Rob, who was crouching in the bushes close by, dared not breathe lest he should be discovered by the sheriff, who came within easy reach of him. But the sheriff’s search was short, and made in such a blundering manner that he failed to discover our hero.
“Come, Stanyan,” called out Hardy, “what’s the use of stumbling around there in the wet bushes? We shall get soaking wet, and I am always liable to have an attack of rheumatism when I get wet.”
The ’squire was already unhitching his horse, and a minute later Rob had the satisfaction of hearing the two riding away.
“Good riddance!” said Rob, under his breath, as he started to return to the coal camps.
When Rob got back to the sod houses containing his friends he found the others anxiously awaiting him. A plain supper, prepared after considerable trouble, there being only a couple of small pails in which to do the cooking, was ready to be eaten by the firelight, and while our hero joined in with the others, he told what he had seen and overheard at the old red house, excepting the statements of the two men in regard to the place being haunted. Rob was wise enough to believe that no good would come of mentioning such a fact, if it were true, which he did not even entertain.
After supper further preparations were made for the comfort, such as could be provided, for the two parties. The united numbers made fourteen persons in the little band of strangers in a strange land. These consisted of Robert Bayne, our hero, and his mother, a kind-hearted woman into whose life had seemed to come all the shadows and sufferings arising from the evil doings of a husband who was a fugitive from justice. It was not really known whether Mr. Bayne was living or not, but if he were, there was a price set on his liberty, and his wife breathed easier in his absence than she could possibly have done knowing his whereabouts. Mrs. Bayne had pinned her faith on Rob, and hoped and looked forward to a future freer from care than her past twenty years had been. But, in spite of her outward cheerfulness the shadow of the past still darkened her life.
Then there were Mrs. Willet, the invalid widow, and her only daughter, Josephine, or Joe, as she was generally called. Joe was one year younger than Rob, of a cheerful disposition and a willing worker, with a judgment remarkable for one of her years.
Mr. James Little, still, as he believed, suffering from an injury received when thrown from a heavy truck wagon in New York City; his wife Sarah, and their children—Lawrence and Mary—aged, respectively, eighteen and sixteen, made up another family. We shall soon learn more of them.
A kind old lady was “Aunt Vinnie,” whose only care—and that was enough—was to look after her “boys,” Tom and Jerry. The history of these three was quite unknown, except that Aunt Vinnie claimed the boys to be the children of a sister who had died when they were very young. They were twins. At some time the three must have had surnames, but none of their present companions ever heard them spoken.
Besides these were the three street waifs, who had been picked up and championed by Ragged Rob—Chick, Ruddy and Tony—whose ages ran from ten to twelve years, all of whom were far older in the varied experiences which come to such outcasts.
Both Mr. Little and Mrs. Willet were given the first attention, and they were made so comfortable that they slept for the most part of the night. The younger members, used to sleeping out of doors on the pavements, or at least under some box or wall, lay down on the earthen floor of these sod houses and soon fell into a refreshing sleep. But neither Rob nor his mother sought sleep, while Aunt Vinnie and Mrs. Little only nodded at times.
The rain cleared away before midnight, and the following morning the sun shone brightly, and the clear, warm atmosphere of a spring day made the landscape beautiful and stirred the hearts of the lonely wayfarers with the spirit of good cheer.
“Isn’t this beautiful, delightful!” cried Joe Willet, clapping her hands in wild ecstacy of joy. “Look yonder, Rob! did you ever see such lovely flowers?” pointing to some clumps of mountain laurels. “I can hardly stop to get breakfast before I pick some of them. Oh, I know we shall be so happy here; shan’t we, mother?”
“I trust so, my child,” and the mother did not dare to speak of the fear in her heart.
“The country looks pretty, Joe,” replied Rob, “and I hail it as a good sign that the storm has cleared away so soon. But I must look around a bit to see what we can do. I hope Deacon Cornhill will get here before long.”
Now that it was daylight Rob saw that no signs of a dwelling was in sight. In fact, it was as quiet, except for the songs of a few birds, as if they had been left in the heart of a great wilderness. This seemed very strange for those who had come from the din, bustle and confusion of the great city.
“We shall soon get used to it,” declared Rob.
“Mercy me!” exclaimed Aunt Vinnie, “I don’t b’lieve I ever can. And as for Tommy and Jerry, why, they will go just wild.”
After breakfast Rob and Larry went up to the old red house, but found no evidence that the building had been occupied for some time. It showed even worse ruin inside than it did outside. At places boards had been torn off, as if used for fuel, and few of the doors remained. As they passed from room to room the floor creaked dismally beneath their feet, while bats and birds flew about their heads, screaming out as if angry at this invasion of their domains.
“If we come here to live it will require lots of fixing up,” said Rob.
“I don’t care what you think of it,” declared Larry, “but I jess feel like cutting off my big toe for coming up here into this dead man’s woods.”
When the forenoon had passed without bringing the deacon to see them, Rob grew anxious, and soon after dinner, accompanied by Chick and Ruddy, he started for Basinburg, hoping to meet their friend on the way.
Finally they came in sight of Basinburg without meeting any one. Rob was beginning to feel that there was something wrong about the non-appearance of Deacon Cornhill, and not having been to the latter’s house, he was obliged to inquire of the first person they met how to reach his place. This individual proved to be a tall, slab-sided youth, a little older than Rob, who eyed the other closely without replying to his question.
“When you get done looking at us,” said Rob, “I shall be glad to have you tell me where Deacon Cornhill lives.”
“Reckon ’ou’re some uv th’ tribe what came to town yesterday?” he ventured to question.
“I shall be pleased to have you answer my question,” said Rob.
“By gum! you’re cooners!” and he started on a run toward the village.
“I should say you’re the biggest cooner!” muttered Rob, not liking the conduct of the other. However, he kept on in the direction of the town, closely followed by Chick and Ruddy.
The store and post office was soon seen, standing in a little clump of buildings, and it was evident that the tow-headed youth had spread the news of their coming, for a crowd was beginning to gather in front of the place. It required but a glance from Rob to see that the looks of this party boded him anything but good.
Believing that it was best for him to put on a bold front and meet the men squarely in whatever they should try to do, Rob showed no hesitation in his advance.