Chapter C: Goodfellow (5)

The door opened, and Will stood in the outer room.

Having taken the precaution of shutting and bolting his door, he was warily drawing near the front door, when a strange sound proceeding from the demon’s hiding-place attracted his attention.

He heard the clink of money.

Will paused. “I’ll see what this means,” he said heroically, “but I’ll not run the risk of being captured. No; I’m too near freedom to throw away my chances just to see a crazy man finger his money.”

Picking up a stick from the smouldering fire, he softly approached the concealed door.

Poor boy! Experience should have taught him better than to play the Robber-Kitten--but when does experience profit a boy?

His usual luck befell him; he stumbled and fell prostrate with a crash.

The demon must have heard him, for he had barely regained his feet when, with a cry of dismay, the concealed door was flung open. On seeing Will, the demon did not stop to shut it, but darted upon him with fury. In his headlong course he struck against a stone and fell heavily.

Will waited to see him rise, and stood ready to defend himself. But the demon lay upon the floor immovable. His head had struck some hard substance, and he was insensible.

Presently Will went up to the demon. “Poor fellow!” he said compassionately, “he is badly hurt! His fall was serious; mine was only a stumble. I can’t go away and leave him in this state; I must help him.”

Tenderly he raised the powerless man, and exerting all his strength, he dragged him to a bench close by, and laid him on it. Then he saw that the demon’s head was severely hurt.

“Now, if he wakes up and finds me taking care of him, he won’t hurt me; so I shall go and get some water to bathe his head,” was Will’s next thought. “Henry said there was a spring, or water of some kind, in the cave, but there is certainly none in this room. Well, I must leave him and look for some.”

Snatching up a little pail, he hurried into the room which the demon had just left. Here he stopped a moment to look about. The room was very much like the two already described; there was a rude couch in it, but it was scantily furnished. The demon had evidently given up his “best bedroom” to Will.

Our hero’s wandering eyes soon rested on the most noticeable “chattel” in the room,--a large and strong box, the lid of which lay open. In this box there was a little pile of silver coins.

“Hello!” he said, “The demon has some money, after all! This is what he was jingling and counting, I suppose. Well, there’s no water here; I must go on.”

If Will had stopped to count the demon’s treasure, he would have found it a very modest fortune. In round numbers it amounted to only five dollars. ($5.00.)

O, golden legends of our youth,
O, thrilling tales of riper years,
How cruelly do you deceive!

A door stood open, leading from this room into a larger one.

“I’d better try this,” Will muttered. “It looks dark enough and big enough for a cavern, and there ought to be water in it, if anywhere.”

Having made his way into this apartment, Will found it to be spacious, but dark and desolate. A solitary lamp, which burned feebly, was of little avail in such darkness. After taking a few steps he heard the purling of water; and on reaching the spot he found a little stream of pure water, which doubtless emptied into the brook in the valley, running over the ground. He filled his pail and hurriedly retraced his steps, noticing several openings into the outer room, concealed there, but visible here.

“Well, this demon _is_ a queer fellow!” he soliloquized, as he went along. “He seems to have all kinds of hiding-places here, that nobody knows about. Now, what in the world does he do with so many rooms, and why does he keep a light burning in this hole? Perhaps he keeps it burning all the time on account of the darkness. I don’t wonder he has money; it must take a fortune to live here, for it is just the same as living in a castle. Well, I’ve explored his secret regions till I’m tired of it; and I guess Henry was right when he said a band of robbers fitted it up for a menagerie.”

A minute later he was again with the demon, whom he found still insensible. Taking out his handkerchief, he bathed the man’s head gently, and did everything he could to restore consciousness. But all in vain.

“Oh, dear!” he cried, “I shall have to leave him and look for Henry. I’m sure Henry is alive, but I must find him, and then we can come here again and help the demon.”

He arose and left the cave.

The writer has a great deal of boldness in attempting to depict the emotions of his numerous heroes in their joys or sorrows; but he declines to say anything about the meeting of the cousins on this occasion. It was affecting in the extreme.

As time passed and the boys did not return, Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer became very uneasy. Being fully aware of their son’s recklessness, they did not know what danger he and Will might, even at that moment, be incurring. All day the two had been whispering mysteriously together, as though contriving some dark scheme; and perhaps, like Don Quixote and his squire, they had set out in quest of adventures.

“Why couldn’t they have said where they were going, anyway?” Mr. Mortimer growled impatiently.

Mrs. Mortimer was a woman who permitted her son to do very much as he pleased, never interfering with his plans of amusement as long as he kept within proper bounds.

“Henry said he would tell me all about it when he came back; and he seemed, to be in such a hurry that I didn’t like to question him,” she said mildly. “I--I think it must be all right.”

“Let us go up to the boys’ room,” Mr. Mortimer said; “perhaps we can find a clue to their whereabouts.”

They went up-stairs immediately. The cousins had not shut the drawer, and a single glance into it told that they had been loading pistols.

“Oh! this is horrible!” groaned Mr. Mortimer. “Wasn’t that boy Will sent here because he got into disgrace about gunpowder?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Mortimer said faintly.

“Yes; and now, after trying to destroy the boys in his own village, he has come here, to put an end to our Henry!” he continued fiercely. “Till _he_ came, Henry’s balloons were all right, and I was proud of them; but see how _he_ tampered with his model! Henry never dreamed of loading his pistols, and going out with them. Henry is full of life, I know; but this is all that boy’s doings.”

This was unjust to poor Will; but what parent would have laid the blame on his own son?

Seeing that his wife was ready to burst into tears, he moderated his anger, and said soothingly, “Oh, they’re all right, Nelly; Henry knows enough to keep out of danger, if Will doesn’t. But I can’t stand this suspense any longer; I’ll go out and hunt till I find them; and I’ll let you know as soon as I get on their track.”

As he went out of the house he muttered audibly: “Well, I must send word to this boy’s mother to keep him in leading-strings till he’s twenty-one. How easily we manage Henry! It’s all in management, of course; and if Mrs. Lawrence would do as well as her sister, Will would be a very good boy. As it is, he can’t behave himself even away from home; and now the two are deep in some horrible powder trick!”

How grieved Henry would have been if he could have heard his father speak slightingly of his elaborate plot as a “trick”!

Boys, here is another pretty precept, which you will do well to commit to memory: _Never associate with those who are smarter than yourselves; for, if you do, you will be blamed equally with them when they lead you into mischief._

After many fruitless inquiries, Mr. Mortimer at length met with a youth who told him that about dark he had seen Henry and another boy riding off with a teamster. Mr. Mortimer felt relieved, and sent word to his wife; but for some time he could trace them no farther. At last, however, he found the very teamster,--he having returned to the city,--and from him he learnt where the boys probably were.

Having assembled a body of men, he set out for the cave forthwith, and reached it a few minutes after Will had joined Henry. A happy meeting took place, and tears of joy and thankfulness trickled down the cheeks of the knights-errant. Henry was tenderly carried to the road, and put into a vehicle in waiting.

Meanwhile, Will was speaking to Mr. Mortimer about the demon. He listened attentively; and seeing no better way of settling the matter, he determined to take the unfortunate man home with him. Then, after fastening up the cave against intruders, the entire party returned to town.

On the way, Henry and Will recounted their exploits glibly; the former nobly taking to himself all the blame, or heroism, the latter putting in a word now and then to enforce the others remarks. Poor boys! Now that the affair was over they wished to make the best of it. Mr. Mortimer listened patiently, and gradually it dawned upon him that his own son had planned this expedition to the cave. However, as long as _Henry_ had done it, it must be all right. He did not reprove them for their foolishness; he was troubled about many things, and feared that his son’s injuries were more serious than they seemed.

When the cousins entered the town they found that there was something of a commotion among the people. Prominent citizens stopped Mr. Mortimer to express their congratulations, and to see the youths who had “bearded the lion in his den;” while the little street Arabs gave vent to their feelings by shouting, “Bully for you!” “Henry’s a bouncer!” “Up with yer hands, and off with yer hats; Henry’s the boy for to b-u-s-t um!”

“Will, I guess we’re heroes, after all!” Henry chuckled, “When I was suffering down there at the foot of the hill, I almost concluded that we’d made fools of ourselves; but this doesn’t seem like it!”

“Yes; but I wish they wouldn’t take so much notice of us.”

“Fiddle! Will, you ought to live in the city!”

The party moved on. A golden head leaned out of the upper window of a certain house which they were approaching; the beautiful blue eyes glanced anxiously up and down the street; a well-known voice--the voice of the girl who had given Henry a glass ink-bottle--asked timidly of a passer-by: “Have they found them yet?”

A certain boy--by name, the estimable Johnny Jones--was loitering near, blinking with sleep and jealousy; and he took it upon himself to answer jeeringly: “Found them? Oh, yes; they’ve found the heroes, and they’re carting them home in the wagon that’s just here.”

The golden head was drawn in quickly, but the window was not shut.

The heroes were so near that they heard all. Then again the street Arabs ran alongside; again they took up their cry.

Poor Johnny Jones! His envy, or jealousy, was almost too much for him.

And Henry?

His heart bounded with delight; he was supremely happy. To hear such words from _her_ lips was ample recompense for all that he had suffered or might yet suffer.

It was nearly five years later; Henry was just twenty-one. He and a beautiful woman, dressed in bridal costume, were stepping into a railway carriage that was to take them to a steamer about to set sail for Europe.

“Will,” he said suddenly, “pull off your hat quick, and bow! I--I can’t; I’m too stiff.”

Wonderingly, and, alas! how awkwardly, Will raised his hat.

After they had passed the house Henry began to wonder what Johnny Jones had been doing there. Had he been talking to _her_? His eyes flashed fire; he was miserable.

Foolish boy, he was troubling himself needlessly. And if he had been more a philosopher, he would have known that Jonny Jones, in saying those few jeering words, had forever ruined his cause in the eyes of--------.

When the cousins reached home, Henry’s remaining pistol was unloaded, and a hearty laugh followed; for all knew, of course, that both pistols must have been loaded alike.

Henceforth, he could have the pleasure of telling his school-mates that he had been “shot.” There was, however, one drawback: there was no wound to heal, and there would be no scar to show to doubters.

Henry was thoroughly warmed; his ankle was rubbed with sundry liniments and carefully bound up; and then the young adventurers were sent to bed.

“Well, Will, among other consolations there is this: we don’t sit up till ten minutes to twelve every night, do we?”

“No. And we did it, Henry, after all! I explored the whole cave, and I’ll tell you all about it to-morrow; I’m too tired now. Besides, _we rescued the demon_!”

This proves that the heroes had not profited by their sufferings.

Meantime, the people of the house had been taking care of the madman. Under their careful treatment he recovered sufficiently to be able to sit up and converse.

He also had a “tale to tell,” but deferred telling it till the next day; and by one o’clock the whole household was wrapped in slumber.

_Chapter XXI._

UNCLE DICK HIMSELF AGAIN.

The exposure of that night brought on a severe attack of rheumatism, and the next day Henry was tossing about on his bed in agony. His sprained ankle also was very painful.

A doctor was sent for in haste; and under his treatment and Mrs. Mortimer’s watchful care, the boy recovered slowly.

Will was so grieved to see his cousin suffer that he almost fell sick himself; and he took up his stand at the bedside, so that he might attend to his slightest wish.

“I don’t mind being sick so much,” said Henry, as Will was peeling an orange for him, “because it proves that a fellow’s mother and--and--and _friends_ care for him, and want him to get well; but, I don’t want the rheumatism, because it’s mostly old men and hardly used soldiers that suffer with it.”

“What should you like to have?” asked Will.

“Well, Will, I don’t mind telling you. Will, I’ve always had a hankering to be wounded so that it would leave an honorable scar--a scar that I could be proud of, you know.”

The morning after the rescue the demon had a totally different air. He no longer regarded strangers with suspicion, but frankly and promptly replied to all who spoke to him. His eyes were calm and benign, no longer having that “hunted look” which seemed so terrible. In a word, the demon was no longer a madman; “the blow on his head had restored his reason.”

In real life this is, we believe, an uncommon occurrence; but in romance it is becoming intolerably common. It is inserted in novels that are otherwise good; it haunts some writers like an evil spirit; it is tricked up in a new garb, sometimes, to throw the unsuspecting reader off his guard; but if it is there, sooner or later it will crop out--often when least expected, least desired.

In fact, whenever the practised reader picks up a tale in which a _harmless_ maniac figures, his suspicions are at once aroused, and he flings it aside with a gesture of contempt.

Having called Mr. Mortimer to his side, the disenthralled man said, with a pleasant voice, “Sir, I do not know where I am, and I should like to ask you a few questions. Last night I was not in a humor to make inquiries, as I was so tired and weak; but this morning I am much better and stronger. May I ask your name?”

Mr. Mortimer was surprised at and pleased with the man’s improved appearance.

“I am happy to see that you are so much better, sir,” he said. “As to my name, it is Mortimer; may I, in turn, ask yours?”

“Certainly, sir; I am Richard Lawrence.”

Mr. Mortimer started. He perceived that the man who spoke was in full possession of his reason, quite as sane as he himself. In former years he had been intimately acquainted with Dick Lawrence; the story of the “mysterious disappearance” was familiar to him; and he thought that at last the mystery was to be solved.

He seized Lawrence’s hand and shook it heartily.

“Don’t you remember me, old friend?” he said. “Don’t you remember when you beat me in that race, so long ago? And besides, we are almost related to each other; for, as you surely remember, your brother and I married sisters.”

A long conversation followed between the two reunited friends. The events of other years were spoken of with peculiar pleasure, and Mr. Mortimer told his friend what had been taking place in the world of late years.

“Well, now, I had almost forgotten!” Mr. Mortimer suddenly exclaimed. “Your nephew Will is in this very house! You will remember him as a very little boy; and now he is a--a--now he is a great big boy. I must bring him in immediately.”

He hurried out of the room and soon returned with Will, saying apologetically, “You must excuse me, Will, but when two old friends meet, they forget that there are boys still in the world, and remember only that they were once boys themselves.” Then to his guest: “Mr. Lawrence, I have the pleasure of introducing your nephew Will, who is on a visit to my son. I think it is safe to say that you owe your deliverance to these hare-brained youths. You will hear graphic particulars of it afterwards.”

A happy meeting took place between uncle and nephew, the former being highly pleased with his new-found kinsman.

“Yes,” Mr. Mortimer resumed, “this is your nephew Will; a fine little fellow, who had a strange interview with you last night. Have you any recollection of it?”

“Not the slightest; so far as I know, I have not seen the boy since, since--when?”

“Ten years, uncle.”

“Then you know nothing about your life in the cave?” Mr. Mortimer asked.

“You are speaking in riddles, Mr. Mortimer.”

“My son, Will’s cousin, is ill to-day, or I should present him; for he, dear boy, was instrumental in your release,” the fond father observed, wishing that his son should receive due honor for his good deeds.

Mr. Lawrence was impatient to see his brother, but there were several matters to attend to before this could be done.

“There is a strange tale yet to be unfolded, Mr. Mortimer,” he said musingly. “I must visit the town where insanity first took hold of me. There are many things not clear to me; but I believe that by going there, I shall be enabled to unriddle the mystery. A foul wrong was done to me in that place, and I will have justice. As I intimated, I know absolutely nothing of what took place while I was insane; but I believe all that can be made clear by making diligent inquiries of people living in R----. Yes, I shall go to this place in a day or so; then take a run down to my brother’s; and come back just in time to go home with Will. But first of all, I shall visit the cave where I spent so many years; and you and my nephew must accompany me. I am full of curiosity to see the place, but I suppose I shall have to be piloted through it.”

A day or so afterwards Mr. Lawrence felt stronger, and the three set out to explore the cave. Will thought that he was going to the Demon’s Cave under very different circumstances, and sighed because Henry was unable to accompany them. But Henry was destined never to enter that cave.

When they arrived at the place, they perceived that some one was there before them, as the door stood open. As they passed in they heard a confused murmur of voices, together with whistling, singing, and hallooing. Evidently, the intruders were trying to keep up their spirits and intimidate any goblins that might be hovering near. A great fire was blazing in the old place, but the explorers seemed to be in the largest cave.

Suddenly the new-comers were heard, and a howl of horror came from the explorers.

“Oh, golly! It’s the demon or somethin’ else!” wailed one.

Then two wild and fearful eyes peered out through the concealed door, and a voice quavered: “N-o-o, it ain’t the demon; but I guess we’d better clear!”

Seven gaunt youths stole through the concealed door; glanced fearfully at the new-comers; and then broke and fled tumultuously out of the front entrance.

The two men smiled; the boy laughed.

“A boy is the same creature that he was when I was young,” Mr. Lawrence observed.

“They’re the very fellow’s that cheered us the other night,” said Will. “I guess they wanted to be ‘bouncers’ too.”

“Now, why in this world did the little rogues make a fire?” Mr. Mortimer queried.

“That question is easily answered,” said Mr. Lawrence. “When a boy comes upon a heap of wood, the temptation to kindle a fire, if he has any means of doing so, is too great for him to resist.”

“And you see nothing here that is familiar to you?” asked Mr. Mortimer.

“No; everything is strange to me; and I must apply to Will to lead the way.”

“Uncle, how queer it is that I should know more about your cave than you do!” said Will, grinning foolishly. “It doesn’t seem that you are the same man that picked me up and carried me off.”

“That’s because I’ve visited the tailor and the barber, Will.”

“Well, uncle, if I hadn’t been through the cave that night, we shouldn’t know anything about the money.”

“Money!” cried both men, in a breath.

“Yes,” Will replied. “I found a little pile of money, but so many queer things happened since that I forgot all about it. Come this way, uncle; it is in this room.”

“Your lost fortune!” Mr. Mortimer exclaimed.

“Perhaps,” sighed Uncle Dick.

“If those explorers have not enriched themselves with it!”

But the treasure was found untouched.

“Is _this_ what you found?” cried Mr. Mortimer, with disgust. “_This_ is intolerable--monstrous--outrageous! This--this--”

“No, I think it’s all right,” said Mr. Lawrence. “There is a mystery behind it, but when that mystery is cleared up, I think we shall find that this is all there is left.”

“I guess the boys didn’t see it,” Will observed, “or else they were afraid to meddle with it.”

“No,” said Uncle Dick, “a boy has more honesty than most people imagine. Well, Will, what there is, is yours. Take it, Will; it won’t fill more than one pocket; but I wish, for your sake, it were a fortune indeed.”

“If I hadn’t left these inside doors open, the boys wouldn’t have been able to explore these two rooms,” Will presently remarked. “Now, I wonder whether they found those hens and chickens! _I_ didn’t, but I didn’t look for them.”

“‘Hens and chickens!’” growled Mr. Mortimer. “What’s the matter now, Will?”

“Why, Henry said the demon--I--I mean my _uncle_--had lots of hens and chickens here, and I heard them clucking several times while I was in the cave; but I never saw’ a scratch of them.”

“Perhaps the young explorers made away with _them_,” Uncle Dick suggested.

“No, uncle, they found their way here only because I had left the concealed doors open,” Will said. “I guess the hens are some place else.”

“We don’t know how many hidden chambers there may be here, nor what secrets they may hold,” Mr. Mortimer sighed despairingly.

“There can’t be many more,” Uncle Dick replied. “We’ll say there is one more apartment, in which my nephew’s hens are cooped up. Now, unless they set up a cackling, how are we to know where to look for them? I think we had better leave them to their fate. No! Will, listen! When we get back to town, speak about these hens incidentally to some little tobacco-chewer, and within an hour a force of would-be desperadoes will troop down to this cave, and liberate these hens or perish in the ruins of the general demolition!”

To economize time and space, to ease the reader’s anxiety, and to maintain the reputation of this history for exactness and solidity, it may here be stated that although Will set a band of street Arabs on the track of those miserable hens and chickens, they were never found, and the probability is that they are slowly becoming fossils.

The three then made a burning stave serve for a torch, and marched through the cavern in which Will had found the water. Then they returned and went into the “best bedroom.”

“I have a fancy that there is money buried here,--buried, or concealed in some article of furniture,” Mr. Mortimer observed.

“I doubt that,” said Uncle Dick. “Now, if your son were well, he and Will might come here and ransack every cavern. What a pity we interrupted those boys! They would have amused themselves here all day, and would certainly have found whatever there may be to find! Poor little fellows, their fun had just begun! Well, they will be back again, and then they are welcome to all the spoil they can carry away.”

Having fastened the outer door, the party returned to the city.

_Chapter XXII._

UNCLE DICK EVOLVES HIS STORY.

The next day Mr. Lawrence, leaving his nephew still with Henry, went to the town of which he had spoken. Here insanity had taken hold of him, and here he expected to unravel his mysteries.

The two boys laid their heads together, and arrived at the conclusion that the world is not hollow, after all; and that if they were not heroes yet, a few years would make them so.

“The stuff is in us, Will; all we have to do is to work it up.”

“Yes, Henry; and when you come to see me, the people in our neighborhood had better be prepared. There are no captives for us to rescue, but I guess you can hit on something good.”

“Why, Will,” said Henry, smiling his delight, “you are almost getting to be like any other boy! You--you talk sensibly. What has come over you?”

“Well, when I saw that good came from our journey to the cave, and that we rescued my uncle, I concluded that I had been wrong and you right. I guess it’s safe to play tricks with you, anyway; and----”

“‘Tricks!’” echoed Henry, scowling horribly.

“No, no!” Will hastily declared. “I--I--mean--Henry--Don’t be vexed, Henry; I meant _stratagems_!”

The affronted patient softened. “Yes, that is the word you meant, Will,” he said, “but you always ought to say what you mean. I always do; and so I never have to stumble, and correct myself, and appear as though I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Will’s eyes expressed a mild rebuke.

Henry was not fluent in making apologies; on this occasion he simply said, with a look of pain that spoke volumes in his behalf: “It’s in my left knee, Will; hand me that bottle, please.”

“Next time I venture on any more stratagems,--if I ever do venture on any more,--I’ll warn all the sailors and teamsters in the settlement, so that I can be rescued just in the nick of time,” Will Said good humoredly.

“Yes, as long as they didn’t follow too close at your heels, and spoil the fun. Well, Will, I knew I could cure you if you stayed with me long enough; but I didn’t expect to do it so soon.”

When the patient was easy Will read to him. The books that pleased them most were about mustached heroes who cruised in Polynesia, discovering “sea-girt isles” which Captain Cook and later navigators had missed, and which almost invariably held captive some ragged individual, who, after divers adventures with pirates and Chinamen, had finally succeeded in nailing $795,143 up in a mahogany coffin, only to be shipwrecked with it.

In after years Will looked back on those days spent with Henry as the pleasantest in his boyhood. He had no haunting dreams; got into no disgrace; and, except when he thought of poor Stephen, felt no reproaches of conscience.

One day the mother of the girl who had given Henry a glass ink-bottle came in to inquire personally after his health.

“I heard you were getting better, Henry, but I thought I should like to come and see for myself,” she said pleasantly.

“I wonder now if _she_ didn’t hint to her mother to do this!” Henry thought to himself. “I believe she did; but I wish I knew. Why can’t folks tell the truth, anyway, and say right out how it is! How am I to find out! I know when _she_ had a bad cold, I hinted till my mother went there to ask about her! Botheration! I _will_ know!”

“It’s very good of you to take so much interest in me,” he ventured, slightly emphasizing the word _you_.

“Yes, Henry, when I saw the doctor call here twice yesterday I thought I must step in and see you.”

The boy was silenced, but not satisfied.

“I’ve brought a book for you, Henry, that I think you will like,” she said, taking a handsomely bound volume out of her reticule and laying it on a stand at Henry’s elbow.

He picked it up. “_Her_ book!” he thought exultingly. “I know it’s hers, for I’ve heard her speak of it. She sent it to me! Of course she did. _She sent it!_”

Once more his heart bounded with ecstasy; once more he was supremely happy. The blood rushed to his face; his lips quivered; his hands trembled.

The visitor remarked this, and turning to Mrs. Mortimer said sympathetically, “Poor boy! How patiently he bears it!”

Then, stepping up to the bedside, she laid her hands on his head, kissed his forehead gently and affectionately, and asked softly, “Is the pain very bad, Henry?”

It seemed to Henry that his heart stood still.

“It is _her_ mother,” he thought, “and she has kissed me!”

Their eyes met. A woman perceives many things intuitively; Henry’s secret was hers from that moment. For all answer she kissed him again. From that day the two were firm and true friends.

When Henry found himself alone he examined every leaf of that book carefully.

“_She_ sent it,” he muttered, “and perhaps there is something written in it. She may have written, ‘I hope you will like this book, Henry;’ or, ‘This is the story we spoke of, Henry;’ or, ‘When will you be able to start to school again, Henry?’”

The observing reader will perceive that in each of those sentences the hero’s own name occurs. Henry was capable of strong feelings; in some respects he was a boy; in others, a man.

At last, at the top of a useless fly-leaf, he came upon two initial letters. They were not hers; they were not his. The writing was very bad; he could not recognize it. He did not consider that a book-seller often scrawls a cipher or two on the fly-leaves of his books. He was mystified.

Jealousy, however, soon suggested an explanation; jealousy pointed out that those characters were written by _her_, and that they stood for “J. J.”

Once more he was miserable.

He saw Johnny Jones in his true colors; saw all his defects, all his emptiness, all his insignificance, all his baseness. And yet he was jealous!

The lover very often feels his rival to be the most despicable person on the face of the earth; and yet, at the same instant, he fears that rival, despicable as he is, will steal away the heart of his beloved.

To a man whose thoughts never rise above the earth on which he walks, this may seem preposterous; but it is true, and may easily be explained--so easily, in fact, that the writer leaves it for some one who can do so more ably and clearly than himself.

It has been said that Henry was fated never to explore the Demon’s Cave. He never did.

The City Fathers, fearing, in their wisdom, that the cave might become the haunt of evil characters or the lair of some wild beast, convoked a council, and drew up a document which began and ended thus:

“Whereas, ...

“Resolved, that said cave be forthwith demolished.”

Then five men and two hundred and seventy-three or seventy-four boys fell to work upon it, and executed this command to the letter. The Demon’s Cave had served its purpose: it was no more.

The view from the opposite bank was marred; but the City Fathers knew that they had done their duty, and their conscience was easy.

After an absence of a week Uncle Dick returned to Mr. Mortimer’s. He had visited the little city; solved his mysteries; and been to see his brother.

He made himself comfortable in an easy chair, and while those interested in him listened attentively, he romanced as follows:--

“Several years ago, when I was still a young man, by prudent and lawful speculations I amassed a fortune. But I was not satisfied; I still wished for more; and one day when a stranger came to me with wonderful stories about making colossal fortunes in a far-off part of the world, I listened eagerly, and secretly resolved to settle my affairs and hasten away with him. I should need every dollar I possessed to embark in this scheme, the stranger told me; and the sooner I could get away, the sooner I should return to my native country a rich man.

“I kept my purpose hidden from my nearest friends, and got together all my money as secretly as possible. I was not to deposit this money in a bank, and draw it as I needed it; oh, no! I must pack it up snugly in a strong trunk, and take it all with me. This man, Black, advised me to ‘keep my own counsel to the very last;’ and I also knew that my people would oppose my taking up with an entire stranger, and embarking in such a wild-goose chase. Consequently he, and I, and the trunk of funds, stole away like criminals, leaving only a short note of farewell and explanation behind us. By the way, Mr. Mortimer, my brother tells me that he received no such note, and I must infer that Black found means to destroy it.

“I knew that I was acting dishonorably, but I excused my conduct to myself by thinking I should soon return in triumph, worth millions. At that date, enormous wealth was the summit of my ambitions; and it must come suddenly and easily; petty speculation had become tiresome to me, and I wished to wake up some morning and find myself a nabob.

“In a certain city--the place to which I went after leaving you--we halted, ‘to complete our arrangements,’ as my betrayer put it, if I remember rightly. Having entered a small and out-of-the-way building, which he called his own, probably correctly, I was assaulted by him and another villain who was unknown to me. I remember distinctly Black’s saying to this man, ‘Now, Bill, a heavy blow on his head, and he is dead. Then his trunk of money is ours!’ I started to my feet, but at that instant a furious blow was struck at my head, and I, poor fool, knew no more.

“My object in going to that city last week was to see whether I could learn what had happened to me from the time of that attempted murder till I appeared here as the ‘Demon of the Cave,’ In this I succeeded very well. It seems that the police were on these men’s track, and that they broke into the building just after I had been knocked down. The villains, Black and his accomplice, doubtless thought me dead, or else meant to deal another blow, but had not time. Their crime was bootless; for they were thrown into prison, tried in due time, and sent into penal servitude, where they are still.

“Then I was taken to an hospital; but as I had scarcely anything with me, except my clothes and my chest of money, no clue could be found to inform my friends of my whereabouts. So they kept me on there, within a few hundred miles of my home, and took the greatest care of me. The cruel blow on my head had taken away my reason, and all the doctors of the hospital could not restore it.

“What puzzles me is that my friends did not find me in process of time, as the whole affair was published in the newspapers. Well, I suppose they thought of me as being far away and that I could not possibly be the madman in K. Hospital. I never saw the account in the newspapers, and the description of the madman may not have tallied with the Uncle Dick of the country village.

“And now comes the most extraordinary part of my story. I was ill in the hospital for several weeks, and meanwhile the authorities took charge of my chest. It seems that I was aware my money was in it, and with all a maniac’s cunning I kept watch over it. One day, when my bodily health and strength were quite restored, both I and my chest of treasure were missing!

“So the story runs; but there I am bothered; there is mystery. From that day all is dark to me; all is a blank; and I can only speculate. I am left to suppose, then, that I made off with my chest of money; roamed over the country in search of a home; came upon the cave in this neighborhood; and established myself in it!

“Now, that is contrary to reason--in fact, it would require a powerful imagination to put any faith in such a cock-and-bull story.

“I have a notion that a great deal of my money was taken either by dishonest servants while in the hospital, or else by thieves after I left it; and I think even that I was robbed of the whole amount, and came upon some money in the cave. How could a lunatic make his way through the country with a chest of money, and not be molested? It is impossible. In fact, Mr. Mortimer, from the moment I left the hospital till I took up my abode in the cave, it is all a muddle to me. It may be explained some day; but it is all a muddle to me now.

“From inquiries I made in this place, I found that a dealer brought me supplies while I lived in the cave, and that I paid him for them. I hunted him out, and he told me he made my acquaintance through another man, when I first came here. He is a simple, honest, old man, incapable of cheating even a madman; and I am satisfied that he acted fairly with me, and had no hand in my coming to the cave.

“But who is the other? I believe the whole question hinges on that; and if we could meet with him, I would force the secret from him. The dealer affirms that he knows nothing about this man; he saw him only once; and then he told him (the dealer) to send supplies to an eccentric man who intended to live for a short time in what was then called simply, ‘The Cave.’ But, alas! it continued through ten years!

“While living in the cave, I am told that I was continually on the watch against robbers; which proves conclusively, I think, that people of that calling preyed upon me either before or after I left the hospital.

“Mr. Mortimer, as far as I can make it out, this is my story. It is not much, but I have made the best of it.” The next day Mr. Lawrence and his nephew set out for home. The long-lost man had, at length, after an absence of ten years, returned.

He lived with his brother, and for a few weeks, did nothing. Ten years in a cave had undermined his health, but as soon as his constitution regained its natural vigor, he went into business on his own account. At forty he found himself penniless, and obliged to begin life anew; ten years were as though they had not been, and he had summarily got rid of a fortune.

He was of a cheerful and hopeful disposition, and did not grieve about this; still, he could not help thinking what misery would have been spared if he had not trusted himself implicitly to a villain.

For the present Uncle Dick must sink into oblivion. He will be resuscitated, however, at the proper time.

Will was received by his parents with open arms. He had behaved nobly; he was a little hero. All the praise must be given to him, of course. Had he not rescued his uncle, alone and unaided? Had he not done all in his power to help that uncle when he lay helpless in his cave? Had he not stayed by him and tended him? Had he not explored the horrible place known as the Demons Cave? He had; he had done all this; and yet come off without a scratch!

Of course, Henry meant well, but he had no hand in rescuing Uncle Dick--he had not even entered the cave. Henry was a good, a manly little fellow, but in that affair he had been only a figure-head.

Will found that Stephen was recovering fast. His school-fellows crowded round him and listened eagerly while he dilated on his cousin’s and his own exploits. Now that the affair was happily over, he delighted in telling them about his “adventures” in the cave, and Marmaduke, especially, delighted in hearing them. To him, Henry was a mighty hero.

The affair with Stephen sobered the others for a time, and when the poor boy again appeared among them, nothing they could do for him was left undone. He was a martyr in their eyes, and they willingly left off their own sports to talk to him. Under these kind attentions, what wonder is it that the boy soon recovered his health, strength, and spirits?

The whole tribe of heroes kept clear of tricks and misdeeds till the following summer; but Will, of course, committed his diverting little blunders daily. But it would be foolish to chronicle them.

As for Henry, he recovered rapidly, and when Will and his uncle left he was a great deal better. He missed Will very much, but he did not suffer a relapse. He put his remaining pistol carefully away, vowing to load it himself, if he should be tempted to use it again. As for the one which Will discharged, it was lost the night of the expedition to the cave.

_Chapter XXIII._

THE SAGE’S EXPERIMENT.

It is summer again. The six are enjoying themselves as usual, but are playing no tricks worthy of mention. Considering all things, it is surprising that they have kept out of mischief so long.

But the Sage was revolving a certain matter in his mind. He had been reading about Capt. Kidd the pirate, and the treasures he is said to have buried. He did not believe there were any such treasures,--at least, he thought he did not,--and to show how erroneous all those old traditions are, he resolved to make what he called an experiment.

“Look here, boys,” he said to his school-fellows, “wouldn’t it be capital to look for gold some day; some of Capt. Kidd’s gold, you know!”

“No, George, I guess we don’t know much about it; so go ahead and tell us,” Stephen replied.

“You’ve heard the stories about his buried treasures, of course. Well, let us follow the directions, and look for a stray treasure some night.”

“What directions?” Stephen asked. That day he seemed to be in a humor to persecute somebody.

“Why, the directions given in fortune-telling books for finding buried treasures,” George said good-humoredly. “I have a good necromancer’s book, and I have studied this thing all out. So, suppose we go to work and try it, just to prove how nonsensical all such stories are, and what a humbug necromancy is. Boys, it would be sport.”

“The very thing!” Charles exclaimed. “Now, tell us all about it.”

“Well, I’m glad some one can understand my meaning,” the Sage said smilingly. “We must go along the banks of some river at night, when the moon rises just as the sun sets. When the moon throws the person’s shadow four feet up into an evergreen, any evergreen tree, stop and say over some enchantment. Then shoot an arrow straight up into the air, and it will strike the water--at least it ought to strike it. Shoot another, and it ought to fall at your feet. Shoot one more, and it will light on the ground exactly over your treasure. But you must dig for it with paddles.”

“Paddles!” cried the boys.

“Yes, dig two feet with paddles, or the treasure will escape. Then you may take spades, or anything you choose, to dig with; and six feet down you’ll find it.”

“How wonderful!” Marmaduke exclaimed languidly.

“How foolish, you mean,” wise Will observed. “Really, George, I used to think you had more common sense. Who cares about paddles, and arrow’s, and necromancers, and moons, and shadow’s, and rivers, and--and--now, George, you know such tomfoolery isn’t worth listening to.”

“Of course I don’t believe it,” George replied earnestly; “I only want to expose it.”

Charles and Stephen had been whispering together and exchanging winks while the others were speaking, and the former now said, with feigned seriousness: “Certainly you don’t, George. It’s a likely story that a boy like you believes in a bald-headed, goggle-eyed, broken-nosed necromancer, that never washes his hands, nor blows his broken nose, nor combs his whiskers, nor cuts his toenails. No, George, you read too much science to believe in such a dilapidated ruin as a necromancer must be; but, as you say, it would be roaring fun to follow his directions. How right and praiseworthy to expose the superstitions of the wicked old necromancer! Boys, let us go, by all means!”

George looked at the speaker rather suspiciously; but seeing how grave and earnest he appeared, never guessed that he was laughing inwardly. He replied warmly, “You’re a true friend, Charley. You understand my motives, and see what little faith I put in the old necromancer. Now, boys, you must give in that we could get a great deal of amusement out of this. Honestly, couldn’t we?”

“It’ll be the best fun we’ve had yet!” Steve declared. “But doesn’t he give any more directions, George?”

“Oh, yes. There is a page of what you’re to do and say, and if we should conclude to make the experiment I’ll learn it, for you mustn’t take the book along with you.”

“Of course not,” Charles said promptly. “Well, you’ll go, won’t you, Will?”

“Wouldn’t miss going for anything!” Will replied with decision.

Without stopping to wonder at the sudden change in Will’s and Steve’s opinions, the sage continued, “According to the almanac, this is the very night for us to go, because the moon rises as the sun sets.”

“Exactly;” commented Stephen. “And the river is our river, of course. As for the evergreen, I know where there is a fine tall one near the river. We must start just at the right time to have the shadow according to the rule when we arrive at the evergreen. Now, boys, I’ll scare up a good bow and half a dozen arrows; and Charley, I’m sure, can bring a long-handled spade; and Will can supply us with an oar or two. If the book says anything else is needed, George, you must see to it, for you, of course, will be our leader.”

George gracefully acknowledged this tribute to his merit.

Jim now spoke for the first time. “But what has all this to do with Captain Kidd?” he asked.

Ever since Will’s experience in the cave he had been filled with lofty ideas, and now, in his wisdom, he thought this the first weighty remark that had been made.

George replied thus: “We don’t know of any other man that would be foolish enough to bury treasures, Jim, so let us suppose that we are looking for one of Kidd’s.--All in sport, of course.”

Will looked at the Sage with pity that was not akin to love, and observed, “Now, George, I haven’t been reading the history of Captain Kidd, as you have, but I know well enough that he never buried any money in these parts _because it stands to reason he was never here_! Perhaps he buried some along the sea-coast, but certainly none in this far-off wilderness--as it was then.”

This argument was irrefutable; the Sage was mute. With all his reading, all his knowledge, was he to be insulted thus?

In fact, he looked so woe-begone that Charles came to his relief, saying, “Never mind Mr. Kidd, boys; let us follow the necromancers orders blindly.”

All agreed to do this, and soon afterwards they separated.

All unknown to them, they had had a listener. The conversation had taken place in the school-grounds, and a great over-grown boy had seen them, and drawn near enough to hear every word. As a wood-pile was between him and the heroes, he escaped notice. This “great, hulking lubber,” as Charles called him, was the boy who had been bitten by Stephen’s dog several months before, and who, as was intimated, thirsted for revenge. Ever since that time he had dogged the six, in the vain hope of detecting them in some evil scheme.

He was a cowardly, treacherous boy, this Bob Herriman, or he would not have played the eaves-dropper on this occasion. He now resolved to precede the boys, hide himself in the evergreen, and do his best to torment them.

Most horrible revenge, truly!

“I’ll get there ahead of ’em,” he muttered, “and climb the tree Stepping Hen (the opprobrious nickname by which, in his anger, he privately knew Stephen) spoke of! I think I know the very tree. I’ll yell, perhaps, or scare ’em awful in some way, and if they do any harm to anything, I’ll tell on ’em! Oh! what fun!”

Then this embryo villain strutted away, with a mischievous look--a look that boded ill to the Sage’s experiment. He was an _immoral_ boy, while Will and his companions were only _boyish_, and full of animal spirits.

The boys longed for night to come, as they imagined they could easily confute the vile and slovenly old necromancer’s errors, and find food for laughter. Some time before sunset they turned out in force, and mustered just below the falls. Everything that could possibly be made useful was on hand. George, poor boy, had freighted himself with a coil of heavy rope, but he bore up bravely, and strode onward without a groan.

When they were fairly started, Charles suddenly in-inquired of him: “What in the world have you brought that rope along for, George?”

“To draw the treasure home with,” was the somewhat startling answer, coolly given.

“The treasure!” Charles cried. “Why, I thought you ‘put no faith’ in that! and besides, you can’t draw gold and silver with a rope!”

“Don’t be foolish,” the Sage replied. “I believe in no treasure at all; but you must _pretend_ to believe in it, or else you will never get it. As for taking it home with a rope, the book says it will be in a huge chest, bound with iron bands. Therefore, I bring this rope along to make the spirits believe I believe in their beliefs.”

Having made this logical explanation, the Sage panted for breath, but drew himself up proudly, and looked defiantly on his tormentor, crushing him beneath his eloquence and his aspect.

Charles finally uttered an “Oh!” of relief, and then the procession moved on.

As the sun sank lower and lower, the boys hastened more and more. Will had calculated the time very accurately, and said it was foolish to hurry; but his school-fellows were aware of his failing, and for fear he had made a mistake, they were too impatient to proceed leisurely.

Notwithstanding the ridicule which the boys cast upon George for his strict observance of all the “directions,” they did not wish to omit any of them in making the experiment. Accordingly, all were anxious to arrive at the evergreen just in time to have the moon throw a shadow on it four feet high.

And by some strange chance they did.