2015년 2월 22일 일요일

Bound to Rise 6

Bound to Rise 6



"Why don't he say something?" thought Harry.
 
"He is a very queer old man."
 
After a while his host spoke.
 
"Do you know who I am?" he asked.
 
"No," said Harry, looking at him.
 
"You've heard of me often," pursued the old man.
 
"I didn't know it," answered Harry, beginning to feel curious.
 
"In history," added the other.
 
"In history?"
 
"Yes."
 
Harry began to look at him in increased surprise.
 
"Will you tell me your name, if it is not too much trouble," he asked,
politely.
 
"I gained the victory of New Orleans," said the old man.
 
"I thought General Jackson did that," said Harry.
 
"You're right," said the old man, complacently. "I am General Jackson."
 
"But General Jackson is dead."
 
"That's a mistake," said the old man, quietly. "That's what they say in
all the books, but it isn't true."
 
This was amusing, but it was also startling. Harry knew now that the old
man was crazy, or at least a monomaniac, and, though he seemed harmless
enough, it was of course possible that he might be dangerous. He was
almost sorry that he had sought shelter here. Better have encountered
the storm in its full fury than place himself in the power of a maniac.
The rain was now falling in thick drops, and he decided at any rate to
remain a while longer. He knew that it would not be well to dispute the
old man, and resolved to humor his delusion.
 
"You were President once, I believe?" he asked.
 
"Yes," said the old man; "and you won't tell anybody, will you?"
 
"No."
 
"I mean to be again," said the old man in a low voice, half in a
whisper. "But you mustn't say anything about it. They'd try to kill me,
if they knew it."
 
"Who would?"
 
"Mr. Henry Clay, and the rest of them."
 
"Doesn't Henry Clay want you to be President again?"
 
"Of course not. He wants to be President himself. That's why I'm hiding.
They don't any of them know where I am. You won't tell, will you?"
 
"No."
 
"You might meet Henry Clay, you know."
 
Harry smiled to himself. It didn't seem very likely that he would ever
find himself in such distinguished company, for Henry Clay was at that
time living, and a United States Senator.
 
"What made you come here, General Jackson?" he inquired.
 
The old man brightened, on being called by this name.
 
"Because it was quiet. They can't find me here."
 
"When do you expect to be President again?"
 
"Next year," said the old man. "I've got it all arranged. My friends
are to blow up the capitol, and I shall ride into Washington on a white
horse. Do you want an office?"
 
"I don't know but I should like one," said Harry, amused.
 
"I'll see what I can do for you," said the old man, seriously. "I can't
put you in my Cabinet. That's all arranged. If you would like to be
Minister to England or to France, you can go."
 
"I should like to go to France. Benjamin Franklin was Minister to
France."
 
"Do you know him?"
 
"No; but I have read his life."
 
"I'll put your name down in my book. What is it?"
 
"Harry Walton."
 
The old man went to the table, on which was a common account book. He
took a pen, and, with a serious look, made this entry:
 
"I promise to make Harry Walton Minister to France, as soon as I take my
place in the White House.
 
"GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON"
 
"It's all right now," he said.
 
"Thank you, general. You are very kind," said our hero.
 
"Were you ever a soldier?" asked his host.
 
"I never was."
 
"I thought you might have been in the battle of New Orleans. Our men
fought splendidly, sir."
 
"I have no doubt of it."
 
"You'll read all about it in history. We fought behind cotton bales. It
was glorious!"
 
"General," said Harry, "if you'll excuse me, I'll take out my supper
from this bundle."
 
"No, no," said the old man; "you must take supper with me."
 
"I wonder whether he has anything fit to eat," thought Harry. "Thank
you," he said aloud. "If you wish it."
 
The old man had arisen, and, taking a teakettle, suspended it over the
fire. A monomaniac though he was on the subject of his identity with
General Jackson, he knew how to make tea. Presently he took from the
cupboard a baker's roll and some cold meat, and when the tea was ready,
invited Harry to be seated at the table. Our hero did so willingly. He
had lost his apprehensions, perceiving that his companion's lunacy was
of a very harmless character.
 
"What if mother could see me now!" he thought.
 
Still the rain poured down. It showed no signs of slackening. He saw
that it would be necessary to remain where he was through the night.
 
"General, can you accommodate me till morning?" he asked.
 
"Certainly," said the old man. "I shall be glad to have you stay here.
Do you go to France to-morrow?"
 
"I have not received my appointment yet."
 
"True, true; but it won't be long. I will write your instructions
to-night."
 
"Very well."
 
The supper was plain enough, but it was relished by our young traveler,
whose long walk had stimulated a naturally good appetite.
 
"Eat heartily, my son," said the old man. "A long journey is before
you."
 
After the meal was over, the old man began to write.
 
Harry surmised that it was his instructions. He paid little heed, but
fixed his eyes upon the fire, listening to the rain that continued to
beat against the window panes, and began to speculate about the future.
Was he to be successful or not? He was not without solicitude, but he
felt no small measure of hope. At nine o'clock he began to feel drowsy,
and intimated as much to his host. The old man conducted him to an upper
chamber, where there was a bed upon the floor.
 
"You can sleep there," he said.
 
"Where do you sleep?" asked Harry.
 
"Down below; but I shall not go to bed till late. I must get ready your
instructions."
 
"Very well," said Harry. "Good night."
 
"Good night."
 
"I am glad he is not in the room with me," thought Harry. "I don't think
there is any danger, but it isn't comfortable to be too near a crazy
man."
 
 
 
 
 
CHAPTER XI. IN SEARCH OF WORK
 
 
When Harry awoke the next morning, after a sound and refreshing sleep,
the sun was shining brightly in at the window. He rubbed his eyes, and
stared about him, not at first remembering where he was. But almost
immediately recollection came to his aid, and he smiled as he thought
of the eccentric old man whose guest he was. He leaped out of bed, and
quickly dressing himself, went downstairs. The fire was burning, and
breakfast was already on the table. It was precisely similar to the
supper of the night previous. The old man sat at the fireside smoking a
pipe.
 
"Good morning, general," said Harry. "I am up late."
 
"It is no matter. You have a long journey before you, and it is well to
rest before starting."
 
"Where does he think I am going?" thought our hero.
 
"Breakfast is ready," said the old man, hospitably. "I can't entertain
you now as I could have done when I was President. You must come and see
me at the White House next year."
 
"I should like to."
 
Harry ate a hearty breakfast. When it was over, he rose to go.
 
"I must be going, general," he said. "Thank you for your kind
entertainment. If you would allow me to pay you."
 
"General Jackson does not keep an inn," said the old man, with dignity.
"You are his guest. I have your instructions ready."
 
He opened a drawer in the table, and took a roll of foolscap, tied with
a string.
 
"Put it in your bundle," he said. "Let no one see it. Above all, don't
let it fall into the hands of Henry Clay, or my life will be in peril."
 
Harry solemnly assured him that Henry Clay should never see it, and
shaking the old man by the hand, made his way across the fields to the
main road. Looking back from time to time, he saw the old man watching
him from his place in the doorway, his eyes shaded by his hand.
 
"He is the strangest man I ever saw," thought Harry. "Still he treated
me kindly. I should like to find out some more about him."
 
When he reached the road he saw, just in front of him, a boy of about
his own age driving half a dozen cows before him.
 
"Perhaps he can tell me something about the old man."
 
"Hello!" he cried, by way of salutation.
 
"Hello!" returned the country boy. "Where are you going?"
 
"I don't know. Wherever I can find work," answered our hero.
 
The boy laughed. "Dad finds enough for me to do. I don't have to go
after it. Haven't you got a father?"
 
"Yes."
 
"Why don't you work for him?"
 
"I want to work for pay."
 
"On a farm?"
 
"No. I'll work in a shoe shop if I get a chance or in a printing
office."
 
"Do you understand the shoe business?"
 
"No; but I can learn."
 
"Where did you come from?"
 
"Granton."
 
"You didn't come from there this morning?"
 
"No, I guess not, as it's over twenty miles. Last night I stopped at
General Jackson's."
 
The boy whistled.
 
"What, at the old crazy man's that lives down here a piece?"
 
"Yes."
 
"What made you go there?"
 
"It began, to rain, and I had no other place to go."
 
"What did he say?" asked the new boy with curiosity.
 
"Did he cut up?"
 
"Cut up? No, unless you mean the bread. He cut up that."
 
"I mean, how did he act?"
 
"All right, except when he was talking about being General Jackson."
 
"Did you sleep there?"
 
"Yes."
 
"I wouldn't."
 
"Why not?"
 
"I wouldn't sleep in a crazy man's house."
 
"He wouldn't hurt you."
 
"I don't know about that. He chases us boys often, and threatens to kill
us."
 
"You plague him, don't you?"
 
"I guess we do. We call him 'Old Crazy,' and that makes him mad. He says
Henry Clay puts us up to it--ho, ho, ho!"
 
"He thinks Clay is his enemy. He told me so."
 
"What did you say?"
 
"Oh, I didn't contradict him. I called him general. He treated me
tip-top. He is going to make me Minister of France, when he is President
again."
 
"Maybe that was the best way to get along."
 
"How long has he lived here? What made him crazy?"
 
"I don't know. Folks say he was disappointed."
 
"Did he ever see Jackson?"
 
"Yes; he fit at New Orleans under him."
 
"Has he lived long around here?"
 
"Ever since I can remember. He gets a pension, I've heard father say.
That's what keeps him."
 
Here the boy reached the pasture to which he was driving the cows,
and Harry, bidding him "good-by," went on his way. He felt fresh and
vigorous, and walked ten miles before he felt the need of rest. When
this distance was accomplished, he found himself in the center of a
good-sized village. He felt hungry, and the provision which he brought
from home was nearly gone. There was a grocery store close at hand, and
he went in, thinking that he would find something to help his meal. On
the counter he saw some rolls, and there was an open barrel of apples
not far off.
 
"What do you charge for your rolls?" he asked.
 
"Two cents."
 
"I'll take one. How do you sell your apples?"
 
"A cent apiece."
 
"I'll take two."
 
Thus for four cents Harry made quite a substantial addition to his meal.
As he left the store, and walked up the road, with the roll in his
hand, eating an apple, he called to mind Benjamin Franklin's entrance of
Philadelphia with a roll under each arm.
 
"I hope I shall have as good luck as Franklin had," he thought.
 
Walking slowly, he saw, on a small building which he I had just reached,
the sign, "Post Office."
 
"Perhaps the postmaster will know if anybody about here wants a boy,"
Harry said to himself. "At any rate, it won't do any harm to inquire."
 
He entered, finding himself in a small room, with one part partitioned
off as a repository for mail matter. He stepped up to a little window,
and presently the postmaster, an elderly man, presented himself.
 
"What name," he asked.
 
"I haven't come for a letter," said Harry.

댓글 없음: