His hands trembled so violently that it was difficult for him to read. Sam, watching, expected him to burst forth in wild language. In this, however, he was mistaken, for when Abner had finished reading the article, he folded up the paper and shoved it into his coat pocket."I'll pay ye fer this, Sam," and he threw down a coin as he spoke."Keep your money," the agent replied. "I'm through with it, anyway. And say, Mr. Andrews," he continued, "I'm really sorry for you.""I know ye are, Sam, an' I thank ye fer ye'r sympathy. Be sure an' send that box this afternoon."Without another word Abner turned and left the waiting-room. Sam watched him from the window as he strode along the platform, and headed up town."I wonder where he's bound for now?" he mused. "I wouldn't like to be that chauffeur who ran away with his wife, nor the man who wrote that article, for that matter. My, I never saw such a look upon any man's face before. It sent the chills down my spine."CHAPTER XIIITHE JOY-RIDEThe party was a complete revelation to Mrs. Andrews. She enjoyed herself more than she had expected, and the time passed most pleasantly. It was a wonderful change to her whose life for long years had been of a most humdrum nature. The Dimocks exerted their utmost to make her feel perfectly at her ease, and introduced her to several women of her own age with whom she had delightful conversations.But her greatest happiness was to watch Jess and Belle, and to note the attention they received. They had plenty of admirers, but she especially liked two young men who were agreeable to her, and talked in such an affable and gentlemanly manner. But of the two, Thane Royden was her choice. He was the young surveyor, so Jess laughingly explained, who had tried to steal their gravel hill, and who had so narrowly escaped a terrible death at her father's hands. He paid special attention to Jess, and this met with Mrs. Andrews' silent approval.The other, Billy Lansing, centred his attention upon Belle, and endeavored to keep her entirely to himself. But a girl of Belle's disposition could not easily be cornered, and the fact that she was the Attorney General's daughter made her in great demand. This was not at all to Billy's liking, and he became sulky whenever Belle danced with others. Billy was an auto agent, and had not been long at Glucom. But during his short stay he had aroused considerable interest by his fondness for parties, his boastful proclivities, and his fascination for the fair sex.As the night wore on, Mrs. Andrews became tired and longed to go home. She said nothing to Jess, however, but the latter was quick to notice the weary expression upon her mother's face, and felt it was her duty to go home with her. But Mrs. Dimock would not listen to the idea of Jess and Belle leaving at such an early hour, and suggested that Mrs. Andrews should go alone."We have a most reliable chauffeur," she explained to Jess, "and he will take good care of your mother. We have had him for only a week, but have found him most trustworthy."It did not take Mrs. Andrews long to get ready, and then she had to wait about half an hour for the car to make its appearance. Mrs. Dimock was surprised and apologized, however, for the delay, explaining that no doubt the man had been asleep. When at length the auto arrived at the front door, Jess accompanied her mother to the car and saw that she was safe on board."Don't be too late in coming home," was Mrs. Andrews' parting instruction. "I will leave the back door open. And see that you don't let the cats in."For about a mile the car sped smoothly on its way. Then it began to gather speed, and at times surged dangerously near the ditch. Never had Mrs. Andrews undergone such an experience. Auto-riding was a novel sensation for her, anyway, and she had often remarked about the reckless driving of so many people. But to be alone in the heart of night, on a rough road, and with an unknown man in charge, was most disturbing. As they sped forward, she clutched the side of the car with grim desperation. Every bump lifted her clear of the seat, and so frequent were the bumps that she was in the air most of the time. She was terrified lest any minute she should be tossed out of the car among the rocks by the side of the road.Her only hope now lay in the near approach to her home. She accordingly breathed a sigh of relief when the car, bounding around a curve in the road, brought her in sight of the river gleaming silvery white beneath the light of the rising moon.Such a hope, however, was of short duration, for instead of the car slowing up as it reached the Andrews' house, it increased in speed and dashed by like a whirlwind. With a piercing scream Mrs. Andrews tried to arrest the chauffeur's attention. But in vain. He paid no attention to his agitated passenger, but bounced her more furiously than ever.Mrs. Andrews was now certain that the driver was either drunk or mad, and her consternation increased. She started to lean forward in an effort to grasp the chauffeur by the shoulder, but no sooner did she attempt to rise than she was flung in a confused heap against the side of the car. And there she remained, clutching desperately at anything on which she could lay her hands. She tried to think, but the wild gyrations of the auto made any calm meditation out of the question. Such was her position, which rendered her helpless and speechless. She was at the mercy of a reckless driver, all the time being borne farther and farther away from home. Uphill and down, and over long stretches of level road the car raced, swaying and bounding more than ever, so the unhappy woman thought.So far Mrs. Andrews had sustained no serious injury. The bruises she had received upon her hands and body were not noticed, owing to her intense excitement. But when an extra heavy lurch pitched her violently against the side of the car, her nose came into sudden contact with the door. Fear was at once replaced by a burning anger, and with a spring, worthy of a tigress, she was upon the chauffeur in an instant. With a vise-like grip she seized him by the hair and jerked his head back so violently that it was a wonder his neck was not broken. With a startled yell the chauffeur released his right hand from the wheel and caught his assailant by the wrist in a frantic attempt to tear away from the tightening grip, while with the other he endeavored to steer the car. But as his eyes were gazing skyward instead of along the road, this was a most difficult performance.The outcome of this would have been most disastrous had not the auto just then struck a small newly-made bridge, heaped up with mud. It reared suddenly astern, like a balky mule, and sent Mrs. Andrews forward right on top of the chauffeur. Letting go his hair, she grabbed him about the neck in a last desperate effort to save herself from destruction. Half-choked and bewildered by this unexpected embrace, the chauffeur attempted to keep the car in the middle of the road. He succeeded in reducing the speed, but so excited did he become that his nerve deserted him, with the result that the auto swerved suddenly into a shallow ditch to the right, plowed its way through a mass of tangled bushes, and crashed into a big tree.All this happened so quickly that for a few seconds the chauffeur was completely dazed. But it was otherwise with Mrs. Andrews. Her senses were keenly alive, and her anger intense. She was now an antagonist of no inferior metal. Leaping from the car, she seized a dead fir bough lying near, and made for the chauffeur. The latter saw her coming, and his senses suddenly returned. With a yell he bounded from the seat, and started to spring from the auto. But in doing so his foot tripped, and he plunged headlong among the mass of bushes. With hands and face scratched, and clothes torn he made frantic efforts to extricate himself from his painful and humiliating position. But no sooner did he lift his head than he was furiously belabored by the angry woman standing before him."For God's sake, let up!" he implored. "You'll kill me.""Kill you, eh?" was the reply. "Isn't that what you tried to do to me! Take that, and that, you villain.""I was only in fun," the culprit explained, as he vainly attempted to dodge the rain of blows."Fun! Queer fun, you brute. But it isn't such fun now, is it?"The stick was again about to fall, when with a howl the chauffeur reeled back, tore his way through the bushes, and reached the shelter of the dark woods beyond. From here he watched the irate woman, fully expecting her to follow. To him she seemed unusually large and menacing as she stood there drawn to her full height, the stick still in her hand, and her eyes searching the darkness of the forest.For about a minute she remained in this position, though it seemed much longer to the trembling chauffeur. At length she turned and looked up and down the road. Hesitating only for an instant, she moved swiftly away, clutching the stick more firmly than ever, so as to be ready for any emergency.Not until the chauffeur was certain that she was some distance away did he venture forth. Going cautiously to the auto, he brought from beneath the seat a half-drained bottle of whiskey. Holding it up in his hand, he looked in the direction Mrs. Andrews had taken."Here's to ye'r health, ye old she-cat, an' may the devil take me quick if I ever try to play any pranks upon the likes of you again."Placing the flask to his lips, he drained the contents with much relish, and with a curse hurled the bottle among the trees. Then curling himself up in the back seat, and pulling over his body a heavy robe, in a few minutes he was fast asleep.CHAPTER XIVSURPRISED AT HERSELFAfter the chauffeur's ignominious retreat Mrs. Andrews was uncertain what to do. The place was strange to her, and she had no idea how far she was from home. She looked up and down the road, but not a sign of a human habitation could she behold. The only spark of hope was a break in the forest a short distance ahead, and thinking that there might be a house near, she hastened forward. She had not advanced far when a light to the left attracted her attention. This was encouraging, so keeping steadily on, she ere long reached a gateway. The light came from a house over in a cleared field, and with this to guide her she soon reached the building and rapped upon the door. It was opened by a woman, who stared in amazement at the night visitor. A slight cry of fear also escaped her lips, for Mrs. Andrews presented a somewhat formidable appearance. Her hat was lop-sided, her hair dishevelled, her clothes covered with dust, and her face strained and defiant."Who are you, and what do you want?" the woman in the door asked."I want the police," was the curt reply."The police!""Yes. An attempt has been made upon my life, and I only barely escaped. Oh, it was terrible!""Isn't that awful!" and the woman held up her hands in fear, at the same time glancing anxiously around. "But there are no policemen here.""I know that. But isn't there a telephone somewhere near? I must send word to town at once and have that villain arrested.""We have a telephone at our store," the woman explained. "My husband would phone for you, if he knew about your trouble.""Don't you live here?"."Oh, no. I live about half a mile up the road.""Well, then, go at once and phone for the police," Mrs. Andrews ordered."I can't do that very well now," was the reply. "I'm looking after a sick woman, and it would not do for me to leave.""A sick woman! Here?""Yes. It's Mrs. Denton, poor soul. She's had a hard time of late, and the strain has been too much for her, and so she took to her bed last week. The women around here have taken turns staying with her. I do not know what will become of her.""Is she very ill?" Mrs. Andrews asked."I'm afraid so. It is a nervous breakdown. I am going to take two of the children for a while, but what will happen to the other three the Lord only knows. But dear me, I've been keeping you standing here all this time. Come in and rest yourself, for you must be tired out after your trying experience."The room into which Mrs. Andrews was ushered was the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, and a fire was burning in the stove."She's in there," the woman whispered, pointing to a door on the left. "The children are upstairs."Mrs. Andrews at once removed her hat, arranged her dishevelled hair, and brushed some of the dust from her dress. When she had accomplished this, she announced her intention of remaining with the patient."But I don't mind staying," the woman informed her."Perhaps not, but I want you to go and phone to the police. Tell them that Isaac Dimock's chauffeur ran away with Mrs. Abner Andrews, of Ash Point, and nearly killed her by running the auto into a ditch. You will do that, won't you? I hope it will not be too much trouble.""Oh, I don't mind going," the woman replied."But——" Here she hesitated, and lowered her voice as she glanced toward the bedroom. "I don't like to leave her.""Can't I look after her as well as you?" Mrs. Andrews asked."Perhaps so. But you might not altogether understand her. She's greatly worried about her children, and she's afraid they'll starve. It's necessary to keep cheering her up and telling her that they'll be all right.""H'm, I guess you can leave that to me," Mrs. Andrews replied. "I'm used to odd people, so you go along and telephone for the police. I don't want that rascal to escape."The woman at once obeyed, and when she returned several hours later it was broad daylight. She was surprised to find Mrs. Denton asleep, and Mrs. Andrews preparing breakfast for the children."How did you do it?" she asked, as she peeked into the bedroom."Do what?""Get her to sleep?""Oh, that was no trouble. I simply told her that her children would be all right; that you were to take two and that I would be responsible for the others.""What! Do you mean to take three?""Certainly. What else is there to do? I shall look after them until some other arrangement is made. You phoned to the police, I suppose?""Yes, and they said the matter would be attended to at once.""That is good," and Mrs. Andrews gave a sigh of relief. "I must go home now, and I wish to take these children with me. Is there anyone you can get to drive us?""My husband will," the woman replied. "He is going to town right after dinner, and will be glad to take you and the children along."During the rest of the morning Mrs. Andrews found plenty to do in tending the sick woman and looking after the children. Nevertheless, the time passed all too slowly. She was anxious to get home, and yet she dreaded going back with the little ones. She wondered what Abner would say. She knew very well what she would have said had he done such a thing. She was really surprised at herself, and almost repented of her hasty action as she sat silently in the waggon that afternoon. Where would she put the children to sleep? Where was the food to come from for such an increase in the family? For months there had just been herself and Abner, and they had lived very simply. Since Belle's arrival they had fared more sumptuously than ever before. But now with three extra mouths to feed, making seven in all to provide for, it would mean a hard struggle. "I have been a fool," she told herself, "and have let my heart run away with my head."It seemed a long time to Mrs. Andrews before she reached home. When the team at last stopped in front of the house she was surprised to see two little boys perched upon the limb of an apple-tree near the back door. Who could they be, and what were they doing there? Her attention was diverted by the sudden appearance of Jess and Belle from the house, who bore down upon her, and bombarded her with a stream of questions before she had time to alight from the waggon."For pity sakes! Give me time to breathe," Mrs. Andrews gasped. "It will take me a whole day to answer all your questions. Come, help these boys down."Instead of at once obeying, Jess and Belle looked at each, other in consternation. Then they stared at the children."What's the matter?" Mrs. Andrews demanded. "Haven't you ever seen boys before? They won't bite.""Whose are they?" Jess found voice to ask."They're ours now; that is, for a time, anyway.""And are we to keep them, mother?""Certainly; until Mrs. Denton gets better.""But we have two already," and Jess turned and looked toward the lads perched upon the apple-tree.Mrs. Andrews also looked, and it was upon her face that an expression of consternation now appeared. Intuitively she realized that something unusual had taken place during her absence."Are they here to stay?" she demanded."It seems so," Jess replied."Where's your father?""He left home this morning in search of you, and we haven't seen him since."For a few minutes Mrs. Andrews sat perfectly still, staring straight before her. Then she roused to action, sprang from the waggon and fairly dragged down the children. Thanking the driver for his kindness, she headed straight toward the house without once looking back. Jess and Belle rounded up the boys and marched them to the back door. By this time the two urchins of the night were down from the tree, eager to make friends with the new-comers. Leaving the five in the yard, the girls followed Mrs. Andrews into the house. Seating herself upon a chair in the kitchen, the troubled woman began to fan herself furiously with a copy ofThe Family Herald and Weekly Star. Her face was a study. An expression of anger and consternation was depicted there, her lips quivered and she was evidently making a great effort to control herself. Seeing this, Jess' sympathy was aroused, and stepping quickly forward, she placed her arms lovingly about her mother's neck."There, mother dear," she soothed, "don't feel so badly. There has been some mistake, I am sure.""Mistake! How could there be any mistake? Your father must have planned to bring these boys here while I was away.""Oh, no, he didn't," Jess explained. "They dropped upon him last night." Then she related the story as her father had told it to her the night before.Mrs. Andrews said nothing for a while when Jess was through, but sat lost in thought."I wonder why Abner hasn't come back," she at length remarked. "He has had plenty of time to hunt for me all over town.""Perhaps he is afraid to come," Jess suggested."Afraid to come!" Mrs. Andrews exclaimed in astonishment."Yes, afraid of what you might say.""Oh, I see," and Mrs. Andrews looked meaningly at her daughter. "I guess we're quits, then, for I was really afraid to meet him."A merry ringing laugh from Belle followed this candid confession. The humorous side of the situation had appealed to her from the moment of Mrs. Andrews' arrival with the three boys. There was nothing tragic about it to her, as she had no idea of the straitened circumstances of the Andrews' household. It had never dawned upon her what a struggle Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had made to eke out a precarious living from their gravel hill of a farm, and to keep Jess at the Seminary. Had she known this, and what an addition of five children would mean, she would have seen nothing amusing in the situation. It was as well, however, that she did not know at this critical moment, for her merriment dispelled the clouds, causing Jess to laugh, and the semblance of a smile to lurk about the corners of Mrs. Andrews' mouth."Well, I never!" the latter declared. "I believe that's just what's keeping Abner away. I always knew he was afraid of my tongue, but I never imagined it would cause him to run away from home.""And were you really afraid to come home, mother?" Jess laughingly asked."Oh, of course not afraid. Though I must confess I had serious qualms of conscience as to what I had done. You see, when I promised Mrs. Denton to take the children I let my heart run away with my head.""What do you mean, mother?""Well, I should have carefully considered what we should do with the boys, where we could put them to sleep, for instance. Perhaps it would have been better if I had come home first and talked the matter over.""It's lucky you didn't, mother. You never would have brought those boys had you known there were two here already, would you?""Certainly not. But now that we have five on our hands where in the world are we to put them? That's what I want to know.""Why not let them sleep out in the woodshed?" Jess suggested."In the woodshed! That would never do.""And why not? There is plenty of room there near the kitchen, and it is clean and neat. It is just the place for them this warm weather.""But we haven't enough beds for them all.""Let them sleep on the floor; they will think it great fun. Then when daddy comes home he can fix up little canvas bunks for them. He will know the kind I mean.""And would you let them sleep there all alone?""We can take turns sleeping out there with them. That sofa behind you will make a most comfortable bed. Oh, I think it will be great, don't you, Belle?""Indeed, I do," was the enthusiastic reply. "Why, it's just like a story, though much better, for this is the real thing.""Well, I suppose there is nothing else to do," and Mrs. Andrews gave a deep sigh. "We might as well get to work at once, as it will be supper time before we know where we are. I wish to goodness Abner would come home."In a remarkably short time that part of the woodshed near the kitchen was made ready. Boxes and barrels were moved, and beds spread down upon the floor."There, I guess that is the finish," Jess declared, when the sofa had been brought from the kitchen. "I shall sleep like a babe on that to-night.""Not to-night," her mother informed her. "I intend to take the first turn, as I want to see for myself how the youngsters behave.""And you won't be afraid, mother?""Afraid! Did you ever hear of me being afraid? Of course, I shall fasten the door securely, and I'd like to see anyone try to get in through that opening there. I've told Abner over and over again to fix in that window which was blown out by that big gale last fall. But maybe it's just as well as it is, for it will let in plenty of air, which no doubt we'll need. I hope to goodness you gave those street-Arabs a special scrubbing, Jess?""Yes, I tubbed them thoroughly this morning, and they certainly needed it.""And did you change everything on your bed?""Indeed I did, and the clothes are all out on the line yet.""I looked after the 'sudden' night-gowns myself," Belle laughingly remarked."Sudden night-gowns!" Mrs. Andrews repeated. "What do you mean?""Why, they were sudden, were they not? From pillow-slips to night-gowns in a minute was rather a quick change, I should say. It was the finest piece of conjuring I have ever seen," and in a few words she explained what Abner had done."Oh, my poor pillow-slips!" and Mrs. Andrews sighed. "But, then, it might have been much worse. You can never tell what Abner will do when he starts on the rampage. I wonder where he can be."The boys had been very busy playing that afternoon, and were thoroughly tired when summoned to bed. They were delighted at the idea of sleeping on the floor, and considered it great fun. While Jess and Belle looked after their welfare Mrs. Andrews milked the two cows, and attended to the milk, after which she fed the pigs, and fastened up the hens and chickens. She was very tired after her trying experiences and the sleepless night at Mrs. Denton's. In fact, she could have slept anywhere, "even on a fence-pole without once rolling off," she informed the girls as she bade them good-night. Trying the door to see that it was securely fastened, and glancing at the two pails filled with water near at hand, she blew out the light, and laid herself down upon the sofa.CHAPTER XVCOUNTRY RATSLawyer Rackshaw was in such an excellent frame of mind that he invited Henry Whittles to spend an evening with him at his office. This was something unusual, and as the two men sat down to a friendly game of poker, Whittles wondered what scheme the lawyer had in his mind. That there was some object he was quite sure, as Rackshaw never did anything out of the ordinary unless for some definite purpose.It was a cozy room, comfortably furnished, clean and neat. A large greyhound lay at his master's feet, with his nose between his paws."Do you always bring that dog with you?" Whittles asked, as he shuffled the cards."Only at night," the lawyer replied as he looked down fondly upon the fine brute. "I like to have him along then—for company.""For fear of what your enemies might do, eh?" and Whittles smiled somewhat knowingly."Well, perhaps you're right. Pedro never has his supper before he comes here, as I am always expecting him to get a good meal before he gets home.""One of your special enemies, I suppose.""Sure.""Has he eaten any yet?""Not a d—n one, though I expect he'll have a meal before long.""To-night?""Oh, no," and the lawyer chuckled as he threw down a card. "The meal's in cold storage to-night as far as I know. But, then, one can never tell.""Cold storage!" and Whittles' eyes opened wide as he paused in his play."Yes, in cold storage. Or, to be more exact, in jail. That's where the special meal is to-night.""In jail! Why, man, what do you mean? Who's in jail?""Ho, ho! That's one on you, Hen, isn't it? Didn't know why I invited you here to-night, did you?""No; couldn't guess. Thought it must be something special, though.""So it is, and I expected to have something special to drink, too. Confound that express company! It's as slow as cold molasses. I ordered something good for to-night, and it was to have been here before this.""Going to drink the health of your special friends, are you?" Whittles queried, looking quizzically at the lawyer."To one friend only to-night, Hen. He's our mutual friend—a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, as the Good Book says, and whose tongue is as sharp as a razor, and stings like a hornet. That's the friend whose health we are going to drink to-night.""I know of only one person who answers to your description," Whittles replied, "and that's Abner Andrews, of Ash Point. But he's no friend of ours.""You're mistaken, Hen. He's my special friend, and yours, too, for that matter.""Mine! H'm I guess you're astray there.""Not at all. Didn't he offer a thousand dollars for that Orphanage?""A thousand be hanged! He offered it, but that's as far as it goes. He'll never pay a cent.""Won't he? Well, we'll see about that. Anyway, he's got two kids at his home now. I sent them there last night so that he could start the Orphanage at once at Ash Point.""You did!""Yes, and sent a note along, asking him how he liked town rats. My, they were a tough pair of youngsters, about as dirty as you'll find anywhere. 'Sloppy' Sue's kids, you know.""Ho, ho, that's a good one," Whittles roared. "Have you heard from Abner since?""Sure. He did me a great favor this morning, and that's why I'm so friendly to him now.""What did he do?""Walked into the office ofThe Live Wire, and smashed up Joe Preston so badly that he's in the hospital now getting patched up."Whittles' eyes fairly started out of his head at this astounding piece of news, and he dropped his cards upon the table."What was it all about?" he at length found voice to ask."Oh, merely over that article in the paper about Mrs. Andrews running away with Ikey Dimock's chauffeur. I got the news from the police station late last night, and phoned it to theWire. I knew that Joe would make the most of it, and get something in return. I'm mighty glad he did, for he's been very bumptious of late, and has rapped me pretty hard. Abner's saved me a nasty job.""He did? Well, I declare!""Yes, and Abner's in jail, repenting, no doubt.""Repenting? Not a bit of it. He's raging like a caged lion, if I'm not mistaken. My, how I'd like to have seen him at Joe. I've had no love for that fellow since he wrote that nasty skit about me last year. Did he put up much of a fight?""Who? Abner?""No; Joe.""He tried to, so I heard, but he hadn't the ghost of a chance against that farmer giant. He came into the office, stuck a copy of theWirebefore Joe's nose, and asked him if he had written that article about his wife. Joe got mad, blazed up, and consigned Abner to the hot place.""Good Lord!" Whittles gasped. "Joe must have been crazy.""If he wasn't crazy then, he was a few minutes later. Tom, the office boy, said it was terrible. Abner gave a roar like thunder and sailed into Joe. When the police arrived there wasn't much of Joe left, according to Tom. He was unconscious, and the office was badly damaged.""Did the police have any trouble with Abner?" Whittles asked almost breathlessly."No, I guess not. He went like a lamb, though Tom said he had a wild look in his eyes."Whittles suddenly gasped; his face turned deathly pale, and his hands trembled."What's wrong, Hen?" the lawyer asked, noting his companion's agitation. "I didn't know you were subject to nervous trouble. This story has upset you a bit. You need a stimulant. Why in thunder doesn't that express team show up!""Say, Tom," and Whittles leaned over the table, "suppose it had been you or me instead of Joe?""You or me! What do you mean?""Abner loves us about as much as he loved Joe this morning, doesn't he?""Oh, I see," and the lawyer rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. "I never thought of that.""I know you didn't. Now, suppose Abner gets out of jail and learns who gave Joe that information, what then?"Rackshaw shifted somewhat uneasily in his chair, and glanced down at the dog. Then he laughed and picked up the cards he had dropped upon the table."I guess Abner won't do any more of his wild stunts for a while," he remarked. "He's in deep enough water now. He'll need a lawyer to defend him, and I'm the only one in town.""He won't come to you.""Just you wait. He's in a trap and knows very well that I can get him out; that is, if I want to.""Want to! Won't you want to get him out? Won't you do everything for him that you can if he engages you to defend him?""That all depends. If he comes to me I'll do all I can under certain conditions.""What are the conditions?"The lawyer bit savagely at his cigar, but offered no explanation."D—n that express team!" he growled. "What can have happened to it?""Abner can't afford to engage a lawyer, can he?" Whittles asked, noting Rackshaw's silence."Why not?""He hasn't any way of paying, has he?""He hasn't? What about his farm?""Farm! Why, that's nothing but a bed of gravel. I wouldn't have it as a gift.""You wouldn't, eh? But suppose the Government should want that same bed of gravel for ballast, what then?"Whittles' eyes opened wide, and he looked enquiringly at the lawyer. Light was beginning to dawn upon his mind."Oh, I see your game, now," he at length replied. "You hope to get the farm, and turn it over to the Government?""Yes, that's just what I expect to do.""But you'll never do it.""I won't? And why not?""Abner'll not engage you to defend him. He has little use for you, and you should know by this time what a cranky cuss he is.""Well, if he won't engage me, I shall take up Joe's case.""Do what?""Didn't you hear what I said? I'll defend Joe.""But how can you? You love Joe about as much as you do Abner.""H'm, that's all right. Joe doesn't know what I think of him. And I guess you've got to learn a few things yet, Hen. You're not as sharp as I thought you were. But, say, here's the express team, now."The next instant the door was pushed open, and a fair-sized box was handed to the lawyer."What do you mean by being so late?" the latter demanded of the expressman."Couldn't help it, sir," was the reply. "I'm all mixed up to-night. There's only one team on the road."Rackshaw carried the box to the table, cut the strings, and tore away the paper wrapping. Then he turned to his desk and produced a hammer."Down, Pedro," he ordered, as the dog began to sniff excitedly at the box. "Surely you're not thirsty, too.""Following his master's example, eh?" Whittles smilingly queried. "Queer box, that.""Queer! I should say so," the lawyer growled, as he began to pry up the cover. "I never got a box like this before. Down, Pedro, I say. What's the matter with the dog, anyway? He's half crazy."Scarcely had he finished speaking when a portion of the cover came off, and at once a big gray rat leaped full into the lawyer's startled face. With a yell of fright Rackshaw let go the box, dropped the hammer, and staggered back. Trying to recover himself, he came into sudden contact with the dog and was hurled over a chair full length upon the floor. He endeavored to get up, and had reached a sitting position when Pedro again landed on him like a catapult. Had a cyclone burst upon that room the confusion could not have been more appalling. Frantic squeals of terrified rats and the snapping yelps of the pursuing dog mingled with the crash of falling chairs and tables. It was, as the lawyer afterwards expressed it, "hell let loose."When Rackshaw was at length able to crawl to his knees he looked around the disordered room. Pedro was still cavorting here and there, first after one rat and then another. Whittles was nowhere to be seen."Hen, where are you?" the lawyer called.A groan from beneath one of the tables was the only response."Are you hurt, Hen?""Dying," was the feeble reply. "For God's sake, call off that dog!"To "call off the dog" was easier to order than to do. Rackshaw staggered to his feet, and shouted wildly to the excited brute. But the louder he called, and the more furiously he swore, the more frantic did the greyhound become. The rats had turned his brain, and he was a crazy fool. Around and around the room he dashed, clearing chairs and tables with great bounds, but not a rat could he catch.Rackshaw started for the door. If he could get it open it would give the rats an avenue of escape. He was but part way across the room when Pedro, attempting to pass through the legs of an overturned chair, stuck fast. With a howl he tried to extricate himself, but in vain. He had now something more than rats to think of, and furiously he threshed from side to side, breaking chairs, and damaging everything with which he came into contact.The lawyer was now desperate. The perspiration poured down his face, while the shouts and curses he hurled at the dog were of no avail. With a savage yank he tore open the door, and the dog, catching sight of the opening, bounded for it like a tank going into battle.It so happened that just at this critical moment the expressman had stepped to the door, carrying in his hands the long-expected box which he had overlooked. He saw the grotesque object bounding toward him, and before he had time to move aside, Pedro, now dragging the battered chair, dashed full upon him. With a yell of terror, he fell backwards, dropping as he did so the precious box upon the pavement. There was a sudden crash of bottles, and a liberal flow of spirits such as the town had never before known.Half dazed, the expressman sat upon the sidewalk, and viewed the shattered box lying in the path of light from the open door. The lawyer approached and stood over the bewildered man."What's the meaning of all this?" he demanded."Meaning!" the man replied, rubbing his bruised right shoulder. "Why do you ask me? What's on here to-night, anyway? A menagerie, or a wild-west show?""Get up, and explain why you brought that box of rats here," Rackshaw ordered, ignoring the other's question."Rats! Brought rats here! I don't understand.""Yes, rats. That first box you brought was full of rats; big rats, gray rats and all kinds of rats. They've turned hell loose in there.""Good Lord!" the expressman gasped, as he leaned over to obtain a better view of the office. "Did the rats do that?""Indeed they did.""And was that one of them that knocked me down?""Get up," Rackshaw commanded. "What's the matter with you? Did you ever see a rat the size of that? Don't you know a dog when you see it?""A dog! Good heavens! But you said something about rats.""So I did, and you should know something about them, too. You left a box here full of rats, and when I opened it the devils came out and turned my dog's brain. Look at that room there. Isn't it a great mess? Somebody'll have a nice bill to pay. Where in h—l did you get that box, anyway?""Where I got the rest, of course. I didn't know it was full of rats. But that wouldn't have made any difference. It's not my business to know what the things are which I deliver. Guess you'll have to enquire elsewhere."The expressman rose slowly to his feet, and again rubbed his shoulder."Darn it!" he growled. "I'm going to sue for damages, see if I don't. If a man can't attend to his business without being half-killed by a mad dog, with a pile of furniture on his back, it's a strange thing."Rackshaw stood and watched him as he climbed up into his waggon, and drove off, grumbling and vowing vengeance upon everybody in general. Then he turned and re-entered the building. He found Whittles sitting on the floor, propped up against the office desk. His hair and clothes were dishevelled, and his face was expressive of his deep misery."Oh, you've come back, have you?" he meaningly queried."Sure. Did you think I had run away?""I couldn't tell. I don't know what to expect next. Is that raging devil gone yet?""What, the dog?""Yes.""And the rats? Oh!" Whittles' body shivered."I guess they've gone, too. I don't see any of them. But get up and act like a man.""I'm nearly dead," Whittles wailed. "I'm sure I'll never get over this. I'm all shaken to pieces, and I believe some of my bones are broken.""Nonsense," the lawyer chided. "Get up, I say, and don't be a fool.""Give me a drop to steady my nerves," Whittles implored. "The expressman brought the stuff at last, didn't he?""You'll have to lick it up off the sidewalk, then.""What! Was it all lost? Wasn't there a little saved?""Not a drop. But get up. You're head's turned topsy-turvy.""And everything else as far as I can see. Look at the mess this room is in. Isn't it a fright! Where do you suppose the rats came from?"The lawyer made no reply, but picked up the box lying upon the floor, and examined it carefully. Inside he found a small thin piece of wood containing the following scrawl:"These are country rats. What do you think of them?"He stood for a few seconds, staring at these words. Then the light of understanding flashed upon his mind, and with an oath he tossed the chip to Whittles."Read that," he ordered. "It will explain matters."A puzzled expression overspread Whittles' face as he read the writing."Don't you understand it?" Rackshaw asked."Blamed if I do," and Whittles scratched his head, as he again studied the words. "Who would want to send rats to you, of all men?""Wouldn't the man who got my 'city rats'?""What, not Abner Andrews!""And why not?""Sure, sure; I might have known.""Known what?""That you couldn't get ahead of him. He'll get more than even every time. It's the touch of Abner, all right. You might have known what a dangerous cuss he is, the old devil. Rats! Well, I declare! Ugh!"
His hands trembled so violently that it was difficult for him to read. Sam, watching, expected him to burst forth in wild language. In this, however, he was mistaken, for when Abner had finished reading the article, he folded up the paper and shoved it into his coat pocket.
"I'll pay ye fer this, Sam," and he threw down a coin as he spoke.
"Keep your money," the agent replied. "I'm through with it, anyway. And say, Mr. Andrews," he continued, "I'm really sorry for you."
"I know ye are, Sam, an' I thank ye fer ye'r sympathy. Be sure an' send that box this afternoon."
Without another word Abner turned and left the waiting-room. Sam watched him from the window as he strode along the platform, and headed up town.
"I wonder where he's bound for now?" he mused. "I wouldn't like to be that chauffeur who ran away with his wife, nor the man who wrote that article, for that matter. My, I never saw such a look upon any man's face before. It sent the chills down my spine."
CHAPTER XIII
THE JOY-RIDE
The party was a complete revelation to Mrs. Andrews. She enjoyed herself more than she had expected, and the time passed most pleasantly. It was a wonderful change to her whose life for long years had been of a most humdrum nature. The Dimocks exerted their utmost to make her feel perfectly at her ease, and introduced her to several women of her own age with whom she had delightful conversations.
But her greatest happiness was to watch Jess and Belle, and to note the attention they received. They had plenty of admirers, but she especially liked two young men who were agreeable to her, and talked in such an affable and gentlemanly manner. But of the two, Thane Royden was her choice. He was the young surveyor, so Jess laughingly explained, who had tried to steal their gravel hill, and who had so narrowly escaped a terrible death at her father's hands. He paid special attention to Jess, and this met with Mrs. Andrews' silent approval.
The other, Billy Lansing, centred his attention upon Belle, and endeavored to keep her entirely to himself. But a girl of Belle's disposition could not easily be cornered, and the fact that she was the Attorney General's daughter made her in great demand. This was not at all to Billy's liking, and he became sulky whenever Belle danced with others. Billy was an auto agent, and had not been long at Glucom. But during his short stay he had aroused considerable interest by his fondness for parties, his boastful proclivities, and his fascination for the fair sex.
As the night wore on, Mrs. Andrews became tired and longed to go home. She said nothing to Jess, however, but the latter was quick to notice the weary expression upon her mother's face, and felt it was her duty to go home with her. But Mrs. Dimock would not listen to the idea of Jess and Belle leaving at such an early hour, and suggested that Mrs. Andrews should go alone.
"We have a most reliable chauffeur," she explained to Jess, "and he will take good care of your mother. We have had him for only a week, but have found him most trustworthy."
It did not take Mrs. Andrews long to get ready, and then she had to wait about half an hour for the car to make its appearance. Mrs. Dimock was surprised and apologized, however, for the delay, explaining that no doubt the man had been asleep. When at length the auto arrived at the front door, Jess accompanied her mother to the car and saw that she was safe on board.
"Don't be too late in coming home," was Mrs. Andrews' parting instruction. "I will leave the back door open. And see that you don't let the cats in."
For about a mile the car sped smoothly on its way. Then it began to gather speed, and at times surged dangerously near the ditch. Never had Mrs. Andrews undergone such an experience. Auto-riding was a novel sensation for her, anyway, and she had often remarked about the reckless driving of so many people. But to be alone in the heart of night, on a rough road, and with an unknown man in charge, was most disturbing. As they sped forward, she clutched the side of the car with grim desperation. Every bump lifted her clear of the seat, and so frequent were the bumps that she was in the air most of the time. She was terrified lest any minute she should be tossed out of the car among the rocks by the side of the road.
Her only hope now lay in the near approach to her home. She accordingly breathed a sigh of relief when the car, bounding around a curve in the road, brought her in sight of the river gleaming silvery white beneath the light of the rising moon.
Such a hope, however, was of short duration, for instead of the car slowing up as it reached the Andrews' house, it increased in speed and dashed by like a whirlwind. With a piercing scream Mrs. Andrews tried to arrest the chauffeur's attention. But in vain. He paid no attention to his agitated passenger, but bounced her more furiously than ever.
Mrs. Andrews was now certain that the driver was either drunk or mad, and her consternation increased. She started to lean forward in an effort to grasp the chauffeur by the shoulder, but no sooner did she attempt to rise than she was flung in a confused heap against the side of the car. And there she remained, clutching desperately at anything on which she could lay her hands. She tried to think, but the wild gyrations of the auto made any calm meditation out of the question. Such was her position, which rendered her helpless and speechless. She was at the mercy of a reckless driver, all the time being borne farther and farther away from home. Uphill and down, and over long stretches of level road the car raced, swaying and bounding more than ever, so the unhappy woman thought.
So far Mrs. Andrews had sustained no serious injury. The bruises she had received upon her hands and body were not noticed, owing to her intense excitement. But when an extra heavy lurch pitched her violently against the side of the car, her nose came into sudden contact with the door. Fear was at once replaced by a burning anger, and with a spring, worthy of a tigress, she was upon the chauffeur in an instant. With a vise-like grip she seized him by the hair and jerked his head back so violently that it was a wonder his neck was not broken. With a startled yell the chauffeur released his right hand from the wheel and caught his assailant by the wrist in a frantic attempt to tear away from the tightening grip, while with the other he endeavored to steer the car. But as his eyes were gazing skyward instead of along the road, this was a most difficult performance.
The outcome of this would have been most disastrous had not the auto just then struck a small newly-made bridge, heaped up with mud. It reared suddenly astern, like a balky mule, and sent Mrs. Andrews forward right on top of the chauffeur. Letting go his hair, she grabbed him about the neck in a last desperate effort to save herself from destruction. Half-choked and bewildered by this unexpected embrace, the chauffeur attempted to keep the car in the middle of the road. He succeeded in reducing the speed, but so excited did he become that his nerve deserted him, with the result that the auto swerved suddenly into a shallow ditch to the right, plowed its way through a mass of tangled bushes, and crashed into a big tree.
All this happened so quickly that for a few seconds the chauffeur was completely dazed. But it was otherwise with Mrs. Andrews. Her senses were keenly alive, and her anger intense. She was now an antagonist of no inferior metal. Leaping from the car, she seized a dead fir bough lying near, and made for the chauffeur. The latter saw her coming, and his senses suddenly returned. With a yell he bounded from the seat, and started to spring from the auto. But in doing so his foot tripped, and he plunged headlong among the mass of bushes. With hands and face scratched, and clothes torn he made frantic efforts to extricate himself from his painful and humiliating position. But no sooner did he lift his head than he was furiously belabored by the angry woman standing before him.
"For God's sake, let up!" he implored. "You'll kill me."
"Kill you, eh?" was the reply. "Isn't that what you tried to do to me! Take that, and that, you villain."
"I was only in fun," the culprit explained, as he vainly attempted to dodge the rain of blows.
"Fun! Queer fun, you brute. But it isn't such fun now, is it?"
The stick was again about to fall, when with a howl the chauffeur reeled back, tore his way through the bushes, and reached the shelter of the dark woods beyond. From here he watched the irate woman, fully expecting her to follow. To him she seemed unusually large and menacing as she stood there drawn to her full height, the stick still in her hand, and her eyes searching the darkness of the forest.
For about a minute she remained in this position, though it seemed much longer to the trembling chauffeur. At length she turned and looked up and down the road. Hesitating only for an instant, she moved swiftly away, clutching the stick more firmly than ever, so as to be ready for any emergency.
Not until the chauffeur was certain that she was some distance away did he venture forth. Going cautiously to the auto, he brought from beneath the seat a half-drained bottle of whiskey. Holding it up in his hand, he looked in the direction Mrs. Andrews had taken.
"Here's to ye'r health, ye old she-cat, an' may the devil take me quick if I ever try to play any pranks upon the likes of you again."
Placing the flask to his lips, he drained the contents with much relish, and with a curse hurled the bottle among the trees. Then curling himself up in the back seat, and pulling over his body a heavy robe, in a few minutes he was fast asleep.
CHAPTER XIV
SURPRISED AT HERSELF
After the chauffeur's ignominious retreat Mrs. Andrews was uncertain what to do. The place was strange to her, and she had no idea how far she was from home. She looked up and down the road, but not a sign of a human habitation could she behold. The only spark of hope was a break in the forest a short distance ahead, and thinking that there might be a house near, she hastened forward. She had not advanced far when a light to the left attracted her attention. This was encouraging, so keeping steadily on, she ere long reached a gateway. The light came from a house over in a cleared field, and with this to guide her she soon reached the building and rapped upon the door. It was opened by a woman, who stared in amazement at the night visitor. A slight cry of fear also escaped her lips, for Mrs. Andrews presented a somewhat formidable appearance. Her hat was lop-sided, her hair dishevelled, her clothes covered with dust, and her face strained and defiant.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" the woman in the door asked.
"I want the police," was the curt reply.
"The police!"
"Yes. An attempt has been made upon my life, and I only barely escaped. Oh, it was terrible!"
"Isn't that awful!" and the woman held up her hands in fear, at the same time glancing anxiously around. "But there are no policemen here."
"I know that. But isn't there a telephone somewhere near? I must send word to town at once and have that villain arrested."
"We have a telephone at our store," the woman explained. "My husband would phone for you, if he knew about your trouble."
"Don't you live here?".
"Oh, no. I live about half a mile up the road."
"Well, then, go at once and phone for the police," Mrs. Andrews ordered.
"I can't do that very well now," was the reply. "I'm looking after a sick woman, and it would not do for me to leave."
"A sick woman! Here?"
"Yes. It's Mrs. Denton, poor soul. She's had a hard time of late, and the strain has been too much for her, and so she took to her bed last week. The women around here have taken turns staying with her. I do not know what will become of her."
"Is she very ill?" Mrs. Andrews asked.
"I'm afraid so. It is a nervous breakdown. I am going to take two of the children for a while, but what will happen to the other three the Lord only knows. But dear me, I've been keeping you standing here all this time. Come in and rest yourself, for you must be tired out after your trying experience."
The room into which Mrs. Andrews was ushered was the kitchen. It was spotlessly clean, and a fire was burning in the stove.
"She's in there," the woman whispered, pointing to a door on the left. "The children are upstairs."
Mrs. Andrews at once removed her hat, arranged her dishevelled hair, and brushed some of the dust from her dress. When she had accomplished this, she announced her intention of remaining with the patient.
"But I don't mind staying," the woman informed her.
"Perhaps not, but I want you to go and phone to the police. Tell them that Isaac Dimock's chauffeur ran away with Mrs. Abner Andrews, of Ash Point, and nearly killed her by running the auto into a ditch. You will do that, won't you? I hope it will not be too much trouble."
"Oh, I don't mind going," the woman replied.
"But——" Here she hesitated, and lowered her voice as she glanced toward the bedroom. "I don't like to leave her."
"Can't I look after her as well as you?" Mrs. Andrews asked.
"Perhaps so. But you might not altogether understand her. She's greatly worried about her children, and she's afraid they'll starve. It's necessary to keep cheering her up and telling her that they'll be all right."
"H'm, I guess you can leave that to me," Mrs. Andrews replied. "I'm used to odd people, so you go along and telephone for the police. I don't want that rascal to escape."
The woman at once obeyed, and when she returned several hours later it was broad daylight. She was surprised to find Mrs. Denton asleep, and Mrs. Andrews preparing breakfast for the children.
"How did you do it?" she asked, as she peeked into the bedroom.
"Do what?"
"Get her to sleep?"
"Oh, that was no trouble. I simply told her that her children would be all right; that you were to take two and that I would be responsible for the others."
"What! Do you mean to take three?"
"Certainly. What else is there to do? I shall look after them until some other arrangement is made. You phoned to the police, I suppose?"
"Yes, and they said the matter would be attended to at once."
"That is good," and Mrs. Andrews gave a sigh of relief. "I must go home now, and I wish to take these children with me. Is there anyone you can get to drive us?"
"My husband will," the woman replied. "He is going to town right after dinner, and will be glad to take you and the children along."
During the rest of the morning Mrs. Andrews found plenty to do in tending the sick woman and looking after the children. Nevertheless, the time passed all too slowly. She was anxious to get home, and yet she dreaded going back with the little ones. She wondered what Abner would say. She knew very well what she would have said had he done such a thing. She was really surprised at herself, and almost repented of her hasty action as she sat silently in the waggon that afternoon. Where would she put the children to sleep? Where was the food to come from for such an increase in the family? For months there had just been herself and Abner, and they had lived very simply. Since Belle's arrival they had fared more sumptuously than ever before. But now with three extra mouths to feed, making seven in all to provide for, it would mean a hard struggle. "I have been a fool," she told herself, "and have let my heart run away with my head."
It seemed a long time to Mrs. Andrews before she reached home. When the team at last stopped in front of the house she was surprised to see two little boys perched upon the limb of an apple-tree near the back door. Who could they be, and what were they doing there? Her attention was diverted by the sudden appearance of Jess and Belle from the house, who bore down upon her, and bombarded her with a stream of questions before she had time to alight from the waggon.
"For pity sakes! Give me time to breathe," Mrs. Andrews gasped. "It will take me a whole day to answer all your questions. Come, help these boys down."
Instead of at once obeying, Jess and Belle looked at each, other in consternation. Then they stared at the children.
"What's the matter?" Mrs. Andrews demanded. "Haven't you ever seen boys before? They won't bite."
"Whose are they?" Jess found voice to ask.
"They're ours now; that is, for a time, anyway."
"And are we to keep them, mother?"
"Certainly; until Mrs. Denton gets better."
"But we have two already," and Jess turned and looked toward the lads perched upon the apple-tree.
Mrs. Andrews also looked, and it was upon her face that an expression of consternation now appeared. Intuitively she realized that something unusual had taken place during her absence.
"Are they here to stay?" she demanded.
"It seems so," Jess replied.
"Where's your father?"
"He left home this morning in search of you, and we haven't seen him since."
For a few minutes Mrs. Andrews sat perfectly still, staring straight before her. Then she roused to action, sprang from the waggon and fairly dragged down the children. Thanking the driver for his kindness, she headed straight toward the house without once looking back. Jess and Belle rounded up the boys and marched them to the back door. By this time the two urchins of the night were down from the tree, eager to make friends with the new-comers. Leaving the five in the yard, the girls followed Mrs. Andrews into the house. Seating herself upon a chair in the kitchen, the troubled woman began to fan herself furiously with a copy ofThe Family Herald and Weekly Star. Her face was a study. An expression of anger and consternation was depicted there, her lips quivered and she was evidently making a great effort to control herself. Seeing this, Jess' sympathy was aroused, and stepping quickly forward, she placed her arms lovingly about her mother's neck.
"There, mother dear," she soothed, "don't feel so badly. There has been some mistake, I am sure."
"Mistake! How could there be any mistake? Your father must have planned to bring these boys here while I was away."
"Oh, no, he didn't," Jess explained. "They dropped upon him last night." Then she related the story as her father had told it to her the night before.
Mrs. Andrews said nothing for a while when Jess was through, but sat lost in thought.
"I wonder why Abner hasn't come back," she at length remarked. "He has had plenty of time to hunt for me all over town."
"Perhaps he is afraid to come," Jess suggested.
"Afraid to come!" Mrs. Andrews exclaimed in astonishment.
"Yes, afraid of what you might say."
"Oh, I see," and Mrs. Andrews looked meaningly at her daughter. "I guess we're quits, then, for I was really afraid to meet him."
A merry ringing laugh from Belle followed this candid confession. The humorous side of the situation had appealed to her from the moment of Mrs. Andrews' arrival with the three boys. There was nothing tragic about it to her, as she had no idea of the straitened circumstances of the Andrews' household. It had never dawned upon her what a struggle Mr. and Mrs. Andrews had made to eke out a precarious living from their gravel hill of a farm, and to keep Jess at the Seminary. Had she known this, and what an addition of five children would mean, she would have seen nothing amusing in the situation. It was as well, however, that she did not know at this critical moment, for her merriment dispelled the clouds, causing Jess to laugh, and the semblance of a smile to lurk about the corners of Mrs. Andrews' mouth.
"Well, I never!" the latter declared. "I believe that's just what's keeping Abner away. I always knew he was afraid of my tongue, but I never imagined it would cause him to run away from home."
"And were you really afraid to come home, mother?" Jess laughingly asked.
"Oh, of course not afraid. Though I must confess I had serious qualms of conscience as to what I had done. You see, when I promised Mrs. Denton to take the children I let my heart run away with my head."
"What do you mean, mother?"
"Well, I should have carefully considered what we should do with the boys, where we could put them to sleep, for instance. Perhaps it would have been better if I had come home first and talked the matter over."
"It's lucky you didn't, mother. You never would have brought those boys had you known there were two here already, would you?"
"Certainly not. But now that we have five on our hands where in the world are we to put them? That's what I want to know."
"Why not let them sleep out in the woodshed?" Jess suggested.
"In the woodshed! That would never do."
"And why not? There is plenty of room there near the kitchen, and it is clean and neat. It is just the place for them this warm weather."
"But we haven't enough beds for them all."
"Let them sleep on the floor; they will think it great fun. Then when daddy comes home he can fix up little canvas bunks for them. He will know the kind I mean."
"And would you let them sleep there all alone?"
"We can take turns sleeping out there with them. That sofa behind you will make a most comfortable bed. Oh, I think it will be great, don't you, Belle?"
"Indeed, I do," was the enthusiastic reply. "Why, it's just like a story, though much better, for this is the real thing."
"Well, I suppose there is nothing else to do," and Mrs. Andrews gave a deep sigh. "We might as well get to work at once, as it will be supper time before we know where we are. I wish to goodness Abner would come home."
In a remarkably short time that part of the woodshed near the kitchen was made ready. Boxes and barrels were moved, and beds spread down upon the floor.
"There, I guess that is the finish," Jess declared, when the sofa had been brought from the kitchen. "I shall sleep like a babe on that to-night."
"Not to-night," her mother informed her. "I intend to take the first turn, as I want to see for myself how the youngsters behave."
"And you won't be afraid, mother?"
"Afraid! Did you ever hear of me being afraid? Of course, I shall fasten the door securely, and I'd like to see anyone try to get in through that opening there. I've told Abner over and over again to fix in that window which was blown out by that big gale last fall. But maybe it's just as well as it is, for it will let in plenty of air, which no doubt we'll need. I hope to goodness you gave those street-Arabs a special scrubbing, Jess?"
"Yes, I tubbed them thoroughly this morning, and they certainly needed it."
"And did you change everything on your bed?"
"Indeed I did, and the clothes are all out on the line yet."
"I looked after the 'sudden' night-gowns myself," Belle laughingly remarked.
"Sudden night-gowns!" Mrs. Andrews repeated. "What do you mean?"
"Why, they were sudden, were they not? From pillow-slips to night-gowns in a minute was rather a quick change, I should say. It was the finest piece of conjuring I have ever seen," and in a few words she explained what Abner had done.
"Oh, my poor pillow-slips!" and Mrs. Andrews sighed. "But, then, it might have been much worse. You can never tell what Abner will do when he starts on the rampage. I wonder where he can be."
The boys had been very busy playing that afternoon, and were thoroughly tired when summoned to bed. They were delighted at the idea of sleeping on the floor, and considered it great fun. While Jess and Belle looked after their welfare Mrs. Andrews milked the two cows, and attended to the milk, after which she fed the pigs, and fastened up the hens and chickens. She was very tired after her trying experiences and the sleepless night at Mrs. Denton's. In fact, she could have slept anywhere, "even on a fence-pole without once rolling off," she informed the girls as she bade them good-night. Trying the door to see that it was securely fastened, and glancing at the two pails filled with water near at hand, she blew out the light, and laid herself down upon the sofa.
CHAPTER XV
COUNTRY RATS
Lawyer Rackshaw was in such an excellent frame of mind that he invited Henry Whittles to spend an evening with him at his office. This was something unusual, and as the two men sat down to a friendly game of poker, Whittles wondered what scheme the lawyer had in his mind. That there was some object he was quite sure, as Rackshaw never did anything out of the ordinary unless for some definite purpose.
It was a cozy room, comfortably furnished, clean and neat. A large greyhound lay at his master's feet, with his nose between his paws.
"Do you always bring that dog with you?" Whittles asked, as he shuffled the cards.
"Only at night," the lawyer replied as he looked down fondly upon the fine brute. "I like to have him along then—for company."
"For fear of what your enemies might do, eh?" and Whittles smiled somewhat knowingly.
"Well, perhaps you're right. Pedro never has his supper before he comes here, as I am always expecting him to get a good meal before he gets home."
"One of your special enemies, I suppose."
"Sure."
"Has he eaten any yet?"
"Not a d—n one, though I expect he'll have a meal before long."
"To-night?"
"Oh, no," and the lawyer chuckled as he threw down a card. "The meal's in cold storage to-night as far as I know. But, then, one can never tell."
"Cold storage!" and Whittles' eyes opened wide as he paused in his play.
"Yes, in cold storage. Or, to be more exact, in jail. That's where the special meal is to-night."
"In jail! Why, man, what do you mean? Who's in jail?"
"Ho, ho! That's one on you, Hen, isn't it? Didn't know why I invited you here to-night, did you?"
"No; couldn't guess. Thought it must be something special, though."
"So it is, and I expected to have something special to drink, too. Confound that express company! It's as slow as cold molasses. I ordered something good for to-night, and it was to have been here before this."
"Going to drink the health of your special friends, are you?" Whittles queried, looking quizzically at the lawyer.
"To one friend only to-night, Hen. He's our mutual friend—a friend that sticketh closer than a brother, as the Good Book says, and whose tongue is as sharp as a razor, and stings like a hornet. That's the friend whose health we are going to drink to-night."
"I know of only one person who answers to your description," Whittles replied, "and that's Abner Andrews, of Ash Point. But he's no friend of ours."
"You're mistaken, Hen. He's my special friend, and yours, too, for that matter."
"Mine! H'm I guess you're astray there."
"Not at all. Didn't he offer a thousand dollars for that Orphanage?"
"A thousand be hanged! He offered it, but that's as far as it goes. He'll never pay a cent."
"Won't he? Well, we'll see about that. Anyway, he's got two kids at his home now. I sent them there last night so that he could start the Orphanage at once at Ash Point."
"You did!"
"Yes, and sent a note along, asking him how he liked town rats. My, they were a tough pair of youngsters, about as dirty as you'll find anywhere. 'Sloppy' Sue's kids, you know."
"Ho, ho, that's a good one," Whittles roared. "Have you heard from Abner since?"
"Sure. He did me a great favor this morning, and that's why I'm so friendly to him now."
"What did he do?"
"Walked into the office ofThe Live Wire, and smashed up Joe Preston so badly that he's in the hospital now getting patched up."
Whittles' eyes fairly started out of his head at this astounding piece of news, and he dropped his cards upon the table.
"What was it all about?" he at length found voice to ask.
"Oh, merely over that article in the paper about Mrs. Andrews running away with Ikey Dimock's chauffeur. I got the news from the police station late last night, and phoned it to theWire. I knew that Joe would make the most of it, and get something in return. I'm mighty glad he did, for he's been very bumptious of late, and has rapped me pretty hard. Abner's saved me a nasty job."
"He did? Well, I declare!"
"Yes, and Abner's in jail, repenting, no doubt."
"Repenting? Not a bit of it. He's raging like a caged lion, if I'm not mistaken. My, how I'd like to have seen him at Joe. I've had no love for that fellow since he wrote that nasty skit about me last year. Did he put up much of a fight?"
"Who? Abner?"
"No; Joe."
"He tried to, so I heard, but he hadn't the ghost of a chance against that farmer giant. He came into the office, stuck a copy of theWirebefore Joe's nose, and asked him if he had written that article about his wife. Joe got mad, blazed up, and consigned Abner to the hot place."
"Good Lord!" Whittles gasped. "Joe must have been crazy."
"If he wasn't crazy then, he was a few minutes later. Tom, the office boy, said it was terrible. Abner gave a roar like thunder and sailed into Joe. When the police arrived there wasn't much of Joe left, according to Tom. He was unconscious, and the office was badly damaged."
"Did the police have any trouble with Abner?" Whittles asked almost breathlessly.
"No, I guess not. He went like a lamb, though Tom said he had a wild look in his eyes."
Whittles suddenly gasped; his face turned deathly pale, and his hands trembled.
"What's wrong, Hen?" the lawyer asked, noting his companion's agitation. "I didn't know you were subject to nervous trouble. This story has upset you a bit. You need a stimulant. Why in thunder doesn't that express team show up!"
"Say, Tom," and Whittles leaned over the table, "suppose it had been you or me instead of Joe?"
"You or me! What do you mean?"
"Abner loves us about as much as he loved Joe this morning, doesn't he?"
"Oh, I see," and the lawyer rubbed his chin in a thoughtful manner. "I never thought of that."
"I know you didn't. Now, suppose Abner gets out of jail and learns who gave Joe that information, what then?"
Rackshaw shifted somewhat uneasily in his chair, and glanced down at the dog. Then he laughed and picked up the cards he had dropped upon the table.
"I guess Abner won't do any more of his wild stunts for a while," he remarked. "He's in deep enough water now. He'll need a lawyer to defend him, and I'm the only one in town."
"He won't come to you."
"Just you wait. He's in a trap and knows very well that I can get him out; that is, if I want to."
"Want to! Won't you want to get him out? Won't you do everything for him that you can if he engages you to defend him?"
"That all depends. If he comes to me I'll do all I can under certain conditions."
"What are the conditions?"
The lawyer bit savagely at his cigar, but offered no explanation.
"D—n that express team!" he growled. "What can have happened to it?"
"Abner can't afford to engage a lawyer, can he?" Whittles asked, noting Rackshaw's silence.
"Why not?"
"He hasn't any way of paying, has he?"
"He hasn't? What about his farm?"
"Farm! Why, that's nothing but a bed of gravel. I wouldn't have it as a gift."
"You wouldn't, eh? But suppose the Government should want that same bed of gravel for ballast, what then?"
Whittles' eyes opened wide, and he looked enquiringly at the lawyer. Light was beginning to dawn upon his mind.
"Oh, I see your game, now," he at length replied. "You hope to get the farm, and turn it over to the Government?"
"Yes, that's just what I expect to do."
"But you'll never do it."
"I won't? And why not?"
"Abner'll not engage you to defend him. He has little use for you, and you should know by this time what a cranky cuss he is."
"Well, if he won't engage me, I shall take up Joe's case."
"Do what?"
"Didn't you hear what I said? I'll defend Joe."
"But how can you? You love Joe about as much as you do Abner."
"H'm, that's all right. Joe doesn't know what I think of him. And I guess you've got to learn a few things yet, Hen. You're not as sharp as I thought you were. But, say, here's the express team, now."
The next instant the door was pushed open, and a fair-sized box was handed to the lawyer.
"What do you mean by being so late?" the latter demanded of the expressman.
"Couldn't help it, sir," was the reply. "I'm all mixed up to-night. There's only one team on the road."
Rackshaw carried the box to the table, cut the strings, and tore away the paper wrapping. Then he turned to his desk and produced a hammer.
"Down, Pedro," he ordered, as the dog began to sniff excitedly at the box. "Surely you're not thirsty, too."
"Following his master's example, eh?" Whittles smilingly queried. "Queer box, that."
"Queer! I should say so," the lawyer growled, as he began to pry up the cover. "I never got a box like this before. Down, Pedro, I say. What's the matter with the dog, anyway? He's half crazy."
Scarcely had he finished speaking when a portion of the cover came off, and at once a big gray rat leaped full into the lawyer's startled face. With a yell of fright Rackshaw let go the box, dropped the hammer, and staggered back. Trying to recover himself, he came into sudden contact with the dog and was hurled over a chair full length upon the floor. He endeavored to get up, and had reached a sitting position when Pedro again landed on him like a catapult. Had a cyclone burst upon that room the confusion could not have been more appalling. Frantic squeals of terrified rats and the snapping yelps of the pursuing dog mingled with the crash of falling chairs and tables. It was, as the lawyer afterwards expressed it, "hell let loose."
When Rackshaw was at length able to crawl to his knees he looked around the disordered room. Pedro was still cavorting here and there, first after one rat and then another. Whittles was nowhere to be seen.
"Hen, where are you?" the lawyer called.
A groan from beneath one of the tables was the only response.
"Are you hurt, Hen?"
"Dying," was the feeble reply. "For God's sake, call off that dog!"
To "call off the dog" was easier to order than to do. Rackshaw staggered to his feet, and shouted wildly to the excited brute. But the louder he called, and the more furiously he swore, the more frantic did the greyhound become. The rats had turned his brain, and he was a crazy fool. Around and around the room he dashed, clearing chairs and tables with great bounds, but not a rat could he catch.
Rackshaw started for the door. If he could get it open it would give the rats an avenue of escape. He was but part way across the room when Pedro, attempting to pass through the legs of an overturned chair, stuck fast. With a howl he tried to extricate himself, but in vain. He had now something more than rats to think of, and furiously he threshed from side to side, breaking chairs, and damaging everything with which he came into contact.
The lawyer was now desperate. The perspiration poured down his face, while the shouts and curses he hurled at the dog were of no avail. With a savage yank he tore open the door, and the dog, catching sight of the opening, bounded for it like a tank going into battle.
It so happened that just at this critical moment the expressman had stepped to the door, carrying in his hands the long-expected box which he had overlooked. He saw the grotesque object bounding toward him, and before he had time to move aside, Pedro, now dragging the battered chair, dashed full upon him. With a yell of terror, he fell backwards, dropping as he did so the precious box upon the pavement. There was a sudden crash of bottles, and a liberal flow of spirits such as the town had never before known.
Half dazed, the expressman sat upon the sidewalk, and viewed the shattered box lying in the path of light from the open door. The lawyer approached and stood over the bewildered man.
"What's the meaning of all this?" he demanded.
"Meaning!" the man replied, rubbing his bruised right shoulder. "Why do you ask me? What's on here to-night, anyway? A menagerie, or a wild-west show?"
"Get up, and explain why you brought that box of rats here," Rackshaw ordered, ignoring the other's question.
"Rats! Brought rats here! I don't understand."
"Yes, rats. That first box you brought was full of rats; big rats, gray rats and all kinds of rats. They've turned hell loose in there."
"Good Lord!" the expressman gasped, as he leaned over to obtain a better view of the office. "Did the rats do that?"
"Indeed they did."
"And was that one of them that knocked me down?"
"Get up," Rackshaw commanded. "What's the matter with you? Did you ever see a rat the size of that? Don't you know a dog when you see it?"
"A dog! Good heavens! But you said something about rats."
"So I did, and you should know something about them, too. You left a box here full of rats, and when I opened it the devils came out and turned my dog's brain. Look at that room there. Isn't it a great mess? Somebody'll have a nice bill to pay. Where in h—l did you get that box, anyway?"
"Where I got the rest, of course. I didn't know it was full of rats. But that wouldn't have made any difference. It's not my business to know what the things are which I deliver. Guess you'll have to enquire elsewhere."
The expressman rose slowly to his feet, and again rubbed his shoulder.
"Darn it!" he growled. "I'm going to sue for damages, see if I don't. If a man can't attend to his business without being half-killed by a mad dog, with a pile of furniture on his back, it's a strange thing."
Rackshaw stood and watched him as he climbed up into his waggon, and drove off, grumbling and vowing vengeance upon everybody in general. Then he turned and re-entered the building. He found Whittles sitting on the floor, propped up against the office desk. His hair and clothes were dishevelled, and his face was expressive of his deep misery.
"Oh, you've come back, have you?" he meaningly queried.
"Sure. Did you think I had run away?"
"I couldn't tell. I don't know what to expect next. Is that raging devil gone yet?"
"What, the dog?"
"Yes."
"And the rats? Oh!" Whittles' body shivered.
"I guess they've gone, too. I don't see any of them. But get up and act like a man."
"I'm nearly dead," Whittles wailed. "I'm sure I'll never get over this. I'm all shaken to pieces, and I believe some of my bones are broken."
"Nonsense," the lawyer chided. "Get up, I say, and don't be a fool."
"Give me a drop to steady my nerves," Whittles implored. "The expressman brought the stuff at last, didn't he?"
"You'll have to lick it up off the sidewalk, then."
"What! Was it all lost? Wasn't there a little saved?"
"Not a drop. But get up. You're head's turned topsy-turvy."
"And everything else as far as I can see. Look at the mess this room is in. Isn't it a fright! Where do you suppose the rats came from?"
The lawyer made no reply, but picked up the box lying upon the floor, and examined it carefully. Inside he found a small thin piece of wood containing the following scrawl:
"These are country rats. What do you think of them?"
He stood for a few seconds, staring at these words. Then the light of understanding flashed upon his mind, and with an oath he tossed the chip to Whittles.
"Read that," he ordered. "It will explain matters."
A puzzled expression overspread Whittles' face as he read the writing.
"Don't you understand it?" Rackshaw asked.
"Blamed if I do," and Whittles scratched his head, as he again studied the words. "Who would want to send rats to you, of all men?"
"Wouldn't the man who got my 'city rats'?"
"What, not Abner Andrews!"
"And why not?"
"Sure, sure; I might have known."
"Known what?"
"That you couldn't get ahead of him. He'll get more than even every time. It's the touch of Abner, all right. You might have known what a dangerous cuss he is, the old devil. Rats! Well, I declare! Ugh!"