Chapter VIII: Uncle Ephraim Displays Great Interest

The boys had scarcely gripped each other when Lon realized that he was now no better able to cope with his rival in a wrestling bout than he was at their last encounter, months previous. The stableboy of the Three Oaks Inn had been in perfect training every day of his active life. Lon was lazy, and had to be fairly driven to work by his father. He would much rather roam the woods with a gun and dog, or go fishing, than do those tasks which fell to the share of the other lads of the neighborhood, and leaping and running, and frolicking with his friends in their off-hours, had not hardened his muscles as Hadley’s toil hardened his.

The latter obtained a good hold on his enemy and, with a sudden squeeze, almost drove the breath out of Lon’s lungs. The Tory youth gasped as he felt this sudden strength. “Oh! oh!” he groaned. And then, kicking frantically and endeavoring to beat his antagonist in the face with his fists, cried aloud to the excited dog: “Sic ’im, sir! Go at ’im!”

The mongrel, as cruel as its master, plunged into the fray and grabbed at Hadley’s leg. Fortunately, the stableboy wore high riding boots, and instead of seizing the calf of his leg, the brute sunk its teeth in the leather. The attack, however, brought Hadley to the ground, with the dog chewing at the bootleg and snarling, and Lon Alwood on top. But the under boy still hugged his human antagonist tightly to him, and for the moment his brute enemy did little harm.

All the time Lon was encouraging the dog in his attack, but Hadley would not strike him. “Call off the beast and fight fair, Alwood!” he said. “Call him off and try it over again. This is no fair game.”

Lon’s only answer was a more desperate attempt to get his arms free and so strike his enemy with more precision. But the unequal contest was exhausting Hadley’s strength, and he knew he could not keep his advantage for long. So, putting forth all his remaining energy, he suddenly rolled Lon over and came uppermost himself. The dog yelped loudly and let go the boot, for Hadley had managed to give him a well-placed kick at the same moment, and while the brute was recovering from this the boy broke away from Lon and sprang to his feet.

The dog seeing its master on the ground, growled savagely and leaped for Hadley again--this time for his throat. But the boy was ready for the attack, and the toe of his riding boot caught the animal under the jaw and sent it backward with terrific force. Lon had secured his footing, too, and seeing his canine friend so badly treated, came at Hadley with redoubled fury. The latter caught him at arms’ length and before Lon could secure any hold, threw him forcibly to the ground.

The dog happened to be in the way and his master fell flat upon him and with sufficient force to break the animal’s spine. The dog’s almost humanlike cry of agony shocked Hadley, and his anger was gone in an instant. “Oh, the poor creature!” he cried, and as Lon got up, bleeding at the nose and much bruised, Hadley knelt down beside the beast to see how badly it was hurt. But with a few spasmodic jerks of its limbs the dog lay still; its master’s fall had killed it.

Alwood, however, little interested in the death of the faithful creature, was searching about the pasture, and suddenly finding a smooth cobble, hurled it with all his might at the kneeling boy. Fortunately, Hadley turned in time to see the action and dodge the stone. He leaped up, and Lon turned tail and ran to escape merited punishment for this cowardly act.

“That fellow hasn’t a spark of honor,” thought the victor of this rather sanguinary encounter. “He can’t fight fair. I’m sorry I killed his dog; but I don’t believe Lon thought of the poor brute at all. He was just mad at me and cared nothing about it. I’ll have to watch out for Lon Alwood, for he’ll seek to injure me without giving fair warning, I know.”

His encounter with the Tory youth had detained him, until now it was growing dusk along the edges of the wood which bordered the pasture. He hurried on and soon arrived at the outbuildings and barns belonging to his uncle. The cattle had come up to the barnyard and the cows were being milked by the hired hands, while Ephraim overlooked the feeding. If the old gentleman deprived himself of everything but the bare necessities of life, he was careful that his stock was well fed.

The men were mostly lads from neighboring farms, who went home at night, working for their monthly wage for Master Morris because there was not enough to do to keep them busy at home. They cordially greeted the miser’s nephew, for though they were nearly all from Tory families, Hadley was popular with them. Ephraim Morris, however, had but a cold welcome for the stableboy.

“Well,” he said, in an unpleasant voice, “what have you got to say for yourself, Hadley?”

“About what, uncle?” demanded the boy.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about it. I let you work for that innkeeper and this is what it comes to, hey? I thought so--I thought so! Hanging around a place like that would spoil anybody’s morals. I’m surprised at you, Hadley--and your mother was a good woman. And for you, who were born a British subject on English soil yourself, to help these crazy colonists along--”

“But I believe they are right, uncle, just as you believe the king and the king’s men are right.”

“Pah! pah!” exclaimed the old man, savagely. “What does a boy like you know of such matters? You have hung about that Jonas Benson, and his inn, which is a hotbed of rebellion, so long that you talk like a lawyer. It is ruining you, and I won’t have a nephew of mine--”

“But Master Benson pays you my wages regularly, doesn’t he?” demanded Hadley, before the old man could say anything rash.

“Hem--well, I can say he does,” admitted Uncle Ephraim, and subsided for a moment. Soon, however, he started on a new tack. “Who is this English officer who is a guest at the inn, nephew?” he asked. “It is said that he is a great man from York way. And to think that you should oppose a gentleman and an officer of His Majesty’s army!”

“I don’t know how great a man he is,” Hadley returned. “He calls himself Colonel Creston Knowles--”

The old man started and leaned forward so that his wrinkled face came within the candlelight. Wonder, and an expression which seemed like fear, slowly grew upon his countenance. “Who did you say he was?” he demanded, his lean fingers clutching the edge of the table.

“Colonel Creston Knowles, uncle. His daughter, Mistress Lillian, is with him. They have come into Jersey to find a family by our name, I understand. Both of them have asked me about you, sir.” While he said this, Hadley scrutinized Uncle Ephraim closely. The old man was much disturbed, for he sat silent for several minutes and his face showed plainly that he was the man Colonel Knowles was so anxious to see. “Who is Colonel Knowles?” the boy asked, at length. “What does he want to see you for? Is he--is he related to us in any way?”

“No, no!” snarled the miser. “He’s nothing to either you or me. I--I don’t know him--I don’t know him, I tell you! Now, go to bed, and don’t disturb me with your questions.”

Hadley cleared up the untidy kitchen as best he could, and then lit a tallow dip at the single candle on the table, and obeyed his uncle’s behest by mounting the stairs to the loft over the room. He went to bed at once, for he was tired enough, but he could not sleep for thinking of his uncle’s strange manner and words. There was some mysterious connection between Colonel Knowles and the Morrises; but Uncle Ephraim did not intend to admit it.

Hadley fell into a doze at last, but only for a short time. The squeak of a door below aroused him, and after listening a moment and fancying all sort of noises, as one will in the night when the house is still, he crept out of bed, slipped on his outer clothes again, and tiptoed to the head of the stairs to see if his uncle had himself gone to bed. There was a faint light below, and the boy was confident that the candle must be burning, for Uncle Ephraim would never leave a fire on the hearth at this time of the year.

Carefully going down several steps in perfect silence, he managed to get a view of the whole kitchen, including the fireplace, and what was his astonishment to see Ephraim Morris standing upon a chair before an old brick oven built high in the chimney, and which Hadley never remembered seeing opened before. It was open now, however, and the old gentleman had his head and shoulders thrust inside, as though reaching for something concealed at the extreme back of the oven.