“Wal, we can see use in it, if ye can’t,” replied Tom. “We’re doin’ jest what pap told us to do.”
“An’ we don’t do it ’cause we’re afeared of yer gettin’ away, nuther,” said Jake. “Ye’ve got to stand right here without a wink of sleep or a bite to eat till ye tell us whar that money is hid. Mebbe ye’ll tell us now.”
“No, I’ll not,” replied Julian promptly and decidedly.
“All right. Ye’ll think different in the mornin’, I tell ye. The ole woman will be here bright an’ arly, an’ if ye ain’t ready to open yer mouth, she’ll give ye a dozen or two as hard as ever she can lay ’em on. When pap comes home to-morrer he’ll take the job outen her hands. Ye’ve got into a hard row of stumps, feller.”
After carefully examining their captive’s bonds, and looking carefully about the smoke-house to make sure that there was no opening in it from which he could escape, even if he succeeded in freeing his hands, Jake and Tom went out, locking the door after them.
When the sound of their footsteps had died away, and Julian began to ponder upon what they had said to him, and to realize how powerless he was in the hands of his enemies, his courage for the first time gave away utterly. He took a step forward and threw his weight upon the rope, but it was firmly tied to the beam above and too strong to be broken, and the movement only pulled his hands between his shoulders, thus “tricing him up” most effectually. He had never dreamed that his enemies would endeavor to torture his secret out of him in this way. He had expected to be beaten, and he believed that he could endure that; but was his fortitude proof against such a test as this? In order to save himself suffering would it not be policy to give Jack the information he demanded, and when his liberty was restored to him, resume his old occupation of trapping until he could earn enough to purchase an outfit for his proposed journey? He had worked hard for two winters to accumulate the little property he now possessed, and should he surrender it at the command of one who had not the smallest shadow of a right to it? Julian passed an hour debating such points as these, and at the end of that time his decision was made.
“I’ll never do it,” said he to himself. “It belongs to me alone. Nobody else has a claim upon it. The woods are as free to Jack Bowles as they once were to me—much more so, in fact, for there is no one to dog his steps, destroy his traps and steal his earnings—and if he wants money let him work for it. That’s the way I got mine. He will find that I am not to be starved or beaten into telling him where that box is concealed. Jake and Tom are coming back again. I hope they have not brought the rawhide with them.”
The footsteps which had attracted Julian’s attention drew nearer and nearer, and presently a cautious hand laid hold of the padlock with which the door was secured. Julian listened to hear the bolt turned, but soon found out that his visitor, whoever he was, did not intend to effect an entrance with the assistance of a key; for after shaking the lock to assure himself that it was fast in the staple, he placed his shoulders against the door and tried to burst it open. The prisoner heard him panting and puffing as he applied his strength to the stout planks. He heard, too, the angry words he muttered when he found that his efforts were useless, and caught the sound of his footsteps as he moved around the smoke-house.
Julian wondered greatly. Who was he? Was he some friend who, knowing that he was confined there, had come with the hope of rescuing him? There was scarcely a man in the settlement who would not have hurried to his relief had it been known that he was in trouble, but unfortunately no one was aware of his situation. Of course, then, the visitor could not be a friend. Most likely he was some hungry prowler, whose only object was to filch a ham or a side of bacon from the smoke-house.
In spite of the unpleasantness of his situation, Julian became interested in the man’s movements. He walked around the building and finally came back and tried the door again, but with no better success than before. Then there was silence for a few minutes, during which the man was, no doubt, thinking what was best to be done, and at length a noise at one corner of the house told the prisoner that he had decided upon a plan of operations. He was using the projecting ends of the logs as a ladder, and mounting to the top of the building. His success was certain now. The roof was covered with narrow oak boards, laid on like shingles, and held in place by small nails; and it would be a matter of no difficulty for him to pull a few of them off and drop down on the inside of the smoke-house. That such was the visitor’s intention soon became evident. He attacked the shingles at once, using extreme caution in removing them from their fastenings, and in a few seconds an opening had been made in the roof, that was immediately filled by the head and shoulders of the man, who lighted a match and held it up to take a survey of things below him. Julian had a good view of him. Could he believe his eyes? He stared hard at his visitor, and uttered a cry of delight.