CHAPTER X.
’SQUIRE HARDY OUTWITTED.
The reins trembled in the hands of Deacon Cornhill, who dared not contemplate the result of another meeting with his enemy. Rob proved himself better fitted to meet this emergency, and he asked:
“Is there no other house that we can have?”
“This is the only house on Break o’ Day. There are some sod houses that the coal burners lived in, but they are not fit places for you to stay.”
“If others have lived there we can. I do not believe they have seen us. See? they are dismounting and leading their horses under the shelter of the trees. Can we get to one of these sod houses without passing that house?”
“Oh, yes; there are two or three of them down this cartway a short distance.”
“Then drive down there, and we will see what the ’squire will do.”
Nothing loath, the deacon headed the horses down a narrow grass-grown path, where neither the footfalls of the animals nor the revolutions of the wheels gave back any sound.
Little dreaming of the close proximity of those for whom they were looking, Sheriff Stanyan and ’Squire Hardy, after seeing that their horses could not stray, hastily sought the old house, that they might escape the pelting rain while they watched and waited for their prey.
Meanwhile Deacon Cornhill drove slowly along the pathway, where the bushes overhung them so that they slapped the occupants of the wagon in the face unless they held them back with their hands. After going a little way a small clearing was reached, on the upper edge of which Rob saw the open door of a couple of the oddest dwellings he had ever seen. In the great city some of his companions had left dark, dismal quarters under the very streets to come to this remote region to seek the shelter of low structures built of poles standing up in slanting position so their tops met, and the inclined plane covered with grass and sods. The rear ends of these simple dwellings were formed by big rocks against which they had been constructed, while the front was open the size of a door. Stone chimneys had been built at the further extremity, and through the open doorway could be seen the rough fireplace.
As the deacon stopped the horses in front of one of these primitive dwellings, Rob and the rest of the boys sprang down to the ground, and a hasty unloading of the few articles brought was begun. Mrs. Willet was lifted from the wagon and carried into the sod house, to be placed on one of the blankets. Then came Mr. Little’s turn, and he was carried into the rude dwelling just beyond, it having been decided to divide into two parties.
Deacon Cornhill had not forgotten to take along a small supply of food, a few potatoes, some flour and pork and other articles of scarcely less account, though less bulky. But there was no furniture, and when the last thing had been removed from the wagon and Deacon Cornhill surveyed the scanty store and the wet, gloomy surroundings, he could not help feeling a bitter disappointment at the way his bright plans had turned out.
“Well, keep up good courage, boys, and we will see to-morrow if something can’t be done for you. This is all my land round about here, and such as it is make as free with it as if you owned it. I know it ain’t rich soil, but in the valleys you will find a chance to dip up patches to plant. The coal burners plowed up some of the best places, so it won’t be quite like new sod. There is plenty of wood, and I advise you to build a fire the first thing you do.
“I s’pose I shall have to go home, as mother will be anxious about me. But I will come up in the morning, when we will lay our plans for the futur’. I hope the sheriff won’t find you. If he does, you must do the best you can, Rob. I can’t see how he can arrest you so long as you are peaceful. I will come up as early as I can to-morrow. Let me advise the rest of you to mind Rob in what he says. He’s got a good head on him, and he will help you out if anybody can.”
With these words, the honest-hearted man climbed back to the wagon-seat, gathered up the reins and headed the horses homeward, though, as he rode away, his gaze was turned backward until the bushes hid him from view.
“There is one honest man in this wilderness,” said Mrs. Willet, “but it seems as if every one else was against us. I suppose we must hope for the best.”
“To be sure, mother,” replied Rob, who always addressed her thus, “and with the clearing away of the rain we will hope for better fare. Come, boys, help me get some wood so we can have a fire.”
The other boys lending their assistance, while Rob’s mother and the girls cleaned up the interior of the camps, a fire was soon blazing merrily in each of the rude dwellings, giving a surprising cheerfulness to the scene. Preparations for supper were begun at once, and altogether the newcomers were as comfortable and hopeful as could be expected.
The rain was still falling steadily, though not as rapidly as at first, while it was growing dark.
Without stopping to eat supper with the others, Rob left the camp to see if he could learn anything of the two men at the old house, promising not to be gone long.
Upon coming out into the road within sight of the place no sign of life was apparent, until he came near enough to see the horses still standing where their owners had left them.
Rob smiled as he thought of the officers waiting within for the appearance of himself and companions, while he stationed himself so he could watch for them to appear, if they were in the house, as he believed.
Fifteen minutes wore tediously away, and it was becoming too dark to distinguish an object very far off, when he saw two men leave the old red house. He had no doubt these were Stanyan and Hardy, a fact which was made conclusive when he overheard the latter say:
“By Jove, Stanyan! I wouldn’t stay there any longer for all the hoodlums of New York.”
“So the old red house is haunted after all,” said the companion of the ’squire, and even in the darkness Rob could understand that the two men were greatly excited, if not frightened, over something they had seen or heard.
“Them sounds—sort of murder cries—sent the cold chills up my back,” acknowledged Hardy. “Come, Stanyan, it can’t be the deacon has taken his tribe up this way, and we might as well go home. What an awful dark night it is getting to be.”
“It was a mistake we hadn’t come the other way.”
“Oh, well, it can’t make any difference in the end. Wherever they have gone for the night, we can fix ’em to-morrow, eh? I’ll give you a cool fifty dollars to help me outwit the rascally deacon, Stanyan!”
“That’s easy enough done, ’squire. Whoa, Tom! what in the world are you snorting for, just as if you had seen a ghost out here in the dark?”
“Perhaps he was asleep and you scart him by coming up so sudden,” said his companion.
“I believe I heard some one move in the bushes!”