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CHAPTER XI
A CRISIS

Abner Holden’s disappointment was excessive at the sudden falling through of his horse trade, and his feeling of anger against Herbert for his agency in the matter was in proportion to his disappointment. His chief thought, as he hurried home from the tavern, was that he would make the boy smart for his interference.

“I’ll give him a good flogging,” muttered Abner to himself, and he felt that this would be some slight compensation for the injury and slight loss which Herbert had caused him to sustain.

“I’ll teach him to spoil my bargains,” he said, while his face wore an expression decidedly ugly. “I reckon he won’t do it a second time.”

It was in this frame of mind that he reached home.

Herbert had just entered the kitchen with an armful of wood for the housekeeper, and having thrown down his burden, was about to go back, when, on turning, he confronted the stormy and wrathful face of his employer.

“He’s found out,” Herbert concluded at once, and he braced his nerves for the storm which he knew must come.

“Well, young man, I’ve an account to settle with you,” said Abner, abruptly.

Herbert did not reply, but waited for Mr. Holden to state the matter. But in Abner’s present angry condition, he chose to construe his silence into cause of offense.

“Why don’t you speak?” he said. “What do you mean by looking me impudently in the face?”

“I have no intention of being impudent,” said Herbert. “I think you are mistaken, Mr. Holden.”

“Do you dare to tell me I am mistaken?” roared Holden, lashing himself into a rage.

“I don’t mean to do or say anything that is not perfectly respectful,” said Herbert, manfully, looking steadily in his employer’s face.

“Why did you tell a pack of lies about my horse this morning, and so make me lose my trade?”

“I didn’t tell a pack of lies,” said Herbert.

“Didn’t you tell the man who came here that he was an ill-tempered brute, and blind of one eye?”

Abner Holden glared upon the boy as if he wanted to spring upon him, and give him a thrashing on the spot.

“I told him that Spitfire was not suitable for a family horse.”

“What did you tell him that for?”

“Because it was true.”

“Supposing it was true, didn’t you know that you were spoiling my trade?”

“I am sorry for that, Mr. Holden, but if he had bought the horse, supposing it to be gentle, it might have broken his wife’s neck.”

“What business was that of yours? That was his lookout.”

“I didn’t look upon it in that way. I thought he ought to buy the horse with his eyes open.”

“You did, did you?” roared Abner. “Then I advise you to open your own eyes, for you’re going to get one of the worst lickings you ever had.”

Abner Holden’s anger now reached an ungovernable pitch. Looking about him for a weapon, he espied the broom resting against the wall. He seized it, and with a scream of rage, made for Herbert, shaking off the grasp of the housekeeper, who tried to stay him.

Herbert, perceiving the peril in which he stood, ran round the table, which stood, with leaves open, in the middle of the floor. Abner pursued him with headlong haste.

“Lord preserve us! The man is mad!” ejaculated the housekeeper, trying to get out of the way. But in this she was not successful. The kitchen was small, and before she could guard against a collision, Abner had stumbled over Mrs. Bickford, and both came down together. She uttered a succession of piercing shrieks, and, with a view of relieving Herbert, pretended that her life was in danger, grasping Abner by the hair and holding him fast.

Herbert saw that this was the favorable moment for escape, and, seizing his hat, dashed out of the house. He ran across the fields as fast as his limbs could carry him, expecting that he would be pursued. Before we follow him, we will describe the scene that took place after his flight.

“Let go my hair, Mrs. Bickford!” exclaimed Abner, tugging vainly to break from the housekeeper’s grasp.

“I dare not,” she said. “I’m afraid you’ll murder me.”

“You are making a fool of yourself,” retorted Abner. “What should I murder you for? But I will, if you don’t let go!”

“Hello, who’s talking of murder?” demanded a rough voice.

The speaker was a neighbor, who chanced to be passing, and was led to enter by the uproar, which was plainly audible outside.

“Save me!” exclaimed Mrs. Bickford. “He’s threatened to murder me.”

“Stop your nonsense, you old fool!” retorted Abner, vexed at the equivocal position in which he was placed.

“What’s all this row about? Mr. Holden, you ought to be ashamed of yourself for attacking a defenseless woman.”

“I didn’t intend to,” said Abner, sullenly. “She got in my way, and I stumbled over her; and then she seized me by the hair.”

“What were you going to do with that broom?” demanded the other, suspiciously.

“What was I going to do? I was going to thrash that rascally boy of mine, and Mrs. Bickford knew it perfectly well.”

“What has he done?”

“He? He’s spoiled a trade of mine by his lying, and I was going to flog him for it, when Mrs. Bickford got in my way.”

“Well,” said the visitor, shrugging his shoulders, “I don’t want to interfere in your affairs. I suppose that you’ve a right to flog the boy, but it strikes me that a broom handle is rather an ugly weapon.”

“It isn’t half heavy enough,” said Abner, savagely; “but where is the boy? Did you see him?”

“Given leg-bail, I reckon, and I don’t wonder at it.”

“Run away?” ejaculated Abner, disappointed. “Did you see where he went?”

“No, I didn’t, and if I had, I’m not sure that I would tell you.”

Abner would like to have thrashed the man who showed so little sympathy with his anger, but he felt that it would hardly be prudent. He went to the door and looked out. But there was no trace of Herbert to be discovered.

“He’ll get it when he does come back,” he said to himself.

The idea that Herbert might not come back at all never once occurred to him. He resolved that the flogging should lose nothing by being deferred.

We must now return to Herbert, whom we left running across the fields.

His departure had been so sudden, that his prominent idea was to get out of the way of his employer’s violence. He was at first under the impression that he was pursued, but when, after running perhaps a quarter of a mile, he ventured to look around, he saw, to his great relief, that there was no one on his track. Being out of breath, he stopped, and, throwing himself down on the grass in the shadow of a stone wall, began to consider his plans for the future.

Everything was in doubt except one point. He felt that he had broken, finally, the tie that bound him to Mr. Holden. He would not return to him. He had experienced enough of Abner’s ugly and unreasonable temper to feel that there could be no harmony between them, and as to submitting to personal violence from such a man as that, his blood boiled at the thought. He knew that he should resist with all the strength he possessed, and what the result might be he did not dare to think. What lay before him in the future he could not conjecture, but whatever it might be, he felt that it was better than to remain an inmate of Abner Holden’s household, and in his power.

But where should he go? That was a question not easily answered. After his experience of his uncle’s indifference to him, he did not wish to appeal to him for aid, yet he felt that he should like to go to New York and try his fortune there. Thousands of people lived there, and earned enough to support them comfortably. Why not he? It was a thousand miles off, and he might be some time in getting there. He might have to stop and work on the way. But, sooner or later, he resolved that he would find his way to the great metropolis.

But there was one difficulty which presented itself at the outset. This difficulty related to his clothing. He had on a pair of overalls and a ragged vest which Abner had provided for him, intending that he should save the good suit he brought with him for Sundays. His present suit, which had been worn by half a dozen of his predecessors, Herbert decidedly objected to wearing, as, in addition to being faded and worn, it was by no means a good fit. He must get his other suit.

But this was in Mr. Holden’s attic, and it would hardly be prudent to venture back for it, as Abner was on the lookout for him, and there would be a collision, and perhaps he might be forcibly detained. Fortunately, his money he had about him. This amounted, as the reader already knows, to nearly fifteen dollars, and would, no doubt, be of essential service to him in the project which he had undertaken. As to the clothes, he must think of a way of securing them, before setting out on his journey to New York.

CHAPTER XII
RALPH THE RANGER

One thing was certain. There was no chance of obtaining the clothes at present. Probably his best course would be to wait till night, and then come back to the house on the chance of gaining Mrs. Bickford’s attention. In the meantime, probably, the best thing to be done was to conceal himself temporarily in a belt of woods lying about a mile back of Abner Holden’s house.

As soon as his breath was recovered, Herbert got up, and headed for these woods. A few minutes found him in the midst of them. He made his way with some difficulty through the underbrush, parting the thick stems with his hands, until he reached a comparatively open space of perhaps an acre in extent. In the midst of this space a rude hut was visible, constructed of logs, and covered with the branches of trees. In front of it, sitting on the stump of a tree, which perhaps had been spared for that purpose, sat a tall man, with very brown complexion, clad in a rough hunting suit. His form, though spare, was tough and sinewy, and the muscles of his bare arms seemed like whipcords. A short, black pipe was in his mouth. The only covering of his head was the rough, grizzled hair, which looked as if for months it had never felt the touch of a comb or brush.

Herbert, though he had never before seen this singular being, recognized him at once as Ralph the Ranger, as he was properly called in the village. For years he had lived a hermit-like existence in the forest, supporting himself mainly by his rifle. This was not difficult, for his wants were few and simple. What cause led him to shun the habitations of his kind, and make his dwelling in the woods, no one knew, and perhaps no one ever would know, for of himself he was silent, and it was not easy to draw him out.

He looked up as he heard Herbert’s step, and said, abruptly: “Well, boy, what do you want?”

His manner was rough, but our hero was not afraid. He answered frankly, “I am hiding.”

“Hiding? Who from?”

“From Abner Holden.”

“Humph! Why should you hide from him? What has he to do with you?”

“I am bound to him, and he is angry with me because he thinks I interfered in a trade of his. He wanted to beat me, so I ran away.”

“Good!” said Ralph, approvingly. “Tell me about it.”

Herbert drew near, and told his story.

Ralph listened attentively.

“Boy,” said he, “I think you are honest. There are not many that can be said of. As for Abner Holden, I know him. He’s a mean skinflint. Pah!” and he spit, contemptuously. “You’d better not go back to him.”

“I don’t mean to,” said Herbert, promptly.

“What are your plans? Have you formed any?”

“I want to go to New York.”

“To New York,” repeated Ralph, thoughtfully. “You wish to get into the crowd, while I seek to avoid it. But it is natural to youth. At your age, it was so with me. I hope, my boy, the time will not come when you, like me, will wish to shun the sight of men.”

Herbert listened in sympathy, not unmingled with surprise, to the speech of this man, which was quite superior to what might have been expected from one of his appearance.

“When do you wish to start?” asked Ralph, after a pause.

“First, I want to get my clothes.”

“Where are they?”

“In my room, at Mr. Holden’s house.”

“How do you expect to get them?”

“Mrs. Bickford, the housekeeper, is a friend of mine. I thought I might go there to-night, and attract her attention without rousing Mr. Holden. She would get them for me.”

“Good! I will go with you.”

“Will you?” asked Herbert, gladly.

He had felt a little doubt as to the result of his expedition, as, if Mr. Holden should be awake and start in pursuit, he would stand a good chance of being captured, which, above all things, he most dreaded. But with so able an auxiliary as Ralph, he knew he could bid easy defiance to Abner, however much the latter might desire to molest him.

“Yes, I will stand by you, and you shall share my cabin with me as long as you like. You are not afraid of me?”

“No,” said Herbert, quickly.

Ralph looked kindly at him.

“Some of the children run from me,” he said. “It is not strange, perhaps, for I look savage, I suppose, but you do well to trust me. I will be your friend, and that is something I have not said to any living being for years. I like your face. It is brave and true.”

“Thank you for your favorable opinion, Mr.—” Here Herbert paused in uncertainty, for he had never heard Ralph’s surname.

“Call me Ralph. I have done with the title of \ civilization. Call me Ralph. That will suit me best.”

“Thank you for your kindness, then, Ralph.”

“What is your name?”

“Herbert—Herbert Mason.”

“Then, Herbert, I think you must be hungry. Have you eaten your dinner?”

“No,” said Herbert.

“Then you shall share mine. My food is of the plainest, but such as it is, you are welcome. Come in.”

Herbert entered the cabin. The only table was a plank supported at each end by a barrel. From a box in the corner Ralph drew out some corn-bread and some cold meat. He took a tin measure, and, going out of the cabin, filled it with water from a brook near by. This he placed on the rude table.

“All is ready,” he said. “Take and eat, if my food is not too rude.”

Herbert did eat, and with appetite. He was a growing boy, whose appetite seldom failed him, and he had been working hard since breakfast, which he had taken at six, while it was now one o’clock. No wonder he was hungry.

Ralph looked on with approval.

“You are the first that has shared my meal for many a long day,” he said. “Day after day, and year after year, I have broken my fast alone, but it seems pleasant, after all,” he said, musingly. “Men are treacherous and deceitful, but you,” he said, resting his glance on the frank, ingenuous face of his youthful guest, “you must be honest and true, or I am greatly deceived.”

“I hope you will find me so,” said Herbert, interested more and more in the rough-looking recluse, about whose life he suspected there must be some sad secret, of which the world knew nothing.

After dispatching the meal provided by his hospitable entertainer, Herbert sat down on the grass just outside the cabin, and watched lazily the smoke which issued from Ralph’s pipe, as it rose in many a fantastic curl.

“How long have you lived here, Ralph?” asked our hero at length.

“Ten years,” said the recluse, removing his pipe from his lips.

“It is a long time.”

“Yes, boy, a long time in the life of one as young as you, but to me it seems but yesterday that I built this cabin and established myself here.”

“Are you not often lonely?”

“Lonely? Yes, but not more so than I should be in the haunts of men. I have company, too. There are the squirrels that leap from bough to bough of the tall trees. Then there are the birds that wake me with their singing. They are company for me. They are better company than men. They, at least, will not deceive me.”

He paused, and bent his eyes upon the ground. He was thinking, not of the boy beside him, but of some time in the past, and the recollection apparently was not pleasant.

The afternoon wore away at length, and the shadows deepened in the woods. Herbert wandered about, and succeeded in gathering some nuts, which he carried to Ralph’s cabin. When eight o’clock came, the Ranger said: “You had better lie down and rest, my boy; I will wake you up at twelve, and we will go together to Holden’s place, and see if we can get your clothes.”

To this proposal Herbert willingly assented, as he began to feel tired.

He slept, he knew not how long, when he was gently shaken by Ralph.

“Where am I?” he asked, rubbing his eyes.

The sight of the Ranger bending over him soon brought back the recollection of his position, and he sprang up promptly. Ralph showed him an easier way out of the woods than that by which he had entered, and less embarrassed by the growth of underbrush.

In half an hour they were standing by Abner Holden’s house. It was perfectly dark, the inmates probably being fast asleep.

“I know where the housekeeper sleeps,” said Herbert. “I’ll throw up a pebble at her window, and perhaps it will wake her up.”

He did as proposed. Mrs. Bickford, who was a light sleeper, heard, and went to the window.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

“It is I, Mrs. Bickford,” said Herbert.

“What, Herbert? Shall I let you in?”

“No; I don’t want to come in. All I want is my clothes. They are up in my trunk.”

“I’ll go up and get them for you.”

She went upstairs and quickly returned with the clothes, which she let down from the window.

“Are you hungry, Herbert?” she asked. “Let me bring you something to eat.”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Bickford; I am stopping with Ralph the Ranger. He has kindly given me all the food I want.”

“What are you going to do? Are you going to stop with him?”

“No, I am going East in a day or two. I am going to New York. I will write to you from there.”

“I am sorry to have you go, Herbert. I wish things could have been pleasanter, so that you might have stayed. But I think I hear Mr. Holden stirring. Good-by, and may God be with you!”

She closed the window hastily, and Herbert, not wishing to get into a collision with Abner Holden, who he suspected might have heard something, withdrew swiftly. Ralph, who was standing near by, joined him, and both together went back to the woods.

CHAPTER XIII
A MOMENT OF PERIL

Abner Holden did not suspect that Herbert actually intended to leave him permanently; but when evening came, and he did not return, he became apprehensive that such was the case. Now, for more than one reason, he objected to our hero’s leaving. First, because he was a strong, capable boy, and his services were worth considerable, and, secondly, because he disliked Herbert, and it was a satisfaction to tyrannize over him, as his position enabled him to do. There are some men in whom the instinct of petty tyranny exists to such an extent that they cannot feel happy without someone to exercise their authority over. Such a man was Abner Holden. He was a bully and a tyrant by nature, and decidedly objected to losing one so completely in his power as Herbert was.

When night came and Herbert did not return, he decided to search for him, and bring him back, if found, the very next day. He did not impart his purpose to Mrs. Bickford, for he was at no loss to discover that the sympathies of the kind-hearted housekeeper were not with him, but with the boy whom he wished to abuse. When breakfast was over, therefore, he merely said: “Mrs. Bickford, I am going out for a short time. If Herbert should return while I am absent, you may tell him to finish hoeing those potatoes in the garden.”

“Do you think he will come back, Mr. Holden?” asked the housekeeper.

“Yes; he will soon be tired of wandering about. He will learn to prize a good home after he has slept out of doors one night.”

Mrs. Bickford did not reply; but she did not feel quite so much confidence as her employer appeared to do in the excellence of the home which Herbert had enjoyed under Abner Holden’s roof.

“It’s just as well he doesn’t suspect Herbert’s plan,” she thought, and without further words, began to clear away the breakfast dishes.

Abner was not long in deciding that Herbert was hidden in the woods. That, indeed, seemed the most natural place of refuge for one placed in his circumstances. He determined, therefore, to seek there first.

We must now return to Herbert.

“If you will wait till nightfall,” said Ralph, “you will be more safe from pursuit, and I will accompany you for a few miles.”

This seemed plausible, and our hero consented.

Ralph went off on a hunting expedition, but Herbert remained behind, fearing that he might tear or stain his clothes, of which it was necessary, now, to be careful. How to pass the time was the question. To tell the truth, the hunter’s cabin contained little that would help him. There were no books visible, for Ralph seemed to have discarded everything that would remind him of that civilization which he had forsaken in disgust.

Herbert went outside, and watched the squirrels that occasionally made their appearance flitting from branch to branch of the tall trees. After a while his attention was drawn to a bird, which flew with something in its beak nearly to the top of a tall tree not far off.

“I shouldn’t wonder,” thought Herbert, interested, “if she’s got a nest, and some young ones up there. I have a great mind to climb up and see whether she has or not.”

He measured the tree with his eye. It was very tall, exceeding in its height most of its forest neighbors.

“I don’t know as I can climb it,” he said to himself, a little doubtfully; “but anyway, I am going to try. There’s nothing like trying.”

This was a lucky determination for Herbert, as will speedily appear.

It was twenty feet to the first branching off, and this was, of course, the most difficult part of the ascent, since it was necessary to “shin up,” and the body of the tree was rather too large to clasp comfortably. However, it was not the first time that Herbert had climbed a tree, and he was not deficient in courage as well as skill. So he pushed on his way, and though once or twice in danger of falling, he at length succeeded in reaching the first bough. From this point the ascent was comparatively easy.

In a short time our hero was elated to find himself probably fifty feet from the ground, so high it made him feel a little dizzy to look down. He reached the nest, and found the young birds—three in number. The parent bird hovered near by, evidently quite alarmed for the safety of her brood. But Herbert had no intention of harming them. He only climbed up to gratify his curiosity, and because he had nothing more important to do. Though he did not know it, his own danger was greater than that which threatened the birds. For, just at that moment, Mr. Holden, in his wanderings, had reached Ralph’s cabin, and Herbert, looking down, beheld, with some anxiety, the figure of the unwelcome visitor. He saw Abner enter the cabin, and, after a few moments’ interval, issue from it with an air of disappointment and dissatisfaction.

“How lucky,” thought our hero, “that he did not find me inside!”

Abner Holden looked about him in every direction but the right one. He little dreamed that the object of his pursuit was looking down upon him, securely, from above.

“I don’t think he’ll find me,” thought Herbert. “Wouldn’t he give something, though, to know where I am?”

But our young hero was doomed to disappointment. Just at that moment—the unluckiest that could have been selected—he was seized with a strong inclination to sneeze.

Alarmed lest the sound should betray him, he made desperate efforts to suppress it but Nature would have its way, and probably did so with greater violence than if no resistance had been made.

“Ker-chew!” sneezed Herbert, violently.

As he anticipated, Abner’s attention was attracted by the loud noise, which he rightly concluded could hardly proceed from a bird or squirrel. He had just been on the point of leaving the cabin for some other part of the woods, but at this sound he stood still. Looking up to discover whence it proceeded, his keen eyes detected Herbert in his lofty perch. His eyes sparkled with joy.

“Ha, you young rascal!” he exclaimed. “So you are there, are you? You were going to run away, were you?”

Now that Herbert was actually discovered, his fear left him, and he became perfectly self-possessed and confident.

“Yes, Mr. Holden,” he answered, quietly; “such is my intention.”

“Boldly spoken,” said Abner, provoked by our hero’s coolness, for he had hoped to find him terrified and pleading for forgiveness. “I admire your frankness, and will try to equal it. I suppose you’ll give it up as a bad job now.”

“No, sir,” said Herbert, firmly.

“Take care, sir,” said Abner, in anger and astonishment. “Take care how you defy me. Come down here at once.”

“What for?” inquired Herbert, without stirring.

“What for?” repeated Abner Holden. “That I may flog you within an inch of your life.”

“That’s no inducement,” said our hero, coolly.

“Do you refuse to obey me?” shouted Abner, stamping angrily.

“I refuse to be flogged. You don’t get me down for any such purpose, Mr. Holden.”

“Then, by Heaven, if you won’t come otherwise, I’ll come up and help you down.”

The angry man at once commenced the ascent. Anger gave him strength, and, though he was unaccustomed to climbing, he continued to mount up about halfway to the first branching off, somewhat to Herbert’s uneasiness, for he felt there was a chance that he might fall into Abner’s clutches.

But Abner’s success was only temporary. At the height of a dozen feet he began to slip, and, despite his frantic struggles, he slid gradually to the ground, tearing his coat, which he had not taken the precaution to remove, and blistering his hands.

What was to be done?

In his anger and excitement, he drew a pistol from his breast pocket, and pointed upward, saying menacingly, “Come down at once, you young rascal, or I will fire!”

Herbert was startled. He did not believe the pistol to be loaded. Still it might be.

“Will you come down?” repeated Abner, fiercely. “Quick, or I fire.”

Herbert’s cheek was pale, but in a resolute voice he answered, “I will not.”

Abner Holder, laid his finger upon the trigger, and would, in his anger, have carried his threat into execution; but at the critical moment he was conscious of a violent blow, and the pistol was wrenched from his hand.

Turning quickly, he met the stern glance of Ralph the Ranger.