CHAPTER X.A Meeting on the Road.
Some weeks before the little affair between Blinks and Holly, related in our last chapter, Harry and Kate took a ride over to the railroad station.
During the winter Harry had frequently gone over on horseback to attend to the payments for his wood; and now that the roads were in fit condition for carriage travel, he was glad to have an opportunity to take the buggy and give Kate a ride.
For some days previously, Crooked Creek had been "up;" that is, the spring rains had caused it to overflow, and all travel across it had been suspended. The bridges on such occasions—and Crooked Creek had a bad habit of being "up" several times in the course of a year—were covered, and the lowlands were under water for a considerable distance on each sideof the stream. There were so few boats on the creek, and the current, in time of freshets, was so strong, that ferriage was seldom thought of. In consequence of this state of affairs Harry had not heard from his wood-cutters for more than a week, as they had not been able to cross the creek to their homes. It was, therefore, as much to see how they were getting along as to attend to financial matters that he took this trip.
It was a fine, bright day in very early spring, and old Selim trotted on quite gayly. Before very long they overtook Miles Jackson, jogging along on a little bay horse.
Miles was a black man, very sober and sedate who for years had carried the mail twice a week from a station farther up the railroad to the village. But he was not a mail-carrier now. His employer, a white man, who had the contract for carrying the mails, had also gone into another business which involved letter-carrying.
A few miles back from the village of Akeville, where the Loudons lived, was a mica mine, which had recently been bought, and was now worked by a company from the North. This mica (the semi-transparent substance that is setinto stove doors) proved to be very plentiful and valuable, and the company had a great deal of business on their hands. It was frequently necessary to send messages and letters to the North, and these were always carried over to the station on the other side of Crooked Creek, where there was a daily mail and a telegraph office. The contract to carry these letters and messages to and from the mines had been given to Miles's employer, and the steady negro man had been taken off the mail-route to attend to this new business.
"Well, Miles," said Harry, as he overtook him. "How do you like riding on this road?"
"How d' y', Mah'sr Harry? How d' y', Miss Kate?" said the colored man, touching his hat and riding up on the side of the road to let them pass. "I do' know how I likes it yit, Mah'sr Harry. Don't seem 'xactly nat'ral after ridin' de oder road so long!"
"You have a pretty big letter-bag there," said Harry.
"Dat's so," said Miles; "but 'taint dis big ebery day. Sence de creek's been up I haintbeen able to git across, and dere's piles o' letters to go ober to-day."
"It must make it rather bad for the company when the creek rises in this way," said Harry.
"Dat's so," answered Miles. "Dey gits in a heap o' trubble when dey can't send dere letters and git 'em. Though 'taint so many letters dey sends as telegraphs."
"It's a pity they couldn't have had their mine on the other side," remarked Kate.
"Dat's so, Miss Kate," said Miles, gravely. "I reckon dey didn't know about de creek's gittin' up so often, or dey'd dug dere mine on de oder side."
Harry and Kate laughed and drove on.
They soon reached Mr. Loudon's woods, but found no wood-cutters.
When they arrived at the station they saw Dick Ford and John Walker on the store-porch.
Harry soon discovered that no wood had been cut for several days, because the creek was up.
"What had that to do with it?" asked Harry.
"Why, you see, Mah'sr Harry," said John Walker, "de creek was mighty high, and dere was no knowin' how things ud turn out. So we thought we'd jist wait and see."
"So you've been here all the time?"
"Yes, sir; been h'yar all de time. Couldn't go home, you know."
Harry was very sorry to hear of this lost time, for he knew that his wood-cutting would come to an end as soon as the season was sufficiently advanced to give the men an opportunity of hiring themselves for farm-work; but it was of no use to talk any more about it; and so, after depositing Kate at the post-office, where the post-mistress, who knew her well, gave her a nice little "snack" of buttermilk, cold fried chicken, and "light-bread," he went to the station and transacted his business. He had not been there for some weeks, and he found quite a satisfactory sum of money due him, in spite of the holiday his men had taken. He then arranged with Dick and John to work on for a week or two longer—if "nothing happened;"and after attending to some commissions for the family, he and Kate set out for home.
But nothing they had done that day was of so much importance as their meeting with Miles tuned out to be.
CHAPTER XI.Rob.
Blinks was not the only dog on the Loudon place. There was another one, a much larger fellow, named Rob.
Rob was a big puppy, in the first place, and then he grew up to be a tall, long-legged dog, who was not only very fond of Harry and Kate, but of almost everybody else. In time he filled out and became rather more shapely, but he was always an ungainly dog—"too big for his size," as Harry put it.
It was supposed that Rob was partly bloodhound, but how much of him was bloodhound it would have been very difficult so say. Kate thought it was only his ears. They resembled the ears of a picture of a beautiful African bloodhound that she had in a book. At all events Rob showed no signs of any fighting ancestry. He was as gentle as a calf. Even Blinks was a betterwatch-dog. But then, Rob was only a year old, and he might improve in time.
But, in spite of his general inutility, Rob was a capital companion on a country ramble.
And so it happened, one bright day toward the close of April, that he and Harry and Kate went out together into the woods, beyond Aunt Matilda's cabin. Kate's objects in taking the walk were wild flowers and general spring investigations into the condition of the woods; but Harry had an eye to business, although to hear him talk you would have supposed that he thought as much about ferns and flowers as Kate did.
Harry had an idea that it might possibly be a good thing to hire negroes that year to pick sumac for him. He was not certain that he could make it pay, but it was on his mind to such a degree that he took a great interest in the sumac-bushes, and hunted about the edges of the woods, where the bushes were generally found, to see what was the prospect for a large crop of leaves that year.
They were in the woods, about a mile from Aunt Matilda's cabin, and not very far from aroad, when they separated for a short time. Harry went on ahead, continuing his investigations, while Kate remained in a little open glade, where she found some flowers that she determined to dig up by the roots and transplant into her garden at home.
While she was at work she heard a heavy step behind her, and looking up, she saw a tall man standing by her. He had red hair, a red face, a red bristling moustache, and big red hands.
"How d'ye do?" said the man.
Kate stood up, with the plants, which she had just succeeded in getting out of the ground, in her apron.
"Good morning, sir," said she.
The man looked at her from head to foot, and then he said, "Shake hands!" holding out his big red hand.
But Kate did not offer to take it.
"Didn't you hear me?" said he. "I said, 'Shake hands.'"
"I heard you," said Kate.
"Well, why don't you do it, then?"
Kate did not answer, and the man repeated his question.
"Well, then, if I must tell you," said she; "in the first place, I don't know you; and, then, I'd rather not shake hands with you, anyway, because your hands are so dirty."
This might not have been very polite in Kate, but she was a straightforward girl, and the man's hands were very dirty indeed, although water was to be had in such abundance.
"What's your name?" said the man, with his face considerably redder than before.
"Kate Loudon," said the girl.
"Oh, ho! Loudon, is it? Well, Kate Loudon, if my hand's too dirty to shake, you'll find it isn't too dirty to box your ears."
Kate turned pale and shrank back against a tree. She gave a hurried glance into the woods, and then she called out, as loudly as she could: "Harry!"
The man, who had made a step toward her, now stopped and looked around, as if he would like to know who Harry was, before going any further.
Just then, Harry, who had heard Kate's call, came running up.
When the man saw him he seemed relieved, and a curious smile stretched itself beneath his bristling red moustache.
"What's the matter?" cried Harry.
"Oh, Harry!" Kate exclaimed, as she ran to him.
"Matter?" said the man. "The matter's this: I'm going to box her ears."
"Whose ears?"
"That girl's," replied the red-faced man, moving toward Kate.
"My sister! Not much!"
And Harry stepped between Kate and the man.
The man stood and looked at him, and he looked very angrily, too.
But Harry stood bravely before his sister. His face was flushed and his breath came quickly, though he was not frightened, not a whit!
And yet there was absolutely nothing that he could do. He had not his gun with him; he had not even a stick in his hand, and a stick would have been of little use against such astrong man as that, who could have taken Harry in his big red hands and have thrown him over the highest fence in the county.
But for all that, the boy stood boldly up before his sister.
The man looked at him without a word, and then he stepped aside toward a small dogwood-bush.
For an instant, Harry thought that they might run away; but it was only for an instant. That long-legged man could catch them before they had gone a dozen yards—at least he could catch Kate.
The man took out a knife and cut a long and tolerably thick switch from the bush. Then he cut off the smaller end and began to trim away the twigs and leaves.
While doing this he looked at Harry, and said:
"I think I'll take you first."
Kate's heart almost stopped beating when she heard this, and Harry turned pale; but still the brave boy stood before his sister as stoutly as ever.
Kate tried to call for help, but she had novoice. What couldshedo? A boxing on the ears was nothing, she now thought; she wished she had not called out, for it was evident that Harry was going to get a terrible whipping.
She could not bear it! Her dear brother!
She trembled so much that she could not stand, and she sank down on her knees. Rob, the dog, who had been lying near by, snapping at flies, all this time, now came up to comfort her.
"Oh, Rob!" she whispered, "I wish you were a cross dog."
And Rob wagged his tail and lay down by her.
"I wonder," she thought to herself, "oh! I wonder if any one could make him bite."
"Rob!" she whispered in the dog's ear, keeping her eyes fixed on the man, who had now nearly finished trimming his stick. "Rob! hiss-s-s-s!" and she patted his back.
Rob seemed to listen very attentively.
"Hiss-s-s!" she whispered again, her heart beating quick and hard.
Rob now raised his head, his big body began to quiver, and the hair on his back gradually rose on end.
"Hiss! Rob! Rob!" whispered Kate.
The man had shut up his knife, and was putting it in his pocket. He took the stick in his right hand.
All now depended on Rob.
"Oh! will he?" thought Kate, and then she sprang to her feet and clapped her hands.
"Catch him, Rob!" she screamed. "Catch him!"
With a rush, Rob hurled himself full at the breast of the man, and the tall fellow went over backward, just like a ten-pin.
Then he was up and out into the road, Rob after him!
You ought to have seen the gravel fly!
Harry and Kate ran out into the road and cheered and shouted. Away went the man, and away went the dog.
Up the road, into the brush, out again, and then into a field, down a hill, nip and tuck! At Tom Riley's fence, Rob got him by the leg, but the trowsers were old and the piece came out: and then the man dashed into Riley's old tobacco barn, and slammed the door almost on the dog's nose.
Rob ran around the house to see if there was an open window, and finding none, he went back to the door and lay down to wait.
Harry and Kate ran home as fast as they could, and after a while Rob came too. He had waited a reasonable time at the door of the barn, but the man had not come out.
CHAPTER XII.Tony on the War-path.
"She did it all," said Harry, when they had told the tale to half the village, on the store-porch.
"I!" exclaimed Kate. "Rob, you mean."
"That's a good dog," said Mr. Darby, the storekeeper; "what'll you take for him?"
"Not for sale," said Harry.
"Rob's all very well," remarked Tony Kirk; "but it won't do to have a feller like that in the woods, a fright'nin' the children. I'd like to know who he is."
Just at this moment Uncle Braddock made his appearance, hurrying along much faster than he usually walked, with his eyes and teeth glistening in the sunshine.
"I seed him!" he cried, as soon as he came up.
"Who'd you see?" cried several persons.
"Oh! I seed de dog after him, and I come along as fas' as I could, but couldn't come very fas'. De ole wrapper cotch de wind."
"Who was it?" asked Tony.
"I seed him a-runnin'. Bress my soul! de dog like to got him!"
"But who was he, Uncle Braddock?" said Mr. Loudon, who had just reached the store from his house, where Kate, who had run home, had told the story. "Do you know him?"
"Know him? Reckon I does?" said Uncle Braddock, "an' de dog ud a knowed him too, ef he'd a cotched him! Dat's so, Mah'sr John."
"Well, tell us his name, if you know him," said Mr. Darby.
"Ob course, I knows him," said Uncle Braddock. "I'se done knowed him fur twenty or fifty years. He's George Mason."
The announcement of this name caused quite a sensation in the party.
"I thought he was down in Mississippi," said one man.
"So he was; I reckons," said Uncle Braddock, "but he's done come back now. I'se seed him afore to-day, and Aunt Matilda's seed him,too. Yah, ha! Dat dere dog come mighty nigh cotchin' him!"
George Mason had been quite a noted character in that neighborhood five or six years before. He belonged to a good family, but was of a lawless disposition and was generally disliked by the decent people of the county. Just before he left for the extreme Southern States, it was discovered that he had been concerned in a series of horse-thefts, for which he would have been arrested had he not taken his departure from the State.
Few people, excepting Mr. Loudon and one or two others, knew the extent of his misdemeanors; and out of regard to his family, these had not been made public. But he had the reputation of being a wild, disorderly man, and now that it was known that he had contemplated boxing Kate Loudon's ears and whipping Harry, the indignation was very great.
Harry and Kate were favorites with everybody—white and black.
"I tell ye what I'm goin' to do," said Tony Kirk; "I'm goin' after that feller."
At this, half a dozen men offered to go along with Tony.
"What will you do, if you find him?" asked Mr. Loudon.
"That depends on circumstances," replied Tony.
"I am willing to have you go," said Mr. Loudon, who was a magistrate and a gentleman of much influence in the village, "on condition that if you find him you offer him no violence. Tell him to leave the county, and say to him, from me, that if he is found here again he shall be arrested."
"All right," said Tony; and he proceeded to make up his party.
There were plenty of volunteers; and for a while it was thought that Uncle Braddock intended to offer to go. But, if so, he must have changed his mind, for he soon left the village and went over to Aunt Matilda's and had a good talk with her. The old woman was furiously angry when she heard of the affair.
"I wish I'd been a little quicker," she said, "and dere wouldn't a been a red spot on him."
Uncle Braddock didn't know exactly what she meant; but he wished so, too.
Tony didn't want a large party. He chose four men who could be depended upon, and they started out that evening.
It was evident that Mason knew how to keep himself out of sight, for he had been in the vicinity a week or more—as Tony discovered, after a visit to Aunt Matilda—and no white person had seen him.
But Tony thought he knew the country quite as well as George Mason did, and he felt sure he should find him.
His party searched the vicinity quite thoroughly that night, starting from Tom Riley's tobacco barn; but they saw nothing of their man; and in the morning they made the discovery that Mason had borrowed one of Riley's horses, without the knowledge of its owner, and had gone off, north of the mica mine. Some negroes had seen him riding away.
So Tony and his men took horses and rode away after him. Each of them carried his gun, for they did not know in what company they might find Mason. A man who steals horses isgenerally considered, especially in the country, to be wicked enough to do anything.
At a little place called Jordan's cross-roads, they were sure they had come upon him. Tom Riley's horse was found at the blacksmith's shop at the cross-roads, and the blacksmith said that he had been left there to have a shoe put on, and that the man who had ridden him had gone on over the fields toward a house on the edge of the woods, about a mile away.
So Tony and his men rode up to within a half-mile of the house, and then they dismounted, tied their horses, and proceeded on foot. They kept, as far as possible, under cover of the tall weeds and bushes, and hurried along silently and in single file, Tony in the lead. Thus they soon reached the house, when they quietly surrounded it.
But George Mason played them a pretty trick.
CHAPTER XIII.Cousin Maria.
After posting one of his men on each side of the house, which stood on the edge of a field, without any fence around it, Tony Kirk stepped up to the front door and knocked. The door was quickly opened by a woman.
"Why, Cousin Maria," said Tony, "is this you?"
"Certainly it's me, Anthony," said the woman; "who else should it be?"
Cousin Maria was a tall woman, dressed in black. She had gray hair and wore spectacles. She seemed very glad to see Tony, and shook hands with him warmly.
"I didn't know you lived here," said Tony.
"Well, I don't live here, exactly," said Cousin Maria; "but come in and sit awhile. You've been a-huntin', have you?"
"Well, yes," said Tony, "I am a-huntin'."
Without mentioning that he had some friends outside, Tony went in and sat down to talk with Cousin Maria. The man in front of the house had stepped to one side when the door opened, and the others were out of sight, of course.
Tony entered a small sitting-room, into which the front door opened, and took a seat by Cousin Maria.
"You see," said she, "old Billy Simpson let this house fur a hundred dollars—there's eighty acres with it—to Sarah Ann Hemphill and her husband; and he's gone to Richmond to git stock for a wheelwright's shop. That's his trade, you know; and they're goin' to have the shop over there in the wagon-house, that can be fixed up easy enough ef Sam Hemphill chooses to work at it, which I don't believe he will; but hecanwork, ef he will, and this is just the place for a wheelwright's shop, ef the right man goes into the business; and they sold their two cows—keeping only the red-and-white heifer. I guess you remember that heifer; they got her of old Joe Sanders, on the Creek. And they sold one of their horses—the sorrel—and a mule; they hadn't no use fur 'em here, fur the land's notworth much, and hasn't seen no guano nor nothin' fur three or four years; and the money they got was enough to start a mighty good cooper-shop, ef Sam don't spend it all, or most of it, in Richmond, which I think he will; and of course, he being away, Sarah Ann wanted to go to her mother's, and she got herself ready and took them four children—and I pity the old lady, fur Sam's children never had no bringin' up. I disremember how old Tommy is, but it isn't over eight, and just as noisy as ef he wasn't the oldest. And so I come here to take care of the place; but I can't stay no longer than Tuesday fortnight, as I told Sarah Ann, fur I've got to go to Betsey Cropper's then to help her with her spinnin'; and there's my own things—seven pounds of wool to spin fur Truly Mattherses people, besides two bushel baskets, easy, of carpet-rags to sew, and I want 'em done by the time Miss Jane gits her loom empty, or I'll git no weavin' done this year, and what do you think? I've had another visitor to-day, and your comin' right afterwards kind o' struck me as mighty queer, both bein' Akeville people, so to speak tho' it's been a long day since he'sbeen there, and you'll never guess who it was, fur it was George Mason."
And she stopped and wiped her face with her calico apron.
"So George Mason was here, was he?" said Tony. "Where is he now?"
"Oh! he's gone," replied Cousin Maria. "It wasn't more 'n ten or fifteen minutes before you came in, and he was a-sittin' here talking about ole times—he's rougher than he was, guess he didn't learn no good down there in Mississippi—when all ov a sudden he got up an' took his hat and walked off. Well, that was jist like George Mason. He never had much manners, and would always just as soon go off without biddin' a body good-by as not."
"You didn't notice which way he went, did you?" asked Tony.
"Yes, I did," said Cousin Maria; "he went out o' the back door, and along the edge of the woods, and he was soon out of sight, fur George has got long legs, as you well know; and the last I saw of him was just out there by that fence. And if there isn't Jim Anderson! Come in, Jim; what are you doin' standin' out there?"
So she went to the window to call Jim Anderson, and Tony stepped to the door and whistled for the other men, so that when Cousin Maria came to the door she saw not only Jim Anderson, but Thomas Campbell and Captain Bob Winters and Doctor Price's son Brinsley.
"Well, upon my word an' honor!" said Cousin Maria, lifting up both her hands.
"Come along, boys," said Tony, starting off toward the woods. "We've got no time to lose. Good-by, Cousin Maria."
"Good-by, Cousin Maria," said each of the other men, as the party hurried away.
Cousin Maria did not answer a word. She sat right down on the door-step and took off her spectacles. She rubbed them with her apron, and then put them on again. But there was no mistake. There were the men. If she had seen four ghosts she could not have been more astonished.
Tony did not for a moment doubt Cousin Maria's word when she told him that George Mason had gone away. She never told a lie. The only trouble with her was that she told too much truth.
In about an hour and a half the five men returned to the place where they had left their horses. They had found no trace of George Mason.
When they reached the clump of trees, there were no horses there!
They looked at each other with blank faces!
"He's got our horses!" said Jim Anderson, when his consternation allowed him to speak.
"Yes," said Tony, "and sarved us right. We oughter left one man here to take care uv 'em, knowin' George Mason as we do.'
"I had an idea," said Dr. Price's son Brinsley, "that we should have done something of that kind."
"Idees ain't no good," said Tony with a grunt, as he marched off toward the blacksmith's shop at Jordan's cross-roads.
The blacksmith had seen nothing of Mason or the horses, but Tom Riley's horse was still there; and as the members of the party were all well known to the blacksmith, he allowed them to take the animal to its owner. So the five men rode the one horse back to Akeville; not all riding at once, but one at a time.
CHAPTER XIV.Harry's Grand Scheme.
This wholesale appropriation of horses caused, of course, a great commotion in the vicinity of Akeville, and half the male population turned out the next day in search of George Mason and the five horses.
Even Harry was infected with the general excitement, and, mounted on old Selim, he rode away after dinner (there was no school that afternoon) to see if he could find any one who had heard anything. There ought to be news, for the men had been away all the morning.
About two miles from the village, the road on which Harry was riding forked, and not knowing that the party which had started off in that direction had taken the road which ran to the northeast, as being the direction in which a man would probably go, if he wanted to getaway safely with five stolen horses, Harry kept straight on.
The road was lonely and uninteresting. On one side was a wood of "old-field pines"—pines of recent growth and little value, that spring up on the old abandoned tobacco fields—and on the other a stretch of underbrush, with here and there a tree of tolerable size, but from which almost all the valuable timber had been cut.
Selim was inclined to take things leisurely, and Harry gradually allowed him to slacken his pace into a walk, and even occasionally to stop and lower his head to take a bite from some particularly tempting bunch of grass by the side of the road.
The fact was, Harry was thinking. He had entirely forgotten the five horses and everything concerning them, and was deeply cogitating a plan which, in an exceedingly crude shape, had been in his mind ever since he had met old Miles on the road to the railroad.
What he wished to devise was some good plan to prevent the interruption, so often caused by the rising of Crooked Creek, of communication between the mica mine, belonging to theNew York company, and the station at Hetertown.
If he could do this, he thought he could make some money by it; and it was, as we all know, very necessary for him, or at least for Aunt Matilda, that he should make money.
It was of no use to think of a bridge. There were bridges already, and when the creek was "up" you could scarcely see them.
A bridge that would be high enough and long enough would be very costly, and it would be an undertaking with which Harry could not concern himself, no matter what it might cost.
A ferry was unadvisable, for the stream was too rapid and dangerous in time of freshets.
There was nothing that was really reliable and worthy of being seriously thought of but a telegraph line. This Harry believed to be feasible.
He did not think it would cost very much. If this telegraph line only extended across the creek, not more than half a mile of wire, at the utmost, would be required.
Nothing need be expended for poles, asthere were tall pine-trees on each side of the creek that would support the wire; and there were two cabins, conveniently situated, in which the instruments could be placed.
Harry had thoroughly considered all these matters, having been down to the creek several times on purpose to take observations.
The procuring of the telegraphic instruments, however, and the necessity of having an operator on the other side, presented difficulties not easy to surmount.
But Harry did not despair.
To be sure the machines would cost money, and so would the wire, insulators, etc., but then the mica company would surely be willing to pay a good price to have their messages transmitted at times when otherwise they would have to send a man twenty miles to a telegraphic station.
So if the money could be raised it would pay to do it—at least if the calculations, with which Harry and Kate had been busy for days, should prove to be correct.
About the operator on the other side, Harry scarcely knew what to think. If it were necessaryto hire any one, that would eat terribly into the profits.
Something economical must be devised for this part of the plan.
As to the operator on the Akeville side of the creek, Harry intended to fill that position himself. He had been interested in telegraphy for a year or two. He understood the philosophy of the system, and had had the opportunity afforded him by the operator at Hetertown of learning to send messages and to read telegraphic hieroglyphics. He could not understand what words had come over the wires, simply by listening to the clicking of the instrument—an accomplishment of all expert telegraphers—but he thought he could do quite well enough if he could read the marks on the paper slips, and there was no knowing to what proficiency he might arrive in time.
Of course he had no money to buy telegraphic apparatus, wire, etc., etc. But he thought he could get it. "How does any one build railroads or telegraphic lines?" he had said to Kate. "Do they take the money out of their own pockets?"
Kate had answered that she did not suppose they did, unless the money was there; and Harry had told her, very confidently, that the money was never there. No man, or, at least, very few men, could afford to construct a railroad or telegraph line. The way these things were done was by forming a company.
And this was just what Harry proposed to do.
It was, of course, quite difficult to determine just how large a company this should be. If it were composed of too many members, the profits, which would be limited, owing to the peculiar circumstances of the case, would not amount to much for each stockholder. And yet there must be members enough to furnish money enough.
And more than that, a contract must be made with the mica-mine people, so that the business should not be diverted from Harry's company into any outside channels.
All these things occupied Harry's mind, and it is no wonder that he hardly looked up when Selim stopped. The horse had been walking so slowly that stopping did not seem to make much difference.
But when he heard a voice call out, "Oh, Mah'sr Harry! I'se mighty glad to see yer!" he looked up quickly enough.
And there was old Uncle Braddock, on horseback!
Harry could scarcely believe his eyes.
And what was more astonishing, the old negro had no less than four other horses with him that he was leading, or rather trying to lead, out of a road through the old-field pines that here joined the main road.
"Why, what's the meaning of this?" cried Harry. "Where did you get those horses, Uncle Braddock?"
And then, without waiting for an answer, Harry burst out laughing. Such a ridiculous sight was enough to make anybody laugh.
Uncle Braddock sat on the foremost horse, his legs drawn up as if he were sitting on a chair, and a low one at that, for he had been gradually shortening the stirrups for the last hour, hoping in that way to get a firmer seat. His long stick was in one hand, his old hat was jammed down tightly over his eyes, and his dressing-gown floated in the wind like a rag-bag out for a holiday.
"Oh, I'se mighty glad to see yer, Mah'sr Harry!" said he, pulling at his horse's bridle in such a way as to make him nearly run into Selim and Harry, who, however, managed to avoid him and the rest of the cavalcade by moving off to the other side of the road.
"I was jist a-thinkin' uv gittin' off and lettin' em go 'long they own se'ves. I never seed sich hosses fur twistin' up and pullin' crooked. I 'spected to have my neck broke mor' 'n a dozen times. I never was so disgruntled in all my born days, Mah'sr Harry. Whoa dar, you yaller hoss! Won't you take a-hole, Mah'sr Harry, afore dey're de death uv me?"
The old man had certainly got the horses into a mixed-up condition. One of them was beside the horse he rode, two were behind, and one was wedged in partly in front of these in such a way that he had to travel sidewise. The bridle of one horse was tied to that of another, so that Uncle Braddock led them all by the bridle of the horse by his side. This was tied to his long cane, which he grasped firmly in his left hand.
Harry jumped down from Selim, and, tyinghim to the fence, went over to the assistance of Uncle Braddock. As he was quite familiar with horses, Harry soon arranged matters on a more satisfactory footing. He disentangled the animals, two of which he proposed to take charge of himself, and then, after making Uncle Braddock lengthen his stirrups, and lead both his horses on one side of him, he fastened the other two horses side by side, mounted Selim, and started back for Akeville, followed by Uncle Braddock and his reduced cavalcade.
The old negro was profuse in his thanks; but in the middle of his protestations of satisfaction, Harry suddenly interrupted him.
"Why, look here, Uncle Braddock! Where did you get these horses? These are the horses George Mason stole."
"To be sure they is," said Uncle Braddock. "What would I be a-doin' wid 'em ef they wasn't?"
"But how did you get them? Tell me about it," said Harry, checking the impatient Selim, who, now that his head was turned homeward, was anxious to go on with as much expedition as possible under the circumstances.
"Why, ye see, Mah'sr Harry," said the old man, "I was up at Miss Maria's; she said she'd gi' me some pieces of caliker to mend me wrapper. I put 'em in me pocket, but I 'spects they's blowed out; and when I was a-comin' away fru de woods, right dar whar ole Elick Potts used to hab his cabin—reckon you nebber seed dat cabin; it was all tumbled down 'fore you was born—right dar in de clarin' I seed five horses, all tied to de trees. 'Lor's a massy!' I said to mesef, 'is de war come agin?' Fur I nebber seed so many hosses in de woods sence de war. An' den while I was a-lookin' roun' fur a tree big enough to git behind, wrapper an' all, out comes Mah'sr George Mason from a bush, an' he hollers, 'Hello, Uncle Braddock, you come a-here.' An' then he says, 'You ain't much, Uncle Braddock, but I guess you'll do!' An' I says, 'Don't believe I'll do, Mah'sr George, fur you know I can't march, an' I nebber could shoot none, an' I got de rheumertiz in both me legs and me back, and no jint-water in me knees—you can't make no soldier out er me, Mah'sr George.' And then he laughed, an' says, 'You would make a prettysoldier, dat's true, Uncle Braddock. But I don't want no soldiers; what I want you to do is to take these horses home.' 'To where? says I. 'To Akeville,' says Mah'sr George. An' he didn't say much more, neither; for he jist tied dem horses all together and led 'em out into a little road dat goes fru de woods dar, an' he put me on de head horse, an' he says, 'Now, go 'long, Uncle Braddock, an' ef anything happens to dem hosses you'll have to go to jail fur it. So, look out!' An' bress your soul, Mah'sr Harry, I did have to look out, fur sich a drefful time as I did have, 'specially wid dat yaller hoss, I nebber did see."
CHAPTER XV.The Council.
When Harry's mother heard that he had gone off to try and meet the horse-hunters she was quite anxious about him.
But Mr. Loudon laughed at her fears.
"If there had been the slightest danger," he said, "of course I would not have allowed him to go. But I was glad he wanted to go. A youngster of his age ought to have a disposition to see what is going on and to take part, too, for that matter. I had much rather find it necessary to restrain Harry than to push him. You mustn't want to make a girl of him. You would only spoil the boy, and make a very poor girl."
Mrs. Loudon made no reply. She thought her husband was a very wise man; but she took up her key basket and went off to the pantry with an air that indicated that she had ideas of her own upon the subject in question.
Kate had no fears for Harry. She had unbounded faith in his good sense and his bravery, if he should happen to get into danger.
The fact is, she was quite a brave girl herself; and brave people are very apt to think their friends as courageous as themselves.
When Harry and Uncle Braddock reached the village they found several of the older inhabitants on the store porch, and they met with an enthusiastic reception.
And when, later in the afternoon, most of the men who had gone out after George Mason, returned from their unsuccessful expedition, the discussion in regard to Mason's strange proceeding grew very animated. Some thought he had only intended to play a trick; others that he had been unable to get away with the horses, as he had hoped to do when he had taken them.
But nobody knew anything about the matter excepting George Mason himself, and he was not there to give the village any information.
As for Harry, he did not stay long to hear the discussions at the store.
His mind was full of a much more important matter and he ran off to find Kate. Hewanted to talk over his latest impressions with her.
When he reached the house, where his appearance greatly tranquillized his mother's mind, he found Kate in the yard under the big catalpa-trees, always a favorite place of resort in fine weather.
"Oh, Harry!" she cried, when she saw him, "did they find the horses?"
"No," said Harry; "they didn't find them."
"Oh, what a pity! And some of them were borrowed horses. Tony Kirk had Captain Caseby's mud-colored horse. I don't know what the captain will do without him."
"Oh, the captain will do very well," said Harry.
"But he can't do very well," persisted Kate. "It's the only horse he has in the world. One thing certain, they can't go to church."
Harry laughed at this, and then he told his sister all about his meeting with Uncle Braddock. But while she was wondering and surmising in regard to George Mason's strange conduct, Harry, who could not keep his thoughts from more important matters, broke in with:
"But, I say, Kate, I've made up my mind about the telegraph business. There must be a company, and we ought to plan it all out before we tell people and sell shares."
"That's right," cried Kate, who was always ready for a plan. "Let's do it now."
So, down she sat upon the ground, and Harry sat down in front of her.
Then they held a council.
"In the first place, we must have a President," said Harry.
"That ought to be you," said Kate.
"Yes," said Harry, "I suppose I ought to be President. And then we must have a Treasurer, and I think you should be Treasurer."
"Yes," said Kate, "that would do very well. But where could I keep the money?"
"Pshaw!" said Harry. "It's no use to bother ourselves about that. We'd better get the money first, and then see where we can put it. I reckon it'll be spent before anybody gets a chance to steal it. And now then, we must have a Secretary."
"How would Tom Selden do for Secretary?" asked Kate.
"Oh, he isn't careful enough," answered Harry. "I think you ought to be Secretary. You can write well, and you'll keep everything in order."
"Very well," said Kate, "I'll be Secretary."
"I think," said Harry, "that we have now about all the officers we want, excepting, of course, an Engineer, and I shall be Engineer; for I have planned out the whole thing already."
"I didn't know there was to be an engine," said Kate.
"Engine!" exclaimed Harry, laughing. "That's a good one! I don't mean an engineer of a steam-engine. What we want is a Civil Engineer; a man who lays out railroad lines and all that kind of thing. I'm not right sure that a Civil Engineer does plan out telegraph lines; but it don't make any difference what we call the officer. He'll have to attend to putting up the line."
"And do you think you can do it?" said Kate, "I should suppose it would be a good deal harder to be Engineer than to be President."
"Yes, I suppose it will; but I've studied the matter. I've watched the men putting up newwires at Hetertown, and Mr. Lyons told me all he knew about it. It's easy enough. Very different from building a railroad."
"It must be a good deal safer to build a railroad, though," said Kate. "You don't have to go so high up in the air."
"You're a little goose," said Harry, laughing at her again.
"No, I'm not," said Kate. "I'm Treasurer and Secretary of the—What shall we call the company, Harry? It ought to have a name."
"Certainly it ought," said her brother. "How would 'The Mica Mine Telegraph Company'—No, that wouldn't do at all. It isn't theirs. It's ours."
"Call it 'The Loudon Telegraph Company,'" said Kate.
"That would be nearer the thing, but it wouldn't be very modest, though people often do call their companies after their own names. What do you think of 'The Akeville and Hetertown Company'?"
"But it won't go to either of those places," said Kate. "It will only cross the creek."
"All right!" exclaimed Harry. "Let's call it 'The Crooked Creek Telegraph Company.'"
"Good!" said Kate. "That's the very name."
So the company was named.
"Now," said Kate, "we've got all the head officers and the name; what do we want next?"
"We want a good many other things," said Harry. "I suppose we ought to have a Board of Directors."
"Shall we be in that?" asked Kate.
Harry considered this question before answering it. "I think the President ought to be in it," he said, "but I don't know about the Secretary and Treasurer. I think they are not generally Directors."
"Well," said Kate, with a little sigh, "I don't mind."
"You can be, if you want to," said Harry. "Wait until we get the Board organized, and I'll talk to the other fellows about it."
"Are they going to be all boys?" asked Kate, quickly.
"I reckon so," said Harry. "We don't wantany men in our Board. They'd be ordering us about and doing everything themselves."
"I didn't mean that. Will there be any girls?"
"No," said Harry, a little contemptuously, it is to be feared. "There isn't a girl in the village who knows anything about telegraph lines, except you."
"Well, if it's to be all boys, I don't believe I would care to belong to the Board," said Kate. "But who are we going to have?"
This selection of the members of the Board of Directors seemed a little difficult at first, but as there were so few boys to choose from it was settled in quite a short time.
Tom Selden, Harvey Davis, George Purvis, Dr. Price's youngest son, Brandeth, and Wilson Ogden, were chosen, and these, with the addition of Harry, made up the Board of Directors of the Crooked Creek Telegraph Company.
"Well," said Kate, as the council arose and adjourned, "I hope we'll settle the rest of our business as easily as we have settled this part."