THE COUNTRY.
SETH had little idea as to the direction he had taken, save that the
street led straight away from the water, and surely he must come into
the country finally by pursuing such a course.
Neither time nor distance gave him relief of mind; it was much as if
flight served to increase the fear in his mind, and even after having
come to the suburbs of the city he looked over his shoulder
apprehensively from time to time, almost expecting to see the officers
of the law in hot pursuit.
If it had been possible for Snip to understand the situation fully, he
could not have behaved with more discretion, according to his master’s
views.
Instead of begging to be let down that he might enjoy a frolic on the
green grass, he remained passive in Seth’s arms, pressing his nose up
to the lad’s neck now and then as if expressing sympathy. The little
fellow did not so much as whine when they passed rapidly by a
cool-looking, bubbling stream, even though his tongue was lolling out,
red and dripping with perspiration; but Seth understood that his pet
would have been much refreshed with a drink of the running water, and
said, in a soothing, affectionate tone:
“I don’t dare to stop yet a while, Snippey dear, for nobody knows how
near the officers may be, and you had better go thirsty a little
longer, than be kicked out into the street when I’m locked up in
jail.”
A big lump came into the fugitive’s throat at the picture he had
drawn, and the brook was left far behind before he could force it down
sufficiently to speak.
Then the two were come to a small shop, in the windows of which were
displayed a variety of wares, from slate pencils to mint drops, and
here Seth halted irresolutely.
He had continued at a rapid pace, and fully an hour was passed since
he parted from his friends. He was both hungry and weary; there were
but few buildings to be seen ahead, and, so he argued with himself,
this might be his last opportunity to purchase anything which would
serve as food until he was launched into that wilderness known to him
as “the country.”
No person could be seen in either direction, and Seth persuaded
himself that it might be safe to halt here for so long a time as would
be necessary to select something from the varied stock to appease
hunger, and at the same time be within his limited means.
For the first moment since leaving the ferry-slip he allowed Snip to
slip out of his arms; but caught him up again very quickly as the dog
gave strong evidence of a desire to spend precious time in a frolic.
“You must wait a spell longer, Snippey dear,” he muttered. “We may
have to run for it, an’ I mightn’t have a chance to get you in my arms
again. It would be terrible if the officers got hold of you, an’ I’m
afraid they’d try it for the sake of catchin’ me, ’cause everybody
knows I wouldn’t leave you, no matter what happened.”
Then Seth stole softly into the shop, as if fearing to awaken the
suspicion of the proprietor by a bold approach, and once inside, gazed
quickly around.
Two or three early, unwholesome-looking apples and a jar of ginger
cakes made up the list of eatables, and his decision was quickly
made.
“How many of them cakes will you sell for five cents?” he asked
timidly of the slovenly woman who was embroidering an odd green flower
on a small square of soiled and faded red silk.
She looked at him listlessly, and then gazed at the cakes
meditatively.
“I don’t know the price of them. This shop isn’t mine; I’m tendin’ it
for a friend.”
“Then you can’t sell things?” and Seth turned to go, fearing lest he
had already loitered too long.
“Oh, dear, yes, that’s what I’m here for; but I never had a customer
for cakes, an’ to tell the truth I don’t believe one of ’em has been
sold for a month. Do you know what they are worth?”
“The bakers sell a doughnut as big as three of them for a cent, an’
throw in an extra one if they’re stale.”
The lady deposited her embroidery on a sheet of brown paper which
covered one end of the counter, and surveyed the cakes.
“It seems to me that a cent for three of them would be a fair price,”
she said at length, after having broken one in order to gain some
idea of its age.
“Have you got anything else to eat?”
“That candy is real good, especially the checkerberry sticks, but
perhaps you rather have somethin’ more fillin’.”
“I’ll take five cents’ worth of cakes,” Seth said hurriedly, for it
seemed as if he had been inside the shop a very long while.
The amateur clerk set about counting the stale dainties in a
businesslike way; but at that instant Snip came into view from behind
his master, and she ceased the task at once to cry in delight:
“What a dear little dog! Did he come with you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Seth replied hesitatingly; and he added as the woman
stooped to caress Snip: “We’re in a big hurry, an’ if you’ll give me
the cakes I’ll thank you.”
“Dear me, why didn’t you say so at first?” and she resumed her task of
counting the cakes, stopping now and then to speak to Snip, who was
sitting up on his hind legs begging for a bit of the stale pastry.
“How far are you going?”
“I don’t know; you see we can’t walk very fast.”
“Got friends out this way, I take it?”
“Well,—yes—no—that is, I don’t know. Won’t you please hurry?”
The woman seemed to think it necessary she should feed Snip with a
portion of one cake that had already been counted out for Seth, and to
still further tempt the dog’s appetite by giving him an inch or more
broken from one of the checkerberry sticks, before attending to her
duties as clerk, after which she concluded her portion of the
transaction by holding out a not over-cleanly hand for the money.
Seth hurriedly gave her five pennies, and then, seizing Snip in his
arms, ran out of the shop regardless of the questions she literally
hurled after him.
His first care was to gaze down the road in the direction from which
he had just come, and the relief of mind was great when he failed to
see any signs of life.
“They haven’t caught up with us yet, Snippey,” he said, as if certain
the officers were somewhere in the rear bent on taking him prisoner.
“If they stop at the store, that woman will be sure to say we were
here.”
Having thus spurred himself on, he continued the journey half an hour
longer, when they had arrived at a grove of small trees and bushes
through which ran a tiny brook.
“We can hide in here, an’ you’ll have a chance to run around on the
grass till you’re tired,” he said, as, after making certain there was
no one in sight to observe his movements, he darted amid the
shrubbery.
It was not difficult for a boy tired as was Seth, to find a
rest-inviting spot by the side of the stream where the bushes hid him
from view of any who might chance to pass along the road, and without
loss of time Snip set himself the task of chasing every butterfly that
dared come within his range of vision, ceasing only for a few seconds
at a time to lick his master’s hand, or take his share of the stale
pastry.
It was most refreshing to Seth, this halt beneath the shade of the
bushes where the brook sang such a song as he had never heard before,
and despite the age of the cake his hunger was appeased. Save for the
haunting fear that the officers of the law might be close upon his
heels, he would have been very happy, and even under the painful
circumstances attending his departure, he enjoyed in a certain degree
the unusual scene before him.
Then Snip, wearied with his fruitless pursuit of the butterflies,
crept close by his master’s side for a nap, and Seth yielded to the
temptation to stretch himself out at full length on the soft, cool
moss.
There was in his mind the thought that he must resume the flight
within a short time, lest he fail to find a shelter before the night
had come; but the dancing waters sang a most entrancing and
rest-inviting melody until his eyes closed despite his efforts to hold
them open, and master and dog were wrapped in slumber.
The birds gathered on the branches above the heads of the sleepers,
gazing down curiously and with many an inquiring twitter, as if asking
whether this boy was one who would do them a mischief if it lay in his
power, and the butterflies flaunted their gaudy wings within an inch
of Snip’s eyes; but the slumber was not broken.
The sun had no more than an hour’s time remaining before his day’s
work in that particular section of the country had come to an end,
when a brown moth fluttered down upon Seth’s nose, where he sat
pluming his wings in such an energetic manner that the boy suddenly
sneezed himself into wakefulness, while Snip leaped up with a chorus
of shrill barks and yelps which nearly threw the curious birds into
hysterics.
“It’s almost sunset, Snippey dear, an’ we’ve been idlin’ here when we
ought’er been huntin’ for a house where we can stay till mornin’. It’s
fine, I know,” he added, as he took the tiny dog in his arms; “but I
don’t believe it would be very jolly to hang ’round in such a place
all night. Besides, who knows but there are bears? We must be a
terrible long way in the country, an’ if the farmers are as good as
Pip Smith tells about, we can get a chance to sleep in a house.”
The fear that the officers might be close upon his heels had fled; it
seemed as if many, many hours had passed since he took leave of Tim
and Teddy, and it was possible the representatives of law would not
pursue him so far into the country.
He had yet on hand a third of the stale cakes, and with these in his
pocket as token that he would not go supperless to bed, and Snip on
his arm, he resumed the flight once more.
After a brisk walk of half an hour, still on a course directly away
from the river, as he believed, Seth began to look about him for a
shelter during the night.
“We’ll stop at the first house that looks as if the folks who live in
it might be willin’ to help two fellers like us along, an’ ask if we
can stay all night,” he said to Snip, speaking in a more cheery tone
than he had indulged in since the fear-inspiring advertisement had
been brought to his attention.
He did not adhere strictly to this plan, however, for when he was come
to a farmhouse which had seemed to give token of sheltering generous
people, a big black dog ran out of the yard growling and snapping,
much to Snippey’s alarm, and Seth hurried on at full speed.
“That wouldn’t be any place for you, young man,” he said, patting the
dog’s head. “We’ll sleep out of doors rather than have you scared half
to death!”
Ten minutes later he knocked at the door of a house, and, on making
his request to a surly-looking man, was told that they “had no use for
tramps.”
Seth did not stop to explain that he could not rightly be called a
tramp; but ran onward as if fearful lest the farmer might pursue to
punish him for daring to ask such a favor.
Three times within fifteen minutes did he ask in vain for a shelter,
and then his courage had oozed out at his fingers’ ends.
“If Pip Smith was here he’d see that there ain’t much milk an’ pie
layin’ ’round to be picked up, an’ it begins to look, Snippey, as if
we’d better stayed down there by the brook.”
Master Snip growled as if to say that he too believed they had made a
mistake in pushing on any farther, and the sun hid his face behind the
hills as a warning for young boys and small dogs to get under cover.
Seth was discouraged, and very nearly frightened. He began to fear
that he might get himself and Snip into serious trouble by any further
efforts at finding a charitably disposed farmer, and after the shadows
of night had begun to lengthen until every bush and rock was distorted
into some hideous or fantastic shape, he was standing opposite a small
barn adjoining a yet smaller dwelling.
No light could be seen from the building; it was as if the place had
been deserted, and such a state of affairs seemed more promising to
Seth than any he had seen.
“If the people are at home, an’ we ask them to let us stay all night,
we’ll be driven away; so s’pose we creep in there, an’ at the first
show of mornin’ we’ll be off. It can’t do any harm for us to sleep in
a barn when the folks don’t know it.”
The barking of a dog in the distance caused him to decide upon a
course of action very quickly, and in the merest fraction of time he
was inside the building, groping around the main floor on which had
been thrown a sufficient amount of hay to provide a dozen boys with a
comfortable bed.
He could hear some animal munching its supper a short distance away,
and this sound robbed the gloomy interior of half its imaginary
terrors.
Promising himself that he would leave the place before the occupants
of the house were stirring next morning, Seth made his bed by
burrowing into the hay, and, with Snip nestling close by his side, was
soon ready for another nap.
The fugitive had taken many steps during his flight, and, despite the
slumber indulged in by the side of the brook, his eyes were soon
closed in profound sleep.
Many hours later the shrill barking of Snip awakened Seth, and he sat
bolt upright on the hay, rubbing his sleepy eyes as if trying to prove
that those useful members had deceived him in some way.
The rays of the morning sun were streaming in through the open door in
a golden flood, and with the radiance came sweet odors borne by the
gentle breeze.
Seth gave no heed just at that moment to the wondrous beauties of
nature to be seen on every hand, when even the rough barn was gilded
and perfumed, for standing in the doorway, as if literally petrified
with astonishment, was a motherly looking little woman whose upraised
hands told of bewilderment and surprise, while from the expression on
her face one could almost have believed that she was really afraid of
the tiny Snip.
“Is that animal dangerous, little boy?” she asked nervously after a
brief but, to Seth, painful pause.
“Who—what animal? Oh, you mean Snip? Why, he couldn’t harm anybody if
he tried, an’, besides, he wouldn’t hurt a fly. He always barks when
strange folks come near where I am, so’s to make me think he’s a
watch-dog. Do you own this barn?”
“Yes—that is to say, it has always belonged to the Morses, an’ there
are none left now except Gladys an’ me.”
“I hope you won’t be mad ’cause I came in here last night. I counted
on gettin’ away before you waked up; but the bed was so soft that it
ain’t any wonder I kept right on sleepin’.”
“Have you been here all night?” the little woman asked in surprise,
advancing a pace now that Snip had decided there was no longer any
necessity for him to continue the shrill outcries.
“I didn’t have any place to sleep; there wasn’t a light to be seen in
your house. Well, to tell the truth, I was afraid I’d be driven away,
same’s I had been at the other places, so sneaked in——”
“Aunt Hannah! Aunt Hannah!”
It was a sweet, clear, childish voice which thus interrupted the
conversation, and the little woman said nervously, as she glanced
suspiciously at Snip:
“I wish you would hold your dog, little boy. That is Gladys, an’ she’s
so reckless that I’m in fear of her life every minute she is near
strange animals.”
Seth did not have time to comply with this request before a
pink-cheeked little miss of about his own age came dancing into the
barn like a June wind, which burdens itself with the petals of the
early roses.
“Oh, Aunt Hannah! Why, where in the world did that little boy—What a
perfectly lovely dog! Oh, you dear!”
This last exclamation was called forth by Master Snip himself, who
bounded forward with every show of joy, and stood erect on his hind
feet with both forepaws raised as if asking to be taken in her arms.
“Don’t, Gladys! You mustn’t touch that animal, for nobody knows
whether he may not be ferocious.”
The warning came too late. Gladys already had Snip in her arms, and as
the little fellow struggled to lick her cheek in token of his desire
to be on friendly terms, she said laughingly:
“You poor, foolish Aunt Hannah! To think that a mite of a dog like
this one could ever be ferocious! Isn’t he a perfect beauty? I never
saw such a dear!”
The little woman hovered helplessly around much like a sparrow whose
fledglings are in danger. She feared lest the dog should do the child
a mischief, and yet dared not come so near as to rescue her from the
imaginary danger.
There was just a tinge of jealousy in Seth’s heart as he gazed at
Snip’s demonstrations of affection for this stranger. It seemed as if
he had suddenly lost his only friend, and, at that moment, it was the
greatest misfortune that could befall him.
Gladys was so occupied with the dog as to be unconscious of Aunt
Hannah’s anxiety. She admired Snip’s silky hair; declared that he
needed a bath, and insisted on knowing how “such a treasure” had come
into Seth’s possession.
The boy was not disposed to admit that he had no real claim upon the
dog, save such as might result from having found him homeless and
friendless in the street; but willing that the girl should admire his
pet yet more.
“Put him on the floor an’ see how much he knows,” Seth said, without
replying to her question.
Then Snip was called upon to show his varied accomplishments. He sat
bolt upright holding a wisp of straw in his mouth; walked on his hind
feet with Seth holding him by one paw; whirled around and around on
being told to dance; leaped over the handle of the hay-fork, barking
and yelping with excitement; and otherwise gave token of being very
intelligent.
Gladys was in an ecstasy of delight, and even the little woman so far
overcame her fear of animals as to venture to touch Snip’s
outstretched paw when he gravely offered to “shake hands.”
Not until at least a quarter of an hour had passed was any particular
attention paid to Seth, and by this time Aunt Hannah was willing to
admit that while dogs in general frightened her, however peaceable
they appeared to be, she thought a little fellow like Snip might be
almost as companionable as a cat.
“Of course you won’t continue your journey until after breakfast,” she
said in a matter-of-fact tone, “and Gladys will take you into the
kitchen where you can wash your face and hands, while I am milking.”
Then it was that Seth observed a bright tin pail and a three-legged
stool lying on the ground just outside the big door, as if they had
fallen from the little woman’s hands when she was alarmed by hearing
Snip’s note of defiance and warning.
Gladys had the dog in her arms, and nodding to Seth as if to say he
should follow, she led the way to the house, while Aunt Hannah
disappeared through a doorway opening from the main portion of the
barn.
“There’s the towel, the soap and water,” she said, pointing toward a
wooden sink in one corner of what was to Seth the most wonderful
kitchen he had ever seen. “Don’t you think Snippey would like some
milk?”
“I’m certain he would,” Seth replied promptly. “He hasn’t had anything
except dry ginger cake since yesterday mornin’.”
A moment later Master Snip had before him a saucer filled with such
milk as it is safe to say he had not seen since Seth took him in
charge, and the eager way in which he lapped it showed that it was
appreciated fully.
The fugitive did not make his toilet immediately, because of the
irresistible temptation to gaze about him.
The walls of the kitchen were low; but in the newcomer’s eyes this was
an added attraction, because it gave to the room such an hospitable
appearance. The floor was more cleanly than any table he had ever
seen; the bricks of the fireplace, at one side of which stood a small
cook-stove, were as red as if newly painted; while on the dresser and
the mantel across the broad chimney were tin dishes that shone like
newly polished silver.
A large rocking-chair, a couch covered with chintz, and half a dozen
straight-backed, spider-legged chairs were ranged methodically along
the sides of the room, while in the centre of the floor, so placed
that the fresh morning breeze which entered by the door would blow
straight across it to the window shaded by lilac bushes, was a table
covered with a snowy cloth.
“Well, if this is a farmer’s house I wouldn’t wonder if a good bit of
Pip Smith’s yarn was true,” Seth muttered to himself, as he turned
toward the sink, over which hung a towel so white that he could hardly
believe he would be allowed to dry his face and hands with it.
He was alone in the kitchen. Snip, having had a most satisfactory
breakfast of what he must have believed was real cream, had run out of
doors to chase a leaf blown by the wind, and Gladys was close behind,
alternately urging him in the pursuit, and showering praises upon “the
sweetest dog that ever lived.”
“Folks that live like this must be mighty rich,” Seth thought, as he
plunged his face into a basin of clear water. “It ain’t likely Snip
an’ me will strike it so soft again, an’ I expect he’ll be terrible
sorry to leave. I reckon it’ll be all right to hang ’round an hour or
so, an’ then we must get out lively. I wonder if that little bit of a
woman expects I’ll pay for breakfast?”