HIS ENEMIES ON THE TRAIL.
Ned Nevins walked back to the hotel with his brain in a whirl. In the
first place, the twenty-dollar bill which he fondly fingered as it lay
in his pocket, provided a stop-gap between want and what he hardly
dared to consider, and that was, a refusal on the part of the Boy
Inventors to have anything to do with his cherished plans.
In the second place, his encounter with Vaughn Kessler was a dubious
source of satisfaction to him. From one point of view it had, of
course, its pleasing side, but somehow, Ned could not free himself of
an uneasy feeling that in some way the news of his whereabouts would
get back to Millville. In what a devious way this was to happen he had,
of course, no conception, and it was just as well for his peace of mind
that he had not.
He arrived at the hotel a little time before supper, and having cleaned
himself up as well as possible, and carefully brushed his hair and
his garments, he descended to the porch and sank down into the most
comfortable chair he could find, one commanding a good view of the
street.
A boy came along with papers, and feeling that with his twenty-dollar
bill snugly tucked in his pocket he could afford to indulge in a few
luxuries, Ned bought two papers, one a local sheet, the other a Boston
daily. He looked through the latter first and as his eye traveled down
the columns it was caught by the Personal Column.
In this section of the paper were published notices to missing
relatives and so forth. The type used was large and heavy and
calculated to catch the eye.
What was Ned’s astonishment to suddenly spy his own name at the head of
a notice two or three paragraphs from the top of the list. He stared
at it in some wonder for a minute before he read the notice itself.
“Why, who can be advertising for me?” he thought, and with the thought
came an uncomfortable sensation at the recollection of the legal
processes with which his cousin had threatened him.
“I’ll read the notice, that’s the best way of solving the puzzle,”
reflected the boy. Casting his eye over the paragraph, he read as
follows:
“Ned Nevins: It will be to your advantage to communicate at once with
your cousin at Millville, N. Y. Big opportunity.--H. Nevins.”
“That’s Hank! what sort of a trick is he up to now?” wondered Ned. “To
‘my advantage,’” he musingly went on. “I’d like to know what there is
to ‘my advantage’ that Hank would be likely to take the trouble and
expense to advertise about. ‘Big opportunity’--yes, a ‘big opportunity’
to get his hands on those papers. The idea of his thinking that I’d be
softy enough to answer such an ’ad’! No, indeed, you’ll never locate me
in that way. I’m glad I asked Mr. Kessler to say nothing about having
seen me. Hank is working harder than I thought possible for him to
locate me, but he won’t do it if I can help it.”
Which shows that Ned, like most of the rest of us, placed undue
confidence in his own ability to avoid unpleasantness. We already know
how Fate was at work to over-reach him, playing with what appeared to
be malignant favoritism, into the hands of those who wished him harm.
He was roused from his reverie by the sound of a quick step behind him,
and then a hand was placed none too gently on his shoulder.
“It’s that fresh kid again!” exclaimed a grating, unpleasant voice.
“Get up out of that chair instantly--do you hear me?”
“It’s Sam Hinkley!” exclaimed Ned to himself, without, however, looking
around. Aloud he demanded:
“Well, what do you want?”
“That chair.”
“Unfortunately it is, as you see, occupied.”
“I wish it at once!”
“You do?”
“Yes!”
“You have a cool way of asking for it. Suppose I don’t give it to you?”
“You’ll be made to!”
“Who’ll make me?”
“I will, I guess. You don’t know who I am?”
“Oh, yes, I do. Your name is Sam Hinkley. I had a little argument with
you this morning in which you came out second best, I fancy.”
“I’ll teach you a lesson, you tramp. Are you going to get up?”
“When the supper bell rings, I mean to.”
“Not till then?”
“No thanks, I’m very comfortable where I am.”
“That’s my chair.”
“Indeed, I thought it was one of those placed out here for the benefit
of the guests.”
“So it is.”
“Well, I happen to be one.”
This answer took the blustering Sam rather aback. He thought that Ned
had sought a chance to rest himself at the expense of the hotel’s
hospitality. But it suited his purpose to appear incredulous.
“They don’t take in vagabonds here.”
It was more than flesh and blood could stand. Ned was about to leap to
his feet when he was spared that trouble by the chair being yanked from
under him, and he fell sprawling on the floor of the porch.
“Haw! haw! haw!” bawled Sam, in high good humor at seeing Ned in such
an undignified position.
“Ho! ho! ho!” echoed half a dozen of Sam’s cronies, who had been
passing with him when he had spied Ned, to whom Sam had taken an
instinctive dislike. The “gang” had been invited by Sam to see the
“fun.” If it had not been on the porch of his father’s hotel that Sam
encountered Ned, he would have hesitated to try issues with him, for
his experience of the morning had shown him that Ned, slender and
rather delicate-looking as he was, was a foeman by no means to be
despised. But on home grounds he felt safe.
He was rather taken aback, therefore, when Ned scrambled to his feet
and advanced toward him instead of retreating, as the bully had
expected Ned would do. There was a fire akindle in Ned’s eyes that Sam
by no means liked, for he was at heart a coward, although accustomed to
lording it over other boys of his own age not a little.
But with the eyes of his cronies fixed upon him expectantly, he felt
that he could not retreat.
“What do you want?” he asked, in a voice that he tried to make
belligerent, but which, somehow, did not hold quite the warlike note
he would have liked.
“I want to give you something you need badly,” said Ned, without
raising his voice, but there still glowed that same dangerous light in
his eyes.
“Are you ready?”
“Rer-ready for what?” demanded Sam, in vain trying to look unimpressed
by this quiet, business-like lad with the steady voice.
“For what I fancy is to be your first lesson in manners.”