PURSUED.
It was a long while before slumber visited Jack's eyelids on this first
night spent at the farm.
To have found such a pleasant resting place after his experience at
Farmer Pratt's, and when the best he had expected was to be allowed to
remain until morning, was almost bewildering; at the same time the
friendly manner in which the kindly faced old lady treated him made a
deep impression on his heart.
During fully an hour he speculated as to how it would be possible for
him to reach New York with Louis, and, not being able to arrive at any
satisfactory conclusion, he decided that that matter at least could
safely be left in Aunt Nancy's care.
Then, all anxiety as to the immediate future having been dissipated, he
thought of various ways by which he could lighten the little woman's
labors.
He laid plans for making himself so useful about the farm that she would
be repaid for her care of Louis, and these ideas were in his mind when
he crossed the border of dreamland, where, until nearly daybreak, he
tried to milk diminutive cows, or struggled to carry enormous tin pails.
Despite his disagreeable dreams, the sleep was refreshing, and when the
first glow of dawn appeared in the eastern sky he was aroused by the
sound of Aunt Nancy's voice from the foot of the stairs.
Jack's first waking thought was a continuation of the last on the night
previous, and, dressing hurriedly, he ran down to the kitchen to begin
the labor which he intended should make him a desirable member of the
family.
To his great disappointment the fire had been built, Louis dressed, and
the morning's work well advanced when he entered the room.
"Why didn't you call me before?" he asked reproachfully. "I meant to
have done all this while you were asleep; but I laid awake so long last
night that it didn't seem possible for my eyes to open."
"I am accustomed to doing these things for myself," Aunt Nancy replied
with a kindly smile, "and don't mind it one bit, especially when the
kindlings have been prepared. I got up a little earlier than usual
because I was afraid there might be some trouble about dressing the
baby; but he's just as good a child as can be, and seems right well
contented here."
"It would be funny if he wasn't," Jack replied as he took Louis in his
arms for the morning greeting.
There was a shade of sorrow in his heart because the child evinced no
desire to remain with him, but scrambled out of his arms at the first
opportunity to toddle toward Aunt Nancy, who ceased her work of brushing
imaginary dirt from the floor in order to kiss the little fellow as
tenderly as a mother could have done.
"It seems as if he'd got all through with me," Jack said sorrowfully. "I
believe he likes you the best now."
"Don't be jealous, my boy. It's only natural the child should cling to a
woman when he can; but that doesn't signify he has lost any affection
for you. It is time old crumple-horn was milked, and we'll take Louis
with us so he won't get into mischief. I'm going to give you another
lesson this morning."
Jack made a vain effort to repress the sigh which would persist in
coming to his lips as the baby crowed with delight when the little woman
lifted him in her arms, and taking the milking pail, he led the way out
through the dewy grass to the barnyard, where the cow stood looking over
the rails as if wondering why Aunt Nancy was so late.
Jack insisted that he could milk without any further instructions, and,
after gathering an armful of the sweet-scented clover, he set boldly to
work while Aunt Nancy and Louis watched him from the other side of the
fence.
This time his efforts were crowned with success, and although he did not
finish the task as quickly as the little woman could have done it, by
the aid of a few hints from her he had drawn the last drop of milk into
the pail before the cow began to show signs of impatience.
Then Aunt Nancy and Louis returned to the house while Jack drove the
meek-eyed animal to the pasture, and when this was done he searched the
shed for a rake.
He succeeded in finding one with not more than half the teeth missing,
and began to scrape up the sticks and dried leaves from the lane, a work
which was well calculated to yet further win the confidence of the neat
little mistress of the farm.
When the morning meal was served, Jack had so far become accustomed to
Aunt Nancy's ways that he bowed his head without being prompted, while
she asked a blessing.
After breakfast was concluded the hunchback proceeded to put into
execution the plan formed on the night previous.
"If you'll tell me what to do I'll go to work as soon as the lane is
cleaned, an' that won't take a long while. I s'pose there's plenty to be
done."
"Yes," Aunt Nancy replied with a sigh, "there's a great deal of work
which a woman can't do; but I don't know as a boy like you would be able
to get along any better than I."
"There won't be any harm in tryin'," Jack said manfully. "Tell me what
it is you want."
"Well, the pasture fence is broken in several places, and I was thinking
of getting Daniel Chick to come an' fix it; but perhaps you might patch
the breaks up so's a cow couldn't get out."
"Of course I can. It ain't much of a job if you've got nails an' a
hammer. I'll tackle it as soon as the lane is finished."
Aunt Nancy explained that the fence to which she referred bordered the
road a short distance above the house, and Jack was so impatient to
begin the labor that, contrary to his usual custom, he took a hurried
leave of Louis.
An hour was sufficient in which to finish the self-imposed task on the
lane, and then, with a very shaky hammer and a handful of rusty nails,
he set out to repair the fence, leaving Louis playing in the kitchen
with the gorgeous crockery rooster, while Aunt Nancy was busily engaged
setting the house to rights generally.
The scene of Jack's first attempt at fence building was fully an eighth
of a mile away, and in a clump of alder-bushes which shut off all view
of the house.
It was by no means a simple task which he found before him.
The posts had so far decayed that an expert workman would have
considered it necessary to replace them with new timbers; but since this
was beyond his skill, he set about mending it after his own fashion.
It must not be supposed that Jack loved to work better than does any
other boy; but he believed it was necessary for him to remain with Aunt
Nancy until such time as he could find an opportunity of continuing the
journey in some more rapid manner than by walking, and the desire to
make himself useful about the farm was so great that labor ceased to be
a hardship.
He had been engaged in this rather difficult task fully an hour, paying
little or no attention to anything save the work in hand, when the
rattle of wheels on the hard road attracted his notice.
Up to this time no person had passed in either direction, and it was
from curiosity rather than any idea the approaching travellers might be
connected with his fortunes, that he peered out from among the
alder-bushes.
Immediately he drew back in alarm.
He had seen, coming directly toward him in a lumbering old wagon and
hardly more than a hundred yards away, Farmer Pratt and his son Tom.
"They're huntin' for me!" he said to himself as he crept farther among
the bushes to conceal himself from view, and a secure hiding place had
hardly been gained when the travellers came to a full stop at the little
brook which ran on the opposite side of the road, in order to give their
horse some water.
As a matter of fact Farmer Pratt _was_ in search of the two who had left
his house so unceremoniously; but now he had no intention of taking them
to the poorhouse.
Quite by accident a copy of a newspaper containing an account of the
explosion on board the "Atlanta," and the information that Mrs.
Littlefield would remain in Portland in the hope of gaining some
information regarding her child, had come into his hands, and it did not
require much study on his part to understand that in the greed to
possess himself of the boat by ridding himself of the children, he had
lost the opportunity of earning a valuable reward.
There was a stormy time in the Pratt household when this fact became
known, and even Master Tom came in for more than his full share of the
scolding because the children had been allowed to go away.
"It would have been as good as a hundred dollars in my pocket if I could
have lugged them youngsters into town," the farmer repeated over and
over again as he blamed first his wife and then his son for what was
really his own fault. "I thought a boat worth twenty dollars would be a
mighty big haul for one mornin', but here was a show of gettin' five
times as much jest by holdin' them two over night, an' you had to let
'em slip through your fingers."
Farmer Pratt dwelt upon this unpleasant fact until he finally convinced
himself that he would have acted the part of a good Samaritan had the
opportunity not been denied him, and very early on this same morning he
started out for the purpose of earning the reward by finding the
castaways.
Jack, crouching among the bushes where he could distinguish the
movements of those whom he considered his enemies, heard the farmer say,
while the half-fed horse was quenching his thirst,--
"I reckon we've got a day's work before us, all on account of you an'
your mother, for that hunchback couldn't have walked as far with the
baby. Most likely he found some one who gave him a lift on the road. The
chances are he's in Biddeford by this time, other folks have heard the
whole story."
Tom made no reply, probably because he feared to say anything which
might again call forth a flood of reproach, and his father added,--
"I reckon our best way will be to push right on to town instead of
huntin' along the road as we've been doin'. Time is gettin' mighty short
if we want to catch him before people know what has happened."
The farmer was so impatient to arrive at the city that the horse was
urged on before his thirst was fully quenched, and as the noise of the
wheels told that the briefly interrupted journey had been resumed, Jack
crept cautiously out from among the bushes to where he could watch the
movements of the travellers until they should have passed Aunt Nancy's
farm.
As may be supposed, he was thoroughly alarmed.
That which he heard convinced him beyond a doubt the farmer was
searching for him, and there was no question in his mind but that it was
for the sole and only purpose of carrying him and Louis to the poor
farm.
"I s'pose Aunt Nancy would up an' tell the whole story if they should
ask her," he muttered, "an' then I'd have to come out an' go along with
'em, 'cause I wouldn't let that man carry Louis off alone."
The color came back to his cheeks, however, and the throbbing of his
heart was lessened as he saw the wagon wheel past the lane without
either of its occupants making any move toward calling at the house.
Most likely neither Aunt Nancy nor Louis were in the yard, and Farmer
Pratt was so eager to reach the town where he believed the children to
be, that, as he had intimated, there was no further stop to be made
along the road.
But Jack's mind was far from being relieved even after the clumsy
vehicle had passed out of sight, for he knew the farmer would return,
failing to gain any information of those he was so anxious to find, and
he might think it worth his while to call at Aunt Nancy's.
Jack had now lost all interest in his work, and seated himself near the
fence trying to decide whether he would be warranted in leaving the
temporary home he had found, to take refuge in flight.
This he might have done on the impulse of the moment but for the
restraining thought that it would be in the highest degree dangerous to
travel in either direction on the road, and to make his way through the
fields and woods was a matter of impossibility, since he had no idea of
the proper course to be pursued.
"I don't s'pose Aunt Nancy'd lie even to save us from goin' to the poor
farm," he said aloud to himself; "but if she would, I'd hide out in the
bushes with Louis till I was sure that man had got through huntin' after
us, 'cause he can't keep this thing up all summer."
This was by far the best plan Jack could devise for the baby's safety,
and yet it seemed hardly possible it would be carried into execution
because of the probable unwillingness of Aunt Nancy to so much as
equivocate.
After thinking the matter over fully twenty minutes without arriving at
any other conclusion which promised the slightest hope of escape from
his pursuers, he decided to boldly ask the little woman if she would
promise, in case Mr. Pratt should call upon her, to say that she had
seen neither of her guests.
"She can't any more'n get mad at it, an' if she won't agree then I'll
take the risk of startin' off once more, but it's goin' to be pretty
tough on both of us."
There was yet considerable work to be done in the way of fence building;
but now Jack had no idea of continuing the labor.
He was so agitated that the shaky hammer lay unheeded on the ground
where it had fallen when he first saw the travellers, and the nails were
left to gather a yet thicker coat of rust as he made his way up through
the line of bushes to approach the house from the rear, not daring to go
boldly around by the road.