CHAPTER XV.
THE PEDLAR AND THE NECKLACE.
Verty mounted Cloud again, and set forward toward Apple Orchard. That place very soon rose upon his sight, and riding up to the house Verty encountered the good-humored Squire, who was just coming in from the fields.
"Good morning, Squire," said the boy, smiling, "may I go and see
Redbud, if you please?"
The Squire laughed.
"Redbud? What, at school, yonder?"
"Yes, sir."
The good-natured old gentleman looked at the boy's frank face, and admired its honest, ingenuous expression.
"I don't see why you should'nt, Verty," he replied, "if you don't go too often, and keep my little 'Bud from her lessons."
"Oh! no, sir."
"Go, go by all means—it will be of service to her to see home faces, and you are something like home to her. Short as the distance is, I can't leave my farm, and we can't have 'Bud with us every week, as I should wish."
"I've just come from there," said Verty, "and Redbud is very well, and seems to like the place. There is a man who comes there to see Miss Sallianna, and Redbud most dies laughing at him—I mean, I suppose she does. His name is Mr. Jinks."
"What! the great Jinks? the soldier, the fop, the coxcomb and swaggerer!" laughed the Squire.
Verty nodded.
"That's the very man, sir," he said, "and I saw him to-day. I came back, and found Mr. Rushton wanted to be quiet, and Mr. Roundjacket said I might go and hunt some for ma mere"
"Go, then, Verty; that is, if you won't stop to dinner."
"I don't think I can, sir—I should like to see Miss Lavinia, though, if—"
"Out visiting," said the Squire.
This removed all Verty's scruples; he had virtually done what he promised Redbud, and would now go and see her, because the Squire had a better right to decide than even Miss Lavinia. He, therefore, bowed, with a smiling look, to the old gentleman, and continued his way toward the lodge of his mother.
He had reached the foot of the hill upon which the cabin was situated, when he saw before him, seated on a log by the side of the bridle-path he was following, one of those pedlars of former times, who were accustomed to make the circuit of the countryside with their packs of wares and stuffs—peripatetic merchants, who not unfrequently practised the trade of Autolycus.
This man seemed to be a German; and when he spoke, this impression was at once verified. He informed Verty that he was tired, very hungry, had travelled a long way, and would be obliged to his honor for a little bit of something, just to keep body and soul together till he reached "Wingester." He had gone toward the house, he said, but a dog there had scared him, and nobody seemed stirring.
Verty very readily assented to this request, and first stabling Cloud, accompanied the German pedlar to the cabin. The old Indian woman was out in the woods gathering some herbs or roots, in the properties of which she was deeply learned; and in her absence, Wolf had mounted guard over the lodge and its contents. The pedlar had approached, intent on begging, and, if possible, larceny; but Wolf had quickly bared a double row of long, sharp teeth, which ceremony he had accompanied with an ominous growl, and this had completely daunted Autolycus, who had retreated with precipitation.
Wolf now made no further objection to his entry, seeing that Verty accompanied him; and the two persons went into the house.
"Ma mere's away somewhere," said Verty; "but we can broil some venison. Wait here: I'll go and get it."
The boy, humming one of the old border songs, opened a door in the rear of the lodge, and passed into a sort of covered shed, which was used as a store-room by the old woman.
The door closed behind him.
The pedlar looked around; the two hounds were lazily pawing each other in the sun, before the door, and no sound disturbed the silence, but their low whining, as they yawned, or the faint cry of some distant bird.
The pedlar muttered a cautious "goot!" and looked warily around him. Nothing worth stealing was visible, at least nothing small enough to carry away.
His prying eye, however, detected an old chest in the corner, half covered with deer and other skins, and the key of this chest was in the lock.
The pedlar rose cautiously, and listened.
The young man was evidently preparing the venison steaks from the noise he made, an occupation which he accompanied with the low, Indian humming.
The pedlar went on the points of his toes to the chest, carefully turned the key, and opened it. With a quick hand he turned over its contents, looking round cautiously.
After some search, he drew forth a silver spoon, and what seemed to be a necklace of red beads, the two ends of which were brought together by a circular gold plate. Just as the pedlar thrust these objects into his capacious breast-pocket, the door opened, and Verty entered.
But the boy did not observe him—he quickly and cautiously closed the chest, and began examining one of the skins on the lid.
Verty looked up from the steaks in his hand, observed the occupation of the pedlar, and began to laugh, and talk of his hunting.
The pedlar drew a long breath, returned to his pack, and sat down.
As he did so, the old Indian woman came in, and the boy ran to her, and kissed her hand, and placed it on his head. This was Indian fashion.
"Oh, ma mere!" he cried, "I've seen Redbud, and had such a fine time, and I'm so happy! I'm hungry, too; and so is this honest fellow with the pack. There go the steaks!"
And Verty threw them on the gridiron, and burst out laughing.
In a quarter of an hour they were placed on the rude table, and the three persons sat down—Verty laughing, the old woman smiling at him, the pedlar sullen and omnivorous.
After devouring everything on the table, the worthy took his departure with his pack upon his shoulders.
"I don't like that man, but let him go," said Verty. "Now, ma mere,
I'm going out to hunt a bit for you."
The old woman gazed fondly on him, and this was all Verty needed. He rose, called the dogs, and loaded his gun.
"Good-bye, ma mere" he said, going out; "don't let any more of these pedlar people come here. I feel as if that one who has just gone away, had done me some harm. Come, Longears! come, Wolf!"
And Verty took his way through the forest, still humming his low,
Indian song.