MR. BURNETT BEATS A RETREAT.
The night passed, and the travelers breakfasted together in the plain
dining-room of the inn. Tom and his employer sat together, and Peter
Brush occupied a seat directly opposite Tom. He was disposed to be
social, and Tom was entirely ready to respond, but Percy Burnett was
reticent. He answered the hunter in monosyllables, whenever he could,
and very evidently did not care to converse with him. Brush, however,
was not a sensitive man, and mentally pronouncing Burnett “grouty,” he
kept up a conversation with Tom.
Our hero knew very well that his companion was displeased, but he felt
that in such a matter as this Burnett had no business to dictate. He
himself liked Brush, and saw no reason why he should not meet his
friendly advances.
Just before they rose from the table, Brush said to Tom:
“When do you calculate to leave St. Joe?”
“That is as Mr. Burnett decides,” answered Tom, turning to his employer.
“How soon do you calc’late to start, colonel?” asked Peter Brush.
“In two or three days,” said Burnett, briefly.
Tom was rather surprised. He had not anticipated that Mr. Burnett meant
to remain so long at St. Joe.
“I guess I’ll wait for you,” said Brush. “I did expect to go sooner,
but I ain’t in such a mighty hurry. I’d rather wait a little longer for
the sake of having good company.”
Tom smiled, and nodded in acknowledgment of the compliment. He felt
glad that the hunter was to be with them, and Brush so understood it.
If he had looked at Percy Burnett, he would have seen by the expression
on that gentleman’s face that _he_ had an entirely different feeling on
the subject.
No sooner had Peter Brush left the room than Percy Burnett turned
toward our hero, and said, abruptly:
“You seem determined to annoy me.”
“What’s the matter?” asked Tom, astonished.
“I told you I didn’t like that fellow.”
“I know it.”
“Yet you encourage him to intrude his unwelcome company upon us. You
were talking with him all breakfast-time.”
“Well,” answered Tom, with spirit, “why shouldn’t I? He was very
pleasant and social, and it was only polite to answer him when he spoke
to me.”
“You could show by your manner that you don’t relish his society,”
growled Burnett.
“But I do like his society,” said Tom, with spirit. “You can’t expect
me to feel just as you do toward everybody. If you don’t like him,
you have a right to feel as you do. You have no right to order me to
dislike him, too.”
Percy Burnett was rather surprised and disconcerted by Tom’s unexpected
independence. He had taken him for a boy who would yield readily to his
guidance, and he was not disposed even now to give up the attempt to
control him.
“He is an uneducated, low fellow!” he growled. “I can’t understand what
pleasure you can find in such company. I don’t believe he can read or
write.”
“Yes, he can,” said Tom, “but that is about the extent of his
education.”
“Who told you that?”
“He told me so himself. As to being low, he doesn’t look so low as the
man who spoke to you in the cars.”
Percy Burnett’s face darkened, and he was about to speak violently, but
a glance at Tom’s face, which, boyish as it was, indicated no ordinary
strength and firmness, led him to change his purpose.
“Jack is rough, I admit,” he said, “but he’s worth half a dozen of this
fellow.”
Tom did not agree to this, but he did not think it necessary to say so.
He did not care to quarrel with Mr. Burnett, and thus lose the twelve
dollars a week upon which he relied. He kept silent therefore.
For some reason or other Percy Burnett was unusually vexed and troubled
at the thought of being accompanied by Brush, the hunter.
“It would spoil everything if that meddlesome fellow joins us,” he
said to himself. “I could beat that stubborn boy for so obstinately
encouraging him to keep company with us. I must give him the slip
somehow.”
In the hotel yard was a stage with four horses attached. The driver was
already on the box.
An idea came to Mr. Burnett.
“My friend,” he said, “when are you going to start?”
“In ten minutes, general.”
“Where are you bound?”
Percy Burnett learned that the destination was a point forty
miles distant in Kansas. It was the first portion of the great
transcontinental line, the terminus of which was San Francisco.
Mr. Burnett made up his mind at once.
He hurried into the hotel and summoned Tom.
“Be quick, boy,” he said, “the stage is about ready to start.”
“Are we going right off?” asked Tom, in surprise.
“Yes; make haste.”
“You told Mr. Brush you should not be ready for two or three days.”
“I only wanted to put the fool off the scent. We are going by that
stage; come on.”
“All right, sir.”
Tom, of course, made no opposition to Mr. Burnett’s plans. It was not
his place to do so. As long as he was in his employ, and accepted wages
from him, he must conform to his arrangements.
In ten minutes the driver seized the reins, the stage bowled away, and
Tom’s face was set westward.
He felt sorry to have lost the opportunity of saying good-by to
the good-natured hunter, but his mind was soon full of pleasurable
excitement as the stage rumbled on its way toward the Pacific.