Luck and Pluck 47
"He's gone,--the young rascal has escaped."
"Escaped?" repeated Mrs. Huxter, bewildered, for she could not conceive
how John could escape from a third-story room when the door was bolted.
"Ha, are you there?" demanded her husband. "What do you know of this?"
he asked, suspiciously.
"Nothing at all," said Mrs. Huxter. "I don't see how he could have got
away."
"You'll see plain enough if you come upstairs," said her husband. "He
got out of the window."
"Jumped out?" gasped Mrs. Huxter.
"Slid down by the bed-cord, you fool!" said her husband, who was too
angry to be polite.
"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Huxter, in a tone indicating her surprise.
"Did you advise him to run away?" asked Mr. Huxter.
"Of course not."
"And did you know nothing of his going? Didn't he tell you?" he asked,
suspiciously.
"Not a word. But I'm glad he's gone,--I really am."
"You're glad we've lost six dollars a week, are you?" growled her
husband. "You'd like to see us starvin', I suppose. But you needn't
be in such a hurry to be glad. I'll have him back yet, and then if
he doesn't get the tallest kind of a flogging, that'll sicken him of
running away forever, my name is not Huxter."
"You'd better let him go, husband. Don't go after him."
"You'll oblige me by minding your business, Mrs. Huxter. I shall go
after him, as soon as I have eaten breakfast."
Meanwhile John, feeling very hungry, as was stated at the close of the
last chapter, determined to get a breakfast at the first inn on the
road. He had only to walk a mile further, when he came to a country
inn, with its long piazza, and stable-yard alongside. It had a
comfortable look, suggestive of good old-fashioned hospitality.
John walked through the front entrance, chancing to meet the landlord.
"Can I have some breakfast?" he asked.
"Are you travelling alone?" asked the landlord, who was a Yankee.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, I guess we can give you some. What would you like?"
"I should like some beefsteak and a couple of eggs."
"Coffee or tea?"
"Coffee."
"Very well."
"How soon will it be ready, sir? I've taken a long walk, and am very
hungry."
"You won't have to wait long. Here, Betty, just get up some breakfast
for this young man. Beefsteak, boiled eggs, and coffee. As quick as you
can."
In twenty minutes John was told that breakfast was ready. He was shown
into rather a cheerless dining-room, but the meat emitted a savory
odor, and he enjoyed the meal better, it seemed to him, than ever
before in his life. He rose from the table at length with a sigh of
enjoyment. Going into the office he called for his bill.
"Fifty cents," said the landlord.
John produced a two-dollar bill, and the change was returned to him.
"Not going to stay with us?" said the landlord, interrogatively.
"No," said John; "I've got to travel further."
"Where may you have come from?"
"From Jackson this morning," said John.
"Did you walk? It's a pretty long stretch,--hard upon ten miles."
"I rode part of the way."
"And where are you bound?"
John was beginning to tire of this persistent questioning, and would
have declined answering, but that he feared this would excite suspicion.
"I am going to Redport," he answered.
Redport, as he had ascertained, was the next town on the route. He
did not think it necessary to mention that he was going considerably
further.
"Redport!" repeated the landlord.
"Yes. How far is it?"
"It's a matter of six miles. Are you going to walk?"
"Yes, unless I find somebody that's going that way."
"I'm going over myself this afternoon. If you'll wait till that time
you may go with me."
"Thank you," said John; "but I don't think I will wait. I've got pretty
good legs, and I shan't mind the walk."
"You can get over in two hours easy. Ever been that way before?"
"No."
"Well, it's a straight road. You can't miss it."
John left the landlord's presence with a feeling of relief. He had
declined his offer for two reasons: partly because he did not want to
wait till afternoon, but principally because the landlord would be sure
to ask where he intended to stop in Redport, which would of course
embarrass him.
John waited about half an hour, as he did not wish to walk immediately
after a hearty meal. Then, having cut a stick from a tree by the
roadside, he went on his way.
Twenty minutes after his departure, Mr. Huxter rode up to the inn which
he had just left. That gentleman had procured a fast horse from the
stable, for the pursuit of the runaway. It was rather extravagant, to
be sure; but then Mr. Huxter felt that he must have John back at all
hazards. He could not afford to let a boy escape who paid him three
hundred dollars a year, besides the work he intended to get out of him.
Then again, he thought, by proper representations, he could induce his
sister to pay all the expenses attending John's capture.
"It's only fair," he thought, "that Jane should pay for the team, if I
give my time."
So Mr. Huxter sped along the road at a rapid rate. He had taken the
right road by chance, and having met a boy who had met John and
described his appearance accurately, he had the satisfaction of knowing
that he was on the track of the fugitive.
Arriving at the tavern, it occurred to him that John might have stopped
to rest, if nothing more. He accordingly descended hastily from the
carriage, and accosted the landlord, whom he knew slightly.
"Good-morning, Mr. Jones."
"Good-morning, Mr. Huxter. Going to stop with us?"
"I can't stop now. Have you seen anything of a boy of about fifteen,
rather stout built, who must have passed this way lately?"
"Blue suit?" interrogated the landlord.
"Yes; have you seen him?"
"You don't mean to say you're after him?"
"Yes, I do. But have you seen him?"
"Yes, he took breakfast here only an hour ago. Son of yours?"
"No, he was my nephew."
"Run away, hey?"
"Yes; he's been acting badly, and I suppose he thought I was going to
punish him; so the young rascal took to his heels."
"Sho! you don't say so! He paid for his breakfast all right."
"You can judge how he came by his money," said Mr. Huxter.
"You don't say so! Well, he is a bad case," said the landlord, who
concluded, as it was intended he should, that John had stolen the
money. "Well, he don't look like it."
"Oh, he's a deep young rascal!" said Mr. Huxter. "You'd think butter
wouldn't melt in his mouth; but he's a regular scamp. Which road did he
take?"
"He said he was going to Redport."
"What time did he start?"
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