Julian Mortimer. Castlemon Harry
fur the night, an’ thar’s no use in settin’ back thar away from the fire. Draw up an’ give us a shake.”
“Mr. Mortimer!” was Julian’s mental ejaculation.
His heart seemed to stop beating. He opened his eyes to their widest extent and kept them fastened upon the stranger, who pulled his nail-keg in front of the fire and seated himself upon it.
CHAPTER VII
THE FLIGHT
WHEN THE gentleman came out of his dark corner, and the light of the candle fell upon his features, Julian took a good look at him, and an expression of great disappointment settled on his face.
“Whoever he is, he is not my father,” said he, to himself, “for my father had gray hair. This man is a stranger, and as it would be a mean piece of business in me to stay here and listen to his conversation I will crawl back to my pile of husks and go to sleep.”
Acting upon this resolution Julian began a slow and cautious retreat; but he had not gone far when a thought struck him, and he crept back to the edge of the loft and looked over into the room again.
“Jack called him Mr. Mortimer,” soliloquized the boy, “and I should like to know who and what he is. The manner in which he acted when I met him in the woods makes me believe that he has seen me before, and that he knows something about me that he wishes to keep hidden from me. I have a good deal at stake and it will do no harm to listen a while anyhow.”
It was a very handsome face that Julian’s eyes rested upon, and one that he did not think he should ever forget. Although the man’s language indicated that he was an American, his features had a decided Spanish cast. His face was dark and wore a haughty expression, his hair was long and waving, and like his mustache and goatee, was as black as midnight. Julian looked at him attentively, and was surprised to see that he shook hands with Mr. Bowles and his wife, as if they were old acquaintances whom he was glad to meet once more.
“It’s a long time since I’ve seed ye, Mr. Mortimer, but I allowed I knowed ye as soon as I clapped my eyes onto ye,” said Jack, drawing his nail-keg a little closer to the side of his guest.
“And you came very near making a mess of it, too,” replied the latter, with some impatience in his tones. “I believe that boy suspects me – he looked at me as if he did – and I would not have him know who I am for the world. You’re sure he is asleep?”
“Sartin, ’cause I went up to look. We’ve kept him safe an’ sound fur ye, ’cordin’ to orders, hain’t we?”
“An’ now you have come to take him away from us – I jest know ye have,” exclaimed Mrs. Bowles, raising the corner of her tattered apron to her left eye. “I don’t know how I can let him go, ’cause my heart’s awfully sot onto that poor, motherless boy.”
“We’ve done our level best by him,” chimed in Jack. “Ye told us when ye brought him here that he was a gentleman, an’ a gentleman’s son, an’ we’ve treated him like one.”
“When he brought me here,” repeated Julian, to himself; and it was only by a great exercise of will that he refrained from speaking the words aloud.
He became highly excited at once. Mr. Mortimer was the one who had stolen him away from his home and delivered him up to the tender mercies of Jack Bowles and his wife – the very man of all others he most wished to see. He had been a long time coming, almost eight years, and now that he had arrived, Julian found that he was destined to become better acquainted with him than he cared to be. He watched the guest more closely than ever, carefully scrutinizing his features in order to fix them in his memory. He hoped to meet him some day under different circumstances.
“He haint never had no work to do, an’ we never struck him a lick in our lives,” continued Jack. “We’ve treated him better’n our own boys. He’s got a good hoss of his own, an’ I’ve been a feedin’ it outen my corn ever since he owned it, an’ never axed him even to bring in an armful of wood to pay for it. An’ my boys do say that he’s got a heap of money laid up somewhars. If ye have come to take him away I reckon ye’ll do the handsome thing by us.”
“My friends,” interrupted the guest, as soon as he saw a chance to speak, “I know all about Julian, for I have talked with him. I know what he has got and what he intends to do. Have you ever told him anything about his parentage?”
“Nary word,” replied Jack.
“Then I wonder how it is that he knows so much about it. He knows that his home is near the mountains; that he was stolen away from it, and that he has a father there. More than that he intends to go back there very soon, and is laying his plans to run away from you.”
“Wal, I never heered the beat in all my born days!” exclaimed Mrs. Bowles, involuntarily extending her hand toward the rawhide which hung on the nail behind the door. “I’ll give him the best kind of a whoppin’ in the mornin’. I’ll beat him half to – What should the poor, dear boy want to run away from his best friends fur?”
“The leetle brat – the ongrateful rascal!” said Mr. Bowles. “That’s why he’s bought that ar hoss; an’ that’s why he’s been a huntin’ an’ trappin’ so steady – to earn money to run away from us, is it? I’ll larn him.”
And Jack turned around on his nail-keg and looked so savagely toward the loft, where Julian was supposed to be slumbering, that the eavesdropper was greatly alarmed, and crouched closer to the floor and trembled in every limb, as if he already felt the stinging blows of the rawhide.
“It seems that my visit was most opportune,” continued the stranger. “If I had arrived a day or two later I might not have found Julian here. He would probably have been on his way to the mountains; and if he had by any accident succeeded in finding his old home, all my plans, which I have spent long years in maturing, would have been ruined. I came here to remove him from your care. It appears that certain persons, who are very much interested in him, and who have been searching for him high and low ever since I brought him here, have by some means discovered his hiding-place, and it is necessary that I should remove him farther out of their reach. I shall take him to South America.”
“What’s that? Is it fur from here?” asked Jack.
“It is a long distance. I came down the river from St. Joseph in a flatboat,” added the visitor. “I found that the captain is a man who will do anything for money, and I have arranged with him to carry us to New Orleans. It will take us a long time to accomplish the journey, but we cannot be as easily followed as we could if we went by steamer. If you will accompany me I will pay you well for your services. I can say that the boy is a lunatic and that you are his keeper.”
“‘Nough said!” exclaimed Jack. “I’m jest the man to watch him.”
“But you must not watch him too closely,” said Mr. Mortimer earnestly. “If he should accidentally fall overboard during the journey it would not make any difference in your pay.”
“In course not,” replied Jack, with a meaning glitter in his eye. “If he gets one of them ar’ crazy spells onto him some dark night an’ jumps into the river, why – then – ”
“Why then you ought to be handsomely rewarded for your faithful services while in my employ, and discharged.”
“Perzactly. Whar is this yere flatboat now?”
“I left her about twenty miles up the river. I told the captain to lay up for a few hours until I could have time to come down here and transact my business with you. She will be along about noon to-morrow. Have everything ready so that we can hail her, and step on board without an instant’s delay.”
“I don’t fur the life o’ me see how I can let him go – my heart is so sot onto him,” sighed Mrs. Bowles, once more raising her apron to her eyes. “He do save me a heap o’ steps, an’ he’s a monstrous good hand to cut wood an’ build fires o’ frosty mornin’s.”
“But he hain’t never had it to do,” interrupted Jack, who, for reasons of his own, thought it