Part 16

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!”