THE BRAVE SWISS BOY.
VI.—ON THE TRACK.
The night passed slowly away. Just as Sol was pouring his earliest morning rays into the little room where Walter had lain unconsciously for so many hours, the sleeper awoke, rubbed his eyes, and called aloud for his companion, but, to his surprise, received no answer. He was astonished to find that he had gone to bed without taking off his clothes, but he suspected nothing until he saw that Seppi was not in the room, and at the same moment missed the belt from his waist and the papers from his pockets. When the whole extent of the calamity flashed upon him, he felt completely overwhelmed. A cold perspiration started to his face; he trembled in every limb, and but for the support of the bed, would have fallen on the floor. "Merciful powers!" he exclaimed, when he recovered his speech, "can it be possible that Seppi has robbed me and gone?"
He rushed to the door, which he found was locked. After kicking at it with great violence for some time, he aroused the attention of André, who came up, and, after opening the door, demanded the reason of such behavior.
"Where is Seppi?" exclaimed Walter, paying no heed to his inquiries. "Tell me instantly what has become of him."
"How should I know?" was the rough reply. "He left the inn before daybreak."
Walter's fears were fully confirmed. He sank into a chair, and gave way to an outburst of indignation.
"Don't trouble yourself about being left alone," said André; "your friend told me last night that he would be sure to return to-morrow, and has given me orders to let you have everything you ask for."
"You've seen the last of him," returned the youth. "He has robbed me, and has got safe away by this time. But I won't rest till I have hunted him down; and woe to him then!"
He rushed to the door to carry out his purpose; but André stopped him. "Oho, my fine fellow, that's what you're up to," said he. "I see now that your friend was right when he told me that you were not quite right in the upper story. You will please stay quietly here till to-morrow morning, and then you can make it all right with him yourself. You sha'n't stir out of this room till he comes back, so make up your mind for it."
With these words the fellow quietly turned on his heel and left the room, and having locked the door, went down stairs again without paying further regard to Walter's indignant remonstrances.
There being no possibility of escape by the door, Walter ran to the window, and looking out, saw that the window-sill was scarcely twenty feet from the ground, and that no one was visible outside. His plans were quickly formed. Tying the sheets together, he fastened one end to the window-frame, and lowered himself to the ground. But a new difficulty presented itself. Which direction should he take? While he thus stood for an instant in doubt, he heard a shout from the window overhead, and looking up, beheld André, who by this time had brought his breakfast.
"What game is this you're up to?" exclaimed the unwelcome custodian. "Stir a foot from there till I come, and it will be the worse for you."
Paying no heed to this threat, Walter ran at the top of his speed toward the main road, and would perhaps have made good his escape had not a broad ditch barred his way, which he was in the act of crossing, when he slipped, and was overtaken by André, who, after a struggle, managed to secure his charge.
"I've got you again, my boy!" said his captor, triumphantly. "You might as well have paid attention to what I told you, for now you must march back again, and take up your quarters in the cellar, instead of having a comfortable room. I'll warrant you'll not get away again in a hurry."
The unfortunate youth, half stunned with the events of the morning, and considerably bruised with the fall, was overpowered by the superior strength of his pursuer, and had to resign himself quietly to his fate. They had just got back to the inn, and were in the act of entering, when the sound of wheels was heard; and on looking back, a post-chaise with four horses was seen rapidly approaching the inn.
The carriage was open, and two young men reclined upon the soft cushions, while a handsome dog lay upon the front seat, and looked up with an intelligent glance at one of the gentlemen, who seemed to be its master.
"Let us have some refreshment," said the gentleman to André, who was somewhat taken aback by the unexpected arrival of travellers at that early hour. "Look sharp, my man! We must be in Paris in an hour, and have no time to lose."
Forgetting his prisoner, André hurried in to make the necessary preparations, while Walter, pale and breathless, leaned against the side of the door.
"Mr. Seymour!" he suddenly exclaimed, on beholding one of the travellers. "Mr. Seymour! Pray assist me."
The stranger leaped from the carriage and hastened toward the unhappy youth.
"Can I believe my eyes?—Watty!" he exclaimed—"Watty, from the Bernese Oberland! Look here, Lafond; this is the boy that got me the young vultures from the Engelhorn, the narrative of whose courage you admired so much. But what are you doing here, my boy? And what is the meaning of all this distress?"
"I have been robbed of a large sum of money here, and the thief has escaped with it. I was going in pursuit of him—"
"Don't believe a word of what he says, Sir," interrupted André, who at that moment issued from the inn. "The poor fellow is not right in his mind. His companion told me so, and I am going to take care of him till he comes back. He'll be here to-morrow."
"Fool!" exclaimed Mr. Seymour, angrily, "this young man is an old acquaintance of mine. Don't you dare to lay hands on him, or you shall suffer for it! And now, Walter, tell me the whole story as quickly as you can."
The young man related all that had happened since his arrival in Paris.
"It's a bad affair, my good fellow," said Mr. Seymour, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders thoughtfully. "Your companion has most likely travelled all night, and it will be hard work to find out which way he has gone. But never mind; we must try what can be done. Come with us to Paris, and I will get the police to make instant search for the thief. But in the first place," he continued, turning to André, who looked on in sullen astonishment, "let us have something to eat; and then we'll be off to Paris, where the scoundrel is most likely hiding himself."
Mr. Seymour's companion, a pale and delicate-looking man, had listened in silence to all that had passed, but while they were partaking of the refreshment that had been hastily prepared, he joined in the conversation.
"My dear Seymour," said he, "I think I know a better plan to get on the track of this swindler than if we had the help of all the policemen of Paris."
"Name it," returned his friend.
"Well, you know the St. Bernard dogs are the best in the world for following up a scent; and as Hector is a capital specimen of the breed, I think we can not do better than set him on the track."
"But the dog doesn't know him, so how can he trace him?"
"The fellow has perhaps left something behind him in his hurry; if so, then let Hector get his nose to it, and I'll wager anything that he'll follow him up even if he is fifty miles off."
"That's a capital idea," assented Mr. Seymour, delighted at the prospect of serving his young friend. "Hector knows that we're speaking about him. See how knowing he looks! Run, Walter, and see if your precious companion has left anything behind him."
Accompanied by André, who began to perceive that Seppi had cheated him, Walter sped up stairs to the room in which he had slept, and soon returned in triumph.
"He has left some of his clothes," exclaimed the now excited youth. "They are worthless things; and certainly no loss to him, after getting possession of all that money."
"Not so worthless after all," signified Mr. Seymour. "Who knows but we may find this bundle worth fifty thousand francs to you, Walter, or rather to Mr. Frieshardt? Lay it down here. Now then, Hector, take a good sniff."
The hound jumped from the carriage, smelled the bundle all round, then looked up at his master in an intelligent way, and gave a short deep bark.
"Hector will be on the track immediately," was the assurance given by Mr. Lafond. "Find—lost—find, my fine fellow!" he exclaimed.
The animal thoroughly understood its master's wish, and ran round the inn with its nose close to the ground. Suddenly it came to a stand, looked back, and gave another short bark, as if to say, "Here!"
"Bravo, Hector!" exclaimed both the gentlemen, in delight. "Come and smell again. Good dog!"
The dog sniffed the bundle once more, and after making another detour of the inn, stood still at the old spot.
"He has got the scent now, without a doubt," said the stranger. "Keep up your heart, young man, and we'll get the money out of this scoundrel's clutches just as certain as you got the birds from the Engelhorn for my friend. Jump into the carriage. Follow the dog, postilion. Off with you!"
The pursuit continued rapidly. The sharp-scented hound never showed the least doubt or wandering. On a few occasions it turned off into by-paths to the right or left, but always returned in a few seconds to the main road that led to Havre.
The horses were changed two or three times, but the dog seemed as fresh as when the pursuit commenced. It was growing late in the afternoon; but although Hector continued to hold on as before, Mr. Lafond shook his head, and began to doubt whether they were on the right track after all.
The two friends made a careful calculation of the time and distance, and Mr. Seymour also began to feel rather anxious. He stopped the carriage, called the dog back, and made him smell Seppi's bundle again, which they had taken care to bring with them. The dog gave the same short sharp bark as before, then turned round again, and continued the journey in the old direction.
"I haven't the least doubt now," said Mr. Seymour, cheerfully. "We must be on the right track. Go on, postilion!"
After the lapse of half an hour the dog stopped suddenly, threw its head up in the air, and sniffed all around in evident confusion; then, after making a slight detour with anxious speed, leaped across the ditch by the road-side. With a loud bark that seemed to express satisfaction, the intelligent creature made for a small clump of bushes at a little distance from the road, into which it disappeared. In the course of a minute or two the barking was renewed, but this time in a threatening tone.
"We've got him!" exclaimed Mr. Seymour. "There's no doubt the fellow found he could get no farther, and has taken up his quarters in the cover yonder, to make up for the sleep he lost last night."
"Let us go over there, then," said his companion, leaping from the carriage and across the ditch. "Hector is calling us, and is sure to be right."
"PINNED TO THE EARTH BY THE SAGACIOUS ANIMAL."
Mr. Seymour leaped the ditch, followed by Walter and one of the two postilions. Guided by the barking of the dog, they soon reached the thicket, and there found the man they were in quest of, pinned to the earth by the sagacious animal.
"Oh, Seppi! Seppi!" exclaimed Walter, in astonishment and sorrow, "how could you be guilty of such an act as this!"
The conscience-stricken man paled before the indignant youth.
"I will give you back everything, and beg your pardon for all I've done," whined the wretched drover, "if you will only release me from this savage brute that has nearly been the death of me."
At the call of his master the dog quitted his hold, and Seppi handed Walter the money-belt.
Walter counted the notes and gold, and was glad to find the contents untouched. Seppi rose to his feet meanwhile, but stood looking to the ground in shame and fear.
Walter, feeling compassion for him, begged that he might be let off; and Mr. Seymour consented.
Seppi was overjoyed at being let off so easily. He had not dared to expect that Walter would have taken his part, and felt really thankful that his first great crime had not met with a severe and terrible punishment. With earnestness in his tone, he thanked his former companion, and with unaffected emotion assured him solemnly that he would never again stretch out his hand to that which did not belong to him.
He kissed Walter's hand and moistened it with his tears, and was gone.
"Now," said Mr. Seymour, "I think we must set off toward Paris, if we are to get there to-night."
After a long journey, the travellers reached the French metropolis; and Walter repaired with Mr. Seymour to one of the best hotels, where, in a soft and luxurious bed, he soon forgot the toil and anxiety of the day, and slept sounder than he had ever done in his life.
[to be continued.]
THE WEASEL AND THE FROGS.
"I think the weasel is a mean, wicked murderer," said Harry, as he came rushing into his mother's room, his face flushed and his little fists clinched tight together: "My white rabbit lies all in a little dead heap in his house, and Mike, the gardener, says the weasel has killed him. He saw it prowling round the barn last night, and why he didn't set a trap and catch it I don't see."
Mamma put aside her sewing, and went to comfort Harry, who began to cry bitterly for the loss of his pet.
"Poor Bunny!" said mamma; "he should not have been left out when Mr. Weasel was around. But we will buy another Bunny, two Bunnies, a white one and a black one, and they shall have a nice little house in the wood-shed, where no weasel can find them."
WEASEL AND FROGS—THE INTERRUPTED CONCERT.
Harry brightened up at once at the prospect of having two Bunnies, while mamma said: "Now let us talk a little about the weasel. It is not so much to be blamed, after all, for killing Bunny, for it was born with the instinct to catch rabbits and squirrels, rats, mice, and many other small animals, as well as chickens and birds of all kinds. Weasels are very sly little beasts, although if captured when very young they can be tamed, and taught to eat out of their master's hand. If you will listen, and not cry any more, I will tell you what I saw and heard one summer afternoon over by the pond in the meadow. You know it is a very small pond, and that afternoon the water was so still that it looked like a glass eye in the midst of the great green meadow. I sat down on the bank to rest, and to watch the reflection of the bushes and tall water-grasses which overhung the pond. Suddenly the surface of the water was disturbed by a hundred circling ripples, in the centre of which appeared a small dark spot. As I watched, these dark spots became visible all over the pond. The sun was setting, and the beautiful summer twilight coming on, and it was so still it seemed as if Nature and all her pretty minstrels were fast asleep. All at once I heard a hoarse voice, which seemed at my very feet. 'Chu-lunk, chu-lunk, chu-lunk,' it said. It must have been the chorister calling his frog chorus together for their evening song, for in a moment a multitude of voices were answering from the long grasses, the bushes, the water—indeed, the whole neighborhood, a moment before so quiet, was alive with little frog people. They evidently had some cause of complaint against a very wicked person, as my little Harry has just now, for I distinctly heard one say, 'Stole a rabbit, stole a rabbit;' while another answered, 'I saw him do it, I saw him do it.' Then the whole chorus burst out,'We'll pull him in, we'll pull him in.' 'Plump, plump, plump,' added one voice more revengeful than all the rest. I sat very still, waiting to see what was to be pulled plump into the water. I did not have long to wait, but I fancy things took a turn contrary to the one desired by the frog people. There was a sudden rustling in the bushes, a sharp, quick sound like the springing of a cat. The chorus was still in an instant, but the entire shore of the little pond was covered with rushing, springing, jumping frogs. Pell-mell they tumbled over each other in headlong race for the water, to escape their cruel enemy, which now appeared, and showed himself to be a slender little weasel. He darted here and there among the helpless frogs, which made no attempts to 'pull him in,' but bent their whole efforts toward self-preservation. At length, seizing a fat frog in his mouth, the weasel turned and disappeared noiselessly among the bushes. Peace reigned once more, but the little frog people had all jumped into the water, and not a voice was heard protesting or uttering farther threats."
"And did the weasel get more than one poor little frog, mamma?" asked Harry.
"No, he carried off only one frog," replied mamma; "but he killed several more, which he left lying dead in the grass. I dug a hole in the mud with a sharp stick and buried them, so that their companions should not find them when they ventured on shore again."
"Well," said Harry, after thinking a few moments, "now I guess I'll go and bury my poor dead rabbit."