Part 17

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.

As soon as the tree came in sight, Steve exclaimed, “There it is, boys! The very same, identical, self-same tree!”

“Its very close to the water,” George growled, as he made a vain effort to ease his aching shoulders.

“It’s from two to five feet from the water,” Steve replied. “That’s plenty of room to go between it and the shore, and plenty of room to measure the fine shadow there will be.”

“Then we must draw cuts to see whether it’s the right evergreen, as the book says.”

This was done, and they found that this was the tree intended.

Again they marched on, and presently stood before the mystic tree.

The Sage halted, and threw down the coil of rope with a sigh of relief. “The coast is clear, boys,” he said, joyously. “There is no one here swimming, or out boating, or shooting squirrels, or----”

“Or fishing for water-snakes and crunching peppermint candy,” Steve put in, as a finale.

For a moment George looked vexed; but this was Stephen’s way, and he knew no insult was intended.

If the boys had known that this very evergreen, under which they stood, harbored an enemy, they would have acted differently. Bob Herriman had ensconced himself in this tree, and even while Steve spoke, he was trying to rub the gum off his hands and clothes, and glaring wickedly down at the heroic six and the equally heroic dog, Carlo.

“Well, boys,” George observed, “I must go on alone, with Steve close behind to measure my shadow. If we all go crowding along together, somebody will get shoved into the river.”

The wisdom of this was so apparent that the rest waited patiently while the other two went on.

George walked cautiously along the bank of the river, and when the rising moon threw a faint shadow of his figure on the bark of the evergreen, he halted. Stephen, however, stepped up so briskly and boldly, and so near the brink, that shovelfuls of loose earth rattled down into the water. When he reached George he whipped a homemade folding ruler out of his pocket, and applied it to the shadow.

“Just four feet!” he cried, excitedly.

George looked on complacently, and the boys in waiting, hearing Steve’s remark, uttered a shout of surprise and delight.

“Stop! stop!” George cried, angrily: “I cannot allow such a noise!”

A dead silence ensued. The four moved on till they had passed the tree, and then George and Stephen joined them.

“That tree is very thick up among the branches,” Jim observed.

“Never mind that,” Charles said. “Now, George, it’s time to go to work. Are you sure you know the verses?”

“_What_ verses?” the Sage asked, indignantly.

“Why, the necromancer’s, of course.”

“You call it ‘verses,’ do you? Well, Charley, a boy generally does. But you should say ‘poetry.’ Now, this is genuine poetry--an ode, an--an----. Well, the book says it’s an Apostrophe, or Address to----”