Bound to Rise 5

Bound to Rise 5

Mr. Walton would not have been willing to have Harry work for the

squire, knowing well his meanness, and how poorly he paid his hired men.

 

"I wanted to help you pay for that cow," said the squire, crossly. "If

you can't pay for't when the time comes you mustn't blame me."

 

"I shall blame no one. I can't foresee the future; but I hope to get

together the money somehow."

 

"You mustn't ask for more time. Six months is a long time to give."

 

"I believe I haven't said anything about more time yet, Squire Green,"

said Hiram Walton, stiffly. "I don't see that you need warn me."

 

"I thought we might as well have an understandin' about it," said the

squire. "So you won't hire out the boy?"

 

"No, I cannot, under the circumstances. If I did I should consider his

services worth more than two dollars a month."

 

"I might give him two'n a half," said the squire, fancying it was merely

a question of money.

 

"How much do you pay Abner Kimball?"

 

"Wal, rather more than that," answered the squire, slowly.

 

"You pay him ten dollars a month, don't you?"

 

"Wal, somewheres about that; but it's more'n he earns."

 

"If he is worth ten dollars, Harry would be worth four or six."

 

"I'll give three," said the squire, who reflected that even at that rate

he would be saving considerable.

 

"I will leave it to Harry himself," said his father.

 

"Harry, you hear Squire Green's offer. What do you say? Will you go to

work for him at three dollars a month?"

 

"I'd rather go away, as you told me I might, father."

 

"You hear the boy's decision, squire."

 

"Wal, wal," said the squire, a good deal disappointed--for, to tell the

truth, he had told Abner he should not want him, having felt confident

of obtaining Harry. "I hope you won't neither of ye regret it."

 

His tone clearly indicated that he really hoped and expected they would.

"I bid ye good night."

 

"I'll hev the cow back ag'in," said the squire to himself. "He needn't

hope no massy. If he don't hev the money ready for me when the time is

up, he shan't keep her."

 

The next morning he was under the unpleasant necessity of reengaging

Abner.

 

"Come to think on't, Abner," he said, "I guess I'd like to hev you stay

longer. There's more work than I reckoned, and I guess I'll hev to have

somebody."

 

This was at the breakfast table. Abner looked around him, and after

making sure that there was nothing eatable left, put down his knife

and fork with the air of one who could have eaten more, and answered,

deliberately: "Ef I stay I'll hev to hev more wages."

 

"More wages?" repeated Squire Green, in dismay. "More'n ten dollars?"

 

"Yes, a fellow of my age orter hey more'n that."

 

"Ten dollars is a good deal of money."

 

"I can't lay up a cent off'n it."

 

"Then you're extravagant."

 

"No I ain't. I ain't no chance to be. My cousin, Paul Bickford, is

gettin' fifteen dollars, and he ain't no better worker'n I am."

 

"Fifteen dollars!" ejaculated, the squire, as if he were naming some

extraordinary sum. "I never heerd of such a thing."

 

"I'll work for twelve'n a half," said Abner, "and I won't work for no

less."

 

"It's too much," said the squire. "Besides, you agreed to come for ten."

 

"I know I did; but this is a new engagement."

 

Finally Abner reduced his terms to twelve dollars, an advance of two

dollars a month, to which the squire was forced to agree, though very

reluctantly. He thought, with an inward groan, that but for his hasty

dismissal of Abner the night before, on the supposition that he could

obtain Harry in his place, he would not have been compelled to raise

Abner's wages. This again resulted indirectly from selling the cow,

which had put the new plan into his head. When the squire reckoned up

this item, amounting in six months to twelve dollars, he began to doubt

whether his cow trade had been quite so good after all.

 

"I'll get it out of Hiram Walton some way," he muttered. "He's a great

fool to let that boy have his own way. I thought to be sure he'd oblige

me arter the favor I done him in sellin' him the cow. There's gratitude

for you!"

 

The squire's ideas about gratitude, and the manner in which he had

earned it, were slightly mixed, it must be acknowledged. But, though he

knew very well that he had been influenced only by the consideration

of his own interest, he had a vague idea that he was entitled to some

credit for his kindness in consenting to sell his neighbor a cow at an

extortionate price.

 

Harry breathed a deep sigh of relief after Squire Green left the room.

 

"I was afraid you were going to hire me out to the squire, father," he

said.

 

"You didn't enjoy the prospect, did you?" said his father, smiling.

 

"Not much."

 

"Shouldn't think he would," said his brother Tom.

 

"The squire's awful stingy. Abner Kimball told me he had the meanest

breakfast he ever ate anywhere."

 

"I don't think any of his household are in danger of contracting the

gout from luxurious living."

 

"I guess not," said Tom.

 

"I think," said Jane, slyly, "you'd better hire out Tom to the squire."

 

"The squire would have the worst of the bargain," said his father, with

a good-natured hit at Tom's sluggishness.

 

"He wouldn't earn his board, however poor it might be."

 

"The squire didn't seem to like it very well," said Mrs. Walton, looking

up from her mending.

 

"No, he fully expected to get Harry for little or nothing. It was

ridiculous to offer two dollars a month for a boy of his age."

 

"I am afraid he will be more disposed to be hard on you, when the time

comes to pay for the cow. He told you he wouldn't extend the time."

 

"He is not likely to after this; but, wife, we won't borrow trouble.

Something may turn up to help us."

 

"I am sure I shall be able to help you about it, father," said Harry.

 

"I hope so, my son, but don't feel too certain. You may not succeed as

well as you anticipate."

 

"I know that, but I mean to try at any rate."

 

"If you don't, Tom will," said his sister.

 

"Quit teasin' a feller, Jane," said Tom. "I ain't any lazier'n you are.

If I am, I'll eat my head."

 

"Then you'll have to eat it, Tom," retorted Jane; "and it won't be much

loss to you, either."

 

"Don't dispute, children," said Mrs. Walton. "I expect you both will

turn over a new leaf by and by."

 

Meanwhile, Harry was busily reading the "Life of Franklin." The more he

read, the more hopeful he became as to the future.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER IX. LEAVING HOME

 

 

Monday morning came, and the whole family stood on the grass plat in

front of the house, ready to bid Harry good-by. He was encumbered by no

trunk, but carried his scanty supply of clothing wrapped in a red cotton

handkerchief, and not a very heavy bundle at that. He had cut a stout

stick in the woods near by, and from the end of this suspended over his

back bore the bundle which contained all his worldly fortune except the

twenty-five cents which was in his vest pocket.

 

"I don't like to have you go," said his mother, anxiously. "Suppose you

don't get work?"

 

"Don't worry about me, mother," said Harry, brightly. "I'll get along

somehow."

 

"Remember you've got a home here, Harry, whatever happens," said his

father.

 

"I shan't forget, father."

 

"I wish I was going with you," said Tom, for the first time fired with

the spirit of adventure.

 

"What could you do, Tom?" said Jane, teasingly.

 

"Work, of course."

 

"I never saw you do it yet."

 

"I'm no more lazy than you," retorted Tom, offended.

 

"Don't dispute, children, just as your brother is leaving us," said Mrs.

Walton.

 

"Good-by, mother," said Harry, feeling an unwonted moistening of the

eyes, as he reflected that he was about to leave the house in which he

had lived since infancy.

 

"Good-by, my dear child," said his mother, kissing him.

 

"Be sure to write."

 

"Yes I will."

 

So with farewell greetings Harry walked out into the world. He had all

at once assumed a man's responsibilities, and his face grew serious, as

he began to realize that he must now look out for himself.

 

His native village was situated in the northern part of New Hampshire.

Not far away could be seen, indistinct in the distance, the towering

summits of the White Mountain range, but his back was turned to them.

In the south were larger and more thriving villages, and the wealth was

greater. Harry felt that his chances would be greater there. Not that

he had any particular place in view. Wherever there was an opening, he

meant to stop.

 

"I won't come back till I am better off," he said to himself. "If I

don't succeed it won't be for want of trying."

 

He walked five miles without stopping. This brought him to the middle of

the next town. He was yet on familiar ground, for he had been here more

than once. He felt tired, and sat down by the roadside to rest before

going farther. While he sat there the doctor from his own village rode

by, and chanced to espy Harry, whom he recognized.

 

"What brings you here, Harry?" he asked, stopping his chaise.

 

"I'm going to seek my fortune," said Harry.

 

"What, away from home?"

 

"Yes, sir."

 

"I hadn't heard of that," said the doctor, surprised.

 

"You haven't run away from home?" he asked, with momentary suspicion.

 

"No, indeed!" said Harry, half indignantly. "Father's given his

permission for me to go."

 

"Where do you expect to go?"

 

"South," said Harry, vaguely.

 

"And what do you expect to find to do?"

 

"I don't know--anything that'll bring me a living."

 

"I like your spunk," said the doctor, after a pause. "If you're going

my way, as I suppose you are, I can carry you a couple of miles. That's

better than walking, isn't it?"

 

"I guess it is," said Harry, jumping to his feet with alacrity.

 

In a minute he was sitting beside Dr. Dunham in his old-fashioned

chaise. "I might have known that you were not running away," said the

doctor. "I should be more likely to suspect your Brother Tom."

 

"Tom's too lazy to run away to earn his own living," said Harry,

laughing, "as long as he can get it at home."

 

The doctor smiled.

 

"And what put it into your head to start out in this way?" he asked.

 

"The first thing, was reading the' Life of Franklin.'"

 

"To be sure. I remember his story."

 

"And the next thing was, because my father is so poor. He finds it hard

work to support us all. The farm is small, and the land is poor. I want

to help him if I can."

 

"Very commendable, Harry," said the doctor, kindly.

 

"You owe a debt of gratitude to your good father, who has not succeeded

so well in life as he deserves."

 

"That's true, sir. He has always been a hard-working man."

 

"If you start out with such a good object, I think you will succeed.

Have you any plans at all, or any idea what you would like to do?"

 

"I thought I should like to work in a shoe shop, if I got a chance,"

said Harry.

 

"You like that better than working on a farm, then?"

 

"Yes, sir, There isn't much money to be earned by working on a farm. I

had a chance to do that before I came away."

 

"You mean working on your father's land, I suppose?"

 

"No, Squire Green wanted to hire me."

 

"What wages did he offer?"

 

"Two dollars a month, at first. Afterwards he got up to three."

 

The doctor smiled.

 

"How could you decline such a magnificent offer?" he asked.

 

"I don't think I should like boarding at the squire's."

 

"A dollar is twice as large at least in his eyes as in those of anyone

else."

 

By this time they had reached a place where a road turned at right

angles.

 

"I am going down here, Harry," said the doctor. "I should like to have

you ride farther, but I suppose it would only be taking you out of your

course."

 

"Yes, doctor. I'd better get out."

 

"I'll tell your father I saw you."

 

"Tell him I was in good spirits," said Harry, earnestly. "Mother'll be

glad to know that."

 

"I will certainly. Good-by!"

 

"Good-by, doctor. Thank you for the ride."

 

"You are quite welcome to that, Harry."

 

Harry followed with his eyes the doctor's chaise. It seemed like

severing the last link that bound him to his native village. He was

very glad to have fallen in with the doctor, but it seemed all the more

lonesome that he had left him.

 

Harry walked six miles farther, and then decided that it was time to

rest again. He was not only somewhat fatigued, but decidedly hungry,

although it was but eleven o'clock in the forenoon. However, it must be

considered that he had walked eleven miles, and this was enough to give

anyone an appetite.

 

He sat down again beside the road, and untying the handkerchief which

contained his worldly possessions, he drew therefrom a large slice of

bread and began to eat with evident relish. There was a slice of cold

meat also, which he found tasted particularly good.

 

"I wonder whether they are thinking of me at home," he said to himself.

 

They were thinking about him, and when an hour later the family gathered

around the table, no one seemed to have much appetite. All looked sober,

for all were thinking of the absent son and brother.

 

"I wish Harry was here," said Jane, at length, giving voice to the

general feeling.

 

"Poor boy," sighed his mother. "I'm afraid he'll have a hard time. I

wish he had stayed at home, or even have gone to Squire Green's to work.

Then we could have seen him every day."

 

"I should have pitied him more if he had gone there than I do now," said

his father. "Depend upon it, it; will be better for him in the end."

 

"I hope so," said his mother, dubiously.

 

"But you don't feel sure? Well, time will show. We shall hear from him

before long."

 

We go back to Harry.

 

He rested for a couple of hours, sheltered from the sun by the foliage

of the oak beneath which he had stretched himself. He whiled away

the time by reading for the second time some parts of the "Life of

Franklin," which he had brought away in his bundle, with his few other

possessions. It seemed even more interesting to him now that he, too,

like Franklin, had started out in quest for fortune.

 

He resumed walking, but we will not dwell upon the details of his

journey. At six o'clock he was twenty-five miles from home. He had not

walked much in the afternoon when, all at once, he was alarmed by the

darkening of the sky. It was evident that a storm was approaching. He

looked about him for shelter from the shower, and a place where he could

pass the night.

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER X. THE GENERAL

 

 

The clouds were darkening, and the shower was evidently not far off. It

was a solitary place, and no houses were to be seen near by. But nearly

a quarter of a mile back Harry caught sight of a small house, and

jumping over the fence directed his steps toward it. Five minutes

brought him to it. It was small, painted red, originally, but the color

had mostly been washed away. It was not upon a public road, but there

was a narrow lane leading to it from the highway. Probably it was

occupied by a poor family, Harry thought. Still it would shelter him

from the storm which had even now commenced.

 

He knocked at the door.

 

Immediately it was opened and a face peered out--the face of a man

advanced in years. It was thin, wrinkled, and haggard. The thin white

hair, uncombed, gave a wild appearance to the owner, who, in a thin,

shrill voice, demanded, "Who are you?"

 

"My name is Harry Walton."

 

"What do you want?"

 

"Shelter from the storm. It is going to rain."

 

"Come in," said the old man, and opening the door wider, he admitted our

hero.

 

Harry found himself in a room very bare of furniture, but there was a

log fire in the fireplace, and this looked comfortable and pleasant. He

laid down his bundle, and drawing up a chair sat down by it, his host

meanwhile watching him closely.

 

"Does he live alone, I wonder?" thought Harry.

 

He saw no other person about, and no traces of a woman's presence. The

floor looked as if it had not been swept for a month, and probably it

had not.

 

The old man sat down opposite Harry, and stared at him, till our hero felt somewhat embarrassed and uncomfortable.