GLORIOUS NEWS
The more Fred thought of it the stronger became his conviction that Buck
and Billy would be a long time in finding the lonely Masterson
farmhouse, that was off the main road.
They had left him going in a direction that was really at right angles
to the shortest way there. But then possibly Buck knew of another route.
And after all it was none of his business.
Evening had now settled down in earnest. There would be a moon later;
but darkness was beginning to shut out the last expiring gleams of
daylight.
Fred was feeling pretty "chipper" as he himself expressed it. So far as
he could ascertain no serious result had accompanied his fall into that
hole, and the exposure that followed the mishap.
His muscles having come back to their old condition, he was running as
easily as ever before; and he believed himself to be in splendid
condition.
This sudden determination to drop in on Arnold Masterson and his
daughter was going to take him a considerable distance out of his way;
but what are a few miles to an aspiring young athlete, in training for a
hard road race on the morrow? It would really do him good to have the
exercise, he believed.
Fred had managed to have a good talk with the Mastersons the last time
he was over. He had taken both father and daughter into his confidence,
and told them how Squire Lemington, in connection with the powerful
syndicate, was trying to swindle his folks out of the rich Alaska claim,
which they truly believed belonged to them, and not to the capitalists.
Of course Fred had met with ready sympathy from the occupants of the
Arnold Masterson house. They themselves had suffered too recently from
the grasping methods of the old Squire not to sympathize with new
victims.
And Fred had a double object in telling the story of the missing
witness, whose evidence, if it could ever be procured, would settle the
lawsuit in favor of the Fentons and against Squire Lemington.
Somehow, he believed that if Hiram Masterson did manage to make his way
back to the neighborhood of Riverport, bent on righting a great wrong,
as he had written in that strange note from Hong Kong, he would be apt
to hunt up his brother, whom he had evidently not seen on his last
visit.
Now he was at the cross-roads tavern, known as Hitchen's, and running
easily. He did not neglect to follow out the instructions which he had
received from the old college graduate and coach, Mr. Shays, about
breathing through his nose, and holding himself fairly erect. Only in
the mad dash of the last stretch could a well trained athlete be
forgiven for neglecting these precautions; since so much depends on
their being constantly employed in order to insure staying qualities.
Presently Fred found himself in familiar regions. He vividly remembered
the cross-country run, when he and Bristles came upon the well under the
apple tree, and were startled at sounds of groans issuing forth from
that place.
Now he could just make it out in the gathering gloom; but really he gave
it only a passing glance, for his attention was directed toward the
farmhouse, where in a lower window he could see a lamp burning.
Fred did not mean to be inquisitive, and would not have thought of going
a foot out of his way in order to peer in at that window; but as he had
to pass it by on his way to the door, he naturally glanced in.
Then he stopped to look again. Evidently the Mastersons had company, for
there were three at the supper table, upon which a bountiful array of
enticingly cooked food could be seen; for the good people of Riverport
had brought out enough provisions to last them half way through the
coming winter.
This might make some difference with Fred's plans.
"Perhaps I ought not to break in on them if they have company," he was
saying to himself, as he continued to look through the window. "But I've
come so far now, I kind of hate to give over the idea of saying
something to Mr. Masterson. Perhaps he'll come to the door if I knock. I
could tell him about Buck, to begin with; and might get a chance to
speak of his letting us know if anything happened that he thought would
interest the Fenton family. Yes, I'll try it."
Before turning away he took another passing glance at the stranger, who
seemed to be an elderly man with gray hair and a beard of the same
color. Whatever he was saying, both Mr. Masterson and Sarah seemed to be
hanging on his words as if they were deeply interested.
Fred gave a sigh. He was secretly disappointed, to tell the truth.
Perhaps he had conceived a faint expectation that something about the
man might seem familiar; for he had not forgotten how the returned
Alaska miner, Hiram Masterson, had looked when he rode about in Squire
Lemington's carriage. But there was not the least resemblance so far as
he could note between this elderly person and the gay-looking young
miner.
"I was foolish to ever think that," Fred said to himself, as he again
started in the direction of the farmhouse door.
In this mood, then he reached the door, and knocked. The sound echoed
through the house, for Fred had laid his knuckles rather heavily on the
upper panel of the double Dutch door.
He heard a scuffling sound, to indicate that chairs had been hurriedly
pushed back. Apparently, then, his knock had created something of a
little panic within, though Fred could hardly understand why that should
be so.
After waiting a reasonable time, without either Sarah or her father
coming to the door, Fred again gave a knock.
"Mr. Masterson!" Fred called out, in the hope that his voice might
happen to be recognized, so as to allay their fears.
Then he saw that someone was coming in answer to his second summons.
Under the door appeared a thin thread of light. This announced that the
door between had been opened, and a lamp was being carried into the
front room.
Fred wondered just at that moment whether it would be Sarah or her
father who might open the door. He knew Mr. Masterson was recovering his
strength; but still he must be more or less weak, after a spell of
sickness. And in that event Sarah was apt to be the one to come.
Well, he would ask to see her father then, so as to get a few minutes
conversation with the other. Sarah would be surprised to see him, of
course, at this queer hour, and in his running costume.
Fred almost wished now he had changed his mind, and turned away before
giving that knock. But it was too late. He could hear someone drawing
back the bolt by which the door was fastened. The Mastersons had gone
through one unpleasant experience, and they did not want another, if
such a small thing as a new bolt on the door would ward it off.
Now the door had begun to open, and Fred allowed a smile to come upon
his face in anticipation of the look of surprise he felt sure would
welcome him.
As it happened, however, the surprise was pretty much the other way. The
door suddenly flew open, at least the upper half of it did, and Arnold
Masterson thrust the muzzle of a double-barrel shotgun through the
opening, at the same time exclaiming:
"Now be off with you, or I'll give you a dose of buck shot that you
won't like!"
He had just managed to say this when he stared at the figure standing
there. Of course Fred had been startled when so suddenly confronted by
the armed and angry farmer; but he immediately recovered.
"Hold on, Mr. Masterson, don't you know me? It's Fred Fenton!" he
exclaimed.
The farmer seemed too surprised for words. But he did hasten to unfasten
the remaining part of the Dutch door, and seize hold of the boy by the
short sleeve of his running tunic.
"Fred Fenton, of all things, and right now too, when we were just
talking about your folks. Come in, my boy, come in. This is a piece of
great luck now. Whatever brings you away up here just at the time we
wanted to see you most? Great news for you, Fred! He's come home again,
and is right in there. Sarah wanted him to hide, because she thought it
was one of my uncle's spies hanging around; but I said no, that they'd
never believe it was him, not in a year of Sundays."
"Who?" gasped Fred, feeling weak; but with a great expectation that
caused him to tremble all over.
The farmer patted him on the back as he went on to say, joyfully:
"It's my brother Hiram, come back to right the wrong he helped do your
people; and defy Uncle Sparks to his face. This is going to be a happy
night for you, Fred; a happy night, my boy!"