THE TREE OF REFUGE.
The tramp was stout and clumsily made, and although he was strongly
made he was not agile. Moreover, the branch by which Robert had helped
himself upward was over six feet from the ground, and had only been
reached by a leap. The trunk of the tree was large in circumference,
and afforded no facilities for climbing. The efforts of the pursuer,
therefore, were vain.
"Come down!" he shouted, peremptorily.
"I have already said that I am very comfortable here," answered Robert.
"Do you mean to defy me?"
"I don't wish to have anything to do with you."
"I wish I had a pistol!" muttered the tramp. "I'd soon have you down
then."
Robert was devoutly thankful that he was not provided with such a
weapon. He felt relieved by the discovery, for it had occurred to him
as possible, and in that event he would have had to make a virtue of
necessity and come down.
"Why didn't I lay hold of the boy when I had him beside me?" thought
the disappointed tramp. "Who would have thought he could have sprung up
like that?"
He determined to try once more what he could accomplish by threats.
"Look here, boy, if you know what's best for yourself, you'll come
down!" he cried, furiously.
"I think it's best for me to remain up here," said Robert.
"When you come down I'll wring your neck, you little rascal!"
"That isn't much inducement for me to come down," said Robert, coolly.
"If you come down within five minutes and hand over your money, I'll
let you go without doing you any harm."
"That's very kind of you, but I need it myself."
Robert's coolness incensed the tramp, who would have felt more
satisfaction if his intended victim had exhibited terror.
Robert was reminded of the scene in the woods at Crampton, where Mr.
Tarbox had besieged Charlie Davis and himself, and the trick by which
they had then escaped. This would not work now, and indeed it didn't
seem clear how he was to escape at all. There was nothing but to remain
up in the tree, and try to tire out the patience of the thievish tramp.
Twenty minutes passed. They passed slowly for Robert, but they also
passed slowly for his besieger, who was in a hurry to get possession of
the boy's money, and feared some one might come along to whom he could
appeal for help. If he had known that Robert had twenty dollars in his
pocket his eagerness would have increased.
"Are you coming down?" he demanded, looking up in the tree fiercely.
"When you are gone away," answered the boy, composedly.
"If you wait much longer I'll murder you when you do come down. You may
think I won't do it, but I'm savage enough to do anything."
"I don't doubt it at all," said our hero.
"I might tell you of how I've served other persons who trifled with me."
"Do!" replied Robert. "It'll take up the time."
"No," answered the tramp, suspiciously. "I don't care to have you
inform against me, but I want you to remember that I am a desperate
man."
"I'll take it for granted. I don't want to fall into the hands of such
a man."
The tramp hunted about for a stone to throw at the boy, but in that
part of the West stones are not as plenty as in New England, and his
kind intentions were frustrated.
"Perhaps you think I'll go away after a while," he said presently,
"but that's where you make a mistake. I will stay here all night, if
necessary."
He looked as if he would really carry out his threat, and Robert, it
must be admitted, in spite of his coolness of demeanor, began to feel
anxious.
"What an obstinate ruffian!" he thought. "If he keeps his word, it will
be decidedly uncomfortable for me."
"Will no one come along?"
That was the thought that kept recurring to him. It seemed to offer the
only means of escape.
At last he heard wheels, and was thankful. So did the tramp, and felt
uneasy. But when the carriage came along it turned out to contain a
woman and young boy. It would do no good to hail them, for they could
not help him, and the tramp might be led to attack and rob them. So
Robert was constrained to let the carriage pass, and to find himself
once more in solitude with the tramp.
"You did well not to speak," said the latter, grimly. "If you had I
would have robbed her, too."
"Just what I thought," returned Robert. "That seems to be your
business."
"Don't be impudent, boy!"
"Isn't it the truth?"
"Come down and you'll find out."
"I know well enough already."
Another half hour passed, and no one came by. At last the two heard a
sound and a man whistling; the same seemed approaching.
"I hope it's a strong, able-bodied man," thought Robert.
When at length the man came in sight, a great tide of joy swept over
him. It was the very man whose presence he would have desired above
all others. It was Hercules, who had at one time been employed in the
same circus with himself, to perform feats of strength.