Читать книгу Julian Mortimer - Castlemon Harry - Страница 9

JULIAN, almost exhausted by his violent exertions, was in no condition to continue his fight. He simply ran to the opposite side of the poplar, in front of which the fight had taken place, and threw himself flat between the roots, where he lay trembling with fear, and hardly daring to breathe lest Jack should discover him. But that worthy was too angry to see anything except his prostrate hound. He bent over the animal for a moment, and then rushed frantically off in the direction he supposed Julian had gone, stamping through the bushes like a mad man and stopping now and then to listen for the sound of the fugitive’s footsteps. He made a wide circuit through the woods, searching everywhere for the object of his vengeance, and finally came back to his favorite again.

He seemed to be unable to bring himself to believe that he had seen Nero alive for the last time. He placed him upon his feet, called him by name, and even shook him to make him show some signs of life; and when at last he had satisfied himself that the dog was really dead, he jumped up and spurned him with his heavy boot.

“Only think!” he exclaimed aloud; “a hound that could pull down a four-pronged buck as easy as he could a chicken, that could stretch a two-year-ole bar while ye was a thinkin’ about it, an’ chaw up a full-grown wildcat every mornin’ afore breakfast, has met his match at last in that leetle pale-face Julian, who doesn’t look as if he had pluck enough to face a mouse. Nero, I am teetotally ashamed of ye. Whar is that Julian? If I don’t ketch him I shall lose the money I was goin’ to make by that trip to Orleans. But I’ll make more outen Mr. Mortimer. I’ll have that watch an’ that ring, an’ everything he’s got in his pockets afore daylight. I hain’t a goin’ to be swindled on all sides, I bet ye.”

When Jack had finished his soliloquy – every word of which Julian had overheard – he once more began his search for the fugitive. The boy remained quiet in his concealment until the sound of his footsteps had died away, and then with a long breath of relief arose to his feet and went to recover his coat. He found it where Jack had thrown it after freeing it from the teeth of the hound. It had never been a very valuable piece of property since it came into his possession, and now it was in a worse condition than ever; but Julian, knowing that he was destined for months to come to live entirely in the open air, could not think of leaving it behind. He threw the garment over his shoulder, and taking a last look at the hound, and shuddering as he recalled the incidents of the fight, bent his steps through the woods toward his store-house. He wanted to see what Tom and Jake had done to it. Perhaps they had left something there worth saving. He was very cautious in his movements, stealing along with a step that would not have awakened a cricket and pausing every few feet to listen. But he heard no suspicious sounds, and when he reached the cliff in which his store-house was located he was satisfied that he had seen the last of his enemies for that night at least.

He found the ruins of his store-house lying all along the side of the bluff, for the young robbers, not content with taking possession of Julian’s valuables, had pulled out the saplings of which the house was built and scattered them far and wide. As Julian stood looking at the ruins of the cabin, thinking how hard he had worked to build it, and wondering how Jake and Tom had ever discovered it, he heard a slight rustling in the bushes by his side, and before he could turn to see what occasioned it, he found himself lying flat on his back with a heavy weight on his breast holding him down. At the same instant he felt a strap passed around his wrist.

Had his assailant conducted his operations in silence, Julian, who believed that he had fallen into the clutches of Jack Bowles, and that it would be folly to resist, would have suffered himself to be bound without even a word of remonstrance, but his antagonist, having a confederate close by, and believing that he was likely to have more on his hands than he could well attend to, shouted lustily for help.

“Here he is, Jake,” he yelled. “Hurry up. I’ll hold him an’ ye can tie him. The $20 are our’n.”

“Tom Bowles!” cried Julian.

“Sartin; an’ ye’ll find it out as soon as we get ye fast. Don’t go to bein’ sassy now, ’cause we won’t b’ar it. Tie that ar strap around his arms, Jake.”

“Perhaps Jake isn’t man enough to do it,” replied our hero; and the sequel proved that he was not.

Julian arose to his feet as easily and quickly as though there had been no one there to prevent him, and seizing Tom by the collar, gave him a trip and a push that sent him heels over head down the cliff.

Without waiting to see what had become of him, Julian turned upon Jake, and then began another fight, which, although by no means of so serious a character as the one Julian had had a few minutes before, was quite as furious and determined. Jake was older and larger and stronger than Julian, but by no means as active. He was fighting for the $10 his father’s guest had promised him if our hero was brought back to the cabin a prisoner, and to retain possession of the $80 he carried in his pocket.