Part 30

Meanwhile Mr. Lawrence, Charles, and Will, expostulated in vain. Henry, not dreaming of danger, looked on with great curiosity, and was almost tempted to examine some of the mysterious little tubes for himself.

All this happened simultaneously? Certainly. Just as George struck his fruitless blow, Steve began to carve out the ornament for his pencil.

Reader, do not look upon this scene as savoring of levity. _This_ incident is true in every particular, a party of would-be hunters having experimented with little cartridge-like tubes just as our heroes did here. The story as told by them is the same in substance with this, though, of course, we have touched it up a little here and there.

Having thus kept the reader in suspense long enough, it is now in order to return to Stephen. He had barely begun to “dig out the stuff,” as he phrased it, when a loud report startled the eight hunters. Steve’s tube had exploded with more violence than any fire-cracker he ever handled.

Appalled, his penknife fell unheeded, and he gazed at the others with a silly, bewildered, and horrified expression of countenance, that at any other time would have provoked a roar of laughter.

George’s second blow was never struck, but springing to his feet, he fixed his eyes on Will with a look of extreme horror.

Will’s actions, in fact, attracted the attention of all. As soon as the tube exploded he sprang high into the air, and then fell to bounding about like a harlequin or a piece of black rubber, shouting frantically: “Oh, my head’s off! my head’s off! my head’s off!”

His head was certainly not off, though blood was streaming down his cheeks.

“Oh, Will,” groaned Steve in agony, “what is the matter? Oh, Will, speak! Have I killed you?”

“My head’s off! My head’s off!” was Will’s only answer.

“Nonsense! your head is all right!” Uncle Dick said sharply.

But now Will struck another note, groaned “Oh, my knee!” and fell down in a swoon. Foolish fellow, he had danced till his knee slipped out of joint.

(N.B.--O youth, let this be a warning against dancing.)

Mr. Lawrence and George anxiously bent over him; and, for the first time, Charles and Stephen looked at each other.

“Your face!” shrieked Steve.

“Your fingers!” gasped Charles.

Then poor Steve perceived that his thumb and first and second fingers were shattered. It was a sickening sight, and he now felt a severe pain in them.

From his fingers Stephen again looked at Charles. Several small pieces of the metal had pierced the flesh around the eyes, making painful, but very slight, wounds.

At that instant Jim set up his peculiar cry of terror. Poor wretch, his terror and his mode of expressing it still clung to him; but it was a hundred times more ridiculous in the man than in the boy. The explosion (if it may be called so) and Will’s amusing performance, cut short by his sad accident, had kept him quiet up to this time, but now he broke out into loud and plaintive cries. This time, however, he was not a prey to “the chills.”

“Oh, boys,” he wailed, “I have some of them--a lot of them--in my pocket! Oh, boys, they will explode there! They will explode and tear us all to pieces!” And here his voice increased in volume, and rose higher and higher, faster than even the scale of C. “Help me, some one, for _I_ can’t get ’em out!--Oh! I explode!”

“Console yourself, Jim,” Henry laughed; “I’ll help you to disgorge them.”

“Have you any about you?” Jim quavered.

“No,” said Henry; and with that he took the explosive little tubes out of Timor’s pocket.

“Boys, Mr. Lawrence, I know now what these horrible, cartridge-like tubes are,” George here observed. “They are _dynamite_--a new explosive, very useful to fire other explosives, I believe. I have read about them lately, but I never saw one before, and don’t know much about their properties, except that--”

“George,” Steve interrupted, “if you had told us all this ten minutes ago, you would have spared us much annoyance and suffering. Excuse me, George, but this has roiled my emotions more than anything that ever happened. Yes, you have knowledge of sundry curious and useful facts, I admit; but that knowledge is not turned to account till the mischief is done. Some day, when you see me all torn to pieces, you will discover that what I took for a pretty music-box was an infernal machine; and then you will chuckle over your profundity, but I shall not hear you.”

“Well, they had no business to leave dynamites scattered about so loosely,” Charles said, his eyes tingling just enough to make him surly.

“Had we any business to meddle with them?” George growled.

“Oh,” sighed Will, now revived, “I’m afraid I made an egregious fool of myself; and I was probably the least hurt of all. Some pieces entered my ears, cheek, and neck;--an ordinary hurt for a little boy;--but through my foolishness I have disjointed my knee!”

Marmaduke now joined them. He had taken the affair most unconcernedly, and strolled off to make a reconnaissance.

“Boys,” he began, “we are within four or five rods of a railroad, surely enough; and we have been meddling with the company’s dynamite. But if we had observed the notice on the other side of the little log-hut, or store-house, we should certainly have been more careful; for there, on the door, is written, in red-chalky letters, ‘Powder Magazine.’”

“Marmaduke, it seems to me that your style is not so pure as of yore,” Steve grinned, in spite of his pain. “The animals in this forest have corrupted it. ‘Red-chalky-letters,’ forsooth!”

“I found, also,” Marmaduke continued, passing by Stephen’s taunt, “that the shortest route to a surgeon’s is due east, through the forest. We can easily reach him by following our compasses.”

“Did you inquire of some one outside?” George asked.

“Yes, George, I had a talk with a man there. Now, Steve and Will must have their hurts dressed as soon as may be; so let us start. Will will have to be carried, of course.”

Steve shuddered. The name _surgeon_ had an unpleasant sound; it grated his ears. Then he perceived that Marmaduke had been caring for his comfort, and his conscience was stung with remorse. Acting on the impulse of his better nature, he strode up to Marmaduke, grasped his hand, and murmured: “Old fellow, you must forgive me, and not mind anything I say; for I don’t mean it, I assure you. It is too bad for me to be continually jeering at you in particular, Marmaduke, and from to-day I will try not to do it again.”

Notwithstanding Steve’s protestation that he did not mean what he said, Marmaduke saw he was in earnest now, and replied: “Say no more about it, Steve, for each of us has his little peculiarities. Now, sit down here, beside me and I’ll bind up your hurt for you.”

Then the two sat down together, and Marmaduke took off the handkerchief which Stephen had hastily and clumsily wound round his thumb and fingers. Abused Marmaduke had many gentle ways, and now he tore the handkerchief into strips, and as neatly and carefully as a woman could have done it, bound up each hurt separate, Steve awkwardly trying to help him.

This incident of binding up his hurts so kindly touched Stephen’s heart, and from that day the two have been firm friends. Stephen is now Marmaduke’s sworn defender; and if any person brings up the latter’s romantic notions with a view to make him appear ridiculous, Stephen will say something so sarcastic that the aggressor will wince and immediately speak of something else.

Meanwhile the others were taking care of Charles and Will.

_Chapter XLIII._

THINGS BEGIN TO GET INTERESTING.

Reader, do not turn faint with disgust at these heart-rending details, nor imagine that the writer is a half-reclaimed desparado all the way from “bleeding Kansas;” for this is just as it happened to those hunters in the flesh. But if he ever attempts to narrate a true story again, he will tone it down as well as touch it up.

“Let us be thankful that it is no worse,” Mr. Lawrence said. “We have had a narrow escape; for if Steve’s tube hadn’t exploded immediately, George would certainly have struck his, and then we might all have been hurled into eternity.”

“Do you think Steve will lose his thumb and fingers?” George asked, faintly.

“Oh, I hope not!” Uncle Dick said, fervently. Then dolefully: “I am afraid I shall have a heavy account to settle when I see your parents again.”

Then the sound hunters framed a rude litter, and laid Will on it gently. George and Henry were to take turns with Mr. Lawrence and Marmaduke in carrying him. And then the little procession passed solemnly through the woods, with but little of that sprightliness which had hitherto characterized the party.

“I think this hunt will last me for a lifetime,” Will groaned.

“I am afraid you will feel the effects of your hurt all the rest of your life,” Uncle Dick sorrowfully rejoined.

“There is _one_ consolation,” said Steve, who was walking with his well arm linked in Marmaduke’s. “Next time we see a ‘dynamite’ we shall know what it is, and probably I shall not care to make a plaything of one again.”

After a weary march due east, they came to a small cleared space, in which stood a miserable hut. A faint line of smoke was curling out of the roof, but no person was in sight.

“Now, this isn’t another powder magazine,” said Steve; “therefore it must be a ‘wayside hut.’ My wounds have made me thirsty, of course, and we can probably get a drink here, whether any one is in or not, so I am going in.”

The others, also, felt thirsty; and Charles was advancing to knock at the door, when Steve softly called him back.

“Now, Charley,” he said, “I haven’t read romances for nothing, and if there’s villainy any where in this forest, it’s here. Of course you’ve all read that villains have what is called a ‘peculiar knock?’”

“Yes,” whispered four out of the seven.

“Well, I’m going to give a ‘peculiar knock’ on that door, with my sound hand, and you must mark the effect it has. You needn’t grasp your weapons; but just keep your eyes and ears open. Then will you do whatever I ask?”

“We will,” they said, smiling at Steve’s whim.

Then the man who had not read romances for nothing stole softly to the door, and knocked in a peculiar manner.

Without a moment’s hesitation, a voice within said, “Well done!”

Steve faced the others and winked furiously, while he reasoned rapidly to this effect: “Evidently, here is a nest of knaves. The fellow on the inside thinks his mate is in danger, and knocks to know whether it is safe for him to enter.”

Then the voice within asked uneasily, “Jim?”

“Will,” said Marmaduke, leaning over the litter, “we are certainly on the track of the man who stole your deer!”

“Oh, I had forgotten all about the deer,” Will groaned.

Steve started, but collected himself in a moment, and whispered to Jim, “Come along Jim; this fellow wants to see you. Now be as bold as a lion; blow your nose like a trumpet; and observe: ‘By the great dog-star, it’s Jim; lemme in.’”

Jim managed to do this; but he basely muttered that he wasn’t brought up for a circus clown.

“Then come in; the door isn’t locked;” the voice within said harshly, but unhesitatingly.

Stephen flung open the door and strode proudly into the hut, closely followed by the others. One scantily furnished room, in a corner of which a man lay on a bed, was disclosed. This man’s look of alarm at this sudden entrance filled Steve with exultation.

“What does all this mean? What do you want?” the occupant of the bed demanded.

“A glass of water,” said Steve.

“Well, you can get a dish here, and there is a spring outside,” with an air of great relief.

“Is this the man?” Steve asked of Marmaduke.

Marmaduke sadly shook his head.

“I am very low with the small-pox,” said the unknown, “and those of you who have not had it, nor have not been exposed to it, had better hurry out into the open air.”

This was said quietly--apparently sincerely.

The hunters were struck with horror. It seemed as though a chain of misfortunes, that would eventually lead them to destruction, was slowly closing around them. Small-pox! Exposed to that loathsome disease! They grew sick with fear!

“Was it for this we went hunting?” Charles groaned.

For a few moments the hunters lost all presence of mind; they neglected to rush out of doors; they forgot that the sick man seemed wrapped in suspicion; they forgot that they had gained admittance by stratagem; Steve forgot that he was playing the hero.

A cry of horror from Jim roused them from their torpor.

“What a fool I am!” cried Henry, “I had the small-pox when I was a little boy; and now, to prove or disprove this fellow’s statement, I will run the risk of taking it again. The rest of you may leave the room or not, just as fear, or curiosity, or thirst, or anything else, moves you. I believe, however, that there is not the least danger of infection.”

“No, no; come out!” Mr. Lawrence entreated, not wishing to be responsible for any more calamities. “Come out, Henry, and leave the man alone.”

“Believe me, Mr. Lawrence, I run no risk,” Henry declared. “I shall----”

“Ha!” shrieked the sick man. “Lawrence? Did you say Law--”

He stopped abruptly. But it was too late; he had betrayed himself.

“Yes, my man; I said Lawrence;” Henry said, excitedly. “Come, now, explain yourself. Say no more about _small-pox_--we are not to be deceived by any such pretence.”

The sick man looked Uncle Dick full in the face; groaned; shuddered; covered his face with the bed clothes; and then, villain-like, fell to muttering.

After these actions, Jim himself was not afraid.

“Mr. Lawrence, Will, all of you,” Henry said hoarsely, “I think your mystery is about to be unriddled at last. This man can evidently furnish the missing link in your history. He is either the secret enemy or an accomplice of his.” Uncle Dick trembled. After all these years was the mystery to be solved at last?

Stephen’s hurt and Will’s knee were forgotten in the eagerness to hear what this man had to say. All were familiar with Uncle Dick’s story, as far as he knew it himself, and consequently all were eager to have the mysterious part explained. The entire eight assembled round the bedside.

After much inane muttering the sick man uncovered his head, and asked faintly, “Are you Richard Lawrence?”

“I am.”

“Were you insane at one time, and do you remember Hiram Monk?”

“Yes, I was insane, but I know nothing of what happened then.”

“Well, I will confess all to you. Mr. Lawrence, I have suffered in all these three years--suffered from the agony of remorse.”

“Yes,” said Uncle Dick, with a rising inflection.

“I will keep my secret no longer. But who are all these young men?” glancing at the hunters.

“They are friends, who may hear your story,” Uncle Dick said.

“To begin with, I am indeed sick, but I have not the small pox. That was’ a mere ruse to get rid of disagreeable callers.”

At this Steve looked complacent, and Henry looked triumphant; the one pleased with his stratagem, the other pleased with his sagacity.

At that very instant quick steps were heard outside, and then a “peculiar knock” was given on the door, which, prudently or imprudently, Steve had shut.

“It is a man who lives with me,” Hiram Monk said to the hunters. “We shall be interrupted for a few minutes, but then I will go on.” Then aloud: “You may as well come in, Jim.”

If this was intended as a warning to flee, it was not heeded, for the door opened, and a man whom Will and Marmaduke recognized as the rogue who on the previous day had feigned a mortal wound in order to steal their deer, strode into the hut.

On seeing the hut full of armed men, he sank down hopelessly, delivered a few choice ecphoneses, and then exclaimed: “Caught at last! Well, I might ’a’ known it would come sooner or later. They have set the law on my track, and all these fellows will help ’em. Law behind, and what on earth in front!--I say, fellows, who are you?”

“Hunters,” Henry said laconicly.

Then the new-comer recognized Will and Marmaduke, and ejaculated, “Oh, I see; yesterday my ring was ruined, and now I’m ruined!”

The officer of the law, whose nonchalance had provoked the hunters in the forenoon, was indeed behind, and soon he, also, entered the hut, which was now filled.

“Just like a romance,” Steve muttered. “All the characters, good and bad, most unaccountably meet, and then a general smash up takes place, after which the good march off in one direction, to felicity, and the bad in another, to infelicity--unless they shoot themselves. Now, I hope Hiram and Jim won’t shoot themselves!”

“Jim Horniss,” said the officer, “I am empowered to arrest you.”

“I surrender,” the captured one said sullenly. “You ought to have arrested me before. I’d give back the deer, if I could; but I sold it last night, and that’s the last of it.”

“That will do,” the officer said severely.

Up to this time the writer has studiously masked his ignorance by invariably speaking of this man as an officer of the law. It seems fated, however, that his ignorance should sooner or later be manifested; and now he declares that he is so utterly ignorant of Law, in all its forms, that he does not know what that man was--he knows only that he was an officer of the law. But for the benefit of those who are still more ignorant, it may be stated that he is almost positive the man was neither a juryman, nor a conveyancer, nor a plaintiff.

The hunters now held a short conversation, and it was decided that Mr. Lawrence and Henry should stay to hear what Hiram Monk had to say for himself, but that the others should go on with Will and Steve to the surgeon’s.

The officer of the law thought it might be necessary for him to stay in his official capacity, and so he took a seat and listened, while he fixed his eyes on Jim Horniss.

And the confession he heard was worth listening to.

The hut was soon cleared of all save the five; and the six first introduced to the reader were again together, and on their way to the surgeon’s.

“Well,” said Will, “it seems I have lost my deer; but I have the comforting thought of knowing that the rascal will receive the punishment he deserves.”

“How strange it all is,” said Marmaduke, “that your uncle should stumble on the solution of his mystery when he least expected it; and that you could not find the thief when you looked for him, but as soon as you quit, we made straight for his house.”

“No,” Steve corrected good-humoredly, “that isn’t it; but as soon as I took to playing the part of a hero of romance, ‘events came on us with the rush of a whirlwind.’”

_Chapter XLIV._

IS THE MYSTERY SOLVED?

Leaving the wounded and the unwounded hunters to pursue their way through the forest, we shall return to the hut and over-hear Hiram Monk’s long-delayed confession.

As soon as the door was shut on the six hunters, he began. His face was turned towards Mr. Lawrence, but his eyes were fixed on his pillow, which was hidden by the coverlet; and his punctuation was so precise, his style so eloquent and sublime, and his story so methodical, complicated, and tragical, that once or twice a horrible suspicion that he was reading the entire confession out of a novel concealed in the bed, flashed across Mr. Lawrence’s mind.

If this dreadful thought should occur to the reader, he can mentally insert the confession in double quotation marks.

We are too humane to inflict the whole confession on the long-suffering reader; this abridged version of it will be quite sufficient, as it contains the main points.

“Seventeen years ago, I was an official in K. Hospital. My duties were to keep the record of the hospital; but still I passed considerable time with the maniacs, as my influence with those unhappy creatures was very great. I am a man of some education and ability, I may say, without ostentation; and till I met you, Mr. Lawrence, I was honesty itself.

“You were brought to our hospital a friendless man and a stranger; and it was rumored that you had been attacked by thieves, who, however, failed to get possession of your treasure. A great chest of gold and silver, labelled, ‘R. Lawrence,’ to be retained till your friends or relatives could be found, was brought and deposited in our magazine. It was a most romantic story, a man travelling through the country with a vast sum of money in a strong-box!

“The demon entered into me, and I resolved to make it still more mysterious. In a word, I resolved to appropriate your fortune to my own use; and in order to do so the more easily and safely, I set about destroying every clue to your identity. All papers found on your person, which might lead to discovery, I carefully burned. It was I who wrote an account of the affair to the journals, and I purposely distorted your name beyond recognition. This, of course, was considered a mere printer’s blunder, and the ‘mistake’ was never rectified.

“Here was a great step taken. I now flattered myself that none of your friends could possibly trace you to our hospital, and that all I had to do was to wait a short time, and then quietly slip away with my ill-gotten riches.

“But many difficulties lay in my way. Your bodily health and strength gradually improved, though you still remained disordered in intellect. Then, in order the better to work out my plans, I caused myself to be appointed your especial attendant, or keeper; and I made you to understand that you had a large sum of money, of which your enemies sought to rob you, deposited, for safe-keeping, in our vaults. With all a madman’s pertinacity, you took hold of this idea, and eagerly listened to all that I said. You ordered the chest of treasure to be brought into your own apartment, and you became suspicious of every one but me.

“Here was another great point gained; and I now matured my plot to get the money. I induced you to believe that you were soon to be robbed, and that we must flee, as you were now strong enough to quit the hospital at any time. I obtained leave from the superintendent to go on a flying visit to a friend of mine in another state, and I made all my arrangements to depart openly. You were to have another keeper, of course; but I plotted with you to return at night, and we would escape together. I believed that the superintendent would never suspect me,--at least, not till too late,--but would think that you had eluded your new keeper’s vigilance in the night.

“That afternoon I set out ostensibly for Frankfort in Kentucky; but I remained in the neighborhood, and at night I returned to keep my appointment with you. As I was perfectly familiar with all the entrances into the hospital, as well as with all their regulations, and as I had given you your instructions prior to my feigned departure, we easily made our escape with the chest of treasure.

“And now I had you and all your money wholly in my power; I could do what I pleased with you. But, to do myself justice, I must add--no, I affirm positively--that I had no intention of harming _you_. My design, matured beforehand, was to reach a certain cave, establish you in it, make provision for your subsistence and comfort, and then slip away with the hoards I coveted.

“I do not know whether we were pursued or not; but, if so, we eluded the pursuers, and in due time arrived at the cave, which, as I had supposed, would serve my purpose admirably. Yes, it was an excellent place to desert you so treacherously--an excellent place.