OLD BRUDEN MAKES AN IMPRESSION.
When the grocer’s buggy drove away from Hyson Hall it left two happy
boys behind. A woman was soon added to the number of rejoicers, for
Susan was told the great news, and Jenny, when she heard it, ran to
the wheatfield to tell her father and Joel. The whole world seemed
more cheerful to the people of Hyson Hall. The sun shone with great
brightness, although this had been noticed before by the workers in the
harvest-field.
Everything out-doors, as well as in-doors, seemed to have something
bright and sparkling about it; and a fresh breeze sprang up, which, if
the bells had still been hanging on the roof, would have added a merry
peal to the rejoicing. But the bells were not there. Susan and Phœnix
had taken them down soon after young Touron had made his precipitate
retreat from the place.
The two gentlemen who came in the buggy were connected with the
railroad company which owned the Thomas Wistar and other steamboats
plying upon the river.
Full reports of the manner in which the boat had been run ashore had
been given to the company; and now that everything of value had been
taken from the Wistar, and a calculation had been made of the amount
of the loss, and the value of the goods, machinery, etc., which had
been saved, the two gentlemen had been sent to Boontown, to make
arrangements for compensating the persons who had been instrumental in
saving a portion of the boat and cargo.
Of these, the young fellows who had boarded the burning steamboat and
had run her ashore deserved the principal portion of the salvage-money.
Both the gentlemen were acquainted with Mr. Welford, and they went
first to his office to make inquiries in regard to Phil and his
companions. Now it was that the good effect of Helen’s visit to the
banker began to show itself.
Had these gentlemen come to see Mr. Welford before Helen’s warm defence
of Phil had made the banker investigate, as far as he was able, the
character and conduct of that young person, they would probably have
heard that it would be extremely injudicious to put money into the
hands of a boy who might spend hundreds of dollars in discharging old
servants and in carrying on all sorts of wild and disorderly pranks in
his uncle’s house.
But Mr. Welford spoke in a very different vein. Instead of urging the
officers of the company to delay the payment of Phil’s portion of the
salvage until the arrival of his uncle and guardian, he had advised a
full and immediate payment of the money due, feeling sure that Phil
would use it towards paying the interest on the mortgage. He did not
know exactly how much would be necessary to stop the foreclosure
proceedings, but hoped Phil’s share would be sufficient.
The gentlemen admitted that the boys’ services had been of great value.
Had the Wistar floated on until the tide turned, she would have turned
around with it, for her bow was more heavily loaded than her stern,
and, in that case, the wind would have swept the flames over the whole
vessel, and everything on board would have been consumed; or, if she
had floated much longer, she would probably have burned sufficiently
to have sunk in mid-channel. But the boys had prevented all that by
bringing her into such an excellent moorage as Spatterdock Point.
When the two gentlemen talked to Phil in the parlor of Hyson Hall,
they made him understand how thoroughly the company appreciated the
brave efforts of himself and companions to save their property, and
named the sum which was considered their due.
They then asked the full names of the three boys to whom the money
should be paid. Chap hereupon protested that none of the money was due
him, for he was not on the Wistar at all, and did not do anything to
help get her ashore.
“That’s nonsense!” cried Phil. “If you hadn’t stayed on the row-boat we
wouldn’t have gone on the steamboat.”
“But if the fire had burst out under you,” said Chap, “it wouldn’t have
hurt me. At any rate, you’ve got to have my share, and Phœnix will give
you his, too, for if you don’t have it all, this place will be sold,
Wistar or no Wistar.”
“Phœnix will have something to say about that,” said Phil.
It was finally agreed that a cheque for the full amount should be made
out to Mr. Welford’s order and sent to him, and he and the boys could
arrange as to the proportion each should receive. Then the gentlemen
left.
“If Phœnix don’t give you every copper of his share,” said Chap, “he’ll
get a worse thrashing than he gave Emily.”
“Who’ll give it to him?” asked Phil.
“I will,” replied Chap. “You needn’t laugh. A fellow can do big things
when he has justice on his side.”
The boys did not go into the harvest-field again that afternoon. They
both went over to the Poole place, to tell Phœnix the wonderful news.
“It pays better to run a wreck into the mud,” said Phœnix, when he
heard the story, “than to hoist one out of it.”
“Now, look here,” cried Chap, “it’s no use talking that way. Just wait
till our wreck is hoisted out of the mud!”
“All right,” said Phœnix, “I’ll wait.”
When the matter of the division was talked of, Phœnix fully agreed with
Chap to hand over the whole amount to Phil, and to wait for repayment
until Mr. Berkeley’s return. Phœnix, however, made one reservation: If
there should be any money left over after the Tourons’ claims had been
fully paid, he would like to have a dollar and a quarter. He had lost
his knife, and it would take that much money to buy him another like
it. It was a dreadfully awkward thing to be without a knife. This was
agreed to, and the matter was settled.
That evening, Mr. Alexander Muller came into Boontown, after a long
walk. He determined to stay in town for some days, and took lodgings
at the tavern which young Touron had lately left. The room that Emile
had occupied was given to him, and soon after supper he was glad to
hang his black straw hat on the rack in the hall, and go up-stairs to
bed.
But he did not sleep well. He had bad dreams. He dreamed that he was
taking a journey by rail, but he did not travel in the ordinary way.
Instead of being in a car which ran upon the track, he was lying at
full length upon a rail, which was carried by two brakemen. This rail
seemed much unlike other rails. It was not smooth and even, but was
full of jagged points and knots and sharp bends, which ran into his
back and made him very uncomfortable. He moved and wriggled about, but
could not get on any part of the rail where it was smooth. He tried to
fall off, but he found that this was impossible. So he went on and on,
the brakemen sometimes stumbling and falling on their knees, which made
the jagged points run into him worse than ever.
At last he woke up, and when his eyes were fully opened, he said to
himself,--
“I never slept so uncomfortably in my life. My back aches as if it had
been threshed with a flail. There must be something in this bed.”
He got up, struck a match, and lighted a candle. He turned down the
bedclothes, and then turned down the upper mattress, which was very
thin. Under this he found a double-barrelled shot-gun. Mr. Muller was
greatly astonished.
“No wonder I slept badly,” he said, “lying on this thing.”
Then he took up the gun, and sat on the side of the bed, thinking. He
had heard some talk that evening, at the supper-table, about a French
boy who stole a gun from young Berkeley, and also attempted to shoot
him. He knew that this was the room which had been occupied by a French
boy, because the landlord had mentioned it when he accompanied him
up-stairs. Naturally, therefore, he connected the gun with the story he
had heard.
Since his interview with Chap Webster in the barn-yard, he had thought
a good deal about the story the boy had told him of the troubles at
Hyson Hall. He rather liked Chap, although he had been a good deal
provoked at him when he read the postal-card which had made him an
object of ridicule at his boarding-house in New York. He had never
seen Philip Berkeley, but the fact of his having taken a good deal of
trouble to restore him his black straw hat, by posting up a notice to
its owner, and leaving it in a place where it could be conveniently
called for, had impressed him with the idea that Phil was a sensible
and considerate boy. He felt willing, therefore, to do all he could to
help the young fellow who was put to so much trouble by the absence
of his uncle; and as he had, besides, a very strong desire on his own
account to find Mr. Godfrey Berkeley, he had made a good many inquiries
about that gentleman at the different places he had visited during the
last few days, but had received no information whatever.
“I think,” said he to himself, at last, “that I will put this gun back
where I found it; but I won’t put it across the bed, as it was before.
There is room enough here for us both to lie very comfortably.”
So he laid Old Bruden on the farther side of the bed, with its muzzle
pointed a little outward, so that he should not be incommoded, in case
it should choose to go off in the night. He could not find out whether
it was loaded or not, because there was no ramrod to the gun, but he
felt perfectly safe with its muzzle pointed away from him. He had often
slept with a loaded pistol under his pillow.
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