Julian Mortimer

“A’most a hundred dollars!” he repeated for the twentieth time. “Don’t it beat all the world how that boy could make more money than the hul of us put together? An’ ye say that he’s got a bundle of mink skins as big as ye can shoulder that he stole outen the crib whar ye had hid ’em? They’ll bring him forty or fifty dollars more, consarn it all. Why didn’t ye tell me about the money an’ the furs the fust thing when ye brought ’em home, like ye had oughter done? I’m goin’ to foller him to-morrow on hossback. If I don’t ketch him I shall owe ye two lickins, an’ if they ain’t sich as ye’ll remember the longest day ye live, I’m a Dutchman.”

Jack and his boys walked slowly along the path that led from the store-house to the clearing, and as soon as they were out of sight in the darkness, Julian arose from his log and followed after them. He kept within hearing of their voices all the while, and when they reached the clearing he stood at the fence which inclosed the stable-yard, and saw them enter the house.

As soon as they had disappeared, he ran back to the place where he had left his rifle and furs, which, as he had taken particular pains to mark the locality, he was not long in finding. The rifle he slung over his shoulder, and the furs, together with the box containing his money, he concealed in a hollow log.

This being done, he once more bent his steps toward the clearing, resolved to make another attempt to secure his horse. The animal, which was still running restlessly about the yard with the saddle and bridle on, positively refused to permit himself to be captured, and Julian finally went toward one of the cribs, intending to try the persuasive effects of an ear of corn. As he drew near the door he stopped, almost certain that he saw the figure of a man standing in the shadow of the crib. A moment later he knew that his eyes had not deceived him, for the man, finding himself discovered, came out in plain sight and walked rapidly toward him. It was Mr. Mortimer.

“I knew you would never go away and leave your horse,” said he, in a tone of triumph. “I have been watching for you for the last half-hour. I have a legal right to control your actions, my boy, and you will save yourself some trouble by – Julian, stop! What do you mean?”

The stranger lost his commanding, threatening air in an instant, and coming to a sudden halt, raised both his hands before his face, and turned away his head as if he had seen something frightful. The change was brought about by an action on the part of Julian who, believing that the man was near enough to him to prevent any attempt at escape, cocked his rifle and leveled it full at Mr. Mortimer’s breast. He acted on his first impulse. Had he taken a second thought he would probably have made no move of this kind, for he knew that the weapon was empty. But Mr. Mortimer did not, and he stopped and backed away from the boy with much greater haste than he had used in approaching him.

“What do you mean, you young outlaw?” repeated the man, his voice trembling in spite of all his efforts to control it.

“I mean that I am not going to allow myself to be taken on board a flatboat and pushed overboard,” replied Julian, calmly; and seeing that the empty rifle proved so valuable an assistant, he resolutely kept it pointed toward the stranger’s breast.

“Turn that weapon away!” cried Mr. Mortimer, after shifting his position a dozen times to get out of range of the deadly muzzle. “I will have you arrested the first thing in the morning.”

“Very good,” answered Julian. “Then perhaps you will be called upon to show by what authority you took me away from my home and brought me here, and why you want me drowned in the river.”

“I am your guardian, I tell you.”

“I suppose I am at liberty to do as I please about believing that, am I not? But admitting that you are, it does not give you the right to abuse me, does it? Who made you my guardian?”

Before Mr. Mortimer could answer this question the door of the cabin opened, and Jack Bowles appeared on the threshold, and stood looking out into the darkness. Julian’s guardian, if such he was, was about to call out to him, but checked the words that arose to his lips when he saw the muzzle of the rifle looking straight into his face.

“Don’t speak above your breath,” said the boy, in low, earnest tones. “I have just one more word to say to you, and then I am off. I suppose you think I am the only one about here who has enemies, do you not? Well, you are mistaken. Your life is in danger, if you only knew it.”

“My life!” repeated Mr. Mortimer, as soon as he could speak. “From whom?”

“Jack Bowles. He is bound to have money, and he don’t care how he gets it. As he and his boys have failed in their attempts to rob me, and since he is likely to lose what you offered to pay him if he would accompany you to New Orleans, he has determined to rob you to-night. I heard him say so. If you go to sleep you will never see the sun rise again. This is one act of kindness I have been able to do you in return for the evil you have done me. Good night.”

“Mr. Mortimer, be that you a standin’ out thar by the corn-crib?” shouted Jack Bowles.

The gentleman heard the question, but he was thinking too busily about something else to reply. He stood motionless, watching Julian as he sped swiftly through the stable-yard, and when he leaped the fence and ran along the path that led toward the woods, Mr. Mortimer slowly and reluctantly returned to the cabin.

“Wasn’t thar nobody out thar with ye?” demanded Jack.

“Yes,” was the scarcely audible reply; “Julian was there, but I could not detain him, for he had a loaded rifle in his hands.”

“Why didn’t ye holler?” asked Jack fiercely. “I’ve got a rifle, I reckon.”

“Would you call for help if you saw a weapon pointed straight at your breast?”

Jack made no answer. He stepped aside to allow his guest to pass, and Mr. Mortimer entered and took his seat on one of the nail-kegs. He glanced at his host, and saw that there was something about his person that he had not before noticed. It was a broad leather belt, from which protruded the buck-horn handle of a bowie-knife. Mr. Mortimer shuddered as he looked at it, and wished himself away in the woods with Julian.

CHAPTER X

JULIAN HAS A VISITOR

IF WE were interested in the fortunes of Mr. Mortimer, we might put in an interesting chapter here by relating the various incidents that transpired in the cabin during the night; but as we have nothing to do with his personal adventures only in so far as they are connected with Julian’s, it will be enough to say that it was a night of terror for him, and one that he never forgot; that, declining the pressing invitation his host extended to him to occupy the bed which Mrs. Bowles had arranged for his especial benefit, the guest took his seat in the corner in which the billets of wood for the fire-place were piled, and folding his arms and leaning his head against the wall, watched Jack as closely as ever a cat watched a mouse; that Jack, seeing that the gentleman’s suspicions had been aroused in some mysterious manner, fumed inwardly, but believing that time and patience would accomplish wonders, settled back on his nail-keg to wait until his guest, overcome by weariness and want of sleep, should be compelled to seek repose; that, as the night wore on, and Mr. Mortimer never once changed his position or showed the least sign of drowsiness, Jack began to grow uneasy, and sat fingering the handle of his knife, and occasionally running his eyes over the gentleman’s person from head to foot, as if mentally calculating the chances of a successful encounter with him; that finally, resolved on trying strategy, Jack threw himself upon the bed, and after snoring lustily for half an hour, suddenly opened his eyes, which had never once been closed in sleep, only to find Mr. Mortimer as watchful and seated as near the billets of wood as ever; that then Jack’s patience was all exhausted, and he snored in earnest, but the visitor never moved until daylight began to stream in through the half-open door.

No one, to have heard the hearty good-morning Jack wished his guest as soon as he opened his eyes, would have believed that he had ever had designs upon his life. Neither of them alluded to the matter in any way, but Bowles noticed that his guest was always on the alert.

About 10 o’clock in the forenoon a flatboat might have been seen moored in front of the cabin. On the shore stood a party of three men, one of whom was Jack Bowles, another Mr. Mortimer, and the third the captain of the boat – a gentleman who looked enough like Jack to be his brother. After saying this it is scarcely necessary to add that he carried the face of a villain.

A fourth man was pacing the bank a short distance from the party mentioned, watching all their movements, listening eagerly to the few words of their conversation that now and then caught his ear, and noticing with some nervousness, which showed itself in the frequent changing of his hands from the arm-holes of his vest to the pockets of his coat, that they were looking at him rather suspiciously.

This gentleman, whoever he was, had evidently bestowed considerable pains upon his toilet; and the dignified manner in which he bore himself, as well as the satisfied and admiring glances which he occasionally cast down at his dress, indicated that he had a high opinion of himself and his personal appearance.

His garments were all of the finest broadcloth; but as some of them had been made for larger, and others for smaller men than himself, they fitted him oddly enough. His trowsers being too long, were rolled up around the tops of a pair of heavy cowhide boots; and his coat-sleeves being too short, revealed arms that were as brown and muscular as those of a blacksmith. A heavy watch-chain hung across his vest, and the fingers of both his hands were ornamented with enormous seal rings. But little could be seen of his face, for it was almost entirely concealed by thick, bushy whiskers, and by a large red handkerchief, which was passed under his chin and tied over his head.

“Who is he?” asked Mr. Mortimer, who became unaccountably nervous and excited the instant his eyes rested on the stranger.

“He gave no name,” replied the captain of the flatboat. “He came aboard of us shortly after you left yesterday, and engaged passage for New Orleans. He is going to the West Indies for his health.”

“For his health!” echoed Mr. Mortimer.

He turned and looked at the stranger again, taking in at a glance his powerful shoulders, which, like those of Tom Hood’s coachman, were much “too broad to be conceived by any narrow mind,” his quick, elastic step, ruddy face, and brawny hands and arms, and asked himself if a finer specimen of robust health could be found anywhere.

“I know that man in spite of his disguise,” said he, at length, “and I know what brought him here. He must not be allowed to accompany us, captain. I will give you double his fare if you will order him to stay ashore.”

“It is too late,” replied the skipper. “He has paid his passage, and I charged him a good round sum too.”

“Well, return it to him, and tell him that as your cabin is to be occupied by a dangerous lunatic and his keepers you cannot accommodate him.”

“I will talk to him, but I don’t know how much good it will do. He is very impatient to start down the river, and, what appears strange to me, he is anxious to go in my boat.”

“It isn’t at all strange to me. His name is Sanders, and he was sent out here to watch me, and by my cousin.”

Mr. Mortimer, who in his excitement had spoken a little too hastily, suddenly checked himself and looked savagely at the man whom he had called Sanders. The latter, observing his close scrutiny, pulled his handkerchief closer about his face and shifted his hands from his pockets to the arm-holes of his vest.

“Speaking of this crazy boy,” said the captain, “reminds me that you have not yet told me when you will be ready to start with him. I have engaged to deliver my cargo of hoop-poles by a certain time, and I can wait for you but a few hours longer. You say that the boy has taken it into his head that he is rich, that he has friends living out West, and that he has escaped and concealed himself in the woods?”

“Yes,” replied Jack. “He got away from us last night. Me an’ Mr. Mortimer were jest goin’ to start after him on hossback when yer boat come in sight. We’ll have him here afore sundown if thar’s men enough in the county to hold him. Mebbe this feller has heerd of him. I’ll ask him.”

The person referred to was a settler, who was just returning from The Corners, and who at that moment galloped up on his horse. He stopped when he saw Jack preparing to speak to him, and in reply to his question if he had seen or heard of Julian, said:

“Yes; I saw him at The Corners not more than two hours ago. He traded off $45 worth of mink skins and bought some powder and lead. He said that he had made a camp on the bluffs over on Beaver Creek, and that he was going to stay there a day or two. Anything the matter with him?”

“He’s gone clean outen his head, that’s all,” replied Jack.

“Crazy?” cried the settler.

“Sartin. He stole a’most a hundred dollars of me last night an’ run away. He wouldn’t a done that if he’d been in his right mind, would he?”

Jack, having gained all the information he desired, gave Mr. Mortimer a significant look, and the two walked rapidly toward the cabin, at the door of which their horses were standing, saddled and bridled, and springing upon their backs rode off across the clearing.

“Did I do right in sayin’ what I did about Julian?” asked Jack, as soon as he and his companion were out of hearing of the men on the bank.

“Perfectly. I want everybody who is likely to meet him to know that he is not in his right mind. You see, when we take him on board the flatboat he may tell the captain or the crew that we are his enemies, and that he knows we intend to do him some injury; but as we have already told them that he is crazy they will pay no attention to what he says. Don’t you understand?”

“In course. But ye hain’t changed yer plans, have ye? Ye hain’t a-goin’ to put him in a ’sylum, be ye?”

“I never had any such intention. If he falls overboard you shall have $200; but, of course, that is a matter that we keep to ourselves.”

“I know jest what ye mean. Folks will think that we take Julian on board the flatboat to carry him to Orleans; but we don’t. We take him thar so as to drop him into the river, an’ get him outen yer way. Make yer mind easy. Them two hundred is mine.”

The settler, who was very much astonished at what Jack had told him, and had half a mind to join in the pursuit, watched him and his companion until they were out of sight, and then continued his ride; but he had not gone far when when he was stopped by the odd-looking man in broadcloth.

“Stranger,” said the latter, in regular backwoods vernacular, “whar is this yere Beaver Creek you was a speakin’ of?”

“I don’t know that I could direct you so that you could find it,” was the reply.

“Who said I wanted to find it?” inquired the man. “I only axes you which way it is from here, an’ how fur?”

“Well,” returned the settler, facing about in his saddle, shutting one eye and gazing at the woods through the half-closed lids of the other; “it’s four miles right north of here if you go through the timber, and eight miles if you go by the road.”

The man in broadcloth walked off at once, and without stopping to thank the settler for his information. As long as he remained within sight of the cabin and flatboat he was very deliberate in his movements; but the instant the woods concealed him from view, he broke into a rapid run, threading his way through the thick bushes with a celerity that was surprising. Up hill and down he went, never once slackening his pace or deviating from the course the settler had given him, until at last he saw a thin cloud of smoke arising through the trees in front of him, and after climbing a precipitous cliff, found himself standing face to face with Julian Mortimer.

The boy, who being busy with his preparations for dinner, had not heard the sound of his footsteps until he reached the top of the bluff, jumped up with his gun in his hand, ready to fight or run, as occasion might require. His first thought was that his enemies had tracked him to his hiding-place; but finding that his visitor was a stranger, and that he appeared to have no hostile intentions, he leaned on the muzzle of his rifle and waited for him to make known his business.

The man, whose breath was not even quickened by his long and rapid run, gazed about him with an air of interest. He looked at the brush shanty which Julian had erected to protect him from the weather, at the comfortable bed of blankets and leaves which was arranged under the sheltering roof, at the squirrels broiling before the fire, and then his eyes wandered to our hero, at whom he gazed long and earnestly. The boy did not look much now as he did when he escaped from Jack Bowles’ cabin, for he was dressed in a suit of new and comfortable clothes, and sported a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of high-top boots.

“Julian,” exclaimed the stranger, at length. “It’s you sure enough, hain’t it? I hain’t seed you fur more’n eight year, but I would know you any whar.”

“Would you?” asked Julian, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his arm and resting his thumb on the hammer; “then have the goodness to leave here at once. I am suspicious of every stranger who calls me by name.”

“An’ well you may be,” replied the man, earnestly, “‘cause most of ’em are enemies to you. But I hain’t. I’m a friend, an’ I can prove it. Do you know that Dick Mortimer an’ Jack Bowles are huntin’ the country over to find you?”

“Yes; but I wasn’t aware Mr. Mortimer’s name is Dick.”

“Wal, it is. The flatboat’s come, an’ when they ketch you they’re goin’ to take you to Orleans an’ lock you up fur a crazy boy.”

“Why, they said last night that they were going to push me overboard and drown me,” said Julian, as soon as he could speak.

“Mebbe they be. I don’t know what they are goin’ to do – I’m only tellin’ you what I heerd ’em say.”

“Who are you, any how; and how does it come that you know my name?”

“Why, boy, I’ve knowed you ever since you was knee high to a duck, an’ your father afore you.”

“You have?” cried Julian, greatly amazed.

“In course. An’ your mother an’ your brother, too. They live out in the mountains, an’ I come to take you to ’em. They’ll be monstrous glad to see you, an’ they’re waitin’ fur you.”

“Are they all alive?”

“The last blessed one of ’em.”

“I remember my father,” said Julian, gazing thoughtfully at the ground, “and it seems to me that I have some recollection of my brother; but I never knew anything about my mother. What brought you here?”

“I come to your camp to tell you that Bowles and Mortimer are comin’ arter you on hossback, an’ that if you want to save yourself you had better dig out. An’ I come to Missouri ’cause your friends sent me here arter you. I know the hul lot of ’em, I tell you, an’ if you will trust yourself to me I will take you to ’em safe an’ sound.”

Julian, astounded and bewildered by this proposition, dropped the butt of his rifle to the ground, and looked sharply at the man, as if he meant to read his very thoughts. Was he really the friend he professed to be? Of one thing the boy was certain – and that was that he was not an ally of Mr. Mortimer. If he had been he would not have warned him that another attempt was about to be made to capture him.

How gladly would he have given himself up to the man’s guidance if he had only been sure that he was trustworthy! He would have followed him all over the world, and braved all imaginable dangers, if he knew that by so doing he would be restored to his home once more. Home! How the word thrilled him!

“Who in the world am I?” Julian asked himself in great perplexity; “and how does it happen that the moment I am ready to carry my plans into execution, men whom I never remember to have seen before should suddenly appear and exhibit so deep an interest in me? If I have such good friends, who are so very anxious to see me, why did they leave me here for eight long years to be beaten, and starved, and treated worse than a dog? I can’t understand it at all.”

“What do you say?” asked the stranger; “will you go? You had better be in a hurry about making up your mind to something, ’cause I can hear the trampin’ of hosses.”

“Yes,” replied Julian, “I shall go; but I shall go alone.”

“Wal, then,” continued the man, who was plainly very much disappointed by this decision, “let me give you a word of advice: If you won’t trust me, don’t trust nobody – do you hear? You’ll meet plenty of folks who know you, an’ who will have something to say to you; but don’t listen to ’em. Jine a wagon train at St. Joe, an’ when you reach Fort Kearney, stop thar. You will then be within forty miles of your hum. You’d best be gettin’ away from here, ’cause them fellers is comin’ – I can hear ’em.”

“How did they find out where I am?” asked Julian.

“Why, some chap saw you tradin’ off your furs this mornin’ an’ buying’ powder an’ lead, an’ he told ’em. Why don’t you run? Don’t you hear ’em comin’?”

Julian listened, and could at last distinguish the rapid strokes of horses’ hoofs on the hard road. He knelt down behind a log that lay on the edge of the bluff, and looking over the top of it, waited for the horsemen to come in sight.

The sound of the hoofs grew louder and louder, and in a few minutes Mr. Mortimer came into view, and drawing rein at the foot of the bluff, sprung out of his saddle. Jack Bowles was not with him; he was alone.

“I am not afraid of him,” thought Julian. “I kept him at bay last night with an empty rifle, and now I have a loaded one. He shall never capture me.”

Julian arose to his feet, and turned to look at the stranger. He was not in sight. The boy had not heard even the rustle of a leaf to tell him that he was in motion, and yet he had disappeared. He wished now that he had paid more attention to the man’s warning; but his mind was so fully occupied, and he was so deeply interested in what he had had to say about the home and friends that were waiting for him away off in the mountains, that he had hardly given a thought to the danger which threatened him. He began to think of it now, however, for he heard Mr. Mortimer ascending the bluff.

“Hold on, down there!” cried Julian. “I am watching you.”

“Ah! you are there, are you?” replied Mr. Mortimer. “I will soon be there, too. If I had known that your rifle was empty, I should have secured you last night.”

“Who told you it was empty?”

“We found your powder-horn and bullet-pouch in the corn-crib this morning. Don’t attempt any resistance now. You are surrounded, and cannot escape.”

“Surrounded!” echoed Julian.

He turned quickly, and sure enough there was an enemy in his rear, who had mounted the bluff on the opposite side, and approached so cautiously that the boy had not heard him. It was Jack Bowles.

CHAPTER XI

JACK’S PLANS

THE EXPRESSION Julian saw on the face of his old enemy alarmed him greatly. His countenance was distorted with fury, and the boy saw enough in it to satisfy him that Jack intended to take ample revenge on him for what he had done. With a cry of terror he turned and took to his heels; but Bowles was already within reach of him, and before our hero had made many steps, he fastened upon his collar with one hand, and with the other twisted his rifle out of his grasp.

“Let’s see ye slip outen yer coat an’ get away from me this time,” said Jack, with savage exultation. “I’ve got a long account to settle with ye, my lad. I’ll larn ye to go about the country stealin’ money an’ killin’ honest folks’ huntin’ dogs. We’d best tie him, hadn’t we, Mr. Mortimer, fur fear that he gets one of them ar crazy spells onto him?”

“Certainly,” said that gentleman, who, having by this time reached the top of the bluff, stepped forward to assist in securing the prisoner.

“An’ sarch him, too,” added Jack. “He may have some dangerous we’pons about him. Don’t go to makin’ a fuss now.”

“I have no such intention,” replied Julian, who, knowing that he was powerless, submitted to his captors, who bound his arms firmly behind his back. “But I can tell you one thing, Jack – you and Richard Mortimer. You are not going to take me down the river and put me into an asylum.”