Bound to Rise 16

Bound to Rise 16

"Yes, sir."

 

"I will direct you what to do, and how often to administer the

medicines. Can remember?"

 

"Yes, sir, I shall not forget."

 

Dr. Parker here gave Harry minute instructions, which need not be

repeated, since they were altogether of a professional nature.

 

After the doctor was gone, Professor Henderson said:

 

"As soon as the nurse comes, I shall want you to ride over to the

next town, Carmansville, and countermand the notices for an exhibition

to-night. I shall not be able to give entertainments for some time to

come. Indeed, I am not sure but I must wait till next season."

 

"How shall I go over?" asked Harry.

 

"You may get a horse and buggy at the stable, and drive over there. If

I remember rightly, it is between little seven and eight miles. The road

is a little winding, but I think you won't lose your way."

 

"Oh, I'll find it," said Harry, confidently.

 

It was not till three o'clock that the nurse made her appearance, and it

was past three before Harry started on his way.

 

"You need not hurry home," said the professor. "In fact, you had better

take supper at the hotel in Carmansville, as you probably could not very

well get back here till eight o'clock."

 

"Very well, sir," said Harry. "But shan't you need me?"

 

"No; Miss Chase will attend to me."

 

"Mrs. Chase, if you please," said the nurse. "I've been a widder for

twenty years."

 

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Chase," said the sick man smiling.

 

"When my husband was alive, I never expected to go out nursin'; but I've

had come to it."

 

"The doctor says you are a very skillful and experienced nurse."

 

"I'd ought to be. I've nussed people in almost all sorts of diseases,

from measles to smallpox. You needn't be frightened, sir; I haven't had

any smallpox case lately. Isn't it most time to take your medicine?"

 

Harry left the room, and was soon on his way to Carmansville. Once he

got off the road, which was rather a perplexing one, but he soon found

it again. However, it was half past five before he reached the village,

and nearly an hour later before he had done the errand which brought

him over. Finally, he came back to the tavern, and being by this time

hungry, went in at once to the tavern, and being by this time hungry,

went in at once to supper. He did full justice to the meal which was set

before him. The day was cold, and his ride had stimulated his appetite.

 

When he sat down to the table he was alone; but a minute afterward a

small, dark-complexioned man, with heavy black whiskers, came in, and

sat down beside him. He had a heavy look, and a forbidding __EXPRESSION__;

but our hero was too busy to take particular notice of him till the

latter commenced a conversation.

 

"It's a pretty cold day," he remarked.

 

"Very cold," said Harry. "I am dreading my ride back to Pentland."

 

"Are you going to Pentland to-night?" asked the stranger, with interest.

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Do you live over there?"

 

"No; I am there for a short time only," Harry replied.

 

"Business?"

 

"Yes."

 

"You seem rather young to be in business," said the stranger.

 

"Oh," said Harry, smiling, "I am in the employ of Professor Henderson,

the ventriloquist. I suppose it is hardly proper to say that I am in

business."

 

"Professor Henderson! Why, he is going to give an entertainment here

to-night, isn't he?"

 

"He was; but I have come over to countermand the notice."

 

"What is that for?"

 

"He is taken sick at Pentland, and won't be able to come."

 

"Oh, that's it. Well, I'm sorry, for I should like to have gone to hear

him. So you are his assistant, are you?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"Can you perform tricks, too?"

 

"I don't assist him in that way. I take money at the door, and help him

with his apparatus."

 

"Have you been with him long?"

 

"Only a few weeks."

 

"So you are his treasurer, are you?" asked the stranger smiling.

 

"Ye--es," said Harry, slowly, for it brought to his mind that he had

one hundred and fifty dollars of the professor's money in his pocket,

besides the pocketbook containing his own. He intended to have left it

with his employer, but in the hurry of leaving he had forgotten to do

so. Now he was about to take a long ride in the evening with this large

sum of money about him.

 

"However," he said, reassuring himself, "there is nothing to be afraid

of. Country people are not robbers. Burglars stay in the cities. I have

nothing to fear."

 

Still he prudently resolved, if compelled to be out late again, to leave

his money at home.

 

He rose from table, followed by the stranger.

 

"Well," said the latter, "I must be going. How soon do you start?"

 

"In a few minutes."

 

"Well, good night."

 

"Good night."

 

"He seems inclined to be social," thought Harry, "but I don't fancy him

much."

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXI.

 

 

Harry was soon on his way home. It was already getting dark, and he felt

a little anxious lest he should lose his way. He was rather sorry that

he had not started earlier, though he had lost no time.

 

He had gone about two miles, when he came to a place where two roads

met. There was no guideboard, and he could not remember by which road he

had come. Luckily, as he thought, he described a man a little ahead. He

stopped the horse, and hailed him.

 

"Can you tell me which road to take to Pentland?" he asked.

 

The man addressed turned his head, and, to his surprise, our hero

recognized his table companion at the inn.

 

"Oh, it's you, my young friend!" he said.

 

"Yes, sir. Can you tell me the right road to Pentland? I have never been

this way before to-day, and I have forgotten how I came."

 

"I am thinking of going to Pentland myself," said the other.

 

"My sister lives there. If you don't mind giving me a lift, I will jump

in with you, and guide you."

 

Now, though Harry did not fancy the man's appearance, he had no reason

to doubt him, nor any ground for refusing his request.

 

"Jump in, sir," he said. "There is plenty of room."

 

The stranger was speedily seated at his side.

 

"Take the left-hand road," he said.

 

Harry turned to his left.

 

"It's rather a blind road," observed the stranger.

 

"I think I could remember in the daytime," said Harry; "but it is so

dark now, that I am in doubt."

 

"So I suppose."

 

The road on which they had entered was very lonely. Scarcely a house was

passed, and the neighborhood seemed quite uninhabited.

 

"I don't remember this road," said Harry, anxiously.

 

"Are you sure we are right?"

 

"Yes, yes, we are right. Don't trouble yourself."

 

"It's a lonely road."

 

"So it is. I don't suppose there's anybody lives within half a mile."

 

"The road didn't seem so lonely when I came over it this afternoon."

 

"Oh, that's the effect of sunshine. Nothing seems lonely in the daytime.

Turn down that lane."

 

"What for?" asked Harry, in surprise. "That can't be the road to

Pentland."

 

"Never mind that. Turn, I tell you."

 

His companion spoke fiercely, and Harry's mind began to conceive

alarming suspicions as to his character. But he was brave, and not

easily daunted.

 

"The horse and carriage are mine, or, at least, are under my direction,"

he said, firmly, "and you have no control over them. I shall not turn."

 

"Won't you?" retorted the stranger, with an oath, and drew from his

pocket a pistol. "Won't you?"

 

"What do you mean? Who are you?" demanded Harry.

 

"You will find out before I get through with you. Now turn into the

lane."

 

"I will not," said Harry, pale, but determined.

 

"Then I will save you the trouble," and his companion snatched the

reins from him, and turned the horse himself. Resistance was, of course,

useless, and our hero was compelled to submit.

 

"There, that suits me better. Now to business."

 

"To business. Produce your pocketbook."

 

"Would you rob me?" asked Harry, who was in a measure prepared for the

demand.

 

"Oh, of course not," said the other. "Gentlemen never do such things. I

want to burrow your money, that is all."

 

"I don't want to lend."

 

"I dare say not," sneered the other; "but I shan't be able to respect

your wishes. The sooner you give me the money the better."

 

Harry had two pocketbooks. The one contained his own money--about forty

dollars--the other the money of his employer. The first was in the side

pocket of his coat, the second in the pocket of his pants. The latter,

as was stated in the preceding chapter, contained one hundred and fifty

dollars. Harry heartily repented not having left it behind, but it was

to late for repentance. He could only hope that the robber would be

satisfied with one pocketbook, and not suspect the existence of the

other. There seemed but little hope of saving his own money. However, he

determined to do it, if possible.

 

"Hurry up," said the stranger, impatiently. "You needn't pretend you

have no money. I know better than that. I saw you pay the landlord."

 

"Then he saw the professor's pocketbook," thought Harry, uneasily. "Mine

is of different appearance. I hope he won't detect the difference."

 

"I hope you will leave me some of the money," said Harry, producing the

pocketbook.

 

"It is all I have."

 

"How much is there?"

 

"About forty dollars."

 

"Humph! that isn't much."

 

"It is all I have in the world."

 

"Pooh! you are young and can soon earn some more. I must have the whole

of it."

 

"Can't you leave me five dollars?"

 

"No, I can't. Forty dollars are little enough to serve my turn."

 

So saying, he coolly deposited the pocketbook in the pocket of his

pants.

 

"So far so good. It's well, youngster, you didn't make any more fuss,

or I might have had to use my little persuader;" and he displayed the

pistol.

 

"Will you let me go now, sir?"

 

"I have not got through my business yet. That's a nice overcoat of

yours."

 

Harry looked at him, in doubt as to his meaning, but he was soon

enlightened.

 

"I am a small person," proceeded the man with black whiskers, "scarcely

any larger than you. I think it'll be a good fit."

 

"Must I lose my overcoat, too?" thought Harry, in trouble.

 

"You've got an overcoat of your own, sir," he said.

 

"You don't need mine."

 

"Oh, I wouldn't rob you of yours on any account. A fair exchange is no

robbery. I am going to give you mine in exchange for yours."

 

The stranger's coat was rough and well worn, and, at its best, had been

inferior to Harry's coat. Our hero felt disturbed at the prospect of

losing it, for he could not tell when he could afford to get another.

 

"I should think you might be satisfied with the pocketbook," he said. "I

hope you will leave me my coat."

 

"Off with the coat, youngster!" was the sole reply.

 

"First, get out of the buggy. We can make the exchange better outside."

 

As opposition would be unavailing, Harry obeyed. The robber took from

him the handsome overcoat, the possession of which had afforded him

so much satisfaction, and handed him his own. In great disgust and

dissatisfaction our hero invested himself in it.

 

"Fits you as if it was made for you," said the stranger, with a short

laugh. "Yours is a trifle slow for me, but I can make it go. No, don't

be in such a hurry."

 

He seized Harry by the arm as he was about to jump into the carriage.

 

"I must go," said Harry. "You have already detained me some time."

 

"I intend to detain you some time longer."

 

"Have you got any more business with me?"

 

"Yes, I have. You've hit it exactly. You'll soon know what it is."

 

He produced a ball of cord from a pocket of his inside coat, and with

a knife severed a portion. "Do you know what this is for?" he asked,

jeeringly.

 

"No."

 

"Say, 'No, sir.' It's more respectful. Well, I'll gratify your laudable

curiosity. It's to tie your hands and feet."

 

"I won't submit to it," said Harry, angrily.

 

"Won't you?" asked the other, coolly. "This is a very pretty pistol,

isn't it? I hope I shan't have to use it."

 

"What do you want to tie my hands for?" asked Harry.

 

"For obvious reasons, my young friend."

 

"I can't drive if my hands are tied."

 

"Correct, my son. I don't intend you to drive tonight. Give me your

hands."

 

Harry considered whether it would be advisable to resist. The stranger

was not much larger than himself. He was a man, however, and naturally

stronger. Besides, he had a pistol. He seceded that it was necessary

to submit. After all, he had saved his employer's money, even if he had

lost his own, and this was something. He allowed himself to be bound.

 

"Now," said the stranger, setting him up against the stone wall, which

bordered the lane, "I will bid you good night. I might take your horse,

but, on the whole, I don't want him. I will fasten him to this tree,

where he will be all ready for you in the morning. That's considerate in

me. Good night. I hope you are comfortable."

 

He disappeared in the darkness, and Harry was left alone.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXXII. THE GOOD SAMARITAN

 

 

Harry's reflections, as he sat on the ground were not the most cheerful.

He was sitting in a constrained posture, his hands and feet being tied,

and, moreover, the cold air chilled him. The cold was not intense, but

as he was unable to move his limbs he, of course, felt it the more.

 

"I suppose it will get colder," thought Harry, uncomfortably. "I wonder

if there is any danger of freezing."

 

The horse evidently began to feel impatient, for he turned round and

looked at our hero. "Why don't you keep on?"

 

"I wish somebody would come this way," thought Harry, and he looked up

and down the lane as well as he could, but could see no one.

 

"If I could only get at my knife," said Harry, to himself, "I could cut

theses cords. Let me try."

 

He tried to get his hands into his pockets, but it was of no avail. The

pocket was too deep, and though he worked his body round, he finally

gave it up. It seemed likely that he must stay here all night. The next

day probably some one would come by, as they were so near a public road,

upon whom he could call to release him.

 

"The night will seem about a week long," poor Harry considered. "I

shan't dare to go to sleep, for fear I may freeze to death."

 

The horse whinnied again, and again looked inquiringly at his young

driver, but the latter was not master of the situation, and was obliged to disregard the mute appeal.