“I know jest what ye mean. Folks will think that we take Julian on board the flatboat to carry him to Orleans; but we don’t. We take him thar so as to drop him into the river, an’ get him outen yer way. Make yer mind easy. Them two hundred is mine.”
The settler, who was very much astonished at what Jack had told him, and had half a mind to join in the pursuit, watched him and his companion until they were out of sight, and then continued his ride; but he had not gone far when when he was stopped by the odd-looking man in broadcloth.
“Stranger,” said the latter, in regular backwoods vernacular, “whar is this yere Beaver Creek you was a speakin’ of?”
“I don’t know that I could direct you so that you could find it,” was the reply.
“Who said I wanted to find it?” inquired the man. “I only axes you which way it is from here, an’ how fur?”
“Well,” returned the settler, facing about in his saddle, shutting one eye and gazing at the woods through the half-closed lids of the other; “it’s four miles right north of here if you go through the timber, and eight miles if you go by the road.”
The man in broadcloth walked off at once, and without stopping to thank the settler for his information. As long as he remained within sight of the cabin and flatboat he was very deliberate in his movements; but the instant the woods concealed him from view, he broke into a rapid run, threading his way through the thick bushes with a celerity that was surprising. Up hill and down he went, never once slackening his pace or deviating from the course the settler had given him, until at last he saw a thin cloud of smoke arising through the trees in front of him, and after climbing a precipitous cliff, found himself standing face to face with Julian Mortimer.
The boy, who being busy with his preparations for dinner, had not heard the sound of his footsteps until he reached the top of the bluff, jumped up with his gun in his hand, ready to fight or run, as occasion might require. His first thought was that his enemies had tracked him to his hiding-place; but finding that his visitor was a stranger, and that he appeared to have no hostile intentions, he leaned on the muzzle of his rifle and waited for him to make known his business.
The man, whose breath was not even quickened by his long and rapid run, gazed about him with an air of interest. He looked at the brush shanty which Julian had erected to protect him from the weather, at the comfortable bed of blankets and leaves which was arranged under the sheltering roof, at the squirrels broiling before the fire, and then his eyes wandered to our hero, at whom he gazed long and earnestly. The boy did not look much now as he did when he escaped from Jack Bowles’ cabin, for he was dressed in a suit of new and comfortable clothes, and sported a wide-brimmed hat and a pair of high-top boots.
“Julian,” exclaimed the stranger, at length. “It’s you sure enough, hain’t it? I hain’t seed you fur more’n eight year, but I would know you any whar.”