to be written, and volumes seventy-nine chapters
m length: secotidly.if the reader is not tired of it, the writer

,<t^

A HOIST WKDSIlta-OIIt.

e occurs

b^ms to be ; thirdly, a story dies a natural death as sobn
as its writer unriddles, or attempts to unriddle, its tai^i-
teries ; fourthly (and this is perhaps the stix)nge8t reason
of all), there is nothing more to be written. • - :^'' ^

If there are other reasons why the story sh^oiila be
brought to an end, they concern the writer, not the readet,
and therefore need not be specified. But in case the
reader should care to hear what became of those boys, the
Writer graciously spins out a few pages more.
y. Naturally they married, observes the reader who is
familiar with works of fiction. Certainly ; every one of
them married.

Marmaduke fell desperately in love; and, as was
evinced when he rescued Sauterelle, he was a inan who
could love passionately and for ever. He married the
object of his choice, of course. By the way, she was
actually a French heiress — at least, her papa was a
Frenchman teaching French in one of our colleges, and
on the wedding-day he gave her the magnificent dowry
of five hundred dollars, the accumulated savings of very
many years.

Charles married the young lady referred to incidentally
in the last chapter. All the heroes were present at his
wedding ; and their enthusiasm ran so high that they
clubbed together, and bought the happy pair a marvel of
a clock, that indicated not only the seconds, minutes,
hours, days, weeks, months, years, and centuries, but was
furnished, also, with a brass band, — which thundered
forth "Yankee Doodle," "Hail Columbia," and "Home,
Sweet Home," — a regiment of well-dressed negroes, an
ear-piercing gong, and "all the latest. improvement&^' ',

Charles and his pretty little wife tolerated this nuisance
exactly three days, and then the former proposed the
following resolution : "'That clock runs just one year
after being wound, and the boys wound it up tight
when they brought it here and set it up. If we let it
alone till it runs down, we shall be as mad as the man
that made it I used to delight in " Yankee Boodle,"
but now I abominate it ! We can keep the handsomest
darkey in remembrance of the boys' mistaken kindness,

S02

A BttJNDERINO BOY.

»f

— riather, in remembrance of the horrible fate they pre
pared for us, — but the clock's doom is sealed. I will
immolate it this very evening; and the street boyS may
make off with its broken remains."

It is hardly worth while, to go on and describe the
wedding-feast of each of the heroes. Turn to the last
£age of any novel whatsoever, and you will find an
iQu:count quite as applicable to this case as to the original
of a hero's marriage.

.Will continues to commit his ridiculous blunders as of
yore ; but they are not quite so ridiculous as those narrated
in this tale, for he has learned to kepp a strict watch over
himself. But, notw^ithstanding that, notwithstanding his
bumps, notwithstanding that he is now a man, he will
occasionally unstring the neives of some weak-headed
person by an unseemly act.

Stephen still takes delight in playing olf his practical
jokes. He often gets into trouble by this means, but it
is not in his nature to profit by experience

George is a man, wise and learned in his own estima-
tion. He sends scientific treatises to the leading journals
sometimes, but, alas ! it generally results in their being
declined. But George does not value time and postage-
stamps so highly as he should, cimsequently he still per-
sists in harassing the editors with his manuscripts. He
is very dispassionate in his choice of subjects, writing
with equal impartiality and enthusiasm about astronomy,
geology, philosophy, aeronautics, and philology. Prob-
ably that is the reason why he does not succeed. If he
should take up a single science and devote all his energies
to it, his name might eventually become known to every
school-boy in the land.

The less said about Timor, thq better. Any boy who
will attempt to hide from a June thunder-storm by skulk-
ing under his bed, can never become a man. He may
grow up to man's estate, doubtles ; but he will be nothing
but a big, overgrown coward.

Bear this in mind, O parent ; and if you should ever
catch \our; little son skulkinsf in the aforementioned
place while the lightning is playing over the vault of

MA.R1IADUKS AN ANTIQUART

398,

. ... * •

fchey pre-

I will

)oys may

cribe the
the last
find an
original

ers as of
narrated
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ading his
, he will
k-headed

practical
s, but it

L estima-

joumals

ir being

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writing

ronoiny,

Prob-

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mergies

o every

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lothing

Id ever
itioned
fault of

heaven, fall on him, drag him out by the coat-collar, and
hoist him on the ^ate-post, that he may see how beautiful
and marvellous the lightning is.

Henry is a man, in every sense of the word. He has
a good head for business, and in a few years will, in all
probability, become a rich man — which, in good romances,
IS the main point.

Marmaduke never became a poet, as Steve fondly pro-
phesied. But he is probably the most orthodox antiquary
in the United States. He may safely be consulted on
whatever relates to antiquities, as his information is
unlimited, and his home one great museum of curiosities
and monstrosities. To be sure, there are some hideous
and repulsive objects in his cabinets — objects which a
child would shudder to pass in broad daylight — but his
home is the resort of profound, but absent-minded and
whimsical, antiquaries from all parts. He and his wife
live a quiet and happy life, pitied contemptuously by
the ignorant, but honored and respected by those who
know them best. He is not so romantic as torihedy, his
experience with " Sauterelle " having shaken his faith in
romance and mystery so much that he afterwards trans-
ferred his attention to antiquities, leaving romance and
mystery for the novelists and detectives to deal with. He
is undeniably a genius, and, much to Steve's joy, a thorough
American.

Reader, it is utterly impossible for the writer to inform
you of the occupation of all the others — in fact, he is not
morally certain that he did right in making an antiquary
of Marmaduke. Take the matter into your own hands,
and think in what business those boys would succeed
best. If you can tell, good — very good ; the writer is
spared the trouble.

Therefore : Each reader is at liberty to make what he
pleases of Will, ChorleSj George, Stephen, Jim, and Henry.
There is, however, this proviso : Do not think of Charles
as an ambassador to Persia ; of Steve, as the " proprietor "
of a pea-nut stand ; of Jim, as a reader of ghost-stories
at midnight. Do not think of one of them as a future
candidate for. the presidency.

394

▲ flLUNDbUNO BOr.

Something has been said of Steve's caligraphic pro-
peiisitieR. But he never made his fortune with his
pencil ; he did little more than while away an idle hour.

" Ah," sighs the conscientious reader, " were those boys
not reformed ? Did th6 faults of their boyhood cling to
them in their manhood ? "

Yes ; they clun^ to them. It was originally the inten-
tion to reform them, one and all ; but insurmountable
difficulties lay in the way. In the first place, nothing
short of a frightful, perhaps fatal, catastrophe oould have
a lasting effect on them ; and it is unpleasant to deal with
catastrophes. Consequently, they are suffered to live on,
their ways not amended. But the writer b as grieved at
their follies, or faults, as you are, gentle reader.

After a careful and critical perusal of this composition,
— which the writer is conceited enough boldly to call
" tale," " story," and " history," and indirectly to call
" romance ** and " novel," — the reader may inquire,
vaguelyt "Who is supposed to be the hero of it, any-
way?'^

The writer does not resent this as an insult, but replies
calmly that he does not know. In the beginning, it was
designed that Will should be the hero-in-chief, but it soon
becam ) manifest that that was a mistaken idea. Will is,
at best, a shabby hero, not half so noble as the gamins in
the fable, who stopped stoning the frogs when the frogs
reasoned them out of it.

In point of religion, Will is probably the best of all,
though each one is sound in his belief. George does not
permit his scientific hobbies to shake his faith in God or
nlan ; and if the reader imagines he detects profane levity
in the course of this book, he is mistaken, for nothing of
the sort is intended.

We do not inform possible inquirers what church these
worthies attended, or whether each one attended a
different church. We do not disclose with which political
party they sided, but it may be taken for granted that
they were not all Republicans nor all Democrats.

There is a motive for this reticence — a very base and
significant motive. That motive lA—^Ucy !

A TOUOB OP 8IRIOU8NI8S. 805

To return to Will. He endeavored to liv^ op to the
precept enforced in the following lines :

" So live, that when thy sammoiu oomtf to join
The innumerable caravan, which moves .

To that mysterioua realm, where each i^nM take
• Bis chamber in the silent halls of dea|i^.

Thou go not, like the quarry-slave at flight, \

Scourged to his dun||eon, but, 8U8t|i||ed and soothed

B^ an unfaltering trust, approach fliy grave,

Like one who wraps the drapery f( his couch '^

About him, and lies down to pliiiantdreanw." , .

The disgusted reader, if he h$i persevered to the end«,
tumbles this volume into an oiit^f-the-way corner, fetches
a yawn of intense relief, an^ mutters, " Ciood-bye to that
self-styled writer, with his Wcgotism and his 'demoralized*,
heroes, who are always ' chuckling ' over their atrocities ;
and who are a set of Qoodles, any way ; always quaking
with fear, overwhelnyed with cpnstemation^or shuddering
with horror — and aU for nothing."

it>ivtj?.b

THE SKB.

11 f './!-i»
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