Bound to Rise

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"Yes; I met him first over in Carmansville. Thank you; now my feet
if you please. It seems good to be free again"; and Harry swung his
arms, and jumped up and down to bring back the sense of warmth to
his chilled limbs.

"Is this horse yours?" asked the boy.

"Yes; I took up the man and he promised to show me the road to
Pentland."

"This isn't the road to Pentland."

"I suppose not. He took me wrong on purpose."

"How much money did he take from you?"

"Forty dollars."

"That's a good deal," said the country boy. "Was it yours?"

"Yes."

"I never had so much money in my life."

"It has taken me almost six months to earn it. But I had more money
with me, only he didn't know it."

"How much?"

"A hundred and fifty dollars."

"Was it yours?" asked the boy, surprised.

"No; it belonged to my employer."

"Who is he?"

"Professor Henderson, the ventriloquist."

"Where is he stopping?"

"Over at Pentland. He is sick at the hotel there."

"It's lucky for you I was out to-night. I ain't often out so late
but I went to see a friend of mine, and stayed later than I meant
to."

"Do you live near here?"

"I live about a quarter of a mile up this lane."

"Do you know what time it is?"

"I don't know, but I think it is past ten."

"I wonder whether I can get anybody to go with me to Pentland. I
can't find my way in the dark."

"I will go with you to-morrow morning."

"But what shall I do to-night?"

"I'll tell you. Come home with me. The folks will take you in, and
the horse can be put up in the barn."

Harry hesitated

"I suppose they will feel anxious about me over at Pentland. They
won't know what has become of me."

"You can start early in the morning--as early as you like."

"Perhaps it will be better," said Harry, after a pause.

"It won't trouble your family too much, will it?"

"Not a bit," answered the boy, heartily. "Very likely they won't
know till morning," he added, laughing. "They go to bed early, and
I told them they needn't wait up for me."

"I am very much obliged to you," said Harry. "I will accept your
kind invitation. As I've got a horse, we may as well ride. I'll
untie him, and you jump into the buggy."

"All right," said the boy, well pleased.

"You may drive, for you know the way better than I."

"Where did this horse come from?"

"From the stable in Pentland."

"Perhaps they will think you have run away with it."

"I hope not."

"What is your name?"

"Harry Walton. What is yours?"

"Jefferson Selden. The boys usually call me Jeff."

"Is that your dog?"

"Yes. He's a fine fellow."

"I didn't think so when he was threatening to bite me," said Harry
laughing.

"I used to be afraid of dogs," said Jeff; "but I got cured of it
after a while. When I go out at night, I generally take Caesar with
me. If you had had him, you would have been a match for the robber."

"He had a pistol."

"Caesar would have had him down before he could use it."

"I wish he had been with me, then."

They had, by this time, come in sight of Jeff's house. It was a
square farmhouse, with a barn in the rear.

"We'll go right out to the barn," said Jeff, "and put up the horse.
Then we'll come back to the house and go to bed."

There was a little difficulty in unharnessing the horse, on account
of the absence of light; but at last, by a combined effort, it was
done, and the buggy was drawn into the barn and the doors shut.

"There, all will be safe till to-morrow morning," said Jeff. "Now
we'll go into the house."

He entered by the back shed door, and Harry followed him. They went
into the broad, low kitchen, with its ample fireplace, in which a
few embers were glowing. By these Jeff lighted a candle, and asked
Harry if he would have anything to eat.

"No, thank you," said Harry. "I ate a hearty supper at Carmansville."

"Then we'll go upstairs to bed. I sleep in a small room over the
shed. You won't mind sleeping with me?"

"I should like your company," said Harry, who was attracted to his
good-natured companion.

"Then come up. I guess we'll find the bed wide enough."

He led the way up a narrow staircase, into a room low studded, and
very plainly but comfortably furnished.

"The folks will be surprised to see you here in the morning," said
Jeff.

"I may be gone before they are up."

"I guess not. Father'll be up by five o'clock, and I think that'll
be as early as you'll want to be stirring."

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE REWARD OF FIDELITY

"Where am I?" asked Harry, the next morning, as he sat up in bed
and stared around him.

"Don't you remember?" asked Jeff, smiling.

Jeff was standing by the bedside, already dressed.

"Yes; I remember now," said Harry, slowly. "What time is it?"

"Seven o'clock."

"Seven o'clock! I meant to be dressed at six."

"That is the time I got up," said Jeff.

"Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You looked so comfortable that I thought it was a pity to wake
you. You must have felt tired."

"I think it was the cold that made me sleepy. I got chilled through
when I lay on the ground there, tied hand and foot. But I must get
up in hurry now."

He jumped out of bed, and hurried on his clothes.

"Now," said Jeff, "come down into the kitchen, and mother'll give
you some breakfast."

"I am giving you a great deal of trouble, I am afraid," said Harry.

"No, you're not. It's no trouble at all. The rest of the family
have eaten breakfast, but I waited for you. I've been up an hour,
and feel as hungry as a wolf. So come down, and we'll see who'll
eat the most."

"I can do my part," said Harry. "I've got a good appetite, though
I've been up a food deal less than an hour."

"Take your overcoat alone," said Jeff; "or will you come up and
get after breakfast?"

"I'll take it down with me. It isn't my coat, you know. Mine was
a much better one. I wish I had it back."

Jeff, meanwhile, had taken up the coat.

"There's something in the pocket," he said. "What is it?"

"I didn't put anything in."

Harry thrust his hand into the side pocket for the first time, and
drew out a shabby leather wallet.

"Perhaps there's money in it," Jeff suggested.

The same thought had occurred to Harry. He hastily opened it, and
his eyes opened wide with astonishment as he drew out a thick roll
of bills.

"By hokey!" said Jeff, "you're in luck. The robber took your
pocketbook, and left his own. Maybe there's as much as you lost.
Count it."

This Harry eagerly proceeded to do.

"Three--eight--eleven--thirteen--twenty," he repeated, aloud.
He continued his count, which resulted in showing that the wallet
contained ninety-seven dollars.

"Ninety-seven dollars!" exclaimed Jeff. "How much did you lose?"

"Forty dollars."

"Then you've made just fifty-seven dollars. Bully for you!"

"But I've exchanged a good overcoat for a poor one."

"There can't be more than seventeen dollars difference."

"Not so much."

"Then you're forty dollars better off, at any rate."

"But I don't know as I can claim this money," said Harry, doubtfully.
"It isn't mine."

"He won't be likely to call for it. When he does, and returns you
the money and the coat, it will be time to think about it."

"I will ask Professor Henderson about that. At any rate I've got
my money back, that's one good thing."

This timely discovery made Harry decidedly cheerful, and, if
anything, sharpened his appetite for breakfast.

Now Mr. Selden had gone out to oversee some farm work; but Mrs.
Selden received out hero very kindly, and made him feel that he was
heartily welcome to that she could offer. She had many questions
to ask about the bold robber who had waylaid him, and expressed
the hope that he had left the neighborhood.

"Perhaps he'll come back for his wallet, Harry," said Jeff. "You'd
better look out for him."

"I shall take care how I carry much money about with me, after
this," said Harry. "That was what got me into a scrape yesterday."

"He wouldn't make out much if he tried to rob me," said Jeff. "I
haven't got money enough about me to pay the board of a full-grown
fly for twenty-four hours."

"You don't look as if your poverty troubled you much," said his
mother.

"I don't have any board bills to pay," said Jeff, "so I can get
along."

"I should think you would feel nervous about riding to Pentland
alone," said Mrs. Selden, "for fear of meeting the man who robbed
you yesterday."

"I do dread it a little," said Harry, "having so much money about
me. Besides this ninety-seven dollars, I've got a hundred and fifty
dollars belonging to my employer."

"Suppose I go with you to protect you," said Jeff.

"I wish you would."

"I don't think Jefferson would make a very efficient protector,"
said his mother.

"You don't know how brave I am, mother," said Jeff, in the tone of
an injured hero.

"No, I don't," said his mother, smiling. "I believe there was a time
when you were not very heroic in the company of dogs."

"That's long ago, mother. I've got over it now."

"If you would like to ride over with your friend, you may do so.
But how will you get back?"

"Major Pinkham will be up there this afternoon. I can wait, and
ride home with him."

"Very well; I have no objection."

The two boys rode off together. Harry was glad to have a companion
who knew the road well, for he did not care to be lost again till
he had delivered up the money which he had in charge. There was
no opportunity to test Jeff's courage, for the highwayman did not
make his appearance. Indeed, it was not till the next morning that
he discovered the serious blunder he had made in leaving his own
wallet behind, and, though he was angry and disgusted, prudential
considerations prevented his going back. He was forced to the
unpleasant conviction that he had overreached himself, and that
his intended victim had come out best in the "exchange" which "was
no robbery." I may as well add here that, though he deserved to
be caught, he was not, and Harry has never, to this day, set eyes
either upon him or upon the coat.

When Harry arrived at Pentland, he found that no little anxiety
had been felt about him.

"Has Harry come yet?" asked the sick man, at ten o'clock the evening
previous.

"No, he hasn't," answered the nurse.

"It's strange what keeps him."

"Did he have any money of yours with him?"

"Yes, I believe he had."

"Oh!" ejaculated Mrs. Chase, significantly.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I didn't say anything, did I?"

"I am afraid he may have been attacked and robbed on the road."

Mrs. Chase coughed.

"Don't you think so?"

"I'll tell you what I think, professor," said the nurse, proceeding
to speak plainly, "I don't think you'll ever see anything of that
boy ag'in."

"Why not?"

"It ain't safe to trust boys with money," she answered, sententiously.

"Oh, I'm not afraid of his honesty."

"You don't say! Maybe you haven't seen as much of boys as I have."

"I was once a boy myself," said the professor, smiling.

"Oh, you--that's different."

"Why is it different? I wasn't any better than boys generally."

"I don't know anything about that; but you mark my words--as like
as not he's run away with your money. How much did he have?"

"I can't say exactly. Over a hundred dollars, I believe."

"Then he won't come back," said Mrs. Chase, decidedly.

Here the conference closed, as it was necessary for Mr. Henderson
to take medicine.

"Has the boy returned?" asked the professor, the next morning.

"You don't expect him--do you?"

"Certainly I expect him."

"Well, he ain't come, and I guess he won't come."

"I am sure that boy is honest," said Professor Henderson to himself.
"If he isn't, I'll never trust a boy again."

Mrs. Chase was going downstairs with her patient's breakfast dishes,
when she was nearly run into by our hero, who had just returned,
and was eager to report to his employer.

"Do be keerful," she expostulated, when, to her surprise, she
recognized Harry.

So he had come back, after all, and falsified her prediction. Such
is human nature, that for an instant she was disappointed.

"Here's pretty work," she said, "stayin' out all night, and worryin'
the professor out of his wits."

"I couldn't help it, Mrs. Chase."

"Why couldn't you help it, I'd like to know?"

"I'll tell you afterwards. I must go up now, and see the professor."

Mrs. Chase was so curious that she returned, with the dishes, to
hear Harry's statement.

"Good morning," said Harry, entering the chamber.

"I'm sorry to have been so long away, but I couldn't help it. I
hope you haven't worried much about my absence."

"I knew you would come back, but Mrs. Chase had her doubts," said
Professor Henderson, pleasantly. "Now tell me what it was that
detained you?"

"A highwayman," said Harry.

"A highwayman!" exclaimed both in concert.

"Yes, I'll tell you all about it. But first, I'll say that he stole
only my money, and didn't suspect that I had a hundred and fifty
dollars of yours with me. That's all safe. Here it is. I think you
had better take care of that yourself, sir, hereafter."

The professor glanced significantly at Mr. Chase, as much as to
say, "You see how unjust your suspicions were. I am right, after
all."

"Tell us all about it, Harry."

Our hero obeyed instructions; but it is not necessary to repeat a
familiar tale.

"Massy sakes!" ejaculated Betsy Chase. "Who ever heerd the like?"

"I congratulate you, Harry, on coming off with such flying colors.
I will, at my own expense, provide you with a new overcoat, as a
reward for bringing home my money safe. You shall not lose anything
by your fidelity."

CHAPTER XXXIV

IN DIFFICULTY

We must now transfer the scene to the Walton homestead.

It looks very much the same as on the day when the reader was first
introduced to it. There is not a single article of new furniture,
nor is any of the family any better dressed. Poverty reigns with
undisputed sway. Mr. Walton is reading a borrowed newspaper by the
light of a candle--for it is evening--while Mrs. Walton is engaged
in her never-ending task of mending old clothes, in the vain endeavor
to make them look as well as new. It is so seldom that anyone of
the family has new clothes, that the occasion is one long remembered
and dated from.

"It seems strange we don't hear from Harry," said Mrs. Walton,
looking up from her work.

"When was the last letter received?" asked Mr. Walton, laying down
the paper.

"Over a week ago. He wrote that the professor was sick, and he was
stopping at the hotel to take care of him."

"I remember. What was the name of the place?"

"Pentland."

"Perhaps his employer is recovered, and he is going about with
him."

"Perhaps so; but I should think he would write. I am afraid he is
sick himself. He may have caught the same fever."

"It is possible; but I think Harry would let us know in some way.
At any rate, it isn't best to worry ourselves about uncertainties."

"I wonder if Harry's grown?" said Tom.

"Of course he's grown," said Mary.

"I wonder if he's grown as much as I have," said Tom, complacently.

"I don't believe you've grown a bit."

"Yes, I have; if you don't believe it, see how short my pants are."

Tom did, indeed, seem to be growing out of his pants, which were
undeniably too short for him.

"You ought to have some new pants," said his mother, sighing; "but
I don't see where the money is to come from."

"Nor I," said Mr. Walton, soberly. "Somehow I don't seem to get
ahead at all. To-morrow my note for the cow comes due, and I haven't
but two dollars to meet it."

"How large it the note?"

"With six months' interest, it amounts to forty-one dollars and
twenty cents."

"The cow isn't worth that. She doesn't give as much milk as the
one we lost."

"That's true. It was a hard bargain, but I could do no better."

"You say you won't be able to meet the payment. What will be the
consequence?"

"I suppose Squire Green will take back the cow."

"Perhaps you can get another somewhere else, on better terms."

"I am afraid my credit won't be very good. I agreed to forfeit ten
dollars to Squire Green, if I couldn't pay at the end of six months."

"Will he insist on that condition?"

"I am afraid he will. He is a hard man."

"Then," said Mrs. Walton, indignantly, "he won't deserve to prosper."

"Worldly prosperity doesn't always go by merit. Plenty of mean men
prosper."

Before Mrs. Walton had time to reply, a knock was heard at the
door.

"Go to the door, Tom," said his father.

Tom obeyed, and shortly reappeared, followed by a small man with a
thin figure and wrinkled face, whose deep-set, crafty eyes peered
about him curiously as he entered the room.

"Good evening, Squire Green," said Mr. Walton, politely, guessing
his errand.

"Good evenin', Mrs. Walton. The air's kinder frosty. I ain't so
young as I was once, and it chills my blood."

"Come up to the fire, Squire Green," said Mrs. Walton, who wanted
the old man to be comfortable, though she neither liked nor respected
him.

The old man sat down and spread his hands before the fire.

"Anything new stirring, Squire?" asked Hiram Walton.

"Nothin' that I know on. I was lookin' over my papers to-night,
neighbor, and I come across that note you give for the cow. Forty
dollars with interest, which makes the whole come to forty-one
dollars and twenty cents. To-morrow's the day for payin'. I suppose
you'll be ready?" and the old man peered at Hiram Walton with his
little keen eyes.

"Now for it," thought Hiram. "I'm sorry to say, Squire Green," he
answered, "that I can't pay the note. Times have been hard, and my
family expenses have taken all I could earn."

The squire was not much disappointed, for now he was entitled to
exact the forfeit of ten dollars.

"The contrack provides that if you can't meet the note you shall
pay ten dollars," he said. "I 'spose you can do that."

"Squire Green, I haven't got but two dollars laid by."

"Two dollars!" repeated the squire, frowning. "That ain't honest.
You knew the note was comin' due, and you'd oughter have provided
ten dollars, at least."

"I've done as much as I could. I've wanted to meet the note, but
I couldn't make money, and I earned all I could."

"You hain't been equinomical," said the squire, testily. "Folks
can't expect to lay up money ef they spend it fast as it comes in";
and he thumped on the floor with his cane.

"I should like to have you tell us how we can economize any more
than we have," said Mrs. Walton, with spirit. "Just look around you,
and see if you think we have been extravagant in buying clothes.
I am sure I have to darn and mend till I am actually ashamed."

"There's other ways of wastin' money," said the squire. "If you
think we live extravagantly, come in any day to dinner, and we will
convince you to the contrary," said Mrs. Walton, warmly.

"Tain't none of my business, as long as you pay me what you owe
me," said the squire. "All I want is my money, and I'd orter have
it."

"It doesn't seem right that my husband should forfeit ten dollars
and lose the cow."

"That was the contrack, Mrs. Walton. Your husband 'greed to it,
and--"

"That doesn't make it just."

"Tain't no more'n a fair price for the use of the cow six months.
Ef you'll pay the ten dollars to-morrow, I'll let you have the cow
six months longer on the same contrack."

"I don't see any possibility of my paying you the money, Squire
Green. I haven't got it."

"Why don't you borrer somewhere?"

"I might as well owe you as another man, Besides, I don't know
anybody that would lend me the money."

"You haven't tried, have you?"

"No."

"Then you'd better. I thought I might as well come round and remind
you of the note as you might forget it."

"Not much danger," said Hiram Walton. "I've had it on my mind ever
since I gave it."

"Well, I'll come round to-morrow night, and I hope you'll be ready.
Good night."

No very cordial good night followed Squire Green as he hobbled out
of the cottage--for he was lame--not--I am sure the reader will
agree with me--did he deserve any. He was a mean, miserly, grasping
man, who had no regard for the feelings or comfort of anyone else;
whose master passion was a selfish love of accumulating money. His
money did him little good, however, for he was as mean with himself
as with others, and grudged himself even the necessaries of life,
because, if purchased, it must be at the expense of his hoards.
The time would come when he and his money must part, but he did
not think of that.

CHAPTER XXXV

SETTLED

There was a general silence after Squire Green's departure. Hiram
Walton looked gloomy, and the rest of the family also.

"What an awful mean man the squire is!" Tom broke out, indignantly.

"You're right, for once," said Mary.

In general, such remarks were rebuked by the father or mother; but
the truth of Tom's observation was so clear, that for once he was
not reproved.

"Squire Green's money does him very little good," said Hiram Walton.
"He spends very little of it on himself, and it certainly doesn't
obtain him respect in the village. Rich as he is, and poor as I am,
I would rather stand in my shoes than his."

"I should think so," said his wife. "Money isn't everything."

"No; but it is a good deal I have suffered too much from the want
of it, to despise it."

"Well, Hiram," said Mrs. Walton, who felt that it would not do to
look too persistently upon the dark side, "you know that the song
says, 'There's a good time coming.'"

"I've waited for it a long time, wife," said the farmer, soberly.

"Wait a little longer," said Mrs. Walton, quoting the refrain of
the song.

He smiled faintly.

"Very well, I'll wait a little longer; but if I have to wait too
long, I shall get discouraged."

"Children, it's time to go to bed," said Mrs. Walton.

"Mayn't I sit up a little longer?" pleaded Mary.

"'Wait a little longer,' mother," said Tom, laughing, as he quoted
his mother's words against her.

"Ten minutes, only, then."

Before the ten minutes were over, there was great and unexpected joy
in the little house. Suddenly the outer door opened, and, without
the slightest warning to anyone, Harry walked in. He was immediately
surrounded by the delighted family, and in less time than I am
taking to describe it he had shaken hands with his father, kissed
his mother and sister, and given Tom a bearlike hug, which nearly
suffocated him.

"Where did you come from, Harry?" asked Mary.

"Dropped down from the sky," said Harry, laughing.

"Has the professor been giving exhibitions up there?" asked Tom.

"I've discharge the professor," said Harry, gayly. "I'm my own man
now."

"And you've come home to stay, I hope," said his mother.

"Not long, mother," said Harry. "I can only stay a few days."

"What a bully overcoat you've got on!" said Tom.

"The professor gave it to me."

"Hasn't he got one for me, too?"

Harry took off his overcoat, and Tom was struck with fresh admiration
as he surveyed his brother's inside suit.

"I guess you spent all you money on clothes," he said.

"I hope not," said Mr. Walton, whom experience had made prudent.

"Not quite all," said Harry, cheerfully. "How much money do you
think I have brought home?"

"Ten dollars," said Tom.

"More."

"Fifteen."

"More."

"Twenty," said Mary.

"More."

"Twenty-five."

"I won't keep you guessing all night. What do you say to fifty
dollars?"

"Oh, what a lot of money!" said Mary.

"You have done well, my son," said Mr. Walton. "You must have been
very economical."

"I tried to be, father. But I didn't say fifty dollars was all I
had."

"You haven't got more?" said his mother, incredulously.

"I've got a hundred dollars, mother," said Harry.

"Here are fifty dollars for you, father. It'll pay your note to
Squire Green, and a little over. Here are thirty dollars, mother,
of which you must use for ten for yourself, ten for Mary, and ten
for Tom. I want you all to have some new clothes, to remember me
by."

"But Harry, you will have nothing left for yourself."

"Yes, I shall. I have kept twenty dollars, which will be enough
till I can earn some more."

"I don't see how you could save so much money, Harry," said his
father.

"It was partly luck, father, and partly hard work. I'll tell you
all about it."

He sat down before the fire and they listened to his narrative.

"Well, Harry," said Mr. Walton, "I am very glad to find that you
are more fortunate than your father. I have had a hard struggle;
but I will not complain if my children can prosper."

The cloud that Squire Green had brought with him had vanished, and
all was sunshine and happiness.

It was agreed that no hint should be given to Squire Green that
his note was to be paid. He did not even hear of Harry's arrival,
and was quite unconscious of any change in the circumstances of
the family, when he entered the cottage the next evening.

"Well, neighbor," he said, "I've brought along that ere note. I
hope you've raised the money to pay it."

"Where do you think I could raise money, Squire?" asked Hiram
Walton.

"I thought mebbe some of the neighbors would lent it to you."

"Money isn't very plenty with any of them, Squire, except with
you."

"I calc'late better than they. Hev you got the ten dollars that
you agreed to pay ef you couldn't meet the note?"

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