"Save it."
"I know, but how and where? It will not be safe in your house nor at the Misses Perkinpines', as the events of the other night prove. It ought to be placed somewhere where it will be safe."
"Tell me where to put it."
"There is the Lynton Bank ten miles away, but you couldn't drive there before it would be closed. I have agood, strong, burglar-proof safe, in which I have many valuable papers. If you wish it, I will seal the money in a large envelope, write your name on the back and lock it up for you. Then, whenever you want it, I will turn it over to you."
Fred replied that he would be glad to have him do as proposed, and the old squire, with solemn deliberation, went through the ceremony of placing the two hundred dollars safely among his other papers and swinging the ponderous safe-door upon them.
Fred would have liked to keep the money to look at and admire and show to his playmates, but he saw how much wiser the course of the squire was, and it was a great relief to the boy to have the custody of such riches in other hands.
When he came out on the street again he looked across to the hotel and noticed that Bud Heyland and Cyrus Sutton were no longer visible. He supposed they were inside visiting the bar, and without giving them any further thought, Fred started for his home to complete his chores before going over to stay with the Misses Perkinpine.
After reaching a certain point up the road a short cut was almost always used by Fred, who followed quite a well-beaten path through a long stretch of woods.
The boy was in high spirits, for he could not feel otherwise after the wonderful success which had attended his efforts to capture the astray lion.
"If I could only get on the track of the men that stole the silverware and money, why, I would retirewealthy," he said to himself, with a smile; "but I don't see where there is much chance——"
"Halloo, there, Freddy dear!"
It was Bud Heyland who hailed the startled youngster in this fashion, and when our hero stopped and looked up, he saw the bully standing before him, whip in hand and waiting for him to approach.
When Fred Sheldon saw Bud Heyland standing before him in the path, his impulse was to whirl about and run, for he knew too well what to expect from the bully; but the latter, reading his thoughts called out:
"Hold on, Freddy, I won't hurt you, though you deserve a good horsewhipping on account of the mean way you cheated me out of the reward for capturing the lion; but I have a little business with you."
Wondering what all this could mean Fred stood still while the red-faced young man approached, though our hero wished as fervently that he was somewhere else as he did when he found himself face to face with the lion in the lane.
"Jake sent me," added Bud in his most persuasive manner, and with a strong effort to win the confidence of the boy, who was somewhat reassured by the last words.
"What does Mr. Kincade want?" asked Fred.
"Why, he told me to hurry after you and say that he had made a mistake in paying you that money."
"I guess he didn't make any mistake," replied the surprised boy.
"Yes, he did; it's twenty dollars short."
"No, it isn't, for Squire Jones and I counted it over twice."
"That don't make any difference; I tell you there was a mistake and he sent me to correct it."
"Why didn't you come over to Squire Jones' office, then, and fix it?"
"I didn't know you was there."
Fred knew this was untrue, for Bud sat on the porch and watched him as he walked across the street with the squire.
"Well, if you are so sure of it, then you can give me the twenty dollars and it will be all right."
"I want you to take out the money and count it here before me."
"I sha'n't do it."
"I guess you will; you've got to."
"But I can't."
"What's the reason you can't?"
"I haven't got the money with me."
"You haven't!" exclaimed Bud, in dismay. "Where is it?"
"Locked up in Squire Jones' safe."
The bully was thunderstruck, and gave expression to some exclamations too forcible to be recorded.
It was evident that he was unprepared for such news, and he seemed to be eager to apply his cruel whip to the little fellow toward whom he felt such unreasonable hatred.
"I've got a settlement to make with you, any way," he said, advancing threateningly toward him.
"What have I done," asked Fred, backing away from him, "that you should take every chance you can get, Bud, to hurt me?"
"What have you done?" repeated the bully, "you've done a good deal, as you know well enough."
But at this juncture, when poor Fred thought there was no escape for him, Bud Heyland, very curiously, changed his mind.
"I'll let you off this time," said he, "but it won't do for you to try any more of your tricks. When I come to think, it was ten dollars that the money was short. Here is a twenty-dollar bill. I want you to get it changed and give me the ten dollars to-morrow."
Fred Sheldon was bewildered by this unexpected turn to the interview, but he took the bill mechanically, and promised to do as he was told.
"There's another thing I want to say to you," added Bud, stopping as he was on the point of moving away: "You must not answer any questions that may be asked you about the bill."
The wondering expression of the lad showed that he failed to take in the full meaning of this warning, and Bud added, impatiently.
"Don't tell anybody I gave it to you. Say you found it in the road if they want to know where you got it; that's all. Do you understand?"
Fred began to comprehend, and he resolved on the instant that he would not tell a falsehood to save himself from a score of whippings at the hands of this evil boy, who would not have given the caution had he not possessed good reasons for doing so.
Bud Heyland repeated the last warning, word for word, as first uttered, and then, striding by the affrighted Fred, continued in the direction of Tottenville, while the younger boy was glad enough to go homeward.
The sun had not set yet when he reached the house where he was born, and he hurried through with his work and set out for the old brick dwelling, which had been the scene of so many stirring incidents within the last few days.
He was anxious to see his mother, who had been away several days. He felt that she ought to know of his great good fortune, that she might rejoice with him.
"If she doesn't get there by to-morrow or next day I'll have to go after her," he said to himself, "for I'll burst if I have to hold this news much longer. And won't she be glad? It's hard work for us to get along on our pension, and I can see she has to deny herself a good many things so that I can go to school. I thought I would be happy when I got the money, and so I am, but it is more on her account than on my own—halloo!"
It seemed as if the lane leading to the old brick mansion was destined to play a very important part in the history of the lad, for he had reached the very spot where he met the lion the night before, when a man suddenly stepped out from behind one of the trees and stood for a moment, with the setting sun shining full on his back, his figure looking as if it were stamped in ink against the flaming horizon beyond.
As Fred stared at him, he held up his right hand andcrooked his finger for him to approach, just as he did when sitting on the porch of the village hotel, for it was Cyrus Sutton.
The boy was not pleased, by any means, to meet him in such a place, for he had felt suspicious of him ever since he saw him sitting in such familiar converse with Bud Heyland and Jacob Kincade.
Nevertheless, our hero walked boldly toward him, and with a faint "Good-evening, sir," waited to hear what he had to say.
"Your name is Frederick Sheldon, I believe?"
Fred nodded to signify that he was correct in his surmise.
"You met Bud Heyland in the woods over yonder, didn't you?"
"Yes, sir; how could you know it?"
"I saw him going in that direction, and I saw you come out the path; what more natural than that I should conclude you had met? He gave you a twenty-dollar bill to get changed, didn't he?"
"He did, sir," was the answer of the amazed boy, who wondered how it was this person could have learned so much, unless he got the news from Bud Heyland himself.
"Let me see the money."
Fred did not like this peremptory way of being addressed by a person whom he had never seen until that afternoon, but he drew the bill from his pocket.
As he did so he brought several other articles with it, among them his new knife, which dropped to theground. He quickly picked them up, and shoved them hurriedly out of sight.
Mr. Sutton did not seem to notice this trifling mishap, but his eyes were bent on the crumpled bill which was handed to him.
As soon as he got it in his hands he turned his back toward the setting sun, and placing himself in the line of some of the horizontal rays which found their way between the trees he carefully studied the paper.
He stood full a minute without moving, and then merely said, "Ahem!" as though he were clearing his throat. Then he carefully doubled up the piece of national currency, and opening his pocket-book placed it in it.
"Are you going to keep that?" asked Fred. "It isn't yours."
"He wanted you to get it changed, didn't he?"
"Yes, sir; but he didn't want me to give it away."
"Of course not, of course not; excuse me, but I only wanted to change the bill for you. Here you are."
Thereupon he handed four five-dollar bills to Fred, who accepted them gladly enough, though still wondering at the peculiar actions of the man.
"One word," he added. "Bud told you not to answer any questions when you got the bill changed. I haven't asked you any, but he will have some to ask himself, which he will be very anxious you should answer. Take my advice, and don't let him know a single thing."
"I won't," said Fred, giving his promise before he thought.
"Very well, don't forget it; he will be on the lookout for you to-morrow, and when you see him, hand him his ten dollars and keep the rest for yourself, and then end the interview. Good evening, my son."
"Good evening," and Fred was moving on, when Mr. Cyrus Sutton said:
"Hold on a minute," at the same time crooking his forefinger in a way peculiar to himself; "I understand you were in the house there the other night, when it was robbed by a tramp."
"I was, sir; the whole village knows that."
"You were lucky enough to get away while it was going on, though you were deceived by the man whom you met here in the lane."
The lad assured him he was correct, as he seemed to be in every supposition which he made.
"Do you think you would know either of those men if you met them again?"
The question was a startling one, not from the words themselves, but from the peculiar manner in which it was asked.
Cyrus Sutton bent forward, thrusting his face almost in that of the boy and dropping his voice to a deep guttural bass as he fixed his eyes on those of Fred.
The latter looked up and said:
"The voice of the man I met in the lane sounded just like yours. Are you the man?"
It surely was a stranger question than that to which the lad had made answer, and Sutton, throwing back his head, laughed as if he would sink to the earth from excess of mirth.
"Well, that's the greatest joke of the season. Am I the other tramp that led you on such a wild-goose chase? Well, I should say not."
Nevertheless Fred Sheldon felt absolutely sure that this was the man he accused him of being.
Mr. Sutton, with a few jesting remarks, bade the boy good-evening, and the latter hastened on to the brick mansion, where he busied himself for a half hour in doing up a few chores that Michael, the hired man, had left for him.
When these were finished, he went into the house, with a good appetite for his supper, which was awaiting him.
The old ladies were greatly pleased to learn he had been paid such a large sum for capturing the lion, and they did not regret the fright they had suffered, since it resulted in such substantial good for their favorite.
"Now, if you could only find our silverware," said Aunt Annie, "what a nice sum you would earn!"
"Wouldn't I? I'd just roll in wealth, and I'd make mother so happy she'd feel miserable."
"But I'm afraid we shall never see the silver again," observed Miss Lizzie, with a deep sigh.
"Wasn't there some money taken, too?"
"Yes; several hundred dollars. But we don't mind that, for we can get along without it; but the silverware, you know, has been in the family for more than two centuries."
"You haven't owned it all that time, have you?"
"My goodness! How old do you suppose we are?" asked the amused old lady.
"I never thought, but it would be a good thing to get the money, too, wouldn't it? Has Archie Jackson been here to-day?"
"Yes. He says that the officer he sent for doesn't come, and so he's going to be a detective himself."
"A detective," repeated Fred to himself. "That's a man, I believe, that goes prying around after thieves and bad people, and is pretty smart in making himself look like other folks."
"Yes," said Aunt Lizzie, "he went all over the house again, and climbed out on top of the porch, and was crawling around there, 'looking for signs,' as he called them. I don't know how he made out, but he must have been careless, for he slipped off and came down on his head and shoulders, and when we ran out to help him up, said some awful bad words, and went limping down the lane."
"He don't know how to climb," said Fred, as he disposed of his usual supply of gingerbread; "it takes a boy like me to climb, a man is always sure to get in trouble."
"Archibald seems to be very unfortunate," said Aunt Annie mildly, and with a meek smile on her face, "for just before he fell off the roof of the porch, he came bumping all the way down-stairs and said the bad man had put oil on them, so as to make him slip to the bottom. I am quite anxious about him, but I hope no bones were broken."
"I saw that his hand was swelled up too," said the sister, "and when I inquired about it he said he caughtit in the crack of the door, playing with his little boy, though I don't see how that could make such a hurt as his was. But there has been some one else here."
"Who was that?" asked Fred, excitedly.
"A very nice, gentlemanly person, though he wasn't dressed in very fine clothes. His name was—let me see, circus-circum—no——"
"Cyrus Sutton?"
"That's it—yes, that's his name."
"What was he after?" demanded Fred, indignantly.
"He said he was staying in the village a little while, and, having heard about our loss, he came out to make inquiries."
"I would like to know what business he had to do that," said the boy, who was sure the old ladies were altogether too credulous and kind to strangers who presented themselves at their doors.
"Why, Frederick, it was a great favor for him to show such an interest in our affairs."
"Yes; so it was in them other two chaps, I s'pose; this ain't the first time Mr. Cyrus Sutton has been in your house."
"What do you mean, Frederick?"
"I mean this," answered Fred, wheeling his chair about and slapping his hand several times upon the table, by way of emphasis, "that Mr. Cyrus Sutton, as he calls himself, is the man I met in the lane the other night, and who climbed into the window and helped the other fellow carry off your plate and money; there!"
The ladies raised their hands in protesting amazement.
"Impossible! You must be mistaken!"
"I know it, and I told him so, too!"
"You did! Didn't he kill you?"
"Not that I know of," laughed Fred. "I don't feel very dead, anyway; but though he had on whiskers the other night as the other one did, I knew his voice."
Young Sheldon did not think it best to say anything about the suspicion he had formed against Bud Heyland, for that was coming so near home that it would doubtless cause immediate trouble.
Nor did he tell how he was sure, only a short time before, that Jacob Kincade was the partner of Bud in the theft, but that the latter, who handed him the two hundred dollars, was relieved from all suspicion, at least so far as the lad himself was concerned.
"Have you told Archibald of this?" asked Aunt Lizzie, when Fred had repeated his declaration several times.
"What's the use of telling him? He would start in such a hurry to arrest him that he would tumble over something and break his neck. Then, he'd get the reward, too, and I wouldn't have any of it."
"We will see that you have justice," said Miss Lizzie, assuringly; "you deserve it for what you have already done."
"I don't want it, and I won't have it until I can earn it, that's certain. I must go to school to-morrow, and I brought over two of my books to study my lessons. I had mother's permission to stay home to go to the circus, but I was out to-day, and I s'pose Mr. McCurtiswill give me a good whipping for it to-morrow. Anyway, I'll wear my trousers down, instead of rolling 'em up, till I learn how the land lies."
This seemed a prudent conclusion, and as the ladies were anxious that their favorite should keep up with his classes they busied themselves with their household duties while the lad applied himself with might and main to his mental work.
At the end of half an hour he had mastered it, and asked the ladies if there was anything he could do for them.
"I forgot to tell Michael," said Aunt Annie, "before he went home, that we want some groceries from the store, and I would like him to give the order before coming here in the morning."
"I'll take the order to him if you will write it out."
Thanking him for his courtesy, the order was prepared, and, tucking it in his pocket, Fred Sheldon started down the road on a trot to the home of Michael Heyland, the hired man.
"I wonder whether Bud is there?" he said to himself, as he approached the humble house. "I don't s'pose he'll bother me, but he'll want to know about that money as soon as he sees me."
Without any hesitation the lad knocked at the door and was bidden to enter. As he did so he saw that Mrs. Heyland was the only one at home.
"Michael has gone to the village," said the lady of the house, in explanation; "but I'm expecting him homein the course of an hour or so, and perhaps you had better wait."
"I guess there isn't any need of it. Aunt Annie wants him to take an order to the store to-morrow morning before he comes up to the house, and I can leave it with you."
"Is it writ out?"
"Yes; here it is," said Fred, laying the piece of folded paper on the stand beside the Bible and a copy of the TottenvilleWeekly Illuminator.
The lad had no particular excuse for staying longer, but he was anxious to ask several questions before going back, and he was in doubt as to how he should go about it.
But when he was invited to sit down he did so, and asked, in the most natural manner:
"Where is Bud?"
"He's down to the village, too."
"When will he be home?"
"That's a hard question to answer, and I don't think Bud himself could tell you if he tried. You know he's been traveling so long with the circus and has so many friends in the village that they are all glad to see him and won't let him come home. Bud was always a good boy, and I don't wonder that everybody thinks so much of him."
Fred Sheldon indulged in a little smile for his own amusement, but he took care that the doting mother did not notice it.
"Michael was always hard on Bud, but he sees howgreat his mistake was, and when he rode by on the big wagon, cracking his whip, he felt as proud of him as I did."
"Is Bud going to be home long?"
"He got leave of absence for a few days, because the boy isn't feeling very well. They've worked him too hard altogether. You observed how pale-looking he is?"
Fred could not say that he had noticed any alarming paleness about the young man, but he did not deny the assertion of the mother.
"Does Bud like it with the circus?"
"Oh, yes, and they just dote on him. Bud tells me that Colonel Bandman, the owner of the circus and menagerie, has told him that if he keeps on doing so well he's going to take him in as partner next year."
"Mrs. Heyland, why do you call him Bud?"
"He was such a sweet baby that we nick-named him 'Birdy,' and it has stuck by him since. When he went to school he was called Budman, that being a cunning fancy of the darling boy, but his right name is Nathaniel Higgens, though most people don't know it."
Fred Sheldon had got the information he was seeking.
Fred Sheldon had learned one most important fact. Beyond all doubt the letters "N. H. H." stood for the name Nathaniel Higgens Heyland, who for some months past had been attached as an employee to Colonel Bandman's menagerie and circus.
By some means, hard to understand, this young man had dropped his pocket-knife, bearing these initials, on the floor of the upper room of the brick mansion, at the time he entered it disguised as an ordinary tramp, and with the sole purpose of robbery.
It was proven, therefore, that Bud had committed that great offense against the laws of his country, as well as against those of his Maker, and he was deserving of severe punishment.
But young, as bright, honest Fred Sheldon was, he knew that the hardest work of all remained before him.
How was the silver plate to be recovered, for the task would be less than half performed should the owners fail to secure that?
How could the guilt of Bud Heyland be brought home to him, and who was his partner?
Although Fred was sure that the stranger who called himself Cyrus Sutton was the other criminal, yet he sawno way in which that fact could be established, nor could he believe that the proof which he held of Bud's criminality would convince others.
Bud was such an evil lad that he would not hesitate to tell any number of falsehoods, and he was so skilled in wrong talking, as well as wrong doing, that he might deceive every one else.
Fred Sheldon felt that he needed now the counsel of one person above all others. The one man to whom his thoughts first turned was Archie Jackson, the constable, and he was afraid to trust him, for the temptation of obtaining the large reward offered was likely to lead him to do injustice to the boy.
The one person whom he longed to see above all others was his mother—that noble, brave woman whose love and wisdom had guided him so well along his journey of life, short though it had been.
It was she who had awakened in him the desire to become a good and learned man, who had cheered him in his studies, who had entertained him with stories culled from history and calculated to arouse an honorable ambition in his heart.
The memory of his father was dim and misty, but there was a halo of glory that would ever envelop that sacred name.
Fred could just remember the bright spring morning when the patriot, clad in his uniform of a private, had taken his wee baby boy in his arms, tossed him in the air, and, as he came down, kissed him over and over again, and told him that he was the son of a soldier whointended to fight for his country; and commending him to God and his wife, had resigned him to the weeping mother, who was pressed to his heart, and then, catching up his musket he had hurried out the little gate and walked rapidly down the road.
Held in the mother's arms, Fred had strained his baby eyes until the loved form of his father faded out in the distance, and then the heavy-hearted wife took up the burden of life once more.
But, though she shaded her weary eyes and looked down the road many a time, the husband never came back again. Somewhere, many long miles away, he found his last resting place, there to sleep until the last trump shall wake the dead, and those who have been separated in this life shall be reunited, never to part again.
Fred's memories of those sad days, we say, were dim and shadowy, but he saw how bravely his mother fought her own battle, more sorrowful than that in which the noble husband went down, and Fred, young though he was, had been all that the fondest mother could wish.
"Let him be spared to me, oh, Heavenly Father," she plead, and henceforth she lived only for him.
It was she who taught him to kneel at her knee and to murmur his prayers morning and evening; who told him of the Gracious Father who will reward every good deed and punish every evil one not repented of; it was she who taught him to be manly and truthful and honest and brave for the right, and whose counsel and guidance were more precious than those of any earthly friend ever could be.
Fred had no secret from her, and now that so much had taken place in the last few days he felt that he could not stand it much longer without her to counsel and direct him.
"I sha'n't tell anybody a word of what I've found out," he said to himself, as he walked thoughtfully along the road, in the direction of the old brick mansion, where he expected to spend the night; "the Misses Perkinpine are such simple souls that they can't help a big boy like me, and though they might give me something, I don't want it unless I earn it. I'll bet mother can give me a lift."
And holding this very high and not exaggerated opinion of his parent's wisdom, he continued onward, fervently hoping that she would return on the morrow.
"We've never been apart so long since I can remember," he added, "and I'm beginning to feel homesick."
The night was clear and starlight, the moon had not yet risen, but he could see very distinctly for a short distance in the highway. He was thinking of nothing in the way of further incident to him, but, as it sometimes happens in this world, the current of one's life, after flowing smoothly and calmly for a long time, suddenly comes upon shoals and breakers and everything is stormy for a while.
Fred, in accordance with his favorite custom, had his trousers rolled high above his knees, and was barefooted. In the dust of the road he walked without noise, and as the night was very still he could hear the least sound.
Though involved in deep thought he was of such awide-awake nature that he could never be insensible to what was going on around him. He heard again the soft murmur of the wind in the forest, the faint, distant moan of the river, the cock crowing fully a mile away, answered by a similar signal of a chanticleer still further off, and then all at once he distinctly caught the subdued sound of voices.
He at once stopped in the road and looked and listened. He could see nothing, but his keen ears told him the faint noise came from a point directly ahead, and was either in or at the side of the road.
His intimate knowledge of the highway, even to the rocks and fences and piles of rails, that here and there lined it, enabled him to recall that there was a broad, flat rock, perhaps a hundred rods ahead, on the right side of the path, and that it was the one on which many a tired traveler sat down to rest.
No doubt the persons whose voices reached him were sitting there, holding some sort of conference, and Fred asked himself how he should pass them without discovery, for, like almost every one, he was timid of meeting strangers on a lonely road after dark.
His recourse suggested itself the next minute—he had only to climb the fence and move around them.
At this point there was a meadow on each side of the highway, without any trees near the road, so that great care was needed to avoid observation, but in the starlight night Fred had little doubt of being able to get by without detection.
Very carefully he climbed the fence, and, droppinggently upon the grass on the other side, he walked off across the field, peering through the gloom in the direction of the rock by the roadside, whence came the murmur of voices.
The boy was so far away that, as yet, he had not caught a glimpse of the others, but when he stopped at the point where he thought it safe to begin to approach the road again, one of the parties gave utterance to an exclamation in a louder voice than usual.
Fred instantly recognized it as that of Cyrus Sutton, the cattle drover, who had formed such a strong friendship for Bud Heyland.
"I'll bet that Bud is there, too," muttered Fred, moving stealthily in the direction of the rock; "they are always—halloo!"
In imitation of the loud voice of Sutton, the other did the same, and in the still night there could be no mistaking it; the only son of Michael Heyland was sitting at the roadside, in conversation with Cyrus Sutton.
It was natural that Young Sheldon should conclude they were discussing the subject of the robbery, and he was at once seized with the desire to learn what it was they were saying, for, more than likely, it would throw some light on the matter.
Fred had been taught by his mother that it was mean to tell tales of, or to play the eavesdropper upon, another, but in this case he felt warranted in breaking the rule for the sake of the good that it might do.
Accordingly, he crept through the grass toward the highway until he caught the outlines of the two figuresbetween the fence rails and thrown against the sky beyond. At the same time the rank odor of tobacco came stealing through the summer air, as it floated from the strong briar-wood pipe of Bud Heyland.
It was not to be supposed that two persons, engaged in an unlawful business, would sit down beside a public highway and hold a conversation in such a loud voice that any one in the neighborhood would be able to learn all their secrets.
Fred Sheldon got quite close, but though the murmur was continued with more distinctness than before, he could not distinguish many words nor keep the run of the conversation. There may have been something in the fact that the faces of the two, as a rule, were turned away from the listener, but now and then in speaking one of them would look at the other and raise his voice slightly.
This indicated that he was more in earnest just then, and Fred caught a word or two without difficulty, the fragments, as they reached him, making a queer jumble.
Bud Heyland's voice was first identified in the jumble and murmur.
"Big thing—clean two thousand—got it down fine, Sutton."
The reply of the companion was not audible, but Bud continued staring at him and smoking so furiously that the boy, crouching behind them, plainly saw the vapor as it curled upward and tainted the clear summer air above their heads.
In a moment, however, Fred caught the profile ofCyrus Sutton against the starlight background, while that of young Heyland and his briar-wood looked as if drawn in ink against the sky.
Both were looking at each other, and the words reached him more distinctly.
"Must be careful—dangerous business—been there myself, Bud, don't be in a hurry."
This, of course, was spoken by the cattle drover, and it was plain that it must refer to the robbery. Bud was laboring under some impatience and was quick to make answer.
"Can't play this sick bus'ness much longer—must join the circus at Belgrade in a few days—must make a move pretty soon."
"Won't keep you waiting long—but the best jobs in—country—spoiled by haste. Take it easy till you can be sure how the land lies."
"That may all be—but——"
Just then Bud Heyland turned his head so that only the back portion was toward the listener, and his voice dropped so low that it was some time before another word could be distinguished.
Fred Sheldon was deeply interested, for a new and strong suspicion was beginning to take possession of him.
It seemed to him on the sudden that the two worthies were not discussing the past so much as they were the future.
That is, instead of talking about the despoiling of the Perkinpine mansion, a few nights before, they were laying plans for the commission of some new offense.
"That Sutton is a regular burglar," thought Fred, "and he has come down here to join Bud, and they're going to rob all the houses in the neighborhood. I wonder whom they're thinking about now."
The anxiety of the eavesdropper to hear more of what passed between the conspirators was so great that he grew less guarded in his movements than he should have been.
His situation was such already that had the suspicion of the two been directed behind them they would have been almost sure to discover the listener; but, although they should have been careful themselves, it was hardly to be expected that they would be looking for spies in such a place and at such a time.
Fred caught several words, which roused his curiosity to such a point that he determined to hear more, though the risk should be ten times as great.
As silently, therefore, as possible, he crept forward until he was within a dozen feet of the rock on which Heyland and Sutton sat.
The fact that the two had their faces turned away from him, still interfered with the audibility of the words spoken in a lower tone than the others, but the listener heard enough to fill him not only with greater anxiety than ever, but with a new fear altogether.
Without giving all the fragments his ear caught, he picked up enough to convince him that Bud Heyland and Cyrus Sutton were discussing their past deeds and laying plans for the commission of some new act of evil.
It was the latter fact which so excited the boy that healmost forgot the duty of using care against being discovered, and gradually crept up near enough to keep the run of the conversation.
But, when he had secured such a position, he was annoyed beyond bearing by the silence, occasionally broken, of the two. It looked, indeed, as if they had got through the preliminaries of some evil scheme, and were now speaking in a desultory way of anything which came in their heads, while one smoked his pipe and the other his cigar.
Cyrus Sutton held a jack-knife in his hand, which he now and then rubbed against a portion of the rock, as if to sharpen the blade, while he puffed the smoke first on the one side of his head and then on the other. Bud was equally attentive to his pipe, the strong odor of which at times almost sickened young Sheldon. Bud had not his whip with him, and he swung his legs and knocked his heels against the rock and seemed as well satisfied with himself as such worthless fellows generally are.
"It's a pretty big thing and it will take a good deal of care and skill to work it through."
This remark was made by Sutton, after a minute's pause on the part of both, and was instantly commented upon by Bud in his off-hand style.
"Of course it does, but don't you s'pose we know all that? Haven't we done it in more than one other place than Tottenville?"
"Yes," said Sutton, "and I've run as close to the wind as I want to, and closer than I mean to again, if I can help it."
"Well, then," said Bud, "we'll fix it to-morrow night."
"All right," said the drover, "but remember you can't be too careful, Bud, for this is a dangerous business."
"I reckon I'm as careful as you or any one else," retorted the youth, "and ain't in any need of advice."
These words disclosed one important fact to Fred Sheldon; they showed that the unlawful deed contemplated was fixed for the succeeding night.
"They're going to break into another house," he mentally said, "and to-morrow is the time. Now, if I can only learn whose house it is, I will tell Archie Jackson."
This caused his heart to beat faster, and again the lad thought of nothing else than to listen and catch the words of the conspirators.
"Do you think we can manage it alone?" asked Sutton, turning his head so that the words were unmistakably distinct.
"What's to hinder? Halloo! what's that?"
Bud Heyland straightened himself and looked up and down the road. The affrighted Fred Sheldon saw his head and shoulders rise to view as he glanced about him, while his companion seemed occupied also in looking and listening.
What was it they had heard? The lad was not aware that he had made the slightest noise, but the next guarded remark of Heyland startled him.
"I heard something move, as if in the grass."
"It would be a pretty thing if some one overheardour plans," said Cyrus Sutton, turning squarely about, so that his face was toward the crouching lad; "we ought to have looked out for that. Where did it seem to come from?"
"Maybe I was mistaken; it was very faint, and I couldn't think of the right course; it may have been across the road or behind us."
Fred Sheldon began to think it was time for him to withdraw, for his situation was becoming a dangerous one, indeed.
"I guess you were mistaken," said Sutton, off-hand; "this is a slow neighborhood and the people don't know enough to play such a game as that."
"You was saying a minute ago that you couldn't be too careful; I'll take a look across the road and up and down, while you can see how things are over the fence there."
The last clause referred to the hiding place of Fred Sheldon, who wondered how it was he had not already been seen, when he could distinguish both forms so plainly, now that they stood up on their feet.
It looked as if detection was certain, even without the two men shifting their positions in the least.
The lad was lying flat on the ground and so motionless that he might have hoped to escape if special attention were not called to him.
But he felt that if the cattle-drover came over the fence it would be useless to wait a second.
As Bud Heyland spoke he started across the highway, while Cyrus Sutton called out:
"All right!"
As he did so he placed his hand on the top rail of the fence and with one bound leaped over, dropping upon his feet within a few steps of poor Fred Sheldon, who, with every reason for believing he had been seen, sprang to his feet and ran for dear life.
Fred Sheldon sprang up from his hiding-place in the grass, almost before the drover vaulted over the fence, and ran across the meadow in the manner he did when he believed the wandering lion was at his heels.
Cyrus Sutton seemed to be confused for the minute, as though he had scared up some strange sort of animal, and he stared until the dark figure began to grow dim in the distance.
Even then he might not have said or done anything had not Bud Heyland heard the noise and come clambering over the fence after him.
"Why don't you shoot him?" demanded Bud; "he's a spy that has been listening! Let's capture him! Come on! It will never do for him to get away! If we can't overhaul him, we can shoot him on the fly!"
The impetuous Bud struck across the lot much the same as a frightened ox would have done when galloping. He was in dead earnest, for he and Sutton had been discussing some important schemes, which it would not do for outsiders to learn anything about.
He held his pistol in hand, and was resolved that the spy should not escape him. The skurrying figure was dimly visible in the moonlight, but in his haste andexcitement Bud probably did not observe that the object of the chase was of very short stature.
Sutton kept close beside Bud, occasionally falling a little behind, as though it was hard work.
"He's running as fast as we," said Sutton; "you had better hail him."
Bud Heyland did so on the instant.
"Hold on there! Stop! Surrender and you will be spared! If you don't stop I'll shoot!"
Master Frederick Sheldon believed he was running for life, and, finding he was not overtaken, he redoubled his exertions, his chubby legs carrying him along with a speed which astonished even himself.
The terrible hail of his pursuer instead of "bringing him to," therefore, only spurred him to greater exertions.
"I give you warning," called out Bud, beginning to pant from the severity of his exertion, "that I'll shoot, and when I take aim I'm always sure to hit something."
"That's what makes me so afraid," said Sutton, dropping a little behind, "for I think I'm in more danger than the one ahead."
Bud Heyland now raised his revolver and sighted as well as he could at the shadowy figure, which was beginning to edge off to the left. A person on a full run is not certain to make a good shot, and when the weapon was discharged, the bullet missed the fugitive by at least a dozen feet if not more.
Bud lowered the pistol and looked to see the daring intruder fall to the ground, but he did not do so, and continued on at the same surprising gait.
"That bullet grazed him," said Bud, bringing up his pistol again; "just see how I'll make him drop this time; fix your eye on him, and when I pull the trigger he'll give a yell and jump right up in the air."
To make his aim sure, beyond all possibility of failure, the panting pursuer came to a halt for a moment, and resting the barrel on his left arm, as though he were a duelist, he took "dead aim" at the lad and again pulled the trigger.
But there is no reason to believe that he came any nearer the mark than in the former instance; and when Sutton said with a laugh:
"I don't see him jump and yell, Bud," the marksman, retorted:
"You'd better shoot yourself, then."
"No; I was afraid you would shoot me instead of him. I think you came nearer me than you did him. Hark! Did you hear the man laugh then. He don't mind us so long as we keep shooting at him."
"Did he laugh?" demanded Bud, savagely. "If he laughed at me he shall die!"
Hurriedly replacing his useless pistol in his pocket he resumed his pursuit with fierce energy, for he was resolved on overhauling the man who had dared to listen to what had been said.
Had Bud been alone he would have left the pursuit to some one else, but with the muscular Cyrus Sutton at his back he was running over with courage and vengeance.
Although the halt had been a brief one, yet it couldnot fail to prove of advantage to the fugitive, who was speeding with might and main across the meadow, and had begun to work off to the left, because he was anxious to reach the shelter of some woods, where he was hopeful of dodging his pursuers.
It would seem that Bud Heyland and Cyrus Sutton could easily outspeed such a small boy as Fred Sheldon, but they were so bulky that it was much harder work for them to run, and they could not last so long.
Hitherto they had lumbered along pretty heavily, but now they settled down to work with all the vigor they possessed, realizing that it was useless to expect to capture the fugitive in any other way.
Meanwhile Fred Sheldon was doing his "level best;" active and quick in his movements he could run rapidly for one of his years, and could keep it up much longer than those behind him, though for a short distance their speed was the greater.
Dreading, as he did, to fall into the hands of Bud Heyland and his lawless companion, he put forth all the power at his command, and glancing over his shoulder now and then he kept up his flight with an energy that taxed his strength and endurance to the utmost.
When he found that they were not gaining on him he was encouraged, but greatly frightened by the pistol-shots. He was sure that one of the bullets went through his hat and the other grazed his ear, but so long as they didn't disable him he meant to keep going.
He was nearly across the meadow when he recalled that he was speeding directly toward a worm-fence whichseparated it from the adjoining field. It would take a few precious seconds to surmount that, and he turned diagonally toward the left, as has been stated, because by taking such a course, he could reach the edge of a small stretch of woods, in whose shadows he hoped to secure shelter from his would-be captors.
This change in the line of flight could not fail to operate to the disadvantage of the fugitive, for a time at least, for, being understood by Bud and Cyrus, they swerved still more, and sped along with increased speed, so that they rapidly recovered the ground lost a short time before.
They were aiming to cut off Fred, who saw his danger at once, and changed his course to what might be called "straight away" again, throwing his pursuers directly behind him.
This checked the scheme for the time, but it deprived Fred of his great hope of going over the fence directly into the darkness of the woods.
As it was, he was now speeding toward the high worm-fence which separated the field he was in from the one adjoining.
Already he could see the long, crooked line of rails, as they stretched out to the right and left in front of him, disappearing in the gloom and looking like mingling lines of India ink against the sky beyond.
Even in such stirring moments odd thoughts come to us, and Fred, while on the dead run, compared in his mind the fence rails to the crooked and erratic lines he had drawn with his pen on a sheet of white paper.
Although he could leap higher in the air and further on the level than any lad of his age, he knew better than to try and vault such a fence. As he approached it, therefore, he slackened his gait slightly, and springing upward with one foot on the middle rail, he placed the other instantly after on the topmost one and went over like a greyhound, with scarcely any hesitation, continuing his flight, and once more swerving to the left toward the woods on which he now fixed his hopes.
Possibly Bud Heyland thought that the fact of his being attached to Colonel Bandman's great menagerie and circus called upon him to perform greater athletic feats; for instead of imitating the more prudent course of the fugitive, he made a tremendous effort to clear the fence with one bound.
He would have succeeded but for the top three rails. As it was his rather large feet struck them, and he went over with a crash, his hat flying off and his head ploughing quite a furrow in the ground.