“Come here, will you!”
Harry Gilbert turned around, for the call was evidently addressed to
him, and saw, standing on the piazza of the hotel, James Congreve.
“Come here a moment. I want to speak to you,” said Congreve, taking
from his mouth the cigar he was smoking.
Harry was surprised. He had scarcely any acquaintance with Congreve,
whom he knew chiefly as a companion of Philip Ross. Hitherto he had
taken no notice of Harry—a circumstance not regretted by our hero, who
had not formed a favorable opinion of the young man.
“Do you wish to speak to me?” he asked, politely.
“Yes,” said James, blandly. “May I offer you a cigar?”
“Thank you, I don’t smoke,” returned Harry, with increased surprise at
Congreve’s friendly tone.
“It’s a bad habit; I dare say you are right,” said Congreve gladly. “I
mean to break off soon. But what I wanted to ask you was: Do you know
your way about the Pegan Hill Woods?”
“Yes; I’ve been there often.”
“Then you are just the companion I want. I am thinking of exploring
them with my gun. I suppose I am likely to find some birds?”
“Oh, yes; it’s a good place for a sportsman.”
“Suppose you come with me. We can have a pleasant afternoon.”
Harry hesitated. He did not wish to be disobliging, nor did he wish to
sacrifice the afternoon. As he did not specially fancy Congreve, he did
not expect any pleasure from his company, though the young man seemed
disposed to be cordial. This Harry explained to himself by Congreve’s
desire to secure his services as a guide, and, therefore, did not feel
much flattered.
James Congreve noticed and understood his hesitation.
“Of course,” he said, “I do not wish to take up your time without
compensation. I will pay you fifty cents for your services.”
This put a different face on the matter. Fifty cents was very good pay
for an afternoon’s work, and Harry at once decided that he could not
let slip so good an opportunity.
“If you think my company will be worth that to you,” he said, “I am
quite willing. How long do you want to stay?”
“I intend to return in time for supper.”
“Then it won’t be necessary to go home and tell my mother where I am
going.”
“Oh, dear, no! You will be back before she has time to miss you.”
“When do you want to go?”
“At once. I will go in and get my gun and be with you in a moment.”
“Unexpected things seem to happen to me pretty often,” thought Harry.
“I never expected we should have an uncle of Mrs. Ross as a boarder,
and here is Philip’s intimate friend hiring me as a guide. Somehow, my
destiny seems to be closely connected with Philip’s, though we are
about as far from being friends as any two boys can be.”
“Is any one going with you?” asked Harry when Congreve came out of the
hotel with his gun.
“No one except you.”
“I don’t know where Philip is this afternoon,” said Congreve
carelessly.
Harry rather wondered whether Philip and his companion had had a
quarrel. It would not have surprised him very much, for Philip was
quite in the habit of quarreling with his associates.
“How far is it to the edge of the woods?” asked Congreve.
“About a mile and a half.”
“Quite a good distance. However, it’s early, and we shall have time
enough.”
Part of their course lay through the fields and meadows.
As they neared the woods, suddenly Congreve said, in a tone of
well-counterfeited surprise:
“Why, there is Philip Ross sitting on a rock! I wonder what brought him
here? Hello, Philip!”