Luck and Pluck

"All right," said the latter. "It'll go to-morrow morning."

When this matter was disposed of John felt more comfortable. He had transferred the responsibility of deciding what he should do to another in whom he had great confidence, and so felt a burden removed from his own shoulders. He thought he could stand Mr. Huxter's harsh treatment for a few days. Meanwhile, with the usual elasticity of youth, he began to feel an interest in the new scenes by which he was surrounded. He had never before been so far away from home, and though Jackson was not a very attractive place, it was new, and so had a certain charm for him. About half a mile distant he saw a hill, which, though barren pasture land, would afford him a good view of the village. He determined to climb it, and look about him.

We must now return to Mr. Huxter.

Half an hour or more after John left the house he began to feel thirsty,—not that natural, healthful thirst to which we are all subject, but the artificial, craving thirst of one who has accustomed himself to the drinking of alcoholic mixtures. Thanks to the advanced payment for John's board which he had received from his sister, he was unusually well supplied with funds, and felt that he need work no more than he chose. After splitting up a little wood, therefore, he turned out of the yard, and walked towards the tavern. He went into the bar-room, and received a cordial greeting from the landlord, of whom he was a pretty steady customer.

"Good-morning, Huxter, where have you kept yourself for two or three days? You haven't been round to see me."

"I've been making a visit to my sister," said Huxter.

"Oh, that's it. I began to think you had taken the temperance pledge, and given up your old friends."

"I haven't come to that yet," said Mr. Huxter, in a tone which indicated that he considered taking the pledge a very discreditable proceeding.

"No; I thought you'd have too much sense for that. What'll you have this morning?"

"Give me a glass of something stiff. Let it be extra good, for I'm going to pay up the old score."

No doubt it was extra good, for Mr. Huxter drank it with evident enjoyment, and immediately ordered another glass. This, too, was drank, and after a little desultory conversation Mr. Huxter left the tavern.

It occurred to him that his stock of tobacco was out, and he went into the store hard by to lay in a fresh supply. While he was paying for it the clerk said:—

"You brought a boy home with you, Mr. Huxter, didn't you?"

"Yes. How'd you know?"

"I saw him on the stage, and somebody said he got off at your house. Going to stay with you?"

"Yes, I've taken charge of him."

"He seems a good sort of boy."

"When did you see him?" asked Mr. Huxter.

"This morning. He only went out from here a few minutes ago."

"Humph!" said Mr. Huxter. "Did he buy anything?"

"Only two sheets of paper and two envelopes."

A light began to dawn upon Mr. Huxter. John wanted to make trouble by writing home.

"Look here," said he; "if the boy brings in a letter you needn't send it. Keep it, and hand it to me."

The clerk looked surprised. Mr. Huxter, finding some explanation necessary, continued:—

"He's a very troublesome boy. He's almost broken his poor mother's heart,—she's my sister,—and I've agreed to take charge of him for a time. It takes a man to manage him. But it won't do for him to be writing home and making a fuss. You understand?"

"I shouldn't have thought him so troublesome. He looks very quiet."

"You can't judge from appearances," said Mr. Huxter, shaking his head. "He don't show out before folks. So, if any letters are put in directed to Hampton, just keep them, and I'll look them over. If they're proper to send, I will let them go."

"He wrote a letter here this morning."

"Did he?" asked Mr. Huxter, his eyes sparkling. "The young rascal's prompt. It's lucky I came in. He was cunning enough to write here, that I might not know anything about it. Let me see the letter."

The clerk, not doubting Mr. Huxter's authority, handed him the letter.

He broke it open hastily, and read it. It is needless to say that John's description of himself, though moderately expressed, was far from complimentary, and Mr. Huxter's heart was stirred with indignation.

"The young rascal shall pay for this," he thought.

"This letter is not fit to send," he said, aloud. "It would only make trouble. I will take charge of it. The boy needn't know but it is gone. You may take any letter he brings; but mind you don't send it till I have seen it."

"Very well," said the clerk; but he could not help pitying John, if he was to be under Mr. Huxter's guardianship. In a small village like Jackson every man's failings were a matter of general knowledge, and the estimation in which Mr. Huxter was held was not very high.

"Well, I've defeated the young rascal," thought Mr. Huxter, triumphantly, as he left the store. "He'll find it isn't so easy to outwit me. If Jane can't manage him I can, and I intend to. I reckon it'll be some time he'll have to wait for an answer to that letter."

This thought amused Mr. Huxter, so that he partly forgot his vexation at the unflattering description of himself which the letter contained. Having no further business to attend to, he went up the road towards home. The letter he put in one of the side-pockets of the loose coat which he wore. But there was a large hole in his pocket, and without Mr. Huxter's knowledge the letter slipped through. He kept on his way, not suspecting his loss.

The letter remained unnoticed in the grass by the side of the road, having been wafted there by the wind, until John, on his way home an hour and a half later, happened to catch sight of it. He went to pick it up, not suspecting what it was, and was immeasurably surprised when he found it to be the same letter he had put into the post-office two hours before. How came it there?

John was not long in guessing the truth. Mr. Huxter was determined that he should not communicate with any one in Hampton, and had recalled the letter. No doubt he had given instructions to the postmaster, which would make it impossible for John to post any letters in future in the village.

"I am very glad to know this," thought John; "I shall know better how to act."

He put the letter in his pocket, and kept on his way, determined to keep his discovery to himself. He began to see what sort of man he had to deal with.

CHAPTER XVII.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

Twelve o'clock was the dinner hour at Mr. Huxter's. John and he met once more, but the dispute between them was not renewed. John was deliberating as to what course he should pursue. Mr. Huxter was secretly exulting in having defeated John's attempt to communicate with his friends, little suspecting that John knew all about it. So on the whole he was pleasanter than usual, and allowed his young guest to eat in peace. Mrs. Huxter was glad to notice this change in his conduct, though she hardly dared to hope that it would continue.

"So you took a walk this morning, Oakley?" said Mr. Huxter.

"Yes, sir."

"Where did you go?"

"I went to the top of the hill behind the tavern."

"How do you like our village?"

"I can't tell yet. I haven't got sufficiently acquainted."

"You'll have chance enough before you get through," said Mr. Huxter, significantly.

John understood this very well; but did not see fit to show that he did so. He did not wish to provoke a quarrel.

"I am going to write to my sister this afternoon," said Mr. Huxter. "Perhaps you'd like to send a message."

"Thank you," said John; "I don't think of any message just at present."

"You wouldn't like to send your love to Ben, would you?" asked Mr. Huxter, jocosely.

"I don't think I should," said John, quietly.

"There isn't much love lost between you two, I reckon."

"We are not very good friends," said John, in the same quiet tone.

"I'm sure it's no wonder," said Mrs. Huxter; "Ben was always a troublesome, headstrong boy."

"Let me tell you, Mrs. Huxter," said her husband, sharply, "it doesn't look very well in you to run down your own relations."

Mrs. Huxter thought it prudent not to reply.

"Let me see," said Mr. Huxter, as they rose from the table, "it's Friday,—too late in the week to begin anything. You shall have till Monday morning to look about you, and then we'll see if we can't find something for you to do."

Here was a disclosure for John. He had understood that he was to board with Mr. Huxter. Now it appeared that the latter intended to set him to work. Had he any authority for doing so, and what was John's duty under the circumstances. He wished earnestly that he were able to consult Squire Selwyn without delay, and this reminded him that his letter had not yet gone. It would be useless to leave it again at the village post-office. It must go from some other. John had all the afternoon before him, and if the next town were not too far off, he determined to walk over and post his letter there. Not wishing Mr. Huxter to have any clue to his plans, he decided to obtain the necessary information, not from Mrs. Huxter, though he did not doubt her willingness to give it, but from some other person.

He went out into the road, and began to walk slowly in a direction opposite to that which he had taken in the morning. It was the stage road he knew, and was probably the most direct route to the next town.

Our hero had walked about three-quarters of a mile, when he heard a loud clattering sound behind him. Turning around, he saw a farm-wagon, driven by a boy of about his own age. It was but little past noon, and the walk which might be a long one was sure to be a hot one. As the boy-driver appeared to be alone, and there was plenty of room for another, John hailed him.

"Hallo!" he called out. "Hold on a minute."

"Whoa!" shouted the boy, and brought his horse to a stop.

"Are you going to the next village?" inquired John.

"To Milbank, you mean?"

"Yes," said John, who was not quite sure whether he meant it or not, but was willing to take the risk.

"Yes, I'm going there. Don't you want a ride?"

"That's just what I was going to ask. I'm willing to pay for it."

"I don't want any pay," said the boy; "I'd rather have company than go alone."

"How far is Milbank?"

"It's a pretty good piece,—most five miles."

John was glad he had not attempted to walk.

"You don't live round here, do you?" asked John's new acquaintance.

"No."

"I thought I hadn't seen you. Whereabouts are you stayin'?"

"At Mr. Huxter's."

"Is he a relation of yours?" asked the boy, looking at John with interest.

"No, he isn't," said John, hastily, unwilling for a moment to have it supposed that there was any such tie between him and his temporary host.

"Are you going to stay long?"

John was not surprised at these questions, for in the country, where he had always lived, it was the rule to be inquisitive about other people's affairs, and he felt that he ought to make some return for his ride.

"I don't think I shall," he said.

He would like to have replied decidedly in the negative; but he felt that he was by no means certain about the length of his stay.

"How do you like Huxter?" asked his new acquaintance, with rather a comical look.

"I've seen men I liked better," said John, smiling.

"Shouldn't wonder," said the other. "He gets awful tight sometimes."

"It is a pity," said John, "for Mrs. Huxter seems to be a good sort of a woman, and it must be hard on her."

"It would be hard for any woman to have such a husband. I don't know Mrs. Huxter much, but I never heard anything against her. I've a great mind to tell you," said the boy, looking at John to judge whether he appeared as if he might be trusted with a secret, "a trick that one or two of the fellows played on Mr. Huxter once when he was drunk. But you'll be sure not to tell?"

John, whose curiosity was somewhat excited, gave the required promise.

"You see," continued his informant, "I was walking along with George Sprague one afternoon, when we came across old Huxter lying side of the road as drunk as he could be. George is rather a wild boy, and always up to some mischief or other. That afternoon he happened to have a little red paint, which he had got at the painter's shop for his father to use. As soon as we saw old Huxter snoring away, George winked to me, and said, 'Huxter's nose is red, but I've a great mind to make it a little redder. I should like to see how the old fellow will look.' With that he took out his brush, and touched Huxter's nose with it lightly, making it as red as a brick. I was afraid he would wake up and chase us, for he's pretty violent when he's drunk; but he was too far gone, and never stirred. George took the paint home, and then we came out to see if Huxter had gone home. We found he had, and we afterwards heard how the trick came out."

"When he got home and went into the kitchen, Mrs. Huxter screamed as soon as she saw him.

"'What's the matter with you?' he growled.

"'O Mr. Huxter!' she said, clasping her hands, 'I knew that drinking would be the ruin of you.'

"'Then you're a fool,' he said. 'Drinking a little now and then don't do me any harm; but you're a woman, and have no more sense than a kitten.'

"'You don't believe me, look at your nose,' said his wife.

"'What's the matter with my nose?' asked old Huxter, a little surprised.

"'Look at it, and you won't be surprised at my words.'

"With that Huxter did look, and when he saw his nose glaring red, he was pretty well frightened, I can tell you. He had no more suspicion than his wife that any one had been playing a trick upon him, and he was afraid that his nose would always be so. He got frightened and went to bed, and then asked his wife to go for the doctor."

"Did the doctor tell him how it was?"

"No; he thought it would do him no harm to be frightened a little; so he lectured him about his habits, but told him that he thought he could cure him this time by using a warm lotion. It was nothing but warm water, with something put in to stain the water and make him think it was something else; but Huxter did not know that, and was very grateful to the doctor for relieving him.

"The fright had such an effect upon him that he didn't drink anything for a whole week. Then he began again, and got bolder by degrees, till now he's as bad as ever."

"How did you find out how the doctor treated the case?"

"Because George Sprague is the doctor's son. The doctor told all about it at home as a good joke. George heard it all, but never breathed a word to his father about his being the one that painted Huxter's nose. The doctor didn't say anything to George, but he looked at him rather queerly, as if he had some suspicion. It was a good joke,—wasn't it?"

"It would have turned out pretty well if it had stopped Mr. Huxter's drinking."

"Nothing will do that. He's a pretty hard case But you mustn't say a word about what I've been telling you. It would get George and me into trouble."

"No, I won't say anything about it."

"Where do you live?"

"In Hampton."

"Whereabouts is that? Is it far from here?"

"About eighty miles, I should think. It lies to the north."

"Is it a pleasant place?"

"I think so; but then I was born there, you know, and perhaps that is the reason I think so."

"Well, I was born in Jackson, but I don't think much of it. I guess we'll move away next spring. Father talks of selling his farm. What is your name?"

"My name is John Oakley."

"And mine is David Wallace."

The boys now felt thoroughly acquainted, and chatted together on a variety of subjects, such as interest boys. While they were in the midst of their conversation, they came to a grist-mill.

"I must stop here about ten minutes, to leave my grain," said David. "The village is a mile further on. If you'll wait I'll carry you there afterwards."

"I don't want you to go just on my account," said John.

"I am going there any way," said David. "There are better stores at Milbank than at home, and mother asked me to buy her two or three things. So you can come as well as not, and ride back too, if you don't want to stay long."

"Thank you, David," said John. "I shall be glad to accept your offer. It's rather hot walking, and I shan't want to stop but a few minutes. Shall you go anywhere near the post-office?"

"Close by."

"I'll just run in there a minute."

"Have you got anything else to do?"

"No."

"You didn't set out to walk just to go to the Milbank post-office, did you?" asked David, in some surprise.

"I had a letter to mail."

"Couldn't you mail it at our post-office?"

"Yes, I could; but it wouldn't go."

"Why not?"

"I've a great mind to tell you. You told me one secret, and I'll tell you another, but on the same condition,—you won't tell anybody?"

"I wish I may have my head chopped off if I do," said David, earnestly.

John felt sure that he could trust his new acquaintance, though they had so recently been brought to the knowledge of each other, and he wanted somebody to confide in. So he gave David Wallace a general idea of his story, not mentioning, however, the will, as he could see no advantage in so doing.

"So Huxter thinks you don't know anything of his having stopped your letter?"

"I am sure he does not."

"It's a good joke on him. He will never think of your coming so far to mail a letter."

Part of this conversation took place after they had left the mill, and were driving towards Milbank. They were soon in the village. It was a much larger and pleasanter place than Jackson, and much more important also, being the county seat, and therefore having a court-house and a jail. John looked around him with interest, and did not dream how lucky he was in taking this journey on this particular afternoon.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

"That is the court-house," said David Wallace, pointing out a brick building, surmounted by a wooden cupola.

John glanced at the building to which his attention was thus called. He had hardly done so than he started and uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"What's the matter?" demanded David.

"Won't you stop the horse?" asked John, hastily. "I want to get out."

"What for?"

"There's a man I know. I want to speak to him."

David stopped the horse, and John sprang to the ground. He hurried to the gateway of the court-house, by which a gentleman was just entering.

"Squire Selwyn!" John called out.

Mr. Selwyn, for it was indeed he, turned in surprise, and could hardly believe his eyes.

"John Oakley!" he exclaimed; "is it really you?"

"Yes, sir."

"How came you here?"

"It is a long story, sir. Can you spare me fifteen minutes? I had written you a letter, and was just about to post it," said John.

"Yes, I will spare you that time. Come into the court-house with me, and we will find a chance to sit down."

"One minute, sir, and I will be with you."

John returned to the wagon, and said to the surprised David:—

"It is the gentleman to whom I was going to post a letter. I am going in to have a talk with him. I won't trouble you to stop for me, but I can walk home. I am very much obliged to you for bringing me so far."

"How long will you be?" asked David.

"Half an hour perhaps."

"I shall be here as long as that. I will go on and do my errands, and stop here on my way back. Then, if you are through, I will take you along. You would find it warm walking."

"You're very kind, David."

"I'd rather have company than not. It makes the time go quicker. So go ahead. It's all right."

David started the horse, and John rejoined the lawyer, who had been waiting for him.

"You say you were just going to post me a letter?" said Squire Selwyn.

"Yes, sir."

"Of course you have it with you?"

"Here it is."

"I will read it. That will be the shortest way of getting at what you wish to consult me about. After I have read it, I will ask any questions that seem needful. But first we will come in."

They entered the court-house, and went into a room to the left, where they found seats. Squire Selwyn put on his spectacles, and read the letter slowly and deliberately.

"You are in a difficult position, John," he said, when he had finished reading. "You are very unpleasantly situated, I should judge."

"Very, sir."

"And this Mr. Huxter doesn't seem a very agreeable man to have dealings with?"

"I should be very unhappy if I expected to be obliged to stay with him."

"You say he is intemperate?"

"He drank several times on his way back in the stage, and the boy with whom I rode over says he has been intemperate for years."

"Certainly he is not a fit person to have charge of you. Does he know that you have come over here to-day?"

"No, sir."

"It is evidently Mrs. Oakley's intention that you you should not be allowed to communicate with me, or any of your other friends in Hampton. So, no doubt, she has instructed her brother. There must be some motive for this."

Squire Selwyn looked thoughtfully at John as he said this, perhaps with a view of drawing out John's opinion.

"I think," said John, hesitatingly, "that she is going to look for the will."

"I won't say whether I agree with you or not," said Squire Selwyn, cautiously. "It is not best to charge any one with wrong thoughts or intentions too hastily, but it is well to be prepared for what may be done to our disadvantage. Of course it is for your interest that the will should be found, provided the discovery is made public."

"Yes, sir."

"But would Mrs. Oakley make it public, if found, when it is for her interest to keep it concealed? That is an important question."

"She can do what she pleases so far as I am concerned. She has sent me away from home, where I shall know nothing that is going on."

"In one sense you are wholly in the power of your stepmother," said the lawyer; "but you will have some one to look after your interests. Your father was my friend, and you are my son's friend. I shall do what I can in your behalf."

"Thank you, sir," said John, gratefully. "I felt sure you would, and that is why I wrote to you at once."

"As soon as I return to Hampton,—and that will be to-morrow,—I will call on Mrs. Oakley, and, without letting her know how I came by the information, will set before her your present position, and demand that she pursue a different course. The result I will communicate to you. How do you wish me to direct any letter I may have occasion to write?"

"To Milbank, if you please, Squire Selwyn. If directed to Jackson, I feel sure that it would fall into Mr. Huxter's hands."

"And never reach you. Very likely you are right. Then I will direct to Milbank, and will write at once upon having my interview with Mrs. Oakley."

"Suppose Mr. Huxter ill-treats me in the mean time?" suggested John. "I think it is his intention to set me to work next week."

"Did he not say you were boarding with him?"

"That is what Mrs. Oakley said in her letter."

"Then if he is paid a full price for your board, I do not see that he has any claim upon your services. It is better, however, to avoid cause of quarrel until you hear from me."

"And if you cannot induce Mrs. Oakley to change her plans?" asked John. "You wouldn't advise me to stay with Mr. Huxter?"

"Didn't your father have a married sister?" inquired Squire Selwyn. "I think I have heard so."

"Yes, sir. Her husband kept a country store in the town of Wilton."

"That is about fifty miles to the westward. Well, though I don't in general approve of a boy's running away, it might be advisable, should your stepmother continue obstinate, and Mr. Huxter seem disposed to abuse you, to leave here, and seek out your aunt. Should you make this change, you would of course immediately communicate with me."

"Yes, sir. Thank you for the advice. I never thought of that before; but I think it is the best thing I could do."

"Have you any money, John?" asked Squire Selwyn, putting his hand into his pocket.

"Yes, sir; thank you. I have thirty dollars."

"Indeed!" said the lawyer, surprised. "Did Mrs. Oakley supply you with so much?"