JACK'S PRISONER.
For a second time Jack now travelled that woodland road under odd circumstances; the first occasion being that on which he himself had pulled in the shafts, while Link pushed behind. He laughed as he thought of that adventure, of which the present seemed a fitting sequel. Before, he had been obliged to go home without his horse; what a triumph it would now be to carry home the thief! But to do this, great care and vigilance would be necessary; and he calculated all the chances, and resolved just what he would do, should his captive attempt to escape. The rogue, on the contrary, appeared contented with his lot.
"Young man," said he, "I can't call your name, but let me say you improve upon acquaintance. This is galorious! better by a long chalk than a horseback gallop without a saddle. I suppose you will call for me with a barouche next time!"
"At all events, I may help you to free lodgings,—not up in a tree, either!" Jack said, as he touched up Snowfoot.
He had, of course, abandoned the idea of giving Mrs. Wiggett her noon-mark that day. But he could not think of passing the "castle" without stopping at the door.
"What will Vinnie say?" thought he, with a thrill of anticipation. And it must be confessed that he felt no little pride at the prospect of showing his prisoner to Lord Betterson and the boys.
Descending the long declivity, the fellow was strangely silent, for one so rattle-brained, until the "castle" appeared in sight through an opening of the woods. "He's plotting mischief," Jack thought. And when suddenly the rogue made a movement with his arms, Jack started, ready for a grapple.
"Don't be excited; I'm only putting on my coat."
"All right," said Jack; and the garment was put on. "Anything else I can do for you?"
"I'm dying with thirst; they had nothing to drink at that tavern where you found me."
"May be we can get some water at this house," Jack said.
"Are you acquainted here?" the prisoner inquired, with a curious, sober face.
"Yes, well enough to ask for a glass of water." And Jack drove into the yard.
The rogue kept on his sober face, but seemed to be laughing prodigiously inside.
As Jack reined up to the door, Lill came out, clapped her hands with sudden surprise, and screamed, "O mother!" Then Vinnie appeared, her face radiant on seeing Jack, but changing suddenly at sight of his companion. Mrs. Betterson followed, and, perceiving the faces in the buggy, uttered a cry, tottered, and clung to Vinnie's shoulder.
Link at the same time ran out from behind the house, dropped a dirty stick, wiped his hands on his trousers, and shouted, "Hullo! by sixty! ye don't say so!" while Rufe and Wad came rushing up from the barn. Jack had rather expected to produce a sensation,—not, however, until he should fairly have shown his prisoner; and this premature commotion puzzled him.
The rogue's suppressed laughter was now bubbling freely; a frothy and reckless sort of mirth, without much body of joy to it.
"How are ye all?" he cried. "Don't faint at sight of me, Aunt Carrie. This is an unexpected pleasure!" and he bowed gayly to Vinnie.
"O Radcliff! you again? and in this style!" said poor Caroline. "Where did you come from?"
"From up a tree, at last accounts. Hullo, boys! I'd come down on my trotters, and hug you all round, but my friend here would be jealous."
Jack was confounded.
"Is this your Cousin Rad?" he cried, as the boys crowded near. "I'm sorry to know it, for he's the fellow who ran off with my horse. Where did you ever see him before, Vinnie?"
"He is the one I told you about,—in Chicago," said Vinnie, astonished to find her waggish acquaintance, the elegant Radcliff Betterson, and this captive vagabond, the same person.