CHAPTER XX.
ERNEST EXPLORES THE CAVE
James Fox had very little to say during the evening. He was evidently preoccupied and anxious. He paid scant attention to the boys, but left them to their own devices.
Frank knew so little of his father's business, or occupation, that he could conceive of no cause for worriment. When his advances met with little response he asked, "Have you got a headache, papa?"
"No–yes, child. My head troubles me some. Be as quiet as you can."
"Will it disturb you if I play checkers with Ernest, papa?"
"No, I should like to have you amuse your self," answered the outlaw.
He directed the boys to go to bed early. As before, they slept together, and he threw him self on the lounge without taking off his clothes.
Ernest slept well. When he woke up at eight o'clock he saw that Frank was still sleeping, but his host was already up.
Juba came into the room.
"Get up, children," she said. "Breakfast is ready."
"Where is papa?" asked Frank.
"He took breakfast an hour ago, honey."
"What made him get up so early?"
"'Portant business called him away, he said."
"Where's Uncle John?"
"He hasn't been home."
"Has he got 'portant business, too?"
"'Specs he has, honey."
"It doesn't seem nice to take breakfast without papa," said the little boy.
"You may consider me your papa, Frank," observed Ernest.
"But you're not big enough to be a papa."
"At any rate, I am not old enough."
When breakfast was over there was the long day before them to be filled up in some way.
"Don't you ever wish to go out of the cave, Frank?" asked Ernest.
"Where?" asked the little boy.
"Into the bright sunshine, out on the green grass, and under the trees."
"Yes; I think I should like it," answered Frank, thoughtfully. "But papa does not want me to go. I don't know why. Do many little boys live in caves like me?"
"No; I don't think so."
"Can they walk about in the sunshine, and play?"
"I always did."
"Do you like it better than living here?"
"Yes."
"Then what made you come here?"
This was an embarrassing question, and Ernest felt that he must be careful in answering. "Your papa wanted me to make you a visit," he replied after a pause.
"And I am glad you came. It isn't so lonely for me. Before, I had only Juba."
"Wouldn't she play with you?" asked Ernest with a smile.
Frank laughed merrily.
"Juba is too old to play. I hope you will stay with me a good while."
Ernest could not echo this wish, so he answered evasively,
"I can't tell yet how long I shall stay. But the time will come when you will leave the cave and live like other little boys in a house."
"Did papa tell you that?"
"He told me that he should send you to school before long."
"What is a school like?" asked the little boy anxiously.
Few boys of ten would have been obliged to put this question, but Frank had been secluded from the world ever since he was a baby.
"There will be a good many boys, some older, some younger, than yourself. You will study lessons together, and play together."
"I think that will be nice."
"Yes; I am sure you will enjoy it."
"Did you ever go to school?"
"Oh, yes; I went to school for some years. I wish I could go again."
"Perhaps you will go to school with me."
"I can't tell," answered Ernest, vaguely. "Perhaps Juba will go to school with you."
Frank laughed.
"She would look funny going to school," he said.
"What's dat you sayin' 'bout Juba, Massa Ernest?" asked the old woman, entering the room.
"I told Frank you might go to school with him."
"Maybe I'd go and take care of him, honey."
"But you wouldn't want to study."
"I wouldn't study nohow. I's a poor, ignorant nigger. Never shall know nuffin', I expect."
"Don't you think you could learn to read, Juba?"
"No, I couldn't. It takes white folks to read."
"No, Juba; when I went to school there was a colored boy in my class, and he was one of the smartest scholars we had."
"And was he a nigger?" asked Juba, interested.
"We didn't call him that, but he was a colored boy. If he could learn to read, I am sure you could."
"It's no use, chile. I'm too old now."
Much as he liked Frank, it was irksome to Ernest to remain all day in the cave. It was imprisonment under pleasant circumstances, but still imprisonment.
They got through the forenoon somehow, taking dinner at twelve o'clock.
About two o'clock Frank complained of being sleepy.
"You won't mind if I go to sleep for an hour, Ernest?" he said.
"Oh, no," answered Ernest. "I can read, you know."
Since his exploration of the day before, Ernest had been longing to visit once more the same portion of the cave. But he wanted to go alone. He had a hope that through the aperture in the roof he might effect his escape. It would not do to have Frank with him, as this would interfere with his plan. Now the longed-for opportunity was almost at hand.
He took a volume from the book-shelf, and sitting down beside the bed began to read. But his mind was not on the book, though at another time he would have enjoyed it. He watched Frank, and in less than fifteen minutes had the satisfaction of seeing that he was fast asleep.
Then he left the room, Juba being occupied in the kitchen. He secured his hat, as he would need it in case he effected his escape.
As he passed through that apartment in the cave where there were trunks and boxes, it occurred to him to open one of them. He was rather surprised that it should be unlocked, but so it was.
It was filled with a miscellaneous assortment of articles, but on top, to his surprise and joy, he recognized the envelope containing the bonds that had been taken from him.
If he left the cave he would want these, and therefore he had no hesitation in taking them. He put them in the inside pocket of his vest, and kept on his way.
In a short time he reached the spot lighted by the aperture in the roof.
The opening was quite large enough for him to get through, but the difficulty was that it was fully fifteen feet above the floor of the cave. Ernest was something of a gymnast, but it was out of his power to reach the opening through which alone he could obtain deliverance.
He looked about him to see if there were any articles which he could pile upon one an other so as to attain the aperture. But the cave was quite empty of articles of any description, nor could he find any that he could move in the portions which he had already traversed.
It was certainly very aggravating to be so near freedom, and yet unable to obtain it. There just above him he could see the blue sky and the cheerful sunshine, while he was a prisoner in a dark cavern.
Was there no way of reaching the opening? he asked himself.
If he had to give up hope, he would feel obliged to return the envelope to the box from which he had taken it. Were its loss discovered, he would of course be searched, and kept in stricter seclusion than before.
In the room used by the outlaw as a sitting-room–the apartment he had just left–he might be able to find what he needed. But he could not remove anything without being detected, and should he return there he would possibly find Frank awake, which would spoil all.
It looked as if he would have to give up the chance that had come to him. In thoughtful mood he walked slowly back. All at once an idea struck him. In the room where the trunks and boxes were stored he had seen a long, stout rope. Could he do anything with it?
Looking up at the aperture, he noticed a jagged projection on one side.
"If I could attach the rope to that," he reflected, "I could draw myself up hand over hand till I reached the top, and then it would go hard if I didn't get out."
With new hope in his heart, he retraced his steps rapidly till he reached the store-room.
He knew just where to look for the rope. He examined it carefully, and found it very stout and strong.
He took it back with him. Then making a loop at one end, he stood under the opening and threw it up as he would a lasso. He had to try a dozen times before he contrived to circle the projection with the loop.
Then pulling it taut, he began to climb hand over hand, as he had many a time done in sport. Now his deliverance depended upon it.
Slowly, foot by foot, he approached the opening, not knowing whether, even if he reached it, he would be able to draw himself through the hole.
CHAPTER XXI.
OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE
Arrived at the opening, Ernest found that there was a trap-door which was ordinarily closed, but through some misadventure had been left open. It was, however, a serious problem to draw himself up so as to profit by what he had already done.
Twice he failed, and nearly lost his grip on the rope. Then he caught hold of the projection from which the rope depended, and by a supreme effort he succeeded, helping himself by means of the trap-door, in emerging from his subterranean prison.
Stretching himself, he took a deep breath, and realized joyfully not only that he was free, but that he had recovered the valuable bonds of which he had been placed in charge.
He began to look around him, and tried to conjecture in what direction he must go to reach Lee's Falls. He was quite at a loss, as he had been carried into the cave blindfolded. But help seemed to be at hand. He saw at a little distance, rapidly approaching him, a man of middle height, whom he concluded to be a resident of some place in the vicinity.
"Can you tell me in what direction I must go to reach Lee's Falls?" he asked.
The stranger paused and examined him sharply.
"So you want to go to Lee's Falls?" he said.
"Yes, sir."
"Where do you come from?"
"From Emmonsville."
"Direct?"
"No."
"I saw you just now coming out of some opening in the earth."
This alarmed Ernest. He felt that he might be called upon to explain where he had been.
"Who is this man?" he asked himself. "Is he one who is likely to be in the confidence of the outlaws? If so, I have only got out of one scrape to fall into another."
He studied the face of the man with whom he was speaking, and to his dismay noted a resemblance to James Fox, who had captured him. He began to suspect that this was his brother.
Whether it was or not, Ernest deemed it politic to say as little as possible of his experiences, and of what he knew about the cave and its occupants.
"Yes," he answered quietly; "there seems to be a cave underneath. I found the trap door open, and went down, but I regretted it, for I found it difficult to get out again."
His new acquaintance eyed him scrutinizingly, as if to see whether he knew more than he was willing to reveal.
"So there is a cave underneath?" he said inquiringly.
"Yes."
"Have you any idea what it is used for?"
"I don't think it is used at all. The room below seems empty."
The man regarded him fixedly.
"When did you leave Emmonsville?" he asked abruptly.
"Yesterday," answered Ernest in some confusion.
"How does it happen that you have got no farther on your way to Lee's Falls?"
"I stopped at the cabin of an Indian," answered Ernest, making the only explanation he could think of.
The man smiled.
"Young man," he said, "didn't you pass last night in this cave?"
Ernest saw that there was no further chance for subterfuge.
"Yes," he answered.
"I thought so."
"You were captured?" the other went on.
"Yes."
"Have you any suspicion by whom this cave is occupied?"
"I presume by the Fox brothers."
"Correct. I am one of them."
"I began to think so."
"How were you able to escape?"
"I was left with the little boy. He fell asleep, and then I began to explore."
"Where is my brother?"
"He went out quite early, I presume in search of you. You are John Fox, are you not?"
"Exactly. I suppose my brother heard that I was in trouble."
"Yes."
"By the way, the Quaker detective through whom I got into difficulty you doubtless know?"
"I do."
"I was put into jail at Crampton, but I managed to effect my escape. Are you connected in any way with the Emmonsville bank?"
"Yes."
"In what way?"
"As bank messenger."
"Did my brother take anything from you?"
"Yes."
"Money?"
"No; bonds."
"You are a sensible boy. You answer my questions freely. You are a smart boy, too. It isn't every lad of your age who would have managed to effect an escape from the cave. Do you remember the entrance?"
"No; I was carried into it blindfolded."
"I thought my brother would be prudent. So you couldn't find it again?"
"No; I don't think so."
"Still, I cannot run any risk. You will have to come with me."
"Where do you want to carry me?" asked Ernest, much disturbed.
"I will carry you back to the cave."
"Let me go free. I will promise not to reveal anything that I have discovered."
The outlaw shook his head.
"I am sorry, boy, but that is a request I cannot grant. You were made prisoner by my brother, and I owe it to him to prevent your escape."
It was intolerable to Ernest to think of having his captivity renewed. He determined that he would at least make an effort for free dom.
Accordingly he did not hesitate, but started to run, hoping that in this way he might save himself. He had always the reputation among his boy companions as a sprinter, and resolved to see whether this was a lost art with him.
"So that's your game, is it?" exclaimed the outlaw. "It will go hard with me if I don't catch you. Stop, or it will be the worse for you!"
But Ernest had no intention of giving up so soon. He only exerted himself the more.
The contest was not so unequal as might have been supposed. Ernest was tall of his age, and the outlaw was rather below the average height. So there was in reality only about an inch difference in their height.
On the other hand John Fox had, as might be supposed, more strength and endurance. He was not over weight, and therefore not scant of breath. Ernest got the start, and this was an advantage. One ran about as fast as the other, so it settled down into a contest of endurance. Whoever could hold out the longest would win.
The outlaw, however, was irritated at the unexpected difficulty of his undertaking. He had thought that Ernest would surrender at discretion.
"I wish I had my revolver," he muttered.
Had the outlaw been aware that Ernest had in his possession the packet of bonds which had impelled his brother to make him a captive, his zeal would have been increased. This, however, he did not suspect. He knew, of course, that the bonds would be taken from him, and he could conceive of no chance of the boy's recovering them.
They flew over the ground, maintaining the same relative distance. But there was an unexpected contingency that worked to the disadvantage of Ernest.
Directly in his path was a projecting root, which in his haste escaped his notice. He tripped over it, and as a natural consequence he measured his length on the ground.
The outlaw's face lighted up with exultation. Now the issue was no longer doubtful. At last he had the boy in his power.
Before Ernest could recover himself and rise to his feet, John Fox was upon him.
He flung himself on the prostrate boy, and clutched him in a firm grasp.
"Now I have you," he said. "You were a fool to run. You might have known that you could not escape."
"I came near it, though," gasped Ernest, quite out of breath. "Let me up."
"Will you promise to go with me without giving me any more trouble?"
"I will make no promises," said Ernest, stoutly.
"Then it will be the worse for you," said the outlaw vindictively.
What he proposed to do must remain unknown, for as he spoke a hand was thrust into his neckcloth, and he was jerked violently to his feet.
CHAPTER XXII.
A FRIEND IN NEED
Bewildered and angry, John Fox looked to see who was his assailant. He found himself confronted by a tall, muscular Indian, whom Ernest also recognized as the man whose child he had saved from a watery grave.
"What do you mean by this outrage?" demanded the outlaw angrily.
"Why are you hurting him?" said the Indian, pointing to Ernest.
"Because I choose to. What have you got to say about it?"
"Me stop you," said the Indian calmly.
"I have a great mind to shoot you."
This was an empty threat, for his weapon had been taken by the Quaker detective.
The only answer made by the Indian was to produce a revolver, which he pointed at the breast of the outlaw.
"Two play at that game," he answered.
John Fox shrank back, for it takes a man of nerve to face a revolver. He began to remonstrate.
"What interest have you in that boy?" he asked.
"He save my little boy from drowning," answered the Indian. "Will you go, or shall me shoot?"
There was but one answer to make to this question. John Fox turned about, and walked quietly away without a word.
Ernest grasped the Indian's hand gratefully.
"I can't thank you enough," he said. "You have perhaps saved my life."
"You saved my little boy."
"Do you know that man?"
"No."
"It was John Fox, one of the Fox brothers, the famous outlaws."
"Humph! I have heard of him. How did he catch you?"
Ernest told the story. He also told of the commission he had from the Emmonsville bank.
"I am going to ask you a favor," he asked.
"What is it?"
"I want you to go with me to the bank at Lee's Falls. I have a package of bonds to carry there, and I don't think it safe to go alone. I will see that you are paid for your time and trouble."
"I will go."
Under the guidance of his Indian friend, Ernest reached Lee's Falls. The bank was closed, but the cashier was still in the bank building, having been detained after hours. Seeing him through the window, Ernest knocked and obtained admission.
"The bank is closed, young man," said the bank officer.
"I know it, but I have a package of bonds from the bank in Emmonsville. I hope you will take them from me, for I don't want the responsibility of them any longer."
"Oh, you are the young messenger. We had advice that you would be here yesterday."
"So I should have been, but for my capture by one of the Fox brothers."
"And how did you escape?" asked the wondering cashier.
"Please take the bonds, and I will tell you. I spent two nights in the outlaws' cave. This afternoon I managed to get away."
"But were not the bonds taken from you?"
"Yes, but I recovered them."
Ernest, without waiting for further questions, told the story as briefly as possible.
"So, after all," he concluded, "I should have been taken again but for my friend here," laying his hand upon the Indian's shoulder.
"I told him you would pay him for his trouble in accompanying me."
"So I will," said the cashier, and he took a five-dollar bill and tendered it to the Indian.
The latter objected to taking it, alleging that Ernest had saved his boy's life, but the cashier overruled his objections, and he accepted it.
They were going out of the bank when the familiar figure of Luke Robbins came up the street. His face was overspread by an expression of anxiety, and he seemed troubled. He had searched everywhere for Ernest, and thus far had failed to find him.
When he saw the boy emerging from the bank his face changed at once.
"So you are safe, Ernest? I thought I had lost you," he exclaimed. "Did you see anything of the outlaws?"
"I should say that I did. I was captured by James Fox, and confined two nights in the underground haunt of the robbers. When I escaped this afternoon I fell into the clutches of the other brother."
"What! John Fox?"
"Yes."
"This cannot be, Ernest. I lodged him myself in Crampton jail."
"All I can tell you is that he is at liberty now. He must have escaped."
"Then I am afraid I shan't receive the reward offered for his capture."
"You ought to get it. You delivered him over to the authorities. If they could not keep him, that was their lookout."
"You ought to be right, lad. I hope you are. Who is this man?"
"My Indian friend, who proved to be a friend in need. It was he who saved me from John Fox."
"I am proud to know you," said Luke, grasping the hand of the red warrior. "If you have helped Ernest, you are my friend."
"He save my little boy; I will always be his friend."
"You have saved my boy, my Indian friend, and you will always be my friend," returned Luke.
"Well, Luke, what shall we do? I have done my errand and delivered the bonds. I suppose I ought to go back to Emmonsville."
"We will go back. I have found you, and have no more to do here."
"Shall we walk?"
"No, it is too far. There is a stable a little way from here; I will hire a conveyance, and our Indian friend will perhaps be willing to drive us over."
The Indian expressed his willingness, and the three were soon on their way through the woods. They met with no adventure, nor did they fear any, for it would have required a brave man to attack two such stalwart persons as the Indian and the Quaker detective.
Leaving them for the present, we will go back to the cave from which Ernest had made so unceremonious a departure.
Frank slept for two hours, but at length opened his eyes, expecting to see Ernest sitting at his bedside.
He looked in vain. There was no one in the room. This did not surprise him much, however. He thought Ernest might have gone into the next apartment.
"Ernest!" he cried, but his call received no response.
The little boy got out of bed and looked about, but his search was vain.
So he went into the kitchen, where he found Juba engaged in some domestic work.
"Juba," he said, "where is Ernest."
"I don't know, chile. Isn't he in the big room?"
"No, Juba. I went to sleep, and when I woke up he was gone."
"Lor', chile, he round somewhere. You look round, and maybe you find him."
But Frank was doomed to disappointment. He sat down ready to cry. He felt very lonely. He had not realized how much he enjoyed Ernest's company.
"I don't know where he can have gone, Juba. Do you think he's gone and left me?"
"I can't tell, chile. Wait till your papa comes home. He will find him."
Frank had to wait an hour and a half before his father's return. All this time he was buoyed up by the hope that Ernest would come back. He was continually watching the portal to see if the runaway would not come, but in vain.
James Fox entered the room with grave face and heavy step. He had not heard of his brother's escape, and thought him still an inmate of Crampton jail.
He looked about for his young captive.
"Where is Ernest, Frank?" he asked.
"I don't know, papa. I miss him ever so much," said the little boy tearfully.
"But he must be somewhere about. When did you miss him?"
"He went away when I was asleep."
The outlaw's suspicions were aroused.
"I will look for him," he said.
But Ernest was in none of the rooms, nor could Juba give any account of him.
"Did you walk with him into the interior of the cave, Frank?" he asked.
"Yes, papa."
"Ha, that explains it. Go with me, and tell me just where you went."
The little boy led the way through the vacant apartments till he reached the one through which the light came from above.
The rope was still hanging from the projection, and this explained Ernest's escape. James Fox went up and examined it.
"He must have got out this way," said the outlaw.
"Won't he come back, papa?" said Frank, sadly.
"Yes," said his father, resolutely. "I will bring him back."