CHAPTER II.
A Bound Boy's Story.
With the horses gone beyond recapture, Big Pete must needs depend on hisown legs if he meant to escape. The constable's party could not be farbehind, and with the boy, whose throat he clutched, to point the way inwhich he had gone, when the officer came up, his chance of getting awaywas much less than it would be should that boy be powerless to give anyinformation.
Ree Kingdom thought of this and lay perfectly still, feigninginsensibility but keenly wondering what disposition would be made of him,and resolved to fight to the last breath if his pretense ofunconsciousness were discovered. Then the giant's grip about his throatgrew tighter, and he felt that a terrible struggle and perhaps death werejust at hand. Between his almost closed eyelids he saw the man's bigframe bending silently over him and thus moments which seemed like hourspassed.
The slow-thinking fugitive could not at once decide what he should do. Hewas hoping Ree would spring to his feet and run. Then, pretending to tryto catch him, he would escape among the darker shadows before the boycould see in which direction he had gone. He was not deceived by thepretense of unconsciousness, as Ree thought, and really hoped to be savedthe necessity of killing the lad or of knocking him senseless, to acertainty, lest such a blow might produce death. He shuddered as heremembered that his hands were probably already stained with blood.
If Ellis had but known it, flight was far from Kingdom's thoughts. He wassteadfast in his every purpose, to a fault, and having set out to captureBig Pete, the idea of running away just as he was face to face with thegiant fellow, did not so much as occur to him, though he well knew hisperil.
"Scoot!" With sudden fury Ellis dragged Ree to his feet and violentlypushed him as he spoke, expecting to see the boy dash away.
Ree could not prevent a grim smile from crossing his lips as he turnedquickly toward the giant again, realizing that the fellow had intended tofrighten him. Each moment, however, he looked for a deadly conflict tobegin, and as he stood in quiet defiance, trying to determine what thefugitive's next move would be, and momentarily expecting a struggle,there was in the background of his thoughts a vision of an unmarked,flower-strewn grave in a quiet church-yard. Strongly intertwined with itwas memory of his past life. But hark!
"Clockety-clack-clockety-clack!" It was the sound of horses' hoofs closeby. The constable had discovered them at last. Big Pete heard thehoof-beats and knew he had paused too long.
"Death to ye!" he cried with an oath, and lodged a hammer-like blow onKingdom's head, sending the lad staggering, while he swiftly took to hisheels.
Dazed, but still conscious, Ree sprang after him, shouting "Come on!" tothe party of horsemen now but a few rods distant, "Ellis has just thisminute run into the woods!"
For an hour the men searched for the fugitive, but in vain. He haddisappeared completely and in the deep darkness pervading thethickly-grown brush and trees of the forest he eluded his pursuers withease.
In disappointment the chase was abandoned and attention given tocapturing the escaped horses. This was at last accomplished, and as theearly moon was waning, the constable and his volunteers turned homeward.One source of satisfaction was theirs--they had, at least, recovered thestolen team and wagon, though the latter would need many repairs beforeagain being fit for service.
Ree briefly told of his adventure as the party rode along. John Jeromecould not withhold his words of regret that his horse had been too slowfor the race, nor could he quite understand how the stolen team had beenable to outstrip the others.
"I'll tell you how that was," said the constable's brother. "The nags BigPete had was really runnin' away. I guess you know how much faster a dogwill run when he has a rattle tied to his tail, than when he's jestrunnin' for the fun on it! Wall, this here's a parallel case."
Although it was nearly midnight, a small crowd of curious ones was foundstill lingering about Mr. Rice's store, anxious to learn all that hadbeen done. Ree Kingdom received a large share of the praise for thereturn of the stolen horses. Captain Bowen was delighted over hisbehavior and would not listen to one word about the lost pistol.
"I'll drive over that way an' pick it up along the road somewheres in themornin'," he said. "An' to-morrow night I want you to come an' try someo' the new cider. You come too, son," he added, turning to John.
The boys thanked him heartily, for well they might esteem it a greatfavor and an honor to receive this invitation from the warlike oldveteran. Again they inquired for the latest news of Jim Huson, andlearning that he was likely to recover, set out for their homes.
"I have a presentiment that we shall see Big Pete again," said Reethoughtfully.
"Are you afraid of him?" John quietly asked.
"No, I am not afraid of him, yet I would rather we should never meetagain. But I think he will go west and though it is a big country, wemight find him there. By the way, John, Capt. Bowen is just the man togive us advice about our expedition. Meet me about sundown at the oldplace. We will have a lot to talk about as we are on the way to make ourcall."
A few minutes later the boys separated. John going to the overcrowdedlittle house of his parents; Ree to the Henry Catesby farm, which was theonly home he had known since childhood. As he crept into bed in his atticroom, and stretched his full length restfully on the straw-filled tick,again there came to him a vision of an unmarked grave in the quietburying-ground, bringing an influence of sadness to all his thoughts.
"Oh, mother, my memory of you is the dearest thing in life," he softlywhispered to himself, and his mind turned fondly to his childhood.Faintly he remembered his father. More vividly he recalled the coming ofa neighbor with the news of his father's death--killed by Gen. Howe'stroops as they advanced on Philadelphia, after succeeding in defeatingthe American soldiers at Wilmington, because Gen. Washington was misledby false information.
Poor Ree! How well did he remember his mother's grief, though he was tooyoung to understand--too care-free to grieve long or deeply himself. Manytimes he had heard the story in after days, how his father and twocompanions were fired upon as they were hurrying forward to give noticeof the enemy's coming; and one of the three being wounded, his fatherwould not leave him, though in trying to save him, his own life wassacrificed. It was the third man, who escaped, who spread the news of thebravery and death of the elder Return Kingdom.
Ree did not know how long a time had elapsed, but it seemed a very littlewhile after this sad story reached his mother that she removed with himto a newer part of Connecticut, where she earned a living for them bothby weaving and spinning. A happy year or two slipped by and then--ah,well, he remembered the dreary day when some neighbors had taken him tosee her whom he loved so well, buried beneath the elm trees, and he knewhe was left alone.
Memory of the bitter tears he shed came freshly to the boy as he recalledit all--how, in but a few days, he was "bound out" to Henry Catesby withthe promise that he should have a home and want for nothing.
Had he been in want? Oh, he had been supplied with food and clothing anda roof over his head. Could he ask more? Yes, a thousand times, yes! Hewanted friends, companionship, love. He remembered no one who had caredfor him in those early days, except--Mary Catesby, his hard master'slittle daughter. And she was still but a child when she was told to haveno association with the "bound boy;" learning of which, he had steeledhis proud young heart and had spoken to her only when necessary.
So with work, day in and day out, save for a few winter weeks in school,the years had passed, until he made the acquaintance of John Jerome, theson of a distant neighbor. Too poverty-distressed to be proud, he hadknown little happiness except a sort of sad pleasure he found in visitingthe church-yard, where in summer he placed great bunches of wild flowerson the mound to him most sacred.
For two years he and John had been intimate friends. The latter beingsometimes employed by Mr. Catesby, gave the boys additional opportunitiesof being with one another. Late at night after a long, hard day in theharvest fields,
they had gone swimming together. They had borrowed a gun,and John's money bought the ammunition they used in learning to shoot, topractice which they had risen before sunrise; for at Old Sol's first peepthe day's work must be begun. Many a time they had labored all day, thentramped the woods all night, hunting 'coons, coming home in time only tocatch a wink of sleep before jumping into their clothes and away to workagain.
Sometimes in winter when, by reason of John helping him with his work,Ree was able to secure a half-day off, the boys had sought other game,and shared the profits arising from their hunting and trapping. What withthe knowledge they thus picked up themselves, and the instruction giventhem by Peter Piper and others, there were no two boys in Connecticutbetter versed in woodcraft.
Ree thought of all these things as he lay awake looking out through hiswindow at the stars in the western sky. And as his thoughts ran on, hereflected on the death of Mr. Catesby a short eight months ago, and thegreat change it had brought into his life. From the moment Mrs. Catesbyhad called him to go for the doctor when her husband was taken ill, shehad depended on him in nearly everything. It was he who took charge ofall the farm work of the spring and summer, and the neighbors had saidthe Catesby place never produced better crops. With scarcely a pauseexcept on Sundays, he had toiled early and late to accomplish this. Onlywithin the past few weeks when the rush of the harvest was over, had heallowed himself any time for recreation. Yet it had been a happy summer,he thought. Mrs. Catesby, appreciative of his splendid services, had beenall kindness; Mary Catesby had been agreeable as his own sister mighthave been. Both had forgotten, or at least no longer observed, the bar ofsocial inequality which Mr. Catesby had set up against the "bound boy."
Then in August had come Mrs. Catesby's decision to remove to the citythat her daughter might have educational advantages. It was with genuineregret that Ree had learned her plans. He would never have admitted evento himself that he had, in a certain boyish, vague way, dreamed of a dim,distant time when he and Mary might be more than friends; but maybe somesuch thought had been in his mind at some time. Strange it would be hadnothing of the kind occurred to him.
Thus as he lay awake still pondering on the past, the present and thefuture, in the depths of Ree's heart of hearts there may have been a wishthat he should become a successful man, wealthy perhaps, well-to-docertainly; but in any event, looked up to and respected.
But, oh!--What obstacles confronted him! How could he ever be more than arough, uneducated "bound boy" that he was! The subject was not a pleasantone, but he gave it most serious thought, and determined for thehundredth time, that, come what might, he would make the most of hisopportunities and ever be able to hold up his head in any company.
So his reflections passed to the future. He was to receive $100 for hissummer's work. He also had some money which he had secured in odd sumsfrom time to time, safely put away in the chest beneath his bed.
John Jerome had a hoard of savings, too. How should they best investtheir joint capital for their proposed journey to the western wilderness,where, they planned, they would make homes and secure farms forthemselves amid savages and wild beasts! They must be obtaining this andother information at once. They would have learned much that very eveninghad not the man to whom they were going in quest of advice, beenassaulted by Big Pete Ellis. And what of that burly giant, by the way?
"But this will never do. I must be getting to sleep," Ree said tohimself.
Going to sleep just when one wishes, however, is not always easy. Reefound it the very opposite. Tired as he was, his mind went over theadventure of the night, and in a round-about way to his future home inthe wilderness, again, before his eyes closed. At last dreams came tohim, and in one of them he saw Big Pete waving a white handkerchief as aflag of truce. He could not make out for whom the sign of peace wasmeant; for a war party of Indians seemed to be hot on the giant's trail,and it was in the opposite direction that Pete waved the handkerchief.
Ree recalled the dream when pulling on his boots in the morning, andpondered over the possibility of its having some significance.
Many times during that day the young man had occasion to remember theincidents of the night preceding. Everyone he met, it seemed, had heardof his adventure with Big Pete and they all congratulated him. More thanone, too, warned him against the giant Ellis, saying the fellow wouldsurely seek revenge.
Ree gave but little heed to this talk. Big Pete had had the chance tokill him, or at least to attempt it, and had not done so, evidentlywishing to avoid blood-shed. But Peter Piper came along during theafternoon with a story which he had heard in the adjacent village, thatgave the boy some uneasiness. Big Pete had sent word by a farmer he hadseen at daybreak, that he would return to his old haunts and that not aman would dare to touch him; that he would not be driven off, though hehad killed both Jim Huson and Marvel Rice, and that those who hadinterfered with him would suffer for it.
"He's a braggart," said Ree contemptuously.
"Jes' what he says, he will do. He's bad, bad, bad," said Peter Piper inhis simple, earnest way.
So Ree came to look upon the matter with much seriousness. Somehow itoccurred to him that the giant might seek revenge by burning the barn orpoisoning the horses, or some such cowardly thing--he knew not what. Forhimself he was not afraid, and it is not strange that in the wildestflights of his lively fancy he did not for a moment imagine under whatstartling circumstances he was destined to next behold the fugitivecriminal.
Far Past the Frontier Page 2
