IV
The morning opened auspiciously with a raking from Grubbs, who, finding that the Governor had decamped, most ungenerously held Archie responsible for his departure.
"I swear every year," he declared, "I'll never hire another tramp and hereafter I'll let the crops rot before I'll have one on the place."
Archie replied with heat that he knew nothing about the Governor or the reason for his precipitate passing. As the scolding the foreman had given him the day before still rankled, he protested his ignorance of the Governor and all his ways with a vigor strengthened much to his own edification by oaths he had never employed before. The foreman, taken aback by his onslaught, mumbled and then asked humbly as though ashamed of his lack of confidence in his employee: "Well, you two landed here together and I thought you might be gettin' ready to play the same trick. Look here, d'ye know anything about horses?"
"Well, I've ridden some," Archie answered guardedly, fearing the imposition of some disagreeable task as a punishment for his violent language.
"Ridden; where th' hell have you rode?"
Archie's knowledge of horses had been gained by cautious riding in park bridle paths with a groom, but to confess this would be only to increase the wrath and arouse the suspicions of the farmer.
"Oh, I've always been around horses," said Archie. "I guess I can handle 'em all right."
The foreman meditated, gave a hitch to his trousers, inspected Archie from head to foot and spat.
"Humph! I gotta find somebody t' watch the old man's granddaughter ride 'er pony, and I guess I'll give you the job if y' got sense enough to set on a horse and keep th' kid from breakin' 'er neck. What y' think o' that! I gotta waste a horse right now when I could use a dozen more, so a grown man can play with a kid! The old man's skipped this morning without sayin' whether he'd ever be back again!"
"Mr. Congdon has left?" asked Archie, with all the innocence he could muster.
"Not only has he gone but he's took a scrub I was usin' as handy man on the place. You can't beat it! There ought to be a law against city men ownin' farms an' makin' farmers do their work."
Archie thought this sound philosophy and he expressed his agreement heartily.
"Well, go to the barn and clean up that pony, and clap on a boy's saddle you'll find there; and there's a sorrel mare in the last stall on the left you can take. The kid'll be out lookin' fer y', and y' want to take mighty good care of 'er; she's the ole man's pet and he'll kill y' if anything goes wrong with 'er. Keep 'er out about an hour and be partickler careful. Between you and me there's somethin' queer about the kid bein' here; row o' some kind between her pa and ma. Her pa's here sick. Guess all them Congdon's got something wrong with 'em!"
Archie restrained an impulse to affirm the last statement and set off stolidly for the barn. He felt himself a better man for his interview with the foreman, who proved to be human and no bad fellow after all. His appointment as groom for the daughter of Putney Congdon was only another ironic turn of fate. The child might remember him as the man who had rescued her balloon in Central Park, but in his shabby clothes and with his face disguised by a week's growth of beard this was unlikely. A more serious matter for concern was the possibility that the Governor or his agents might attempt to steal her away from him while she was in his care. But so far in his stormy pilgrimage he had gained nothing by yielding to apprehensions and he whistled as he rubbed down the pony and got his own mount ready.
The child came running into the barn lot followed by the woman who had been a party to her abduction, and danced joyfully toward the pony.
"Edith mustn't stay out too long; an hour will be enough for the first day. And please keep close to the gate. You're sure you understand horses?"
Archie satisfied her on all points, submitting himself to her critical gaze without flinching. In his big straw hat he was not even remotely suggestive of the man who had attempted to frustrate the seizure of the child in the park. In her ecstatic welcome of the pony Edith hardly gave Archie a glance. A riding costume had been improvised for her out of a boy scout's suit, and with her curls flying under her broad hat she was a spirited and appealing figure. The woman followed them down the lane to the road, where she indicated the bounds to be observed during the lesson. The pony was old and fat, and only with much urging could he be brought to a trot. Archie delivered himself of all the wisdom he could recall from the instruction of his riding teacher as to seat and carriage. The companionship of the child cheered him; and as they patrolled the road she prattled with youthful volubility. When a traction engine passed towing a threshing machine the sorrel mare showed her mettle in a series of gyrations that all but landed Archie in a fence corner.
Edith, watching him with trepidation, cried out in admiration of his horsemanship. The woman, satisfied that the groom was really a master horseman, sat down on the grass by the gate to read.
Archie, in his anxiety to save the child from mishap, had given little attention to the traffic on the road until he awoke to the fact that the same touring car had passed twice within a short period. It was a smart vehicle with a chauffeur in gray livery whose figure tantalized his memory. It flashed upon him in a moment that this was either the Governor's New York chauffeur or some one who bore a striking resemblance to that person. The Governor had hinted at the summoning of many assistants to aid in his undertaking, and it was not at all unlikely that he had drawn upon his New York establishment. But for the child to be abducted during the progress of the riding lesson might lead to unpleasant consequences and was not at all to Archie's taste.
The woman's attention was wholly relaxed and she scarcely glanced up as he passed her. There could be no better opportunity for the seizure, as the laborers were widely distributed over the farm. A stretch of woodland opposite the Congdon gate precluded the possibility of interruption from that quarter.
The gray-clad chauffeur passed again, this time in a more powerful car. He made no sign but Archie caught a glimpse of the Governor busily talking with a strange man. Convinced now that the Governor's plans were culminating and that the car was making these circuits of the farm to enable the occupants to get their bearings, Archie awaited anxiously the next appearance of the machine. When at the end of a quarter of an hour it shot into view he was at the farthest point from the gate indicated by the woman as the range of Edith's exercise.
"That girth needs pulling up a little; let's dismount here," said Archie, drawing up under a tree at the roadside. The woman was deeply preoccupied with her book and apparently oblivious to the traffic on the road. Archie pretended to be having trouble with the saddle, as he filled in the time necessary for the car to reach him. It passed the gate more rapidly than on previous occasions, but slowed down at once and a familiar voice greeted him.
"Pardon me, but is this the road to Tiffin? I'm afraid we've been running round in a circle."
"Straight ahead! And I suggest that you be in a hurry about it!" said Archie, seeing that the woman had risen and was now moving rapidly toward them. The Governor stepped jauntily from the running board, with his hands thrust into the pockets of his duster. There was a twinkle in his eyes as he noted Archie's trepidation. He glanced toward the woman indifferently, removed his cap and addressed the little girl, who stood beside the pony with her hand on the bridle. A second car drew up just behind the Governor's machine. The woman was calling loudly to Edith to come to her immediately.
"Edith—Miss Edith Congdon," said the Governor, smiling. "Your mother wants you very, very much and I've come to take you to her. If you will jump into the car you will see her very soon. We must be in a hurry or that woman will catch you. You needn't have a fear in the world. Will you trust me?"
The child hesitated, and Archie, enraged at the deliberation with which the Governor was managing the abduction, really leaving it to the child whether she should go or not, saw the look of fear she bent upon the approaching woman—a look that yielded to wonder and amazement and hope as she jumped nimbly into the machine.
"We must be in a hurry or that woman will catch you"
At the same moment two men sprang out of the second car and rushed at Archie. One of them flung a carriage robe over his head and twisted it round his throat, then they gathered him up, head and heels, and tossed him over the fence. The thing could not have been managed more neatly if it had been rehearsed. The Governor leaned over the fence and gazing upon Archie, wriggling in a patch of briars, unconcernedly recited:
| "'She who comes to me and pleadeth |
| In the lovely name of Edith |
| Shall not fail of what was wanted; |
| Edith means the blessed, therefore |
| All that she may wish or care for, |
| Shall, when best for her, be granted!'" |
The two cars were enveloped in a cloud of dust when Archie, tearing the blanket from his head, rose to confront the screaming woman. Twice he had seen the child stolen, and the first occasion had not been without its drama, but the Governor had made of the second the sheerest farce. The woman berated him roughly for his stupidity while he attempted to explain.
"The man who talked to the little girl knew her—called her by name. They've probably just gone for a ride."
This only increased the woman's indignation and he roused himself to placate her.
"I had better run to the house and telephone to the Tiffin police," he suggested.
To his infinite surprise she declared in alarm that this must not be done; she would go herself and tell the child's father what had occurred and let him deal with the matter. This was wholly beyond his comprehension and to conceal his emotions he fell back heavily upon his rôle of the country bumpkin, complaining of imaginary injuries and vowing that he would have the law on the men who assaulted him. The woman glanced carefully about, as though to make sure they had not been observed and then set off for the house. She took several steps and then turned to say:
"Don't talk about this—do you understand? You're not to say a word about it. I'll see Mr. Putney Congdon and tell him just how it happened."
"But if the police should ask me—"
"Don't be a fool! The police are not going to know about this. Those were Mr. Putney Congdon's orders in case anything like this happened. And you needn't talk to the other hands about it either. I'll fix the foreman; all you've got to do is to keep your mouth shut."
Her assumption that Mr. Putney Congdon would not be greatly aroused by the abduction of his daughter was anything but clarifying. Archie returned the pony to the barn and was sitting in the door brooding upon the prevailing madness of the human race when Grubbs found him.
"Well, it certainly beats hell!" the man remarked, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.
"There's a good deal in what you say," Archie mournfully assented. "I want you to know that it wasn't my fault. Those fellows—there were about six of 'em—jumped on me and tried to choke me to death and then pitched me over the fence and it was all over in half a second. I apologize if that's what you expect."
"I don't expect a damned thing! That fool woman said I wasn't to pester you about it as you wasn't to blame, which makes me sore, for at the first jump I was goin' to call the sheriff and turn y' over. But from what she says we're not to say a word—not a word, mind y'! Y' can't beat it!"
"I certainly shan't attempt to beat it," replied Archie sadly. "I'd like to catch a March hare just to tell him that some human beings are a lot crazier than he is. We haven't done justice to the intellectual powers of the rabbit."
The foreman blinked but the remark penetrated and he burst into a loud guffaw. That a child should be picked up in the road and carried away was startling enough but that nothing was to be done about it was so egregious that words failed to do justice to it. It was only eleven o'clock and he told Archie that he might spend an hour at the woodpile, even guiding him to that unromantic spot and initiating him into the uses of saw and ax.