Rob, who was crouching in the bushes close by, dared not breathe lest
he should be discovered by the sheriff, who came within easy reach of
him. But the sheriff’s search was short, and made in such a blundering
manner that he failed to discover our hero.
“Come, Stanyan,” called out Hardy, “what’s the use of stumbling around
there in the wet bushes? We shall get soaking wet, and I am always
liable to have an attack of rheumatism when I get wet.”
The ’squire was already unhitching his horse, and a minute later Rob
had the satisfaction of hearing the two riding away.
“Good riddance!” said Rob, under his breath, as he started to return to
the coal camps.
When Rob got back to the sod houses containing his friends he found
the others anxiously awaiting him. A plain supper, prepared after
considerable trouble, there being only a couple of small pails in
which to do the cooking, was ready to be eaten by the firelight, and
while our hero joined in with the others, he told what he had seen
and overheard at the old red house, excepting the statements of the
two men in regard to the place being haunted. Rob was wise enough to
believe that no good would come of mentioning such a fact, if it were
true, which he did not even entertain.
After supper further preparations were made for the comfort, such
as could be provided, for the two parties. The united numbers made
fourteen persons in the little band of strangers in a strange
land. These consisted of Robert Bayne, our hero, and his mother, a
kind-hearted woman into whose life had seemed to come all the shadows
and sufferings arising from the evil doings of a husband who was a
fugitive from justice. It was not really known whether Mr. Bayne was
living or not, but if he were, there was a price set on his liberty,
and his wife breathed easier in his absence than she could possibly
have done knowing his whereabouts. Mrs. Bayne had pinned her faith on
Rob, and hoped and looked forward to a future freer from care than her
past twenty years had been. But, in spite of her outward cheerfulness
the shadow of the past still darkened her life.
Then there were Mrs. Willet, the invalid widow, and her only daughter,
Josephine, or Joe, as she was generally called. Joe was one year
younger than Rob, of a cheerful disposition and a willing worker, with
a judgment remarkable for one of her years.
Mr. James Little, still, as he believed, suffering from an injury
received when thrown from a heavy truck wagon in New York City; his
wife Sarah, and their children--Lawrence and Mary--aged, respectively,
eighteen and sixteen, made up another family. We shall soon learn more
of them.
A kind old lady was “Aunt Vinnie,” whose only care--and that was
enough--was to look after her “boys,” Tom and Jerry. The history of
these three was quite unknown, except that Aunt Vinnie claimed the boys
to be the children of a sister who had died when they were very young.
They were twins. At some time the three must have had surnames, but
none of their present companions ever heard them spoken.
Besides these were the three street waifs, who had been picked up
and championed by Ragged Rob--Chick, Ruddy and Tony--whose ages ran
from ten to twelve years, all of whom were far older in the varied
experiences which come to such outcasts.
Both Mr. Little and Mrs. Willet were given the first attention, and
they were made so comfortable that they slept for the most part of
the night. The younger members, used to sleeping out of doors on the
pavements, or at least under some box or wall, lay down on the earthen
floor of these sod houses and soon fell into a refreshing sleep. But
neither Rob nor his mother sought sleep, while Aunt Vinnie and Mrs.
Little only nodded at times.
The rain cleared away before midnight, and the following morning the
sun shone brightly, and the clear, warm atmosphere of a spring day made
the landscape beautiful and stirred the hearts of the lonely wayfarers
with the spirit of good cheer.
“Isn’t this beautiful, delightful!” cried Joe Willet, clapping her
hands in wild ecstacy of joy. “Look yonder, Rob! did you ever see such
lovely flowers?” pointing to some clumps of mountain laurels. “I can
hardly stop to get breakfast before I pick some of them. Oh, I know we
shall be so happy here; shan’t we, mother?”
“I trust so, my child,” and the mother did not dare to speak of the
fear in her heart.
“The country looks pretty, Joe,” replied Rob, “and I hail it as a good
sign that the storm has cleared away so soon. But I must look around a
bit to see what we can do. I hope Deacon Cornhill will get here before
long.”
Now that it was daylight Rob saw that no signs of a dwelling was in
sight. In fact, it was as quiet, except for the songs of a few birds,
as if they had been left in the heart of a great wilderness. This
seemed very strange for those who had come from the din, bustle and
confusion of the great city.
“We shall soon get used to it,” declared Rob.
“Mercy me!” exclaimed Aunt Vinnie, “I don’t b’lieve I ever can. And as
for Tommy and Jerry, why, they will go just wild.”
After breakfast Rob and Larry went up to the old red house, but found
no evidence that the building had been occupied for some time. It
showed even worse ruin inside than it did outside. At places boards had
been torn off, as if used for fuel, and few of the doors remained. As
they passed from room to room the floor creaked dismally beneath their
feet, while bats and birds flew about their heads, screaming out as if
angry at this invasion of their domains.
“If we come here to live it will require lots of fixing up,” said Rob.
“I don’t care what you think of it,” declared Larry, “but I jess feel
like cutting off my big toe for coming up here into this dead man’s
woods.”
When the forenoon had passed without bringing the deacon to see them,
Rob grew anxious, and soon after dinner, accompanied by Chick and
Ruddy, he started for Basinburg, hoping to meet their friend on the way.
Finally they came in sight of Basinburg without meeting any one.
Rob was beginning to feel that there was something wrong about the
non-appearance of Deacon Cornhill, and not having been to the latter’s
house, he was obliged to inquire of the first person they met how to
reach his place. This individual proved to be a tall, slab-sided
youth, a little older than Rob, who eyed the other closely without
replying to his question.
“When you get done looking at us,” said Rob, “I shall be glad to have
you tell me where Deacon Cornhill lives.”
“Reckon ’ou’re some uv th’ tribe what came to town yesterday?” he
ventured to question.
“I shall be pleased to have you answer my question,” said Rob.
“By gum! you’re cooners!” and he started on a run toward the village.
“I should say you’re the biggest cooner!” muttered Rob, not liking the
conduct of the other. However, he kept on in the direction of the town,
closely followed by Chick and Ruddy.
The store and post office was soon seen, standing in a little clump of
buildings, and it was evident that the tow-headed youth had spread the
news of their coming, for a crowd was beginning to gather in front of
the place. It required but a glance from Rob to see that the looks of
this party boded him anything but good.
Believing that it was best for him to put on a bold front and meet
the men squarely in whatever they should try to do, Rob showed no
hesitation in his advance.