Frank and Fearless; or, The Fortunes of Jasper Kent

Jasper approached him.

"What place is this?" he asked.

"Don't you know?" questioned the man.

"No."

"What made you stop here, then?"

Jasper hesitated. There seemed no use in taking this man into his confidence.

"I am going to take a look at the village. I suppose there is a village?"

"Well," drawled the man, "there's some houses back."

"What's the name of the place?"

"Croyden."

"How far back is the village?"

"A matter of two miles."

"Is it easy to find the way?"

"There's the road."

The station-master pointed out a road leading through woods.

"Thank you," said Jasper.

"You don't happen to have any 'baccy with you?" asked the station-master.

"No, I am sorry to say."

"I thought maybe you might. I'm most out."

Jasper took the road indicated by his informant and pressed on.

When he had walked half a mile along the lonely road he stopped suddenly and asked himself:

"What are my plans? What use is there in going to Croyden?"

It was a hard question to answer.

Still, he must go somewhere. He could not go to St. Louis without money, and there was a bare possibility that he might find something to do in Croyden. If he could earn a few dollars he could go on, and once in a large city there would be hope of permanent employment.

How different would have been his situation if he had not lost his money, and how unfortunate it was that he should have been set down at this dismal place!

He kept on, meeting no one.

Finally he came to a place where the road divided into two forks or branches, one leading to the right, the other to the left.

"Which shall I take?" he asked himself.

There seemed no choice so far as he could see. Neither was very promising, nor was there any sign-post to inform him of what he wished to know.

"I wish somebody would come along," thought Jasper.

But nobody did.

Forced to decide, he decided in favor of the left-hand road, and walked on.

After a while he began to suspect that he had made a wrong decision. The road became little more than a lane, and seemed unfrequented. But just as he was going to turn back he espied at some distance from the road a rude dwelling, which, from its weather-beaten appearance, seemed never to have been painted.

"I can find out something there, at any rate," thought Jasper, and he bent his steps toward it.

Brief time brought him in front of the house. It was certainly a quiet-looking place.

"It must be dismal to live here," thought Jasper.

He knocked with his fist at the door. On account of the smallness of the house the knock certainly must have been heard, but there was no response.

"The people must be deaf," thought Jasper.

He knocked again, this time considerably louder, and waited for some one to answer his summons.

He waited in vain.

"It must be a deserted house," thought our hero. "I have a great mind to explore it—that is, if I can get in."

He tried the door, and, a little to his surprise, it yielded to his touch. The door being in the centre of the house, there was a room on each side. The door to the left; opened into a room which was quite bare of furniture. On the other side, however, was a room containing a table and three chairs. On the table was a dirty clay-pipe and a box of tobacco, and there was a dead odor of tobacco-smoke lingering in the closely-shut room.

"That looks as if there were somebody living here," thought Jasper.

"Halloo!" he shouted, raising his voice.

He felt that it would be better to make his presence known, as otherwise he might be suspected of entering the house with burglarious designs, though it would have puzzled a burglar to find anything worth purloining.

"There can't be anybody in the house or I should have been heard," thought our hero. "However, I'll call again."

This time there was a faint sound that came to his ears. It seemed like the voice of a child.

"Where did that come from?" Jasper considered.

And he waited to hear if it would be repeated.

It was repeated, and now he could make out that it came from above.

"I'll go up," he decided.

He climbed the rude staircase, and pushed open the door of the room above the one in which he had been standing a moment before. He gazed in wonder at the spectacle before him.

A boy, five years of age, who in spite of his frightened expression possessed great personal beauty, was lying on a bed in one corner of the room. He looked at Jasper in uncertainty at first, then with confidence, and said:

"Did you come for me?"

"Do you live here?" asked Jasper, in surprise, for this boy was not at all like the children usually to be found in such houses as this.

His complexion was of dazzling whiteness, his hair was a bright chestnut, and his clothing was such as wealthy parents can afford to give to their children.

"Do you live here?" repeated Jasper.

"No," said the child.

"How came you here, then?"

"Big man—big, ugly man brought me."

"When?"

"I don't know," said the child.

He was evidently too young to measure the lapse of time.

"Was it yesterday?"

"No; long ago."

"I suppose it seems long to him," thought Jasper.

"Is there nobody else in the house?" asked Jasper.

"There's a woman," said the little boy.

"Is she the wife of the man who took you away?"

But this question the little boy did not seem to comprehend.

"Have you got a mother?" asked Jasper.

"Take me to mamma," said the little fellow, stretching out his arms, and beginning to cry. "I want to see my mamma."

Jasper advanced to the bed.

He began to understand that the boy had been kidnapped, and he felt great compassion for him.

He tried to raise the boy from the bed and take him in his arms, when he made an unexpected discovery.

The boy's ankles were firmly tied by a rope, which connected with the bedpost, so that it was impossible for him to leave the bed.

"Who did this?" asked Jasper, indignantly. "Who tied you?"

"It was the man—the big, ugly man," answered the child.

"I will soon unfasten you," said Jasper, and he set to work untying the knot.

"Will you take me home?" asked the little boy.

"Yes," said Jasper, soothingly, "I'll take you home."

But just as he had completed his task he heard steps upon the stairs. What if it were the man of whom the child spoke!

Jasper threw one arm around the child, and with his teeth set hard fixed his eyes expectantly upon the door.

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE KIDNAPPED CHILD

The woman who entered was of middle size, dressed in a cheap print, dirty and faded, which corresponded very well with her general aspect. She looked weary and worn, and moved languidly as if she had little interest in life. She looked startled at the sight of Jasper, and pressed her hand to her heart.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"A stranger," answered our hero.

"How came you here?"

"I suppose I ought to apologize for being here, but I knocked twice and got no answer. That made me think the house was deserted. I entered, and hearing a low cry, came to this room."

The woman sank into a chair near the door.

"Is this your child?" asked Jasper, in his turn.

The woman answered hesitatingly, after a pause:

"No."

"I knew he could not be. How did he come here?'

"My husband brought him here," answered the woman, with some hesitation.

"Is he any relation to you?"

"N-no."

"Is he boarding here?"

"Yes."

The woman's hesitation increased Jasper's suspicion. He said:

"I found the boy tied to the bedpost. Did you tie him?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do that?"

"I thought he might slip off while I was out I went out for some water. That is the reason I did not answer your knock."

"Madam," said Jasper, coming to the point, "you may answer me or not; but if you do, tell the truth. Was not this child stolen?"

The woman looked nervous and frightened, and moved restlessly in her chair.

"Don't blame me," she said. "It wasn't my fault."

"Whose was it, then?"

"It was my husband's."

"Then the child was stolen?"

"Yes."

"I suppose your husband kidnapped the child in order to get money from the parents for his return?"

"Yes," the woman admitted.

"How can you assist him in such wicked practices?"

"What can I do?" said the woman, helplessly. "I have spoken to him, but it does no good. He won't heed anything that I say."

Jasper began to pity the poor woman. It looked as if she were an unwilling helper in her husband's crimes.

"Do you know where your husband got this boy from?" he asked.

"No; he didn't tell me."

"Is this the first child he has kidnapped?"

"I ought not to speak against my husband," said the woman, uneasily, appearing to think that she had already told too much.

"Yes, you ought. Otherwise you will be as bad as he."

"He will beat me."

"Does he ever do that?" asked Jasper, compassionately.

"He is very rough sometimes," said the wife, shrinking.

"I am sorry for you," said Jasper, gently. "Where is your husband now?"

"He went out this morning. Perhaps he is hunting. He never tells me where he is going."

"When do you expect him back?"

"I can't tell. He may be here in five minutes; he may not be here before night."

"In that case," thought Jasper, "I had better be off as soon as possible. I should be no match for this brute in human form. Judging from what I have heard of him, he would kill me without scruple if he thought I were interfering with his plans."

"How long has this child been here?" he asked.

"Three or four days."

"I am going to take him away," proceeded Jasper, fixing his eyes earnestly upon the woman, to see how she took the proposal.

"No, no!" she exclaimed, quickly. "My husband won't allow it."

"He won't know it."

"It won't do," she continued, rapidly. "He would kill you if he overtook you."

This was a serious consideration, truly. Jasper had no weapons, and a boy of his age would have been a poor match for a strong man, as the kidnapper probably was.

"After all, I had better not interfere," he thought. "It can do no good, and will only expose me to great danger."

But just at this instant the little boy's soft hand slid into his, and he could not resist the touching appeal for his protection.

"I shall take the risk," he said. "I can't leave the boy here. I will try to find his parents and restore him to them."

He had scarcely said this when the woman, who had casually glanced out of the window, started up in alarm, exclaiming:

"There is my husband coming! Oh, what shall we do?"

CHAPTER XIX.

A BRUTE IN HUMAN SHAPE

Jasper could not help feeling that he was in rather a critical position. A man whose business it was to kidnap young children in order to extort money from their friends was not likely to be very scrupulous, and the fear of having his secret divulged might lead him to extreme measures.

"Is your husband likely to come up here?" he asked.

"I don't know; he may," answered the woman, anxiously.

"Can't you hide me?" suggested Jasper.

"Yes, yes," she said, recovering something of her presence of mind. "There, get into that closet. I'll come and let you out when he is gone."

She opened the door of a closet in one corner of the room. It was quite dark inside, and except a stool, it was entirely empty.

"Sit down there," said the woman. "I must go down now."

She buttoned the door, and our hero found himself a close prisoner in the dark. It certainly gave him a peculiar sensation. Only a week before he had been at his Eastern home. Now he was more than a thousand miles away, penniless, and a prisoner. But though he was peculiarly situated, he was not discouraged. In fact, with a brave boy's love of adventure, he felt a certain exhilaration and wondered what was coming next. His courage and enterprise rose with the occasion, and he began to consider what course he should take after he got out.

While he is sitting in the closet in dark captivity, we will go below and make acquaintance with the man whose arrival had produced so great a sensation.

Before going down, the woman said to the child:

"Don't tell anybody about the boy in the closet."

"No, I won't," said the child, obediently.

The woman hurried down stairs, but her husband was already waiting for her.

He was a black-browed ruffian, with a rough beard of a week's growth. He threw himself sullenly into a chair and growled:

"Where were you? You're always out of the way when I come home."

"I just went up stairs a minute, Dick," she answered.

"To see the brat, I suppose."

"Yes."

"I've a great mind to knock him on the head."

"Oh, Dick, you wouldn't injure the little innocent," she said, earnestly.

"Wouldn't I? I would if I was paid enough, but there's nothing to be made by killing him."

"Thank heaven!" uttered the woman, fervently.

"You haven't got the heart of a chicken!" said the man, contemptuously. "Give me something to eat. I'm hungry."

The woman began to bustle around in obedience to his command.

"I haven't got much in the house, Dick," she said, apologetically.

"What have you got?" he growled.

"Some eggs and a little bacon. Shall I make you some tea?"

"No; bring out the whisky."

"There's none left, Dick."

The man uttered an oath expressive of disappointment.

"Well, give me some slops, then," he said. "I must have something to drink."

"Didn't you shoot anything?" she ventured to ask.

"I haven't been hunting."

"I thought you took out your gun."

"What if I did? I don't always hunt when I take my gun. I expected to hear from the friends of that brat this morning, but I didn't. They must hurry up with their money if they don't want me to strangle him."

"Perhaps they didn't get your letter, Dick."

"Yes, they did. I took care of that. I s'pose they're hatching up some plot to have me arrested. If they do, it'll be a bad day for the brat."

He looked fierce and brutal enough to execute the dark threat at which he indirectly hinted. There was a cruel look in his eye which showed that he would have had small scruples about injuring an innocent child, if provoked by the desire for revenge.

While his wife was cooking the eggs he filled his pipe and began to smoke. She made all the haste she could, knowing that her husband was far from patient. Soon the frugal repast was ready. She set it on the table, and said:

"It's all ready, Dick. Better eat it while it's hot."

"I'll eat it when I choose," he growled, in his usual spirit of contradiction.

However, he was hungry, and laying aside his pipe, did as she requested. Soon he had dispatched all the food set before him.

"There isn't enough to keep a kitten from starving," he said.

"I'm sorry, Dick."

"Much you are sorry," he growled. "A pretty wife you are."

"I wish there were more. If you'll give me some money I'll go out and buy something."

"Money!" he snarled. "You're always wanting money. Do you think I am made of money?"

"No, Dick; but you know I have none. I wish I knew of any way to earn it."

"You do?"

"Yes, Dick."

"Then I suppose you'd be leaving me," he said, suspiciously.

"No, I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't, Dick."

"So you say," he answered, brutally, "How's the brat? Has it been crying?"

"No; it is a very good child."

"I'll go up and take a look at it."

He arose from his seat, and advanced toward the door.

His wife followed him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, turning upon her.

"I'm going up, too," she answered, meekly.

"What for? Can't you trust me with the brat?"

"Yes, Dick, but it isn't much used to you. You might frighten it, and make it cry."

"That's all right," he answered, smiling grimly. "I like to hear children cry."

"How can you enjoy the sufferings of a child?"

"Halloo! What's that?" he said, looking sharply at her. "You dare to find fault with me, do you?"

"I didn't mean that, Dick," she said, submissively.

"It's lucky you didn't," he said, warningly. "I don't allow none of that, wife or no wife."

"May I go up?"

"If you want to."

So the two went up stairs together.

The wife was nervous lest the child in some way might excite the suspicions of her husband and betray the presence of Jasper. She felt, therefore, very ill at ease.

The child was sitting up in bed.

"Halloo, young 'un, how yer gettin' along?" asked the man, roughly.

The child did not answer, but looked frightened.

"Why don't you answer?" demanded the man, frowning.

The child looked toward the woman, and seemed on the point of crying.

"Can't you say something to the gentleman?" said the woman, soothingly.

Thus adjured, the little boy said:

"Won't you take me to my mamma?"

"Oh, yes, I'll take you as soon as your mamma sends me some money," said the man named Dick, "and she'd better do it pretty soon, too," he muttered.

He threw himself into a chair, and ceased to notice the child.

"Do you know, old woman," he said in a different tone, "I've heard news that'll rather take you by suprise?"

"I hope it is good news," said his wife, anxiously.

"Well, that's as may be," he answered. "It ought to be good news for us, but there's no saying. You know my sister?"

"Mrs. Thorne?"

"Yes. Well, she's had a stroke of luck."

"How was that?"

"Well, you see she went as governess into a family. The man was rich and an invalid—a widower, too. What does she do but get him to marry her?"

"She has been fortunate."

"That isn't all of it. She hadn't been married but two or three months when her husband died, leaving her a third of his property and guardian to his son, who inherits the rest. So she's a rich woman. I say she ought to do something for her brother Dick. Don't you say so?"

"I think she would be willing," said the wife.

"She ought to be, but she's selfish. She always was. If only I had the money I'd go East, and see what I could get out of her."

"You'd take me with you, Dick?"

"No, I wouldn't. It'll be all I can do to raise money enough to pay my own expenses, let alone yours. If I get anything I'll come back, and you'll get your share. That's why I want the parents of that brat to fork over the cash pretty quick."

"How did you learn the news about your sister, Dick?"

"An old pal of mine has just come from that way and told me all about it."

Every word of this dialogue was beard by Jasper in his place of concealment. He was astonished beyond measure to learn that this ruffian was the brother of his step-mother.

"No wonder I don't like her," he thought, "if they have any traits in common. What a fate, for my kind and gentle father to marry the sister of such a man!"

"I'm glad of it," said his wife.

"Well, so am I, if she'll do the right thing by me; but if she don't, then I'm sorry."

"What shall I do when you're away, Dick?"

"Get along as well as you can. Folks'll give you victuals, if you get hard up."

"I don't like to beg."

"Wish me good luck, then, and money enough to take care of you. What are you starin' at, young 'un?"

This he said to the child, whose eyes, as if by a species of fascination, were fixed upon him.

"Take me home to mamma!" pleaded the child, beginning to cry.

"Shut up!" said the ruffian, harshly, striding to the bed and pinching the boy's arm till he cried with the pain.

"Oh, don't, Dick," pleaded the woman, who was fond of children, though she had never been a mother.

"I'll give the brat something to cry for," said her husband, and he pinched him again.

"Oh, Dick, how can you torture the poor child?" said his wife, braver in the little boy's defence than in her own.

"What business has it to cry, then? I'd like to choke it. If you don't hush I'll serve you the same way."

Jasper had listened to this brutality as long as he could, but his indignation became too hot to be repressed. Thoughtless of consequences, he burst open the closet door and strode into the presence of the astonished ruffian, his fists involuntarily clenched, and his eyes kindling with indignation.

CHAPTER XX.

A STRANGE COMMISSION

The man whom we have called Dick stopped short and gazed in astonishment at the boy who had so fearlessly stepped upon the scene.

"Where did you come from?" he demanded, frowning.

"From that closet," answered Jasper.

"How came you there? What business have you in my house, anyway?" demanded the ruffian.

"I entered it supposing it to be deserted," said Jasper. "While I was below I heard that poor boy cry, and came up."

"Did you know he was here?" asked the ruffian, turning to his wife, and speaking menacingly.

"Yes, Dick."

"Why did you let him in?"

"He came in while I was out."

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

"Because I didn't want him injured in any way. I was afraid you would be angry with him."

"That is where you are right," said Dick, adding an oath. "The young scoundrel shall pay for his impudence in entering my house like a thief."

"You have no right to say that," said Jasper. "I have explained to you why I came here."

"You hid in the closet, intending to come out and steal when we were out of the way."

"What could I steal?" asked Jasper, looking around him.

"Do you mean to taunt me with my poverty?" exclaimed the ruffian, enraged.

"No; I am poorer than you."

"You look like it."

"It is true. I was robbed in the cars by a pickpocket, and because I was penniless and could not pay my fare I was put off at this station."

"Is this true?" demanded Dick, with a searching look.

"Yes; I wish it were not."

"How came you near this house?"

"I set out to walk to the village, and must have lost my way."

"Why did you come out of that closet?" was the next demand.

"Because I heard you abusing that little boy," said Jasper, fearlessly.

"I have a right to do what I please to my own child."

"It isn't your child."

"What do you mean by that, you impudent young jackanapes?"

Unobserved by her husband, the wife made a warning sign to Jasper not to provoke the man, whose evil passion she so well knew.

Jasper comprehended the sign, but it did not influence him. Frank and fearless by temperament, he thought it his duty to stand between the little boy and this ruffian's brutality. Still he appreciated the woman's kindness, and resolved to bear it in mind. Indeed, he saw that she was rather to be pitied than blamed. Her natural instincts were good, but she was under the control of a bad man.

"I heard what you were saying," said Jasper.

"You heard?"

"Yes, while I was in the closet."

"What did you hear, you young scoundrel?" demanded the ruffian.

"Enough to satisfy me that you have stolen this boy from his parents."

"It's a lie!"

"No; it is the truth. I felt sure of it before, and now I know it. You took him in order to extort money from his friends."

"Well," said the ruffian, defiantly, "what if I did? Have you anything to say against it?"

"Yes," said Jasper.

"I shall have to wring your neck by and by," muttered Dick. "Well, go on. Spit out what you've got to say."

"I say it's a cruel wrong to the parents," said Jasper, boldly, "and to the child also. But you make it worse when you try to abuse the boy."

"Come, boy, if you care so much for the brat, suppose you take his place, and take the beating I was going to give him," suggested the ruffian, mockingly.

"I would rather suffer than have him suffer," said Jasper, quietly; "but perhaps you will change your mind when you hear what I have to say."

"Oh, you are going to beg off!" sneered the ruffian, with a look of satisfaction. "I thought you'd come to your senses."

"You are mistaken as to my intention. I want to speak to you about your sister—formerly Mrs. Thorne."

"What do you know about her?" asked the man, in extreme astonishment.

"A good deal. She is my step-mother."