CHAPTER XV
PHILIP'S BAD ADVISER
Philip was elated by his triumph over Harry. Being cowardly by nature, he felt that it would be a terrible thing to stay in the lonely wood allnight, and he naturally thought that Harry would look upon it in thesame light.
He felt that it would pay off all old scores, and leave the advantagewith him. But there was a drop of bitterness mingled with hisexultation.
James Congreve had called him a bully to his face, and in the presenceof Harry, and this seemed to him a personal insult. He was not willingto let it pass, and was resolved to give Congreve to understand that theoffense must not be repeated.
"Well, Philip," said Congreve, "our plan has succeeded."
"Yes," answered Philip, shortly.
"What's the matter? Aren't you satisfied yet?"
"Yes, as far as that goes; but I don't like the way you spoke to me."
"Go ahead! Let me know what it is you complain of."
"You called me a bully!"
"You are one, you know," said Congreve, frankly.
"No, I don't know it; and, what is more, I don't like to have any onespeak of me in that way!" returned Philip, irritably.
"Very likely not. People don't generally like to have their faultsalluded to."
"I tell you I am not a bully!"
"You are mistaken. You would bully me if I were a small boy and not yoursuperior in strength."
"At any rate, if you are my friend, you ought not to talk of me in thatway," said Philip, thinking it politic to change his tone.
"You want me to shut my eyes to your real character, then?"
"I don't want you to talk of me in an insulting manner."
"Not at all, my dear fellow. I said you were a bully, and so you are. Imeant no offense. The sons of rich men are sometimes puffed up with theidea of their own importance, and your father is a rich man, at leastfor a country place."
"He is a rich man for any place," said Philip, boastfully.
"I am glad to hear it, especially as it will make it easier for you topay me the trifling sum you owe me."
"Trifling sum!" ejaculated Philip. "You said it amounted to overtwenty-two dollars."
"So it does; but that is a trifling sum for the son of a very rich man. Some persons would charge you for the little service I have done thisafternoon, but that I only did at the bidding of friendship."
"It was very kind of you," said Philip, uncomfortably; "but you mustn'tthink because my father is rich I have plenty of money. The fact is, heis very stingy with me, and if it wasn't for my mother I would only havea dollar a week."
"It is very considerate of the old man, to be sure. You ought to havefive dollars a week."
"So I ought. If I only had I would be able to pay you up in a shorttime."
"Why don't you suggest to your paternal relative to enlarge thesupplies?" suggested Congreve, knocking off the ashes from his cigar.
"I have," answered Philip, "and he always says that a dollar a week isenough for a boy of my age."
"Parents are apt to have limited ideas on such subjects. That was thecase with my father."
"What did you do?"
"Do? I borrowed from him."
"How could you do that? Was he willing?"
"He didn't know it."
"Didn't know that you borrowed money of him?"
"No. You are an only child, are you not?"
"Yes."
"So am I. You will be sole heir to your father's property, won't you?"
"Of course," answered Philip, with an air of consequence.
"Then, really, the property may be considered yours now – at least inpart."
"I suppose so."
"That's the way I look at it. Well, I happened to know where my fatherkept his government bonds, and I borrowed one."
"Wasn't that stealing?" asked Philip.
"It would have been if the bond had belonged to a stranger, but, as itwas likely to be mine some day, of course, that made it different."
"What did your father say?" asked Philip, anxiously.
"Oh, he made a fuss; but the bond wasn't registered, and he hadn't amemorandum of the number, so he couldn't do anything. I sold it througha friend, and while the money lasted I was in clover."
"My father has got some government bonds," said Philip; "but I shouldn'tdare to take one, although, as you say, they will be mine some day."
"Suppose your father did find it out – which is not at all likely – youare his son, and you could tell him plainly that your small allowancecompelled you to do it."
"I shouldn't know how to dispose of the bond, if I did take one."
"Oh, I would manage that for you! That is the only thing there would beany risk about; but you are a friend of mine."
"Yes, I know you are a good friend," said foolish Philip, who, it isneedless to say, could hardly have had a worse enemy than the one whooffered him such bad advice.
"So I am, but I don't take any credit for that," answered wily Congreve. "People are apt to deceive themselves about such things, you know, as ason's appropriating what really belongs to him; but I know the worldbetter than you, and understand how to look at things."
"It may be as you say," said Philip, growing nervous at the idea ofrobbing his father, "but I don't think I like the plan."
"Oh, very well; I only suggested it for your good," said Congreve, preparing to draw the net around his victim.
"If you have any other way of paying me the twenty-three dollars you oweme, it's all the same to me."
"But I thought," said Philip, in alarm, "that you were in no hurry aboutit. You said I might win it back."
"So you may, and probably will; but if you don't you ought to pay it."
"I will, sometime."
"I really should be glad if I could wait till then, but, as it happens,
I have pressing need of the money."
"But if I can't pay it?"
"Then I shall feel obliged to call on your father, and ask him to payme."
"You wouldn't do that!" said Philip, panic-stricken.
"I shall feel obliged to. It is only a trifle, and he will probably payit, giving you a little lecture, perhaps, but nothing worse."
"You don't know him," said Philip, uncomfortably. "He will be awful mad. He had a cousin who was a gambler, and he has often warned me againstgambling."
"I don't approve of gambling myself," said Congreve; "but there is adifference between that and a little stake on a game of cards to make itinteresting."
"I don't think father would see any difference," suggested Philip, whodid not himself understand what difference there could be.
It is hardly necessary to say to my young readers that common sense isthe best teacher in such matters, and that no difference appears tocommon sense between gambling at cards and gambling in any other form.
"Oh, well, you know best about that. Then it would be better that Ishouldn't say anything to the old man?"
"No; don't say anything to him about it," said Philip, eagerly.
"I won't – that is, if you pay me the money in three days."
"But how can I do it?" asked Philip, in fresh dismay.
"Put a bond in my hands, then, and I will dispose of it and give you thebalance. You only owe me twenty-three dollars, and a fifty-dollar bondwould leave you a handsome surplus. If it were a hundred-dollar bond itwould be all the better. Think of having seventy-five dollars or more atyour command."
The prospect was tantalizing, but Philip still felt afraid toappropriate one of his father's bonds. If it had been a fear of doingwrong, I should be glad to say so, but it was more a fear ofconsequences.
"After all," he said, "perhaps I may win it back, and then there won'tbe any need of raising money. You said you would give me the chance."
"So I will. You can come to my room now, if you like, and try yourluck."
So Philip went, like a fly into the spider's parlor, and the naturalresult followed.
When he left the hotel he had increased his debt to forty dollars, andthe prospect looked darker than ever.
As he walked home, it is doubtful if he did not feel more uncomfortablethan our unfortunate hero, whom we left, bound hand and foot, in PeganHill Wood.
CHAPTER XVI
BOUND HAND AND FOOT
Though Harry was a courageous boy, his heart sank within him when hefound himself left alone in the wood, bound hand and foot.
Pegan Hill Woods were of considerable extent. In length they extendedabout three miles, while in width they ranged from a mile and a half totwo miles.
Probably the party had penetrated nearly a mile into the wood, and thetree against which Harry was leaning was not far from the center of thewood. The constrained position in which he was sitting became, after awhile, somewhat painful. The cords, too, chafed his flesh.
Of course, Harry thought of the possibility of escape. If he could onlyunloose the cords he could readily find his way home, reaching therebefore anxiety or alarm was excited by his absence.
He set to work upon his task, but found, to his disappointment, that hehad been too securely bound to make this attempt feasible.
The cord was tied again and again in so hard a knot that, even if he hadhad the use of both of his hands, he would have found it a work of timeto undo them. But when, in addition, his hands were tied, it becamewell-nigh impossible.
He worked until he was tired, and rested, feeling that thus far he hadreally accomplished nothing.
"Philip is about the meanest boy I know of," he thought to himself, bitterly. "I suppose he is triumphing over me, as he has a right to do, for he has got me into a very awkward scrape."
This consideration was not likely to make him any less uncomfortable, for Harry had his share of human nature. From Philip his mind revertedto James Congreve. The more he thought of Congreve, the less he couldunderstand him. He was certainly a much more gentlemanly boy – or, rather, young man – than Philip, and our hero disliked him less, thoughit was Congreve who had tied him.
"He told Philip to his face that he was a bully, and as much as saidthat I had served him right in doing what I did in defense of the twochildren. I don't see how he can be a friend of Philip."
Harry had not much knowledge of the world, however, and would have beensurprised to hear that Congreve was more dangerous and unscrupulous, andaltogether bad, than Philip himself, in spite of the latter's unamiabletraits.
After a while Harry made another attempt to loosen the cords; but thesecond time proved as unsuccessful as the first.
Considerable time had passed – how much he did not know – but, from thedirection in which the sun glanced in the wood, he concluded that it wasas late as six o'clock, and by this time he was almost always at home.
Indeed, supper must now be ready, and his mother and their boarder, Uncle Obed, were probably ready to sit down to the table, and onlywaiting for him. It was certainly very tantalizing to be lying therehelpless, knowing that his mother would soon be anxious and troubledabout him.
"If I could only use my knife," thought Harry. "I would make short workof these cords."
He had a knife in his pocket. If a boy has only twenty-five cents in hispocket, he is sure to spend it for some kind of a knife, or he must bevery different from the average boy.
So, of course, Harry was provided with a knife – a good, strongjackknife – but, for all the good it was likely to do him, it might aswell have been at home. His hands being tied, of course, he could notget the knife out of his pocket; and, even if he had done so, how couldhe make use of it?
"I never knew twine was so strong before," thought poor Harry, ruefully, after a third unsuccessful attempt to get free.
He lay a while longer, getting more and more hopeless of an earlyrelease. By this time his appetite began to assert itself. He had noteaten a very hearty dinner, and naturally felt all the more hungry now.
He began to think wistfully of the good bread and butter and slices ofcold meat and pie which his mother was wont to provide for the eveningmeal, and some twinges of excusable envy were felt, as he pictured JamesCongreve and Philip, who had brought this trouble upon him, sitting downat a well-covered supper table, eating as heartily as if they had notleft a victim in the woods, helpless and hungry.
"I suppose I shall have to stay here all night," thought poor Harry, despondently.
In the morning he was confident of being released. James Congreve hadpromised that he would come and release him, and Harry felt confidentthat he would do so. Had it depended upon Philip, there would be smallchance of it; but it was easy to see that Philip and Congreve were notalike. Of course, this gave him hope, but it was not pleasant to thinkof a night passed in the dark wood; not that Harry was timid orsuperstitious – he was neither – but it is hard not to be somewhataffected by gloomy surroundings.
While Harry was occupied with these reflections, suddenly a peculiarsound came to his ears, and, looking up, he was startled by the sight ofa blacksnake, at least four feet long, which, with head erect, wasgazing intently at him.
Whatever may be the cause of the repulsion that exists between the humanrace and the snake, it is, at all events, genuine, and Harry shared it.
With distended eyes he gazed at this sleek foe of humankind, and felt astrong desire to throw something at it, or crush it under foot. But, alas! he was able to do neither.
Suppose it should advance upon him, helpless and unable to defendhimself, and strike its fangs into his flesh, or curl, with slipperyfold, about him! What could he do? The perspiration came out upon hisbrow, and he made a tremendous effort to get away.
Apparently conscious of his helplessness, the snake remained quietlylooking at him, and began, after a pause, to slowly glide toward him.
Harry uttered a shrill cry of alarm, which, I am sure, under thecircumstances, was not discreditable to his courage, and his soul wasfilled with horror and repulsion.
It was a fortunate cry, for it brought help. The sound of flying feetwas heard, and an instant later a boy of about his own age came rushingup.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Look there!" said Harry, hastily.
"By Jehosophat!" exclaimed the boy, and, advancing toward the snake, heaimed a blow at his crest with a rough, stout stick which he held in hishand.
The blow fell with good effect. The snake had not yet seen his newadversary, and was taken unawares. The jagged stick tore his skin, andhis head dropped forward, maimed and writhing.
"Follow it up!" cried Harry, in excitement. "Kill him!"
"I'll do it!" said the boy, and he sprang forward to renew his attack.
He found a rock, or, rather, a large stone, close at hand, with which hebruised the serpent's head and killed him.
"Ugh, you ugly beast!" he said, in a tone of disgust, miscalling hisvictim. But, then, a country boy is hardly expected to be well up innatural history.
"Thank you," said Harry, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Why didn't you kill him yourself?" asked the boy. Then, for the firsttime, noticing in the indistinct light Harry's condition, he said, insurprise: "What's the matter with you?"
"You see I'm tied."
"Who tied you?"
"That's a long story. Just untie me, there's a good fellow, and I'lltell you."
The boy whipped out a knife from his pocket and quickly cut the cord.
Harry sprang up and stretched his arms and legs.
"It seems good to be free once more," he said. "But who tied you?"
"Two boys that had a spite against me. At least, one had, and the otherwas his friend."
"How long have you been lying there?"
"Several hours – I can't tell how long."
"It's a mean trick, anyway."
"So it is; I should have had to stay here all night if you hadn't comealong."
"Or if the snake hadn't swallowed you!" Harry shuddered at the mentionof the snake.
"That was the worst of it," he said.
CHAPTER XVII.
WHAT HARRY SAW IN THE WOOD
"What is your name?" asked Harry. "I don't remember seeing you before."
"I live on the other side of the wood. My name is Reuben Richardson."
"Richardson?"
"Yes; we only moved here two months since, and I haven't had a chance toget acquainted much. What is your name?"
"Harry Gilbert."
"I suppose you live in the village?"
"Yes. It's lucky for me you came along. There isn't much travelingthrough the wood. How did you happen to be here?"
"I was exploring a little. I was on my way home when I heard you shout. I guess I must be going now. I have to get up early in the morning, andso I go to bed early."
"Well, good-night, Reuben. Come and see me some day. Anybody will tellyou where I live."
"Thank you. If you ever come our way, stop at the farm and see me."
"So I will."
The two boys parted, with friendly good-nights.
"Reuben seems a nice sort of boy," said Harry to himself, as he threadedhis way through the woods in a homeward direction. "I don't know whatwould have happened to me if he hadn't come along."
The moon was already up, though it was still early, and cast a mildradiance through the branches of the trees. The effect was fine, butHarry had no time for enjoying it, as he was in a hurry to get home andrelieve his mother's anxiety.
He had gone perhaps a quarter of a mile, when he heard voices, indistinct as yet, of men, who seemed to be approaching.
Ordinarily he would have kept right on, without fear or suspicion, butit might have been the experience through which he had just passed thatmade him more cautious.
At any rate, he began to look around to see where he could best concealhimself till the newcomers passed.
He caught sight of a tree that seemed easy to climb, and he swunghimself up at once, ascending from limb to limb till he was probablytwenty-five feet above the ground, concealed by the foliage and theobscurity of night.
He had not long to wait.
Presently there emerged from the thicker recesses of the wood two men, one of whom carried in his hand a tin box of considerable size.
Harry scrutinized them both, but he only recognized one. That one was aman named Ralph Temple, generally considered a ne'er-do-well and avagabond, who lived in a tumble-down shanty in the edge of the wood.
"This is the place I was thinking of," said Temple, halting about twentyfeet from the tree in which Harry was concealed.
"It seems a lonely, out-of-the-way place," said his companion.
"Yes; no one is likely to see the box here. No one ever comes here. There is a path through the wood, which is always used by those who passthrough it."
"And this is off from the path?"
"Yes."
"Where do you think it best to hide the box?"
"Under that tree will be a good place; say ten feet from it, in aneasterly direction."
"East and west are all alike to me here; I can't tell the difference."
"I can; and so could you, with a compass."
"Shall you know the place again?"
"Yes; do you notice that mark on the bark of the tree? It was struck bylightning once, but that was all the harm done to it."
"Good! That will serve to identify it. But why couldn't we haveconcealed it nearer your cabin?"
"I don't want to fall under suspicion," said Temple, shaking his head.
"Why should you?"
Ralph Temple laughed a harsh, unpleasant laugh.
"The good people round here haven't a very good opinion of me," he said. "They would be very apt to suspect me, if suspicion came this way. No; it's better to hide the box here."
"I wish we could sell the bonds at once."
"Nearly all are registered, and probably the old man has a record of therest, so that if we tried to sell them we would be brought up with around turn. No; as I told you, the only way is to wait till a reward isoffered, and then open negotiations for their return. Not immediately, you know. We will keep them long enough to make the owner feel anxious, and willing to get them back at any cost."
"I guess you're right. We must be prudent. If we could only get awaywith the whole sum it would make us comfortable for a year or two."
"How much is there?"
"Well, there are eight thousand dollars in government bonds, and fiveUnion Pacific bonds of a thousand dollars each. They're safe asgovernments."
"Thirteen thousand dollars!" said Temple, in a tone of gratification.
"Yes, and more, for the bonds are all at premium. However, we must layback for a reward. It won't do to negotiate them."
While this conversation had been going on Temple indicated the spotwhich he thought suitable, and, with a spade which he carried, hadcommenced excavating a hole sufficiently large for the purpose.
He dug to a depth of about eighteen inches, the box being eight inchesin height, and carefully deposited it in the cavity.
Then both replaced a part of the earth, and carried away the remainderto the distance of a hundred feet or so. Finally they brought a quantityof leaves and covered the spot.
"There," said Temple, with a look of satisfaction; "it's safe enoughnow. It'll take a smart detective to find it, I reckon."
"You're right there, Ralph," said his companion. "It would be a bad sortof joke if we couldn't find it ourselves," he added, after a pause.
"I can find it, never you fear!" said Temple. "I know these woods as wellas anybody, and shan't forget the spot."
"All the same, I wish I had some of that money now. I'm almost deadbroke."
"So am I; but I can let you have enough to get back to the city."
"And suppose," said Vernon, with an uneasy look, "you should take afancy to remove that box while I am away?"
"Don't be afraid. Ralph Temple isn't that kind of a man. He'll stand byhis pard and treat him fair."
"It would be a rough trick to play on me, Ralph," said Vernon, apparently not quite free from uneasiness.
"So it would; but there is no danger. Even if I did couldn't you exposethe whole thing, and have me arrested?"
"So I could," returned Vernon, more reassured by this consideration thanby his faith in Temple's fair dealing.
"Well, if you're all ready, we may as well vanish. You can stay with meto-night, and go to the city in the morning. Watch the papers, and seeif there is anything that promises advantage to us."
"All right."
The two men moved off, much to Harry's relief. He was in momentary dreadof a sneeze, and this would betray his whereabouts to Temple and hispartner.
What these two desperate men would have done to him, had they discoveredhim, it was not easy to guess; but, under the influence of vexation andalarm, they might have brought upon him worse trouble than any he hadyet experienced.
Such, indeed, was likely, from what he knew of Ralph Temple. He wasgenerally considered a disreputable character, and the villagers wereignorant as to how he made his living.
From time to time he came to the village store provided with money; butwhere it came from no one knew, as he was not known to do anything, except to roam the fields and woods with his gun. Sometimes hedisappeared for a week or a fortnight at a time, but where he went, unless to the city, no one knew.
Harry conjectured, from what he had just seen, that Temple was in leaguewith wicked men in the city, with whom he was engaged in violations ofthe law, and in this surmise he was correct.
He understood a little better now Ralph Temple's object in selecting ashis abode this lonely and out-of-the-way place.
Harry did not venture to descend from his elevated perch until the twomen had ample time to get beyond sight and hearing.
When he touched the ground, he first scanned the tree and its vicinitycarefully, so as to make sure he could find it again, and then hurriedhome.