ONE DISAPPOINTMENT FOLLOWS ANOTHER.
At the close of the last chapter we left John floating at his ease in
a row-boat, while his pursuer was compelled, by the sudden departure
of his horse, to give up his immediate purpose, and chase the flying
animal. It was very much against his will that he left John; but the
horse, as he knew, was the best in the stable, and valued at not less
than three hundred dollars,--a sum which he would be unable to make up.
Besides this, the chaise might be injured.
"Curse my luck!" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, as he glanced back at John, with
a baffled look. "Every thing turns against me. But I'll come back after
the young rascal as soon as I catch the horse."
But, unfortunately for Mr. Huxter, it proved that two legs were
no match for four. When he got to the road, the horse was half a
mile ahead. In spite of his haste, he was obliged to pause a moment
and recover his breath, which the unusual exercise of running had
exhausted.
Mr. Huxter was nearly two miles distant from the tavern where he had
stopped. His only hope was that the horse would stop or be stopped
there. As soon as he recovered his breath, he started for the tavern,
therefore. Partly running, partly walking, he at length arrived, tired,
heated, and in ill-humor.
Entering the yard, he saw a group of men and boys surrounding the horse
and chaise, which had already arrived. Among them was Mr. Jones, the
landlord.
"Why, here's the man himself!" exclaimed the landlord, advancing to
meet him. "How came your horse to run away? Were you spilled out?"
"No; I tied him to a tree, and he broke loose and ran away. Has he done
any harm?" asked Mr. Huxter, nervously.
"He's smashed one of the wheels in running against a post," said a
bystander.
"Let me see," said Mr. Huxter, dolefully.
He found that it was as bad as had been told him. The horse made a
short turn into the inn-yard, and managed to bring the chaise into
collision with a post. The wheel was pretty well shattered.
"Looks bad," said the bystander. "It'll cost something to mend it."
"It can't be mended," said Mr. Jones. "You'll have to get a new wheel."
"What'll it cost?" said Mr. Huxter, with something very like a groan.
"I can't say exactly. Maybe twenty-five dollars will do it."
"It might have been worse," said the bystander, in what was meant to be
an encouraging tone.
"It's bad enough," said Mr. Huxter, fiercely. "It's just my cursed
luck."
"Was the carriage yours?" asked the landlord.
"No, I got it from a stable. They'll charge me about double price."
"Oh, by the way, did you catch the boy?" asked the landlord, in a tone
of interest.
"No," said Mr. Huxter, with an oath which I will omit. "I had just
overtaken him when the cursed horse ran away."
"Well, you are unlucky," said Jones. "What are you going to do about
it?"
"I suppose I must get the carriage home somehow."
"You might get a new wheel put on here. There's an excellent
wheelwright in the village. It will cost you less."
Mr. Huxter finally made an arrangement to this effect, the wheelwright
agreeing for twenty-five dollars to put the chaise in repair.
This, with the stable charge, made thirty dollars as the expense
of Mr. Huxter's little excursion, which, as we have seen, ended in
disappointment. He decided not to continue the pursuit of John, having
good reason to doubt whether he would catch him.
There was one question which troubled Mr. Huxter: Would his sister be
willing to pay this thirty dollars? If not, it would indeed be a bad
morning's work for him. He lost no time, on getting home, in writing to
Mrs. Oakley. His letter is subjoined.
"DEAR SISTER:--I hope these few lines will find you in good health.
This comes to inform you that the young rascal that I took to board
to accommodate you has run away, after treating me most shameful. I
hired a team to go after him this morning; but the horse ran away and
broke the carriage, which will cost me forty dollars to mend. (Mr.
Huxter thought if Mrs. Oakley was to pay the bill he might as well add
something to it.) As I was on your business, you will expect to pay
this, of course. You can send the money in a letter. I will get back
John Oakley if I can. He is a young scamp, and I don't wonder you had
trouble with him. When I get him back, I will make him toe the mark,
you may be sure of that. Please write to me by return mail, and don't
forget the money. Your brother,"
"EPHRAIM HUXTER."
Mr. Huxter did not have to wait long for an answer; but it proved to be
less satisfactory than prompt. It ran as follows:--
"MY DEAR BROTHER:--Your letter has just reached me. I am surprised
that you could not manage to control a boy of fifteen. It seems that
he has got the best of you. You need not trouble yourself to get him
back. If he chooses to run away and earn his own living, he may, for
all I care. He is a young rascal, as you say.
"As to the carriage which you say was damaged to the extent of forty
dollars, I do not see how it could have happened, with ordinary care.
How did it happen? You ought to have told me in your letter. Nor do I
see how you can expect me to pay for the result of your carelessness.
But even if I were to do it, you seem to forget that I advanced you
seventy-five dollars on John's board. As he has remained only one
week, that being deducted will leave a balance of sixty-nine dollars,
or perhaps sixty, after taking out travelling expenses. I could
rightfully require this back; but I will not be hard on you. You may
pay for the damage done to the carriage (I am surprised that it should
amount to forty dollars), and keep the balance as a gift from me.
But it will be useless for you to make any further claim on me for a
year, at least, as I have large expenses, and charity begins at home.
Remember me to your wife."
"JANE OAKLEY."
"Well, if that isn't a cold-blooded letter!" said Mr. Huxter, bitterly.
"Jane is rich now, and don't care for the privations of her poor
brother. She blames me because the chaise got broken,--just as if I
could help it."
Still Mr. Huxter had no real reason to complain. His sister had agreed
to pay for the damage done, and there would be something left out of
the money she had paid in advance. But Mr. Huxter, as soon as he had
received it, had at once looked upon it as his own, though not yet
earned, and to use it seemed as if he were paying the bill out of his
own pocket. Then, again, the very decided intimation that he need not
look for any more assistance at present was discouraging. Deducting
expenses, it would leave him but a small amount to pay him for his
journey to Hampton. He resolved not to pay the wheelwright, if he
could possibly avoid it, not being very conscientious about paying his
debts. But, as Mr. Huxter's reputation in that way was well known, the
wheelwright refused to surrender the chaise till his bill was paid; and
the stable-keeper made such a fuss that Mr. Huxter was compelled to pay
the bill, though very much against his inclination.
The result of his disappointment was, that he began to drink worse than
ever, and poor Mrs. Huxter, for some weeks, had a hard time of it. She
was certainly very much to be pitied, as is every poor woman who finds
herself yoked for life to a husband wedded to a habit so fatal to all
domestic comfort and happiness.