There were two persons outside, one of whom was our hero, Harry
Gilbert. The other, though dressed in citizen’s clothes, was an
officer, who had been sent to arrest Temple, on a charge of being
implicated with Vernon in the robbery of the tin box.
Harry at once recognized the voice of Philip, and it is needless to say
that he was filled with genuine surprise.
“That must be Philip Ross,” he said, in a low voice, to the officer.
“Who is Philip Ross?”
Harry gave a few words of explanation. He did not, however, mention the
mean trick which Philip had played on him.
“He is not a friend of Temple?” asked the officer.
“Oh, no! He must have got into some trouble with Temple. Please stay
here, and let me go in and see what is the matter. I have a reason for
wishing him to think I am alone, just at first.”
“Just as you say,” returned the officer. “I take it for granted Temple
isn’t here, or the boy wouldn’t have called. Suppose the man comes
back?”
“Let him come in, and you can follow. Between us, I guess we can make
him a prisoner.”
“You have plenty of courage,” said the officer. “Are you not afraid to
have him come in upon you?”
“Not while you are near to help me,” answered Harry. “In that cabin we
could pen him up.”
“That’s true. Well, go in to your friend.”
“A queer sort of a friend Philip is,” thought Harry, but he did not
object to the title.
Opening the cabin door, which Temple had closed, Harry regarded Philip
with amazement. He could hardly believe the testimony of his eyes when
he saw his enemy, tied hand and foot, very much as he had been the
night before.
“What’s the matter, Philip?” he asked. “What has happened to you?”
“Can’t you see for yourself,” demanded Philip, querulously. “I’m tied
so tight I can’t move.”
“Who did it?”
“That thief, Temple! I should like to wring his neck!” said Philip,
spitefully.
Though Harry was not a vindictive boy, it did strike him as appropriate
that Philip should have a chance to see for himself how it seemed to be
bound. Deferring the gratification of his curiosity, he inquired:
“How do you like it?”
“How do I like it?” echoed Philip, furiously. “Don’t ask such absurd
questions, but come and untie me.”
“Wait a minute,” said Harry. “Perhaps you have forgotten that this is
the way you and Congreve served me only last night. I suppose you
thought it a good joke. Well, Ralph Temple has played the same joke on
you.”
“Joke!” repeated Philip. “He’ll find out what kind of a joke it is when
my father has him put in jail.”
“Do you think he deserves to be put in jail just for that?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then it seems to me that you and your friend Congreve deserve the same
punishment for what you did to me.”
“It’s entirely different; but stop talking and come and untie me.”
“You didn’t untie me. You left me to pass the night in the forest
alone.”
Philip eyed Harry attentively, and it struck him that perhaps it would
be better to drop his haughty and domineering tone and temporize a
little, if he wanted a rescue. He could afterward treat Harry as he
pleased.
“I didn’t think you’d make so much of a little matter like that,” he
said. “It was a mistake. I didn’t mean you to stay all night. Congreve
promised to go back and untie you. Didn’t he do it?”
“No,” answered Harry, dryly.
“Then he broke his promise. Just untie me, that’s a good fellow, and
I’ll make it up to you. I’ve got two dollars in my pocket, and you may
have them if you’ll get me out of this scrape. Be quick, for Temple may
be coming back, and he may kill us both.”
“I don’t want your two dollars, Philip,” said Harry. “I am ready to
release you without that——”
“Quick, then; that’s a good fellow.”
“Hear me out. I was going to say, on one condition.”
“What is it?” asked Philip, impatiently.
“That you will beg my pardon for the trick you played on me,” said
Harry, quietly.
“What! I beg your pardon?” exclaimed Philip, haughtily.
“That is what I said.”
“Do you think I would demean myself by asking anybody’s pardon?”
demanded Philip, his pride getting the better of his prudence.
“That is exactly what I expect, Philip Ross. If I had played such a
mean trick on any one, I should think it no more than right to do just
that thing.”
“No,” said Philip, stubbornly; “I won’t do that, but I will give you
the two dollars.”
“I don’t want your two dollars,” returned Harry, contemptuously.
Two dollars was not so large a sum in his eyes as it would have been
the day previous, for in the last twenty-four hours he had earned, and
was confident of receiving, a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars.
Still, even if this had not been the case, he would have disdained to
sell his assistance to Philip.
“The money will do you a great deal more good than my asking your
pardon,” argued Philip.
“No, it won’t. I am not very much in need of money, but I won’t help a
boy who has acted toward me as you have, unless you will apologize.”
“Don’t be a fool! Come and help me, and the money will be yours.”
“It is no use, Philip; my mind is made up. Will you apologize?”
“No.”
“Then, good-day! Give my respects to Mr. Temple when he returns.”
So saying, Harry turned to leave the cabin, and Philip’s heart sank in
dismay as he saw the only one from whom he could hope for help leaving
his presence.
“Hold on!” he called out. “I’ll give you five dollars! I haven’t got it
with me, but I can get it from my father. I’ll hand it to you
to-morrow.”
Philip hated to humble his pride, and he would rather have paid five
dollars, even if it came out of his own pocket, than submit to such a
humiliation.
“Good-by, Philip,” said Harry, resolutely.
“Are you really going to leave me? That’s mean.”
“You know the condition on which I’ll help you.”
“I’ll give you ten dollars!” exclaimed Philip, desperately.
“Not a cent! I won’t take a cent from you! Either I will help you or
leave you here, but no money shall pass between us.”
There was a calm resolution in Harry’s tone which at last convinced
Philip that he was in earnest.
“What do you want me to say?” he asked, sullenly.
“That you are sorry for the mean trick you played on me, and ask my
pardon.”
“All right. Now untie me.”
“You haven’t said it.”
“It’s the same thing.”
“I don’t consider it so.”
“Well, tell me what you want, then,” said Philip, querulously.
“Repeat after me: ‘I am sorry for the mean trick I played on you, and I
beg your pardon.’”
Philip was perforce obliged to do as Harry required, and he repeated
the words, though with a very bad grace.
“That will do,” said Harry. “Now I am satisfied.”
He felt for his knife, but did not have it with him.
He therefore knelt down, and set to work to untie the knots in the
rope.
He succeeded at last, but not without considerable difficulty and the
expenditure of not a little time. At last he loosened the last knot,
and said:
“Now you are free.”
Philip jumped to his feet—for these were the last to be released—with
an exclamation of satisfaction.
“Thank goodness!” he cried; “now I am free, and can leave this
miserable hut!”
He looked up, and his hopefulness was succeeded by quick dismay.
There, in the doorway, scowling at the two boys, was the master of the
cabin.