What happened to Tad

by Mary E. Ropes

"Thank you kindly, sir; I'm much obliged," said Tad.

And glad to get out of answering any more questions, and of being forced to draw upon his imagination for his facts, he ate his supper and then thankfully went to bed in the loft among the scented hay, where, being very weary, he fell asleep at once, only coming back to consciousness when the landlord's stable-boy came in for hay for the horses of some early travellers.

Tad ate his porridge, paid his reckoning, and walked briskly on, avoiding the busy high roads as much as possible, and taking short cuts across fields and through copses, lest he should chance to meet some one he knew.

Once, about three miles from Crest Mount, he got a lift in a baker's cart, so it was only noon when he reached the place. There he bought at the post-office, which was also a stationer's shop, a sheet of paper, a pencil, an envelope, and a penny stamp, and carrying them to the Green where there were some benches, he sat down and wrote to his father, giving him an account of how the baby had been stolen, and adding that as he did not dare to face his stepmother after what had happened, he should not come home any more. He sent his best love to Bert and Nell, expressed a hope that the baby might soon be found, and remained James Poole's dutiful son, Tad.

When the letter was posted, the boy felt as though he had shaken off a weight. Now he need stay no longer in Crest Mount; he would only just buy himself a little loaf and a couple of apples for his dinner, and then push on towards a small seaport called Upland Bay.

Though Ponderton—the place where he had lived all his life—was not very far from the coast, Tad had never yet seen the sea. But he had read wonderful things about it in the absurd penny dreadfuls that he had got hold of now and again. His head was full of pirates, of marvellous adventures on strange islands, of grand discoveries of countless treasures in all sorts of unlikely places. Also he had a vague idea that, somehow or other, the sea brought luck sure and certain, and that if he could only manage to get to the shore, his fortune was as good as made.

He walked on all day, only stopping now and again to ask his way, or to beg a drink of water or buttermilk at the farms he passed. But it was dark by the time he reached the little town of Upland Bay—a picturesque place, perched high upon a bold cliff, while, on the inland side, a wide reach of breezy downs and cornfields stretched away for miles, as it seemed to Tad when he peered through the darkness.

As he trudged up the High Street, looking curiously about him, and eagerly inhaling the cool, strong, salt air, he was suddenly brought to a stand in front of the police-station. For there, in full glare of a lamp, he saw a large written notice posted up. With blanched cheeks and starting eyes he read these words:

"Missing since yesterday morning, Sunday, September 2nd, Edward Poole of Ponderton, aged fourteen, having with him a baby boy about eight months old. When last seen was carrying the child and a basket through the streets of Ponderton. The lad has a big head and thin body, and was dressed in a dark grey suit with a cap of the same, and the baby in a red flannel dress and coat. A reward will be paid to anyone giving information that may lead to the finding of the lad and infant."

Here, at least, in this out-of-the-way place, Tad had thought to feel himself safe; but even here the hue and cry was after him, and a reward offered for his capture. Assuredly Mrs. Poole had lost no time. The telegraph had been set to work, and probably at every little town and village within twenty miles of Ponderton, a written notice had been posted.