THE BOUND BOY
The town of Dexter was almost entirely agricultural. Its population was
small and scattered. There were no large shops or manufactories to draw
people to the place. Many of the farmers were well to do, carrying on
agricultural operations on a considerable scale.
Among the smaller farmers was Nathan Badger. He was fond of money, but
knew no better way to get it than to live meanly, drive hard bargains
and spend as little as possible. In this way, though not a very good
farmer, he was able to lay by a couple of hundred dollars a year, which
he put away in the County Savings Bank.
Mrs. Badger was a fitting wife for such a man. She was about as mean as
he was, with scarcely any of the traits that make women attractive. She
had one, however--an indulgent love of her only child, Andrew Jackson
Badger, who was about as disagreeable a cub as can well be imagined. Yet
I am not sure that Andrew was wholly responsible for his ugliness, as
most of his bad traits came to him by inheritance from the admirable
pair whom he called father and mother.
Andrew Jackson Badger was by no means a youthful Apollo. To speak more
plainly, he was no beauty. A tow head and freckled face often belong to
a prepossessing boy of popular manners, but in Andrew’s case they were
joined to insignificant features, small ferret eyes, a retreating chin
and thin lips, set off by a repulsive expression.
There was another member of the family--a bound boy--the same one
referred to in Mr. Nathan Badger’s letter. This boy was, five years
previous, placed in Mr. Badger’s charge by Charles Waldo.
I do not want my young readers to remain under any uncertainty as to
this boy, and I state at once that he was the abducted son of Gilbert
Huet, the hermit of Cook’s Harbor, and the rightful heir to a large
estate.
At the time of our introduction to Bill Benton--for this is the name by
which he was known--he had a hoe in his hand and he was about starting
for the field to hoe potatoes.
He was a slender boy, with delicate features and a face which indicated
a sensitive temperament. His hair was dark brown, his features were
refined, his eyes were blue and he looked like a boy of affectionate
temperament, who would feel injustice and harshness keenly. This was
indeed the case. He lacked the strong, sturdy character, the energy and
self-reliance which made Robert Coverdale successful. Robert was not a
boy to submit to injustice or wrong. He was not easily intimidated and
could resist imposition with all his might. But Bill--to call him by the
name given him by Mr. Waldo--was of a more gentle, yielding disposition,
and so he was doomed to suffer.
He was certainly unfortunately situated. Mr. Badger required him to work
beyond his strength and seldom, or never, gave him a kind word. The same
may be said of Mrs. Badger. It was perhaps fortunate for him that he had
a small appetite, for in the Badger household he would have been unable
to gratify the hearty appetite of an average boy.
The table was very mean and the only one who lived well was Andrew
Jackson, whom his mother petted and indulged. There was always something
extra on the table for Andrew, which it was well understood that no one
else in the family was to eat.
Mr. Badger did not interfere with his wife’s petting. If he had a soft
place in his heart, it was for Andrew, who seemed to his partial parents
a remarkably smart and interesting boy.
To Bill Benton he was a cruel tyrant. He delighted in making the life of
his father’s bound boy intolerable, and succeeded only too well. He was
stronger than Bill, and, backed by the authority of his father and
mother, he dared do anything, while Bill knew that it was useless to
resist. Still, gentle as he was, sometimes his spirit rose and made a
feeble resistance.
“Where are you going, Bill?” asked Andrew as the bound boy started off
after breakfast.
“I am going to hoe potatoes, Andrew.”
“No, you’re not; I want you to go and dig some worms for bait. I am
going a-fishing.”
“But your father told me to go to the field at once.”
“I can’t help that. He didn’t know I wanted you.”
“He will scold me if I don’t go to work.”
“That is my business. I tell you to go and dig some worms.”
Poor Bill! He knew very well that if Andrew got him into a scrape, he
would not help him out, but leave his father to suppose that Bill
disobeyed of his own accord--if necessary, stoutly asserting it, for
Andrew was by no means a boy of truth.
“I would rather not go, Andrew,” said Bill uneasily.
“Then take that!”
And Andrew brutally struck him with a whip he had in his hand.
The bound boy flushed at this indignity. Gentle as he was, he resented a
blow.
“Don’t you do that again, Andrew!” he said. “I won’t stand it!”
“You won’t stand it?” repeated Andrew tauntingly. “What will you do
about it, I’d like to know?”
“You have no right to hit me, and I won’t submit to it,” said Bill with
a spirit which quite astonished the young tyrant.
He laughed scornfully and repeated the blow, but with more emphasis.
Even the most gentle and long-suffering turn sometimes, and this was the
case now.
The bound boy lifted the hoe and with the handle struck Andrew so
forcibly that he dropped upon the ground, bellowing like a calf.
Like most bullies he was cowardly, and the unexpected resistance and the
pain of the blow quite overcame his fortitude, and he cried like a
baby.
It must be confessed that the bound boy was frightened by what he had
done. Too well he knew that he would suffer for his temerity. Besides,
his compassion was aroused for Andrew, whom he thought to be worse hurt
than he was.
He threw down the hoe and kneeled by the prostrate boy.
“Oh, Andrew, I hope I didn’t hurt you!” he cried. “I ought not to have
struck you.”
“You’ll catch it when father comes home!” screamed Andrew furiously.
“You almost killed me!”
“Oh, Andrew, I’m so sorry. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
By this time Mrs. Badger had come to the door, and Andrew, catching a
glimpse of her, gave a yell as if in extreme anguish.
His mother came flying out of the house.
“What’s the matter, my darling?” she cried in alarm.
“Bill knocked me down with a hoe, and I think I’m going to die!”
answered Andrew with a fresh burst of anguish.
Mrs. Badger was almost paralyzed with astonishment and wrath. She could
hardly believe her ears. What! Her Andrew assaulted by a beggarly bound
boy!
“Bill knocked you down with a hoe?” she repeated. “You don’t mean it?”
“Yes, I do. Ask him if he didn’t.”
“Bill Benton,” said Mrs. Badger in an awful voice, “did you strike
Andrew with a hoe?”
“Yes, ma’am, and I’m sorry for it, but he struck me with a whip first.”
“No doubt he had a good reason for doing it. And so you tried to murder
him, you young ruffian?”
“No, I didn’t, Mrs. Badger. He had no right to whip me, and I defended
myself. But I’m sorry----”
Andrew set up another howl, though he no longer felt any pain, and his
mother’s wrath increased.
“You’ll end your life on the gallows, you young brute!” she exclaimed,
glaring wrathfully at the poor boy. “Some night you’ll try to murder us
all in our beds. The only place for you is in jail! When Mr. Badger
comes home, I will report the case to him. Now, go to work.”
Poor Bill was glad to get away from the infuriated woman.
Andrew was taken into the house and fed on preserves and sweetmeats by
his doting mother, while the poor bound boy was toiling in the hot sun,
dreading the return of his stern master.
Nathan Badger was not far away. He had driven to the village in the
buggy, not that he had any particular business there, but at present
there was no farm work of a pressing nature except what the bound boy
could do, and Mr. Badger did not love work for its own sake.
In spite of his parsimony, he generally indulged himself in a glass of
bitters, of which he was very fond, whenever he went to the village. His
parsimony stood him in good stead in one respect, at least, for it
prevented his becoming a drunkard.
I have said that Mr. Badger had no particular business at the village,
but this is not strictly true. He had business at the post office.
Some time since he had written to Mr. Waldo, asking for a money
allowance for the care of Bill Benton. He knew very well that he was not
entitled to it. He was at no expense for the boy’s clothes, and
certainly Bill richly earned the very frugal fare, of which he partook
sparingly, and the privilege of a hard bed in the attic. But it had
struck him as possible that Mr. Waldo, not knowing the falsehood of his
representations, would comply with his request.
“If I can get a dollar or a dollar ‘n’ a half for the boy’s keep,” Mr.
Badger soliloquized, “I can make a good thing out’n him. A dollar a week
will come to fifty-two dollars a year, and I can’t put a cent into the
savings bank. A dollar ‘n’ a half will come to--lemme see--to
seventy-eight dollars a year! That, in five years, would be three
hundred and ninety dollars, without counting the interest.”
Mr. Badger’s eyes glistened and his heart was elated as he took in the
magnificent idea. But, alas! he was counting chickens that were not
likely to be hatched.
When sufficient time had elapsed for an answer to be due, he went to the
post office every day, but there had been unusual delay. At last an
answer had been received that very morning.
Mr. Badger tore open the envelope in eager haste, but there was no
remittance, as he had fondly hoped. The contents of the letter also
threw cold water on his aspiring hopes, as may be seen from the
following transcript of it:
“MR. NATHAN BADGER: Your letter is received asking me to pay
you a weekly sum for the boy whom I bound out to you some
years ago. I can hardly express the surprise I felt at this
application. You certainly cannot forget that I furnish the
boy’s clothes, and that all you are required to do is to
provide him board and lodging in return for his work. This
is certainly a very good bargain for you. I need not say
that the work of a boy of fifteen or sixteen years will
amply repay you for his board, especially if, as I infer
from your letter, he is a small eater. Generally farmers are
willing to provide clothes also, and I think I am dealing
very liberally with you in exempting you from this
additional expense.
“You seem to forget one thing more: For three years, on
account of the boy’s being young, and so unable to work
much, I allowed you fifty dollars a year, though I could
readily have found another man to take him without this
allowance. Under the circumstances I consider it very
extraordinary that you should apply to me at this late day
for an extra allowance. I am not made of money, and whatever
I do for this boy is out of pure benevolence, for he has no
claim upon me; but I assure you that I will not be imposed
upon, therefore I say ‘no’ most emphatically.
“One other thing. You say the boy doesn’t work as much as he
ought to. I can only say this is no business of mine. You
have full authority over him, and you can make him work. I
don’t believe in pampering boys and indulging them in
laziness. I recommend you to be strict with William--to let
him understand that you are not to be trifled with. Such
would be my course. Yours, etc.,
“CHARLES WALDO.”
Nathan Badger was deeply disappointed. He had made up his mind that Mr.
Waldo would allow him at least a dollar a week and had complacently
calculated how much this would enable him to lay aside. Now this dream
was over.
Of course he could have given up the boy, for he was not formally bound
to him. But this he did not care to do. The fact was that Bill earned
his board twice over, and Mr. Badger knew it, though he would not have
admitted it. It was for his interest to keep him.
He went home deeply disappointed and angry and disposed to vent his
spite on the poor victim of his tyranny, even had there been no
plausible excuse for doing so.
When he reached home he was met by Mrs. Badger with a frowning brow.
“Well, Mr. Badger, there’s been a pretty scene since you went away.”
“What do you mean, Cornelia?”
“Bill has nearly killed Andrew Jackson.”
“Are you crazy, wife?”
“No, I am in earnest. The young rascal attacked poor Andrew with a hoe
and nearly killed him.”
“Then he must be crazy!” ejaculated Mr. Badger. “Where is Andrew? I want
his account of it. If it is as you say, the boy shall suffer.”