FRED'S BEST FRIEND.
Fred Sheldon sprang up from his hiding-place in the grass, almost
before the drover vaulted over the fence, and ran across the meadow in
the manner he did when he believed the wandering lion was at his heels.
Cyrus Sutton seemed to be confused for the minute, as though he had
scared up some strange sort of animal, and he stared until the dark
figure began to grow dim in the distance.
Even then he might not have said or done anything had not Bud Heyland
heard the noise and come clambering over the fence after him.
"Why don't you shoot him?" demanded Bud; "he's a spy that has been
listening! Let's capture him! Come on! It will never do for him to get
away! If we can't overhaul him, we can shoot him on the fly!"
The impetuous Bud struck across the lot much the same as a frightened
ox would have done when galloping. He was in dead earnest, for he and
Sutton had been discussing some important schemes, which it would not
do for outsiders to learn anything about.
He held his pistol in hand, and was resolved that the spy should not
escape him. The skurrying figure was dimly visible in the moonlight,
but in his haste and excitement Bud probably did not observe that the
object of the chase was of very short stature.
Sutton kept close beside Bud, occasionally falling a little behind, as
though it was hard work.
"He's running as fast as we," said Sutton; "you had better hail him."
Bud Heyland did so on the instant.
"Hold on there! Stop! Surrender and you will be spared! If you don't
stop I'll shoot!"
Master Frederick Sheldon believed he was running for life, and, finding
he was not overtaken, he redoubled his exertions, his chubby legs
carrying him along with a speed which astonished even himself.
The terrible hail of his pursuer instead of "bringing him to,"
therefore, only spurred him to greater exertions.
"I give you warning," called out Bud, beginning to pant from the
severity of his exertion, "that I'll shoot, and when I take aim I'm
always sure to hit something."
"That's what makes me so afraid," said Sutton, dropping a little
behind, "for I think I'm in more danger than the one ahead."
Bud Heyland now raised his revolver and sighted as well as he could
at the shadowy figure, which was beginning to edge off to the left. A
person on a full run is not certain to make a good shot, and when the
weapon was discharged, the bullet missed the fugitive by at least a
dozen feet if not more.
Bud lowered the pistol and looked to see the daring intruder fall
to the ground, but he did not do so, and continued on at the same
surprising gait.
"That bullet grazed him," said Bud, bringing up his pistol again; "just
see how I'll make him drop this time; fix your eye on him, and when I
pull the trigger he'll give a yell and jump right up in the air."
To make his aim sure, beyond all possibility of failure, the panting
pursuer came to a halt for a moment, and resting the barrel on his left
arm, as though he were a duelist, he took "dead aim" at the lad and
again pulled the trigger.
But there is no reason to believe that he came any nearer the mark than
in the former instance; and when Sutton said with a laugh:
"I don't see him jump and yell, Bud," the marksman, retorted:
"You'd better shoot yourself, then."
"No; I was afraid you would shoot me instead of him. I think you came
nearer me than you did him. Hark! Did you hear the man laugh then. He
don't mind us so long as we keep shooting at him."
"Did he laugh?" demanded Bud, savagely. "If he laughed at me he shall
die!"
Hurriedly replacing his useless pistol in his pocket he resumed his
pursuit with fierce energy, for he was resolved on overhauling the man
who had dared to listen to what had been said.
Had Bud been alone he would have left the pursuit to some one else, but
with the muscular Cyrus Sutton at his back he was running over with
courage and vengeance.
Although the halt had been a brief one, yet it could not fail to prove
of advantage to the fugitive, who was speeding with might and main
across the meadow, and had begun to work off to the left, because he
was anxious to reach the shelter of some woods, where he was hopeful of
dodging his pursuers.
It would seem that Bud Heyland and Cyrus Sutton could easily outspeed
such a small boy as Fred Sheldon, but they were so bulky that it was
much harder work for them to run, and they could not last so long.
Hitherto they had lumbered along pretty heavily, but now they settled
down to work with all the vigor they possessed, realizing that it was
useless to expect to capture the fugitive in any other way.
Meanwhile Fred Sheldon was doing his "level best;" active and quick in
his movements he could run rapidly for one of his years, and could keep
it up much longer than those behind him, though for a short distance
their speed was the greater.
Dreading, as he did, to fall into the hands of Bud Heyland and his
lawless companion, he put forth all the power at his command, and
glancing over his shoulder now and then he kept up his flight with an
energy that taxed his strength and endurance to the utmost.
When he found that they were not gaining on him he was encouraged, but
greatly frightened by the pistol-shots. He was sure that one of the
bullets went through his hat and the other grazed his ear, but so long
as they didn't disable him he meant to keep going.
He was nearly across the meadow when he recalled that he was speeding
directly toward a worm-fence which separated it from the adjoining
field. It would take a few precious seconds to surmount that, and he
turned diagonally toward the left, as has been stated, because by
taking such a course, he could reach the edge of a small stretch of
woods, in whose shadows he hoped to secure shelter from his would-be
captors.
This change in the line of flight could not fail to operate to
the disadvantage of the fugitive, for a time at least, for, being
understood by Bud and Cyrus, they swerved still more, and sped along
with increased speed, so that they rapidly recovered the ground lost a
short time before.
They were aiming to cut off Fred, who saw his danger at once, and
changed his course to what might be called "straight away" again,
throwing his pursuers directly behind him.
This checked the scheme for the time, but it deprived Fred of his great
hope of going over the fence directly into the darkness of the woods.
As it was, he was now speeding toward the high worm-fence which
separated the field he was in from the one adjoining.
Already he could see the long, crooked line of rails, as they stretched
out to the right and left in front of him, disappearing in the gloom
and looking like mingling lines of India ink against the sky beyond.
Even in such stirring moments odd thoughts come to us, and Fred, while
on the dead run, compared in his mind the fence rails to the crooked
and erratic lines he had drawn with his pen on a sheet of white paper.
Although he could leap higher in the air and further on the level than
any lad of his age, he knew better than to try and vault such a fence.
As he approached it, therefore, he slackened his gait slightly, and
springing upward with one foot on the middle rail, he placed the other
instantly after on the topmost one and went over like a greyhound, with
scarcely any hesitation, continuing his flight, and once more swerving
to the left toward the woods on which he now fixed his hopes.
Possibly Bud Heyland thought that the fact of his being attached to
Colonel Bandman's great menagerie and circus called upon him to perform
greater athletic feats; for instead of imitating the more prudent
course of the fugitive, he made a tremendous effort to clear the fence
with one bound.
He would have succeeded but for the top three rails. As it was his
rather large feet struck them, and he went over with a crash, his hat
flying off and his head ploughing quite a furrow in the ground.
[Illustration: Bud Heyland fell headlong over the fence in pursuit of
Fred. --(See page 151.)]
He rolled over several times, and as he picked himself up it seemed
as if most of his bones were broken and he never had been so jarred in
all his life.
"Did you fall?" asked Cyrus Sutton, unable to suppress his laughter, as
he climbed hastily after him.
"I tripped a little," was the angry reply, "and I don't see anything to
laugh at; come on! we'll have him yet!"
To the astonishment of the cattle dealer, Bud caught up his hat and
resumed the pursuit with only a moment's delay, and limping only
slightly from his severe shaking up.
Fred Sheldon was dimly visible making for the woods, and the two
followed, Sutton just a little behind his friend.
"You might as well give it up," said the elder; "he's got too much of a
start and is making for cover."
"I'm bound to have him before he can reach it, and I'll pay him for all
this."
No more than one hundred feet separated the parties, when Fred,
beginning to feel the effects of his severe exertion, darted in among
the shadows of the wood, and, hardly knowing what was the best to do,
threw himself flat on the ground, behind the trunk of a large tree,
where he lay panting and afraid the loud throbbing of his heart would
betray him to his pursuers, who were so close behind him.
Had he been given a single minute more he would have made a sharp turn
in his course, and thus could have thrown them off the track without
difficulty; but, as it was--we shall see.
Bud Heyland rushed by within a few feet, and halted a couple of yards
beyond, while Sutton stopped within a third of that distance, where
Fred lay flat on the ground.
"Do you hear him?" asked Bud.
"Hear him? No; he's given us the slip, and it's all time thrown away to
hunt further for him."
Bud uttered an angry exclamation and stood a few minutes listening for
some sound that would tell where the eavesdropper was.
But nothing was heard, and Sutton moved forward, passing so close to
Fred that the latter could have reached out his hand and touched him.
"How could he help seeing me?" the boy asked himself, as the man joined
Bud Heyland, and the two turned off and moved in the direction of the
highway.
Some distance away Bud Heyland and Sutton stopped and talked together
in such low tones that Fred Sheldon could only hear the murmur of their
voices, as he did when he first learned of their presence beside the
road.
But it is, perhaps, needless to say that he was content to let them
hold their conference in peace, without any effort on his part to
overhear any more of it. He was only too glad to let them alone, and to
indulge a hope that they would be equally considerate toward him.
Bud would have continued the search much longer and with a strong
probability of success had not Sutton persuaded him that it was only a
waste of time to do so. Accordingly they resumed their walk, with many
expressions of impatience over their failure to capture the individual
who dared to discover their secrets in such an underhanded way.
"He looked to me like a very small man," said Bud, as he walked slowly
along, dusting the dirt from his clothing and rubbing the many bruised
portions of his body.
"Of course he was," replied Sutton, "or he wouldn't have gone into that
kind of business."
"I don't mean that; he seemed like a short man."
"Yes, so he was, but there are plenty of full-grown men in this world
who are no taller than he."
"It's too bad, I broke my pipe all to pieces when I fell over the
fence, and jammed the stem half way down my throat."
"I thought you had broken your neck," said Sutton, "and you ought to be
thankful that you did not."
Bud muttered an ill-natured reply, and the two soon after debouched
into the highway, along which they continued until the house of the
younger was reached, where they stopped a minute or so for a few more
words, when they separated for the night.
Fred Sheldon waited until they were far beyond sight and hearing, when
he cautiously rose to his feet and stood for a short time to make sure
he could leave the spot without detection.
"I guess I've had enough for one night," he said with a sigh, as he
turned off across the meadow until he reached the border of the lane,
along which he walked until he knocked at the door of the Misses
Perkinpine, where he was admitted with the same cordiality that was
always shown him.
They seemed to think he had stayed at the hired man's house for a chat
with Bud, and made no inquiries, while the boy himself did not deem it
best to tell what had befallen him.
His recent experience had been so severe upon him that he felt hungry
enough to eat another supper, and he would not have required a second
invitation to do so, but, as the first was not given, he concluded to
deny himself for the once.
Fred expected to lie awake a long time after going to bed, trying to
solve the meaning of the few significant words he had overheard, but he
fell asleep almost immediately, and did not wake until called by Aunt
Lizzie.
This was Friday, the last school-day of the week, and he made sure
of being on hand in time. As he had been absent by the permission of
his mother, made known through a note sent before she went to see her
brother, Mr. McCurtis could not take him to task for his failure to
attend school, but a number of lads who had been tempted away by the
circus and the excitement over the escaped lion were punished severely.
However, they absented themselves with a full knowledge of what would
follow, and took the bitter dregs with the sweet, content to have the
pain if they might first have the pleasure.
"I have excused several of you," said the teacher, peering very keenly
through his glasses at Fred, "for absence, but I have not been asked
to excuse any failure in lessons, and I do not intend to do so. Those
who have been loitering and wasting their time will soon make it
appear when called on to recite, and they must be prepared for the
consequences."
This remark was intended especially for Fred, who was thankful that he
found out what the lessons of the day were, for he had prepared himself
perfectly.
And it was well he did so, for the teacher seemed determined to puzzle
him. Fred was asked every sort of question the lesson could suggest.
It had always been said by Mrs. Sheldon that Fred never knew a lesson
so long as he failed to see clear through it, and could answer any
question germane to it.
He felt the wisdom of such instruction on this occasion, when the
teacher at the end of the examination allowed him to take his seat and
remarked, half angrily:
"There's a boy who knows his lessons, which is more than I can say of a
good many of you. I think it will be a good thing for him to go out and
hunt a few more lions."
This was intended as a witticism on the part of the teacher, and, like
the urchins of Goldsmith's "Deserted Village," they all laughed with
"counterfeit glee," some of the boys roaring as if they would fall off
the benches from the excess of their mirth.
Mr. McCurtis smiled grimly, and felt it was another proof that when he
became a school teacher the world lost one of its greatest comedians
and wits.
At recess and noon Fred was quite a hero among the scholars. They
gathered about him and he had to tell the story over and over again, as
well as the dreadful feelings that must have been his when he woke up
in the night and found that a real, live burglar was in his room.
Like most boys of his age, Fred unconsciously exaggerated in telling
the narratives so often, but he certainly deserved credit, not only
for his genuine bravery, but for the self-restraint that enabled him
to keep back some other things he might have related which would have
raised him still more in the admiration of his young friends.
"I'm going to tell them to mother first of all," was his conclusion,
"and I will take her advice as to what I should do."
He brought the lunch the Misses Perkinpine had put up for him, and
stayed in the neighborhood of the school-house all noon, with a number
of others, who lived some distance away. As the weather was quite warm,
the boys sat under a tree, talking over the stirring incidents of the
preceding few days.
Fred was answering a question for the twentieth time, when he was
alarmed by the sudden appearance of Bud Heyland, with his trousers
tucked in his boots, his briar-wood pipe--that is, a new one--in his
mouth, and his blacksnake-whip in hand.
As he walked along he looked at the school-house very narrowly, almost
coming to a full stop, and acting as though he was searching for some
one. He did not observe that half a dozen boys were stretched out in
the shadow of the big tree across the road.
"Keep still!" said Fred, in a whisper, "and maybe he won't see us."
But young Heyland was not to be misled so easily. Observing that the
school was dismissed, he looked all around him, and quickly espied the
little fellows lolling in the shade, when he immediately walked over
toward them.
Fred Sheldon's heart was in his mouth on the instant, for he was sure
Bud was looking for him.
"He must have known me last night," he thought, "and as he couldn't
catch me then he has come to pay me off now."
But it would have been a confession of guilt to start and run, and Bud
would be certain to overtake him before he could go far, so the boy did
not stir from the ground on which he was reclining.
"Halloo, Bud," called out several, as he approached. "How are you
getting along?"
"None of your business," was the characteristic answer; "is Fred
Sheldon there?"
"I'm here," said Fred, rising to the sitting position. "What do you
want of me?"
Bud Heyland acted curiously. He looked sharply at the boy, and then
said:
"I don't want anything of you just now, but I'll see you later," and
without anything further he moved on, leaving our hero wondering why he
had not asked for the ten dollars due him.
Fred expected he would return, and was greatly relieved when the
teacher appeared and school was called. Fearful that the bully would
wait for him on the road, Fred went to the old brick mansion first,
where he stayed till dark, when he decided to run over to his own home,
look after matters there, and then return by a new route to the old
ladies who were so kind to him.
He kept a sharp lookout on the road, but saw nothing of either Bud or
Cyrus Sutton.
"It seems to me," said Fred to himself, as he approached the old
familiar spot, "that I ought to hear something from mother by this
time. There isn't any school to-morrow, and I'll walk over to Uncle
Will's and find out when she's coming home, and then I'll tell her all
I've got to tell, which is so much, with what I want to ask, that it'll
take me a week to get through--halloo! What does that mean?"
He stopped short in the road, for through the closed blinds of the
lower story he caught the twinkling rays of a light that some one had
started within.
"I wonder whether it is our house they're going to rob to-night,"
exclaimed Fred, adding the next moment, with a grim humor: "If it is,
they will be more disappointed than they ever were in their lives."
A minute's thought satisfied him that no one with a view to robbery was
there, for the good reason that there was nothing to steal, as anyone
would be quick to learn.
"It must be some tramp prowling around in the hope of getting something
to eat. Anyway, I will soon find out----"
Just then the window was raised, the shutters thrown wide open by some
person, who leaned part way out the window in full view.
One glance was enough for Fred Sheldon to recognize that face and form,
the dearest on earth, as seen in the starlight, with the yellow rays of
the lamp behind them.
"Halloo, mother! Ain't I glad to see you? How are you? Bless your dear
soul! What made you stay away so long?"
"Fred, my own boy!"
And leaning out the window she threw both arms about the neck of the
lad, who in turn threw his about her, just as the two always did when
they met after a brief separation.
The fact of it was, Fred Sheldon was in love with his mother and always
had been, and that sort of boy is sure to make his mark in this world.
A few minutes later the happy boy had entered the house and was sitting
at the tea table, eating very little and talking very much.
The mother told him that his uncle had been dangerously ill, but had
begun to mend that day, and was now believed to have passed the crisis
of his fever, and would soon get well. She therefore expected to stay
with her boy all the time.
And then the delighted little fellow began his story, or rather series
of stories, while the kind eyes of the handsome and proud parent were
fixed on the boy with an interest which could not have been stronger.
Her face paled when, in his own graphic way, he pictured his lonely
watch in the old brick mansion, and the dreadful discovery that the
wicked tramp had entered the building stealthily behind him. She
shuddered to think that her loved one had been so imperiled, and was
thankful indeed that Providence had protected him.
Then the story of the lion, of its unexpected breaking out from the
cage, the panic of the audience, his encounter with it in the lane,
its entry into the smoke-house, his shutting the door, and finally how
he earned and received the reward. All this was told with a childish
simplicity and truthfulness which would have thrilled any one who had a
less personal interest than the boy's mother.
As I have said, there were no secrets that the son kept from his
parent. He told how he saw that the tramp wore false whiskers and how
he dropped a knife on the floor, which he got and showed to his mother,
explaining to her at the same time that the letters were the initials
of the young man known through the neighborhood as "Bud" Heyland.
"That may all be," said she, smilingly, "and yet Bud may be as innocent
as you or I."
"How is that?" asked Fred, wonderingly.
"He may have traded or lost the knife, or some one may have stolen it
and left it there on purpose to turn suspicion toward Bud. Such things
have been done many a time, and it is odd that anyone could drop a
knife in such a place without knowing it."
Fred opened his eyes.
"Then Bud is innocent, you think?"
"No, I believe he is guilty, for you say you were pretty sure of his
voice, but it won't do to be too certain. As to the other man, who
misled you when you met him in the lane, it is a hard thing to say who
he is."
"Why, mother, I'm surer of him than I am of Bud, and I'm dead sure of
him, you know."
"What are your reasons?"
Fred gave them as they are already known to the reader. The wise little
woman listened attentively, and said when he had finished:
"I don't wonder that you think as you do, but you once was as sure, as
I understand, of Mr. Kincade, the one who paid you the reward."
"That is so," assented Fred, "but I hadn't had so much time to think
over the whole matter."
"Very probably you are right, for they are intimate, and they are
staying in the neighborhood for no good. Tell me just what you heard
them say last night, when they sat on the rock by the roadside. Be
careful not to put in any words of your own, but give only precisely
what you know were spoken by the two."
The boy did as requested, the mother now and then asking a question and
keeping him down close to the task of telling only the plain, simple
truth, concerning which there was so much of interest to both.
When he was through she said the words of the two showed that some
wicked scheme was in contemplation, though nothing had been heard to
indicate its precise nature.
The matter having been fully told the question remained--and it was the
great one which underlay all others--what could Fred do to earn the
large reward offered by the two ladies who had lost their property?
"Remember," said his mother, thoughtfully, "you are only a small
boy fourteen years old, and it is not reasonable to think you can
out-general two bad persons who have learned to be cunning in all they
do."
"Nor was it reasonable to think I would out-general a big lion," said
Fred, with a laugh, as he leaned on his mother's lap and looked up in
her eyes.
"No; but that lion was old and harmless; he might have spent the
remainder of his days in this neighborhood without any one being in
danger."
"But we didn't know that."
"But you know that Bud Heyland and this Mr. Sutton are much older than
you and are experienced in evil doing."
"So was the lion," ventured Fred, slyly, quite hopeful of earning the
prize on which he had set his heart. "I have been thinking that maybe I
ought to tell Mr. Jackson, the constable, about the knife, with Bud's
name on it."
"No," said the mother. "It isn't best to tell him anything, for he has
little discretion. He boasts too much about what he is going to do; the
wise and skilful man never does that."
Mrs. Sheldon had "gauged" the fussy little constable accurately when
she thus described him.
"Fred," suddenly said his mother, "do not the Misses Perkinpine expect
you to stay at their house to-night?"
"Yes, I told them I would be back, and they will be greatly surprised,
for I didn't say anything about your coming home, because I thought
Uncle Will was so sick you wouldn't be able to leave him."
"Then you had better run over and explain why it is you cannot stay
with them to-night."
The affectionate boy disliked to leave his mother when they were
holding such a pleasant conversation, but he could please her only by
doing so, and donning his broad-brimmed straw hat, and bidding her
good-night, passed out the door, promising soon to return.
Fred was so anxious to spend the evening at home that he broke into
a trot the instant he passed out the gate, and kept it up along the
highway until he reached the short lane, which was so familiar to him.
The same eagerness to return caused him to forget one fact that had
hitherto impressed him, which was that the conspiracy of Bud Heyland
and Cyrus Sutton was intended to be carried out this same evening.
The boy had gone almost the length of the lane when he was surprised to
observe a point of light moving about in the shadow of the trees, the
night being darker than the previous one.
"What under the sun can that be?" he asked, stopping short and
scrutinizing it with an interest that may be imagined.
Viewed from where he stood, it looked like a jack-o'-lantern, or a
candle which some one held in his hand while moving about.
It had that swaying, up-and-down motion, such as a person makes when
walking rapidly, while now and then it shot up a little higher, as
though the bearer had raised it over his head to get a better view of
his surroundings.
"Well, that beats everything I ever heard of," muttered Fred, resuming
his walk toward the house; "it must be some kind of a lantern, and
maybe it's one of them dark ones which robbers use, and they are taking
a look at the outside to see which is the best way of getting inside,
though I don't think there is anything left for them."
The distance to the house was so short that Fred soon reached the yard.
On his way thither the strange light vanished several times, only to
reappear again, its occasional eclipse, no doubt, being due to the
intervening vegetation.
When the boy came closer he saw that the lantern was held in the hand
of Aunt Lizzie, who was walking slowly around the yard, with her sister
by her side, while they peered here and there with great deliberation
and care.
"Why, Aunt Lizzie!" called out Fred, as he came up, "what are you
looking for?"
The good ladies turned toward him with a faint gasp of fright, and then
gave utterance to an expression of thankfulness.
"Why, Frederick, we are looking for you," was the reply, and then,
complimenting his truthfulness, she added, "you promised to come back,
and we knew you wouldn't tell a story, and sister and I thought maybe
you were hungry and sick somewhere around the yard, and if so we were
going to get you into the house and give you some supper."
"Why, aunties, I've had supper," laughed Fred, amused beyond measure at
the simplicity of the good ladies.
"We didn't suppose that made any difference," was the kind remark of
the good ladies, who showed by the observation that they had a pretty
accurate knowledge after all of this particular specimen of boyhood.