CHAPTER XIV.

_The Storekeeper in Action._

Nat’s heart was in his month because he did not believe he could escape from Jonas, and Caleb so easily. The noise he necessarily made in running through the bushes would naturally guide them in the pursuit, and Jonas was noted for his lightness of foot, and Caleb also, for that matter. But it was now or never. The switch was being prepared for him, and in a few minutes more he would feel the full weight of Jonas’s arm; and that it would fall by all his strength, Nat did not doubt in the least.

“Here goes,” said Nat, to himself. “If I fail they can’t any more than whip me, and if I get away--”

Nat did not wait to finish all the sentence that was in his mind. He bounded from his place as if he had been set upon springs, a short skirmish with Caleb who was overturned as easily as a child, and he was safe in the bushes which closed up behind him, and the twigs in his path seemed to give away before him on their own accord. He ran down the path with all the speed he could command, jumped as far to the left as he could and stretched himself out flat on the ground and waited to see what was going to happen. By the merest accident he lay down not ten feet from his camp, and consequently he was within full hearing of their voices while they remained there.

“By gum!” said Caleb, slowly, as he picked himself up from the bushes into which he had been thrown. “Pap, he has got away.”

He heard Jonas when he came around the trees and knew when he raised the switch intending to use it on Caleb for not keeping guard over Nat. He listened in the hope that Caleb would feel the full force of that switch, for he had a long account against him and he did not think that any blow he could have received would have been amiss.

“He has got my shoes,” said Nat to himself, and it was all that he could do to refrain from speaking the words outright. “Give him a few good licks to pay him for that.”

But we know that Jonas did not use the switch upon Caleb, but talked with him about other matters. He knew when they examined the spade again to find the dirt upon it, but all thoughts that they would pursue him were turned into another channel by Caleb’s request: “Let us go home. This is no place for us.” But there was another fear that came over him just then. They were going home, but they intended to remove everything there was in his camp, provisions and all, and leave Nat to get along as best he could.

“Never mind; I’ve got my money in my hat,” said Nat, pulling off the article in question and feeling of his roll of bills. “And even if he robs me, what harm will it do? I have some more money stowed away, and it is where nobody can find it.”

Nat lay there in his concealment and waited patiently for Jonas and Caleb to get through with picking up the articles they wanted to take with them and leave the camp. He knew they would not come back through the bushes, but would go across the field and so steer clear of them. He drew a long breath of relief, and finally raised himself upon his knees as they passed out of the ravine, but still he did not think it wise to show himself until the creaking of wheels, loudly proclaiming their need of wagon grease, was heard, slowly at first, then increasing in volume as the horse responded to the whip, and when it had died away entirely he got upon his feet and made his way back to the camp. Everything that could have been of use to him had disappeared.

“Now the next thing will be something else and what shall it be?” said Nat, throwing himself upon his bed of boughs and turning the matter over in his mind. “I can’t live without something to eat--that is plain enough to be seen; and I don’t know about going down to Manchester for more grub. Of course somebody there saw Jonas when he came through, and what kind of an excuse will I make for coming back there after more provisions! I have told so many lies lately that I want to keep out of it now, if I can.”

For ten minutes Nat laid there trying to make up his mind what to do, and then got up prepared for action. He wanted to see where he had left his money, and then he would go on to Manchester and be governed by circumstances. If Jonas had not stopped there to converse upon his object of going to old man Nickerson’s fields, well and good. He would purchase some new clothes, the first he had ever owned, enough crackers and cheese to last him on his way to St Louis, come back to his camp after dark, secure his money, and then the place which had known him so long would know him no more forever. When be was away among strangers and nobody knew who he was, he would be ready to begin his life over again.

“That is what I will do,” said Nat, wending his way up the hill. “My first thing must be to get some new clothes, or when I come to put that money in the bank they will think right away that I have stolen it, and there will be more trouble for me. I should not dare to send for anyone here to prove who I am, for they would turn me out the biggest rascal upon earth, so that they could get the money; so what should I do? By George! I am not out of trouble yet.”

In a few minutes Nat arrived beside the log under which he had buried Mr. Nickerson’s money, or rather he called it his own money now, and everything looked just as it did when he left there. No one had been near it. He threw some more bushes over the place, kicked some leaves around it and then set out for Manchester. He felt his responsibility and it is not right to say that he carried a light heart beneath his jacket, for he did not. He began to see that there was a big difference in wishing for money and having it. He found that it was some trouble to take care of his treasure.

He shortly reached the road near the spot where Jonas and Caleb had left their horse, but there was no one in sight. He climbed over the fence and kept on his way, looking neither to the right hand nor the left, so impatient was he to reach his journey’s end, and finally he stood in the store where he had been several times before; but he did not know what those two men in the back part of the store were talking about. They looked up as Nat entered, and instantly a smile overspread their faces and one of them hastened forward to greet him.

“Well, if here ain’t that smart looking boy again I don’t want a cent,” said he, and he was so pleased to see Nat that he laughed all over. “Say, Jonas and Caleb have just been here, and I would like to know what made them leave in such a hurry. They did not see any ghosts, did they!”

“No,” said Nat, in disgust. “Have you been treating them to some stories, too? They left some work to do back at home, and went there to attend to it. You scared one fellow out but you can’t scare me out.”

“I never was so sorry for anything in my life,” said the man. “I saw that Peleg could be easily frightened, and so I started that ghost story on him.”

“Have you got anything to eat in the store?” asked Nat, who did not want to talk about the ghosts any more. “They took away all the provisions I had.”

“Of course we have,” said the man briskly. “What do you want? Say. Did you find that money you were looking for?”

“What money?” asked Nat, in surprise.

“Oh, come Nat, there is no use of your trying to play off on us in that style,” said the storekeeper; and there was just a shade that darkened his brow as if he were getting angry. “You went up there to dig up some money, didn’t you, now?”

“I wish you would give me those provisions and let me go along back,” said Nat, who did not much like the way the man eyed him. “I don’t know anything about any money.”

“See here, Nat,” whispered the man, putting his face close to the boy’s ear and holding his arm, “if you will tell me where that money is--”

“I tell you I don’t know anything about it,” declared Nat, pulling away from the man’s grasp. “If you don’t want to sell me some grub, I will go elsewhere.”

“Come with me; I want to see you,” whispered the storekeeper, retaining his hold upon Nat’s arm and drawing him toward a side door.

“Say what you have got to say right here,” said Nat. “There is no secret about it. I dug up no money while I was there, and I don’t care who knows it.”

“But I don’t want that everybody should know what I am going to say to you,” urged the man; and as if to add emphasis to his words he seized the boy with both hands, fairly lifted him from the floor, carried him through the side door which closed behind him. “Now will you listen to what I have to say to you?” he added, with a wicked glitter in his eye. “I have got you now, and here you are going to stay as long as I want you.”

At this moment the door opened and the customer came in. He, too, was in the plot if such it could be called, for he evinced no surprise at what he saw.

“Is the way all clear?” asked the storekeeper.

“Yes; there is no one on the streets,” replied the customer. “Now what be you going to do with him?”

“We’ll take him back in the storeroom and shut him up there,” was the answer. “What do you think of that, my boy? There you will wait until you are ready to reply to such questions as I ask you, with a big bull dog to keep an eye on you. If you try to get out there won’t be anything left of you in the morning.”

While the man was talking in this way he was dragging rather than leading Nat toward the back part of the store, and at last halted in front of a door where he released him, and began searching in his pockets to find the key. It was dark in there, owing to the fact that there were no windows to let in light upon the scene, and when he found the key and inserted it into the lock, a growl followed by a deep-toned bark came from the inside. The animal that uttered it must have been fierce; that was easy enough to be seen.

“Now you see what you’ll get if you try to get away,” said the storekeeper, throwing open the door. “I reckon you will think twice before you come any of your tricks on Benny; hey, old dog.”

Nat’s heart seemed to stop beating. If there was anything in the world that he was afraid of it was a savage dog. He looked at Benny, and rightly concluded that “he would not come any of his tricks” on that beast. He was the worst looking dog that Nat had ever seen. He was small, but he had an immense head, and his under jaw stuck out so that his teeth could be plainly seen. He was yellow all over except his head, which was as black as if he had been painted, and he was bob-tailed. He did not appear to be gratified by this intrusion at all. He would hardly get out of his way when the man pushed him aside and pointed to a box and told Nat to sit down there.

“I tell you I don’t know anything about that money,” said Nat, who was quite alarmed at the idea of being shut in that room over night with such a dog for a companion. “I will go up there with you and help you dig for it; that is if you think it is in the ground.”

“Of course we know it is in the ground or else you wouldn’t need a spade and pick-ax to throw it out with,” answered the storekeeper. “You tell us where it is, and let us go up and dig for it.”

“I can’t tell you for I don’t know;” said Nat.

“Very well; then you can stay here until you find out,” said the man, fiercely. “When you get so hungry and thirsty that you can’t stand it any longer, you just yell and I will be around. Will you tell us?”

“I have already answered your question until I am tired of it,” said Nat, seating himself on the box, with a determined look on his face. “If I stay here until I die you won’t get anything else out of me.”

“Well, good-by,” said the man, moving toward the door. “We are going up right now to look for it, and when we come back, perhaps we will tell you how much we have made. Watch him, Benny. Keep an eye on him, and if he goes near that window, just take him down and serve him the way you did that burglar that got into the store last week.”

With this parting advice to his dog the storekeeper went out followed by his customer, and Nat heard the key as it grated harshly in the lock. He sat perfectly still, he was afraid to do otherwise, for, now that his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the darkness, he could see that the dog kept his position beside the door, and seemed to be awaiting some move on his part. Once or twice he licked his huge jaw as if he were tired of waiting.

“Well, sir, I am in for it now,” said Nat, running his eye along the wall as if he were looking for that window of which the storekeeper had spoken. “I would not be safer if I were shut up in jail. That dog--Whew! I don’t want anything to do with him.”

The dog evidently knew what opinion Nat cherished toward him, for after waiting in vain for him to make some advances, he came over to Nat and laid his chin upon his knee. Nat could hardly keep from yelling when he saw the dog advancing toward him, but when he reached the boy and worked his nose as if he were trying to place his hand upon his head, his heart gave a thrill of delight.

“Well, by gum!” said Nat, unconsciously making use of the same expression that Caleb had used when Nat threw him headlong into the bushes. “I believe the dog is friendly;” and he raised his hand and placed it on the dog’s head.

Nat had never been more astonished in his life. The dog’s appearance was against him; but that was as far as it went. He was a good, honest dog in reality, and seemed to sympathize with Nat in his trouble.

“Benny, good Benny; I believe you are a good dog yet,” said Nat, reaching down and patting the animal on the side. Benny not only submitted to it, but when he saw that Nat was about to stop he worked his nose again as if he meant him to continue. “I believe now that I will try that window,” said Nat, a bright idea striking him. “Since Benny is all right if I sit here, he will be all right if I move around.”

Nat had by this time located the window, and he arose from his box and moved toward it as though he had a perfect right there. Benny moved with him, and did not raise any objections when Nat seized the staple with which the window was fastened and exerted his strength to open it. It was a heavy window, and was doubtless used for passing in and out bulky goods that would take up too much room in the store; but it yielded to Nat’s muscle at last, and by pushing it open a little way he let a flood of light into his prison and could also see what there was outside. He found that the opening gave entrance into a kind of stable yard, bounded by a shed on one side, and by pushing it open a little more, he saw that on the other side it ran down to the street. His escape was now only the question of a few minutes had he cared to leave at this time.

“Glory!” whispered Nat, closing and fastening the shutter and stooping down to caress Benny. “I dare not try it now, for fear that that storekeeper may be on the watch; but when it comes dark, we won’t stay in this house any longer. Hail! Columbia happy land!”

Nat now felt at ease. He pulled off his hat, felt of his roll of bills and then began to pat the dog and talk to him. He had certainly determined on one thing and that was to take the dog with him. He had some money, how much he did not know, and it would be the source of immense relief to him to know that he had someone whose looks would help him through.

“I will bet that there won’t be anybody pitch into me to see what I have got with me, if he only takes one look at you,” said Nat, stroking the dog’s head. “I never had a dog take up with me this way before. I tell you, Benny, you came in just right.”

It must have been two o’clock by the time Nat was shut up in that room, so he had six or seven hours of waiting to go through before the storekeeper would come around again to see how he felt over telling him where he had left that money. There was one thing about it: He would not tell him; he would die first He kept repeating this resolution over and over again until the sun went down, and it began to grow so dark in his prison that he could not see his hand before him. An hour passed, and then a key rattled in the lock, the dog gave one of his tremendous barks and took his stand in front of the door, which presently opened admitting somebody, it was so dark that he could not see a single feature on him. But it was the storekeeper. He knew him as soon as he spoke.