Had Jim kept his place he would not have been molested, for Bowser was too well trained to harm any one calling in the right way, and whose appearance was not against him. But the instant the youth caught sight of the ferocious canine, he did the very worst thing possible—he started to run.
Bowser accepted this as proof that he was there on wrong business, and he dashed after him like a runaway engine. Before Jim could open and pass through the gate, the dog was nipping at the calves of his legs with a vigor that compelled the terrified youth to yell at the top of his voice.
Dick Halliard heard the shout, and, springing from his bed, threw up the window and called to the animal to forbear. Bowser disliked to obey, for he was just getting fairly at work; but he came trotting back with his head down and a reproachful glance at his young master, for having interfered at such an unlucky time for him.
Inasmuch as it is impossible to do justice to Jim McGovern’s feelings, while making his way back to the tent in the woods, we will not attempt to do so. Silence is the more eloquent under such circumstances.
CHAPTER XIX—AN ERROR OF JUDGMENT
Had Jim McGovern taken another course when starting out on the war-path, he would not have met such overwhelming disaster, for he would have encountered Bob Budd returning from an experience hardly less stirring than his own; but the two followed different routes and did not see each other until they met in camp, after both had been through their experience and the night was well advanced.
Reaching the highway, Dick mounted his bicycle and continued his journey homeward at an easy pace. There was a faint moon in the sky, and now and then the wind blew fitfully among the tree branches, but he was in good spirits. The words of the physician concerning his father encouraged him greatly, and he was happy over the unexpected manner in which he had recovered his bicycle. Mr. Hunter had notified him that day, that, on the first of the following month, his wages would be increased, and that so long as he showed the same devotion to his interests, he might count upon a yearly repetition of the favor.
“I’m luckier than I deserve,” he reflected, as he skimmed over the highway, “for I was able to attend school until I graduated, and Mr. Hunter, who was one of the trustees, told me that afternoon that he had had his eye on me for several years and wanted me. Well, I have tried to do as father and mother taught me when I was a little fellow, and I’ve no doubt that that’s the reason for it all. I can’t understand how any one can show the meanness of Bob Budd and those boys he has with him. There was no earthly excuse for stealing my bicycle—Hello! there’s some one in the road yonder.”
He was approaching a clump of trees where the shadows were so thick that he could not see distinctly, but he was certain he observed a figure step back as if to avoid being noticed.
Dick gently applied the brake to his wheel and hesitated whether to go on or not. He recalled that he had heard rumors of robbery and attempts at burglary in the neighborhood within the past week. Indeed, there were signs discovered that very morning that proved an effort had been made to pry open one of the shutters of Mr. Hunter’s store; but the marauders were scared off by the dog that was kept on duty every night.