JULIAN HAS A VISITOR.
IF WE were interested in the fortunes of Mr. Mortimer, we might put
in an interesting chapter here by relating the various incidents that
transpired in the cabin during the night; but as we have nothing to
do with his personal adventures only in so far as they are connected
with Julian’s, it will be enough to say that it was a night of terror
for him, and one that he never forgot; that, declining the pressing
invitation his host extended to him to occupy the bed which Mrs. Bowles
had arranged for his especial benefit, the guest took his seat in the
corner in which the billets of wood for the fire-place were piled, and
folding his arms and leaning his head against the wall, watched Jack
as closely as ever a cat watched a mouse; that Jack, seeing that the
gentleman’s suspicions had been aroused in some mysterious manner,
fumed inwardly, but believing that time and patience would accomplish
wonders, settled back on his nail-keg to wait until his guest, overcome
by weariness and want of sleep, should be compelled to seek repose;
that, as the night wore on, and Mr. Mortimer never once changed his
position or showed the least sign of drowsiness, Jack began to grow
uneasy, and sat fingering the handle of his knife, and occasionally
running his eyes over the gentleman’s person from head to foot, as if
mentally calculating the chances of a successful encounter with him;
that finally, resolved on trying strategy, Jack threw himself upon
the bed, and after snoring lustily for half an hour, suddenly opened
his eyes, which had never once been closed in sleep, only to find Mr.
Mortimer as watchful and seated as near the billets of wood as ever;
that then Jack’s patience was all exhausted, and he snored in earnest,
but the visitor never moved until daylight began to stream in through
the half-open door.
No one, to have heard the hearty good-morning Jack wished his guest as
soon as he opened his eyes, would have believed that he had ever had
designs upon his life. Neither of them alluded to the matter in any
way, but Bowles noticed that his guest was always on the alert.
About 10 o’clock in the forenoon a flatboat might have been seen moored
in front of the cabin. On the shore stood a party of three men, one of
whom was Jack Bowles, another Mr. Mortimer, and the third the captain
of the boat—a gentleman who looked enough like Jack to be his brother.
After saying this it is scarcely necessary to add that he carried the
face of a villain.
A fourth man was pacing the bank a short distance from the party
mentioned, watching all their movements, listening eagerly to the few
words of their conversation that now and then caught his ear, and
noticing with some nervousness, which showed itself in the frequent
changing of his hands from the arm-holes of his vest to the pockets of
his coat, that they were looking at him rather suspiciously.
This gentleman, whoever he was, had evidently bestowed considerable
pains upon his toilet; and the dignified manner in which he bore
himself, as well as the satisfied and admiring glances which he
occasionally cast down at his dress, indicated that he had a high
opinion of himself and his personal appearance.
His garments were all of the finest broadcloth; but as some of them had
been made for larger, and others for smaller men than himself, they
fitted him oddly enough. His trowsers being too long, were rolled up
around the tops of a pair of heavy cowhide boots; and his coat-sleeves
being too short, revealed arms that were as brown and muscular as those
of a blacksmith. A heavy watch-chain hung across his vest, and the
fingers of both his hands were ornamented with enormous seal rings.
But little could be seen of his face, for it was almost entirely
concealed by thick, bushy whiskers, and by a large red handkerchief,
which was passed under his chin and tied over his head.
“Who is he?” asked Mr. Mortimer, who became unaccountably nervous and
excited the instant his eyes rested on the stranger.
“He gave no name,” replied the captain of the flatboat. “He came aboard
of us shortly after you left yesterday, and engaged passage for New
Orleans. He is going to the West Indies for his health.”
“For his health!” echoed Mr. Mortimer.
He turned and looked at the stranger again, taking in at a glance his
powerful shoulders, which, like those of Tom Hood’s coachman, were much
“too broad to be conceived by any narrow mind,” his quick, elastic
step, ruddy face, and brawny hands and arms, and asked himself if a
finer specimen of robust health could be found anywhere.
“I know that man in spite of his disguise,” said he, at length, “and
I know what brought him here. He must not be allowed to accompany us,
captain. I will give you double his fare if you will order him to stay
ashore.”
“It is too late,” replied the skipper. “He has paid his passage, and I
charged him a good round sum too.”
“Well, return it to him, and tell him that as your cabin is to be
occupied by a dangerous lunatic and his keepers you cannot accommodate
him.”
“I will talk to him, but I don’t know how much good it will do. He is
very impatient to start down the river, and, what appears strange to
me, he is anxious to go in my boat.”
“It isn’t at all strange to me. His name is Sanders, and he was sent
out here to watch me, and by my cousin.”
Mr. Mortimer, who in his excitement had spoken a little too hastily,
suddenly checked himself and looked savagely at the man whom he had
called Sanders. The latter, observing his close scrutiny, pulled his
handkerchief closer about his face and shifted his hands from his
pockets to the arm-holes of his vest.
“Speaking of this crazy boy,” said the captain, “reminds me that you
have not yet told me when you will be ready to start with him. I have
engaged to deliver my cargo of hoop-poles by a certain time, and I can
wait for you but a few hours longer. You say that the boy has taken it
into his head that he is rich, that he has friends living out West, and
that he has escaped and concealed himself in the woods?”
“Yes,” replied Jack. “He got away from us last night. Me an’ Mr.
Mortimer were jest goin’ to start after him on hossback when yer boat
come in sight. We’ll have him here afore sundown if thar’s men enough
in the county to hold him. Mebbe this feller has heerd of him. I’ll ask
him.”
The person referred to was a settler, who was just returning from The
Corners, and who at that moment galloped up on his horse. He stopped
when he saw Jack preparing to speak to him, and in reply to his
question if he had seen or heard of Julian, said:
“Yes; I saw him at The Corners not more than two hours ago. He traded
off $45 worth of mink skins and bought some powder and lead. He said
that he had made a camp on the bluffs over on Beaver Creek, and that he
was going to stay there a day or two. Anything the matter with him?”
“He’s gone clean outen his head, that’s all,” replied Jack.
“Crazy?” cried the settler.
“Sartin. He stole a’most a hundred dollars of me last night an’ run
away. He wouldn’t a done that if he’d been in his right mind, would he?”
Jack, having gained all the information he desired, gave Mr. Mortimer
a significant look, and the two walked rapidly toward the cabin, at
the door of which their horses were standing, saddled and bridled, and
springing upon their backs rode off across the clearing.
“Did I do right in sayin’ what I did about Julian?” asked Jack, as soon
as he and his companion were out of hearing of the men on the bank.
“Perfectly. I want everybody who is likely to meet him to know that
he is not in his right mind. You see, when we take him on board the
flatboat he may tell the captain or the crew that we are his enemies,
and that he knows we intend to do him some injury; but as we have
already told them that he is crazy they will pay no attention to what
he says. Don’t you understand?”
“In course. But ye hain’t changed yer plans, have ye? Ye hain’t a-goin’
to put him in a ’sylum, be ye?”
“I never had any such intention. If he falls overboard you shall have
$200; but, of course, that is a matter that we keep to ourselves.”
“I know jest what ye mean. Folks will think that we take Julian on
board the flatboat to carry him to Orleans; but we don’t. We take him
thar so as to drop him into the river, an’ get him outen yer way. Make
yer mind easy. Them two hundred is mine.”
The settler, who was very much astonished at what Jack had told him,
and had half a mind to join in the pursuit, watched him and his
companion until they were out of sight, and then continued his ride;
but he had not gone far when when he was stopped by the odd-looking man
in broadcloth.
“Stranger,” said the latter, in regular backwoods vernacular, “whar is
this yere Beaver Creek you was a speakin’ of?”
“I don’t know that I could direct you so that you could find it,” was
the reply.
“Who said I wanted to find it?” inquired the man. “I only axes you
which way it is from here, an’ how fur?”
“Well,” returned the settler, facing about in his saddle, shutting one
eye and gazing at the woods through the half-closed lids of the other;
“it’s four miles right north of here if you go through the timber, and
eight miles if you go by the road.”
The man in broadcloth walked off at once, and without stopping to thank
the settler for his information. As long as he remained within sight of
the cabin and flatboat he was very deliberate in his movements; but
the instant the woods concealed him from view, he broke into a rapid
run, threading his way through the thick bushes with a celerity that
was surprising. Up hill and down he went, never once slackening his
pace or deviating from the course the settler had given him, until at
last he saw a thin cloud of smoke arising through the trees in front
of him, and after climbing a precipitous cliff, found himself standing
face to face with Julian Mortimer.
The boy, who being busy with his preparations for dinner, had not heard
the sound of his footsteps until he reached the top of the bluff,
jumped up with his gun in his hand, ready to fight or run, as occasion
might require. His first thought was that his enemies had tracked him
to his hiding-place; but finding that his visitor was a stranger, and
that he appeared to have no hostile intentions, he leaned on the muzzle
of his rifle and waited for him to make known his business.
The man, whose breath was not even quickened by his long and rapid
run, gazed about him with an air of interest. He looked at the brush
shanty which Julian had erected to protect him from the weather, at the
comfortable bed of blankets and leaves which was arranged under the
sheltering roof, at the squirrels broiling before the fire, and then
his eyes wandered to our hero, at whom he gazed long and earnestly. The
boy did not look much now as he did when he escaped from Jack Bowles’
cabin, for he was dressed in a suit of new and comfortable clothes, and
sported a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of high-top boots.
“Julian,” exclaimed the stranger, at length. “It’s you sure enough,
hain’t it? I hain’t seed you fur more’n eight year, but I would know
you any whar.”
“Would you?” asked Julian, throwing his rifle into the hollow of his
arm and resting his thumb on the hammer; “then have the goodness to
leave here at once. I am suspicious of every stranger who calls me by
name.”
“An’ well you may be,” replied the man, earnestly, “‘cause most of ’em
are enemies to you. But I hain’t. I’m a friend, an’ I can prove it.
Do you know that Dick Mortimer an’ Jack Bowles are huntin’ the country
over to find you?”
“Yes; but I wasn’t aware Mr. Mortimer’s name is Dick.”
“Wal, it is. The flatboat’s come, an’ when they ketch you they’re goin’
to take you to Orleans an’ lock you up fur a crazy boy.”
“Why, they said last night that they were going to push me overboard
and drown me,” said Julian, as soon as he could speak.
“Mebbe they be. I don’t know what they are goin’ to do—I’m only
tellin’ you what I heerd ’em say.”
“Who are you, any how; and how does it come that you know my name?”
“Why, boy, I’ve knowed you ever since you was knee high to a duck, an’
your father afore you.”
“You have?” cried Julian, greatly amazed.
“In course. An’ your mother an’ your brother, too. They live out in the
mountains, an’ I come to take you to ’em. They’ll be monstrous glad to
see you, an’ they’re waitin’ fur you.”
“Are they all alive?”
“The last blessed one of ’em.”
“I remember my father,” said Julian, gazing thoughtfully at the ground,
“and it seems to me that I have some recollection of my brother; but I
never knew anything about my mother. What brought you here?”
“I come to your camp to tell you that Bowles and Mortimer are comin’
arter you on hossback, an’ that if you want to save yourself you had
better dig out. An’ I come to Missouri ’cause your friends sent me here
arter you. I know the hul lot of ’em, I tell you, an’ if you will trust
yourself to me I will take you to ’em safe an’ sound.”
Julian, astounded and bewildered by this proposition, dropped the butt
of his rifle to the ground, and looked sharply at the man, as if he
meant to read his very thoughts. Was he really the friend he professed
to be? Of one thing the boy was certain—and that was that he was not
an ally of Mr. Mortimer. If he had been he would not have warned him
that another attempt was about to be made to capture him.
How gladly would he have given himself up to the man’s guidance if he
had only been sure that he was trustworthy! He would have followed him
all over the world, and braved all imaginable dangers, if he knew that
by so doing he would be restored to his home once more. _Home!_ How the
word thrilled him!
“Who in the world am I?” Julian asked himself in great perplexity;
“and how does it happen that the moment I am ready to carry my plans
into execution, men whom I never remember to have seen before should
suddenly appear and exhibit so deep an interest in me? If I have such
good friends, who are so very anxious to see me, why did they leave me
here for eight long years to be beaten, and starved, and treated worse
than a dog? I can’t understand it at all.”
“What do you say?” asked the stranger; “will you go? You had better be
in a hurry about making up your mind to something, ’cause I can hear
the trampin’ of hosses.”
“Yes,” replied Julian, “I shall go; but I shall go alone.”
“Wal, then,” continued the man, who was plainly very much disappointed
by this decision, “let me give you a word of advice: If you won’t trust
me, don’t trust nobody—do you hear? You’ll meet plenty of folks who
know you, an’ who will have something to say to you; but don’t listen
to ’em. Jine a wagon train at St. Joe, an’ when you reach Fort Kearney,
stop thar. You will then be within forty miles of your hum. You’d best
be gettin’ away from here, ’cause them fellers is comin’—I can hear
’em.”
“How did they find out where I am?” asked Julian.
“Why, some chap saw you tradin’ off your furs this mornin’ an’ buying’
powder an’ lead, an’ he told ’em. Why don’t you run? Don’t you hear ’em
comin’?”
Julian listened, and could at last distinguish the rapid strokes of
horses’ hoofs on the hard road. He knelt down behind a log that lay on
the edge of the bluff, and looking over the top of it, waited for the
horsemen to come in sight.
The sound of the hoofs grew louder and louder, and in a few minutes Mr.
Mortimer came into view, and drawing rein at the foot of the bluff,
sprung out of his saddle. Jack Bowles was not with him; he was alone.
“I am not afraid of him,” thought Julian. “I kept him at bay last
night with an empty rifle, and now I have a loaded one. He shall never
capture me.”
Julian arose to his feet, and turned to look at the stranger. He was
not in sight. The boy had not heard even the rustle of a leaf to tell
him that he was in motion, and yet he had disappeared. He wished now
that he had paid more attention to the man’s warning; but his mind was
so fully occupied, and he was so deeply interested in what he had had
to say about the home and friends that were waiting for him away off in
the mountains, that he had hardly given a thought to the danger which
threatened him. He began to think of it now, however, for he heard Mr.
Mortimer ascending the bluff.
“Hold on, down there!” cried Julian. “I am watching you.”
“Ah! you are there, are you?” replied Mr. Mortimer. “I will soon be
there, too. If I had known that your rifle was empty, I should have
secured you last night.”
“Who told you it was empty?”
“We found your powder-horn and bullet-pouch in the corn-crib this
morning. Don’t attempt any resistance now. You are surrounded, and
cannot escape.”
“Surrounded!” echoed Julian.
He turned quickly, and sure enough there was an enemy in his rear,
who had mounted the bluff on the opposite side, and approached so
cautiously that the boy had not heard him. It was Jack Bowles.