CHAPTER XI.

JACK’S PLANS.

THE EXPRESSION Julian saw on the face of his old enemy alarmed him greatly. His countenance was distorted with fury, and the boy saw enough in it to satisfy him that Jack intended to take ample revenge on him for what he had done. With a cry of terror he turned and took to his heels; but Bowles was already within reach of him, and before our hero had made many steps, he fastened upon his collar with one hand, and with the other twisted his rifle out of his grasp.

“Let’s see ye slip outen yer coat an’ get away from me this time,” said Jack, with savage exultation. “I’ve got a long account to settle with ye, my lad. I’ll larn ye to go about the country stealin’ money an’ killin’ honest folks’ huntin’ dogs. We’d best tie him, hadn’t we, Mr. Mortimer, fur fear that he gets one of them ar crazy spells onto him?”

“Certainly,” said that gentleman, who, having by this time reached the top of the bluff, stepped forward to assist in securing the prisoner.

“An’ sarch him, too,” added Jack. “He may have some dangerous we’pons about him. Don’t go to makin’ a fuss now.”

“I have no such intention,” replied Julian, who, knowing that he was powerless, submitted to his captors, who bound his arms firmly behind his back. “But I can tell you one thing, Jack—you and Richard Mortimer. You are not going to take me down the river and put me into an asylum.”

Mr. Mortimer was profoundly astonished at these words. He looked sharply at the prisoner for a moment and exclaimed: “Has Sanders been here?”

“Sanders?” repeated Julian.

“Yes; a short, thick-set man, dressed in black, and wearing an abundance of jewelry.”

“I have no acquaintance with any such person.”

“But you do not say that you have not seen him. You have talked with him—I am certain of it—or you would not know that my name is Richard. Sanders knows why I am here, and I know why he is here and who sent him. We are both playing the same game, and we shall see who will win. He shall never take passage on that flatboat.”

As soon as Julian had been securely bound, Jack set himself to work to overhaul his pockets, searching—not for concealed weapons, but for the money belonging to the prisoner. A very short investigation, however, served to satisfy him that the coveted treasure was not hidden about Julian’s person, and with an expression of almost ungovernable fury on his face he left him and began to search the camp. He picked up the prisoner’s blankets, shook them thoroughly, threw aside the leaves which the boy had scraped together to serve as a mattress, and looked into every hollow stump and under every log on the bluff; but nothing in the shape of a box or pocket-book could he find.

“Whar is it?” he roared, unable to contain himself longer.

“Where’s what?” asked Julian.

“The money, ye rascal—the $145.”

“I haven’t got as much as that.”

“Wal, you’ve got _some_. Whar is it, I axes ye?”

“It is concealed where you will never think of looking for it, and there it shall stay.”

“I’ll bet a hoss that it don’t stay thar,” shouted Jack, stamping the ground and shaking his fists in his rage. “Mark my words. Afore I’m done with ye, ye’ll come to this bluff an’ give me that money with yer own hands.”

“And mark _my_ words,” replied Julian calmly. “I shall do nothing of the kind. I’ll die first. It is mine—you’ve no right to it, and you shan’t have it.”

“Never mind the money now, Bowles,” exclaimed Mr. Mortimer, who was becoming impatient at the delay. “You will have plenty of time to hunt for it after your return from New Orleans. We must begin our journey at once.”

Jack, reluctant to abandon the search, took another turn about the camp, and after venting some of his spite by pulling down Julian’s brush cabin and kicking over the squirrels that were broiling before the fire, picked up the blankets and the rifle, and seizing the boy roughly by the arm hurried him down the bluff. After placing him behind Mr. Mortimer on his horse he disappeared in the woods and presently returned, mounted on his own nag, and led the way toward the clearing. He did not follow the road, as Julian hoped he would, but to avoid meeting any of the settlers, held straight through the woods. He was moody and sullen during the whole of the ride, and the deep scowl on his forehead showed that he was thinking intently.

“The minute Julian drops overboard from the flatboat, that minute I shall have $200 put into my hands,” soliloquized Mr. Bowles. “That’s a monstrous heap of money fur a poor man like me, but I’d like to have them $145, too. Now how am I goin’ to get it? That’s what I’d like to know. I’ll never find it unless Julian tells me whar it is, an’ if he’s at the bottom of the river he _can’t_ tell me. Hain’t thar no way fur me to push him overboard without drownin’ him?”

Upon this question Jack pondered long and deeply, and by the time he and his companions reached the clearing he must have found an answer to it, and a satifactory one, too, for he brightened up and became lively and talkative.

The first person Julian saw when he reached the clearing was the stranger in broadcloth, who was pacing up and down the bank. He did not look up when the boy and his captors rode past him, but pulled the handkerchief a little closer about his face, and sinking his chin lower into the collar of his coat, kept his eyes fastened upon the ground.

“If you are all ready to start, Jack,” said Mr. Mortimer, as they drew rein in front of the door of the cabin, where Mrs. Bowles and her sons were waiting to receive them, “we will go on board the flatboat at once.”

“Wal, I hain’t quite ready,” returned Jack. “I shall be away from home a long time if we go to New Orleans, an’ Jake and Tom’ll have to look out fur things while I am gone. I want to tell ’em what to do.”

“Your wife can do that as well as you can,” replied Mr. Mortimer impatiently.

“An’ more’n that,” continued Jack, holding open his coat to let his guest see that it was in a very dilapidated condition, “I’ve got to have some clothes, if I’m goin’ to a country whar white folks live. I don’t want to make ye ashamed of me.”

“You have nothing to fear on that score. Your clothes will do well enough.”

“But I say they won’t. I was born and raised a gentleman, _I_ was, and I guess I know what sort of riggin’ a gentleman had oughter wear when he goes a visitin’.”

“I don’t want to wait another minute. Don’t you know that we are in danger as long as we remain here? Suppose some of the settlers should find out what is going on?”

“Oh, now, how be they goin’ to find it out? We hain’t a goin’ to tell on ourselves, be we?”

“But the captain wants to start immediately,” persisted Mr. Mortimer.

“I can’t help that. I shan’t be ready for an hour or two—p’raps more; ’cause I’ve got to go to The Corners arter some good clothes.”

“Then you may stay there, if you choose. I can get along without your assistance.”

“No ye can’t, an’ ye shan’t, nuther,” retorted Jack.

“I shall go without you,” continued Mr. Mortimer, decidedly. “Then what will become of the $200 I promised you?”

Jack approached his guest and placed his lips close to his ear.

“If ye go without me I’ll have the officers of the law on yer track in less’n an hour,” said he, fiercely. “Then what will become of _ye_? I can say, ye know, that ye offered me money to shove the boy overboard, an’ p’raps ye’ll have to tell some things ye’d rather the world wouldn’t know. Ye’ve got money, an’ ye can keep the boat here as long as ye please.” Then aloud he added: “Ye an’ Julian can step into the house, an’ sit down an’ talk to the ole woman, an’ me an’ the boys will go to the stable an’ feed the hosses. I’ll be back as soon as I get my business done.”

Mr. Mortimer, finding that he was at the mercy of his confederate, was obliged to await his pleasure. He conducted his prisoner into the cabin, while Jack led the horses toward the stable, followed by Jake and Tom.

The boys assisted their father in removing the saddles and feeding the animals, and when this had been done, Jack conducted them into one of the cribs, and after closing and fastening the door, seated himself upon the corn and proceeded to make his sons acquainted with certain plans he had determined upon.

He did not know that some one besides Jake and Tom was listening to every word he said, but such was the fact. It was Sanders, who having overheard enough of Jack’s conversation with Mr. Mortimer to excite his curiosity, and seeing Bowles and his sons enter the crib and shut themselves in, made a circuit through the woods, and came up within hearing of their voices in time to learn as much of their scheme as he cared to know.

“I reckon Mr. Mortimer will get tired of waitin’ fur me,” said Jack, “‘cause he hain’t no ways likely to see me agin afore dark. I’ve got work fur ye to do, youngsters, an’ if ye do it as I tell ye to, there’s money to be made by it. Listen, now, with all the ears you’ve got. In the fust place, in order that ye may understand the hul matter, I must tell ye that this Mr. Mortimer is the same feller who brought Julian here years ago. He’s some kin to him—his pap, mebbe, fur all I know—but he don’t want to own him, ’cause the boy somehow stands atween him an’ a fortin’. He wants to put him whar he’ll never see him agin, an’ so me an’ him have give out that he is crazy, an’ that we’re goin’ to take him to Orleans an’ put him in a ’sylum. In course, he hain’t no more outen his head than I be, but that’s no business of mine. Mr. Mortimer’s goin’ to start down the river with him to-night, an’ I’m goin’ along to take care of him.”

Jack did not see fit to tell his boys that Mr. Mortimer had offered him money to push Julian overboard, and that he had promised to do it. That was a dangerous secret, and one that he did not care to trust to anybody’s keeping.

“I shall get $200 fur makin’ the trip,” continued Jack. “Now, I want to earn them thar two hundred, but I don’t want Julian to be tuk to New Orleans an’ shut up thar, ’cause if he is, we’ll lose jest $145 by it—the hundred he stole from ye last night, Jake, an’ the forty-five he made this mornin’ outen his mink skins. He’s hid the money, an’ I want to get a chance to make him tell whar it is; an’ this is the way I’m goin’ to work it. As soon as it comes dark, ye, Jake an’ Tom, must get into the dug-out an’ drop down the river in it, as easy as ye can, tie it to the starn of the flatboat, an’ then lay down on the bottom an’ keep still thar. Be sure an’ make it fast with a short rope, so as to keep outen the way of the sweeps. When ye’ve done that I will go up to the house, an’ me an’ Mr. Mortimer an’ Julian will go on board the flatboat, an’ she’ll put out into the river, draggin’ the dug-out arter her. When Mr. Mortimer an’ most of the crew have gone to bed, I’ll untie Julian an’ take him up fur a turn about the deck. I’ll give him all the chance he wants to get away, an’ he will be sartin to use it. He said that we shouldn’t never take him down the river; an’ bein’ perfectly at home in the water, he won’t mind jumpin’ overboard and swimmin’ ashore. As soon as I see him in the water I’ll whistle, an’ ye must cut loose from the flatboat an’ pick him up. Be as easy as ye can about it, an’ when ye onct get hold of him hang on, no matter what happens; tie him hard an’ fast, an’ bring him hum an’ put him in the smoke-house till I come. I’ll be along some time to-morrer, ’cause when Mr. Mortimer finds out that Julian is overboard he’ll think he’s drownded, an’ he’ll pay me off an’ discharge me. Arter I get hold of Julian, it won’t take me long to make him tell whar he’s hid them hundred an’ forty-five dollars. When I get that an’ the two hundred I’ll be rich.”

“But, pap, how much be me an’ Tom goin’ to git fur doin’ the job?” asked Jake.

“Ye’ll git enough to satisfy ye,” was the reply. “Jake shall have Julian’s rifle fur his share. It’s a good one, an’ didn’t cost a cent less’n $25. Tom shall have his blankets, which he can sell at The Corners if he don’t want to keep ’em, an’ the clothes Julian’s got on. Tom thinks a heap of good clothes, an’ that shows that he’s goin’ to be a gentleman when he’s growed up. An’ more’n that, if I find Julian here when I come hum, I’ll give each of ye $10; but if he _hain’t_ here, ye shan’t have nothin’ but the dog-gondest wallopin’ ye ever heern tell on, an’ ye’ll get that as sartin as ye’re a foot high. It’ll be wusser’n all the rest I ever give ye biled down into one. Now, be ye sure that ye know jest what ye’ve got to do?”

Jake and Tom were not quite certain that they did, and so their father repeated his instructions, and kept on repeating them until the boys thoroughly understood them.

Every part of the work they were expected to perform, as well as the treatment Julian was to receive prior to Jack’s return, was discussed, and the latter being satisfied at last that there was no danger of failure, announced that it was his intention to pass the rest of the afternoon in sleep. He instructed Jake to return to the house and announce that his father had just set out for The Corners on horseback, and then concealed himself among the corn at the farther end of the crib, while his boys, after making sure that there was no one in sight, opened the door and went out. No sooner had they entered the cabin than Sanders left his position behind the crib, made another circuit through the woods back to the bank of the river, and once more began walking up and down, now and then shaking his head and chuckling to himself as if he were thinking about something that afforded him great satisfaction.