“STOP!” cried Reginald Mortimer, in great astonishment. “Come back here!”
Julian heard the command, but he did not heed it. He strove with nervous haste to open the door, but the knob refused to turn for him. He dashed himself against it with frantic violence; but the stout oak planks had been intended to resist a stronger force than he could bring to bear upon them, and they did not even tremble beneath his weight.
Reginald Mortimer appeared to be utterly confounded by the boy’s behavior. He watched his movements for a few seconds, and said:
“Julian, you could not leave the rancho if you were to effect an entrance into the hall. Shall I call Pedro, and tell him to let you out?”
It was now Julian’s turn to be astonished. He had expected violence, but was not prepared for the accents of kindness. He looked timidly at the man, and took his hand off the door-knob.
“Come here and tell me all about it,” continued Reginald Mortimer in a mild tone. “Why should a glance at me alarm you? Is there anything so very frightful about me?”
“No, sir; but you are the man who stole me away from my home and took me to live with Jack Bowles.”
The owner of the rancho opened his eyes, but said nothing.
“And you came to his house not long ago and offered him money to drown me in the Missouri River,” added Julian.