“The boys, presumably, have not much money. It is possible that they may, on landing, telegraph home for funds. If they do not, there is no doubt, I think, but that they will try to make their way to Philadelphia—my home, you know—by some means or other. Now, this is what I propose to do: There is in Philadelphia a man, by name Hiram Jenkins, whom I have frequently employed on private and particular business, a thoroughly trustworthy and most astute fellow. I will send full instructions to Jenkins to go at once to New Orleans, and there to await the arrival of the Louisiana. He shall keep a close watch upon the boys, follow their footsteps wherever they go, and, should the occasion arise, shall make himself known to them. Otherwise—if no such occasion should arise, I mean—he shall not interfere with them, but shall allow them to get out of their difficulties by their own wit. He shall communicate with us at frequent intervals, so that we may know all the time what the boys are doing and where they are. Thus, Mrs. Swayne, your mind will be relieved, and the boys will have an opportunity to show how much of resourcefulness there is in them. Now, what do you think of that?”
The three gentlemen at once declared their approval of the plan, and after a thorough discussion my mother, too, albeit with some reluctance, gave in to their opinion. Mr. Goodall immediately set about making the necessary arrangements, with the result that when we arrived in New Orleans, there, all unsuspected by us, was Hiram Jenkins, waiting to act the part of watch-dog to us in our course across the continent.
While we, in the unenviable position of roustabouts, worked our toilsome way up the Mississippi, Jenkins, on the same boat, was travelling comfortably among the passengers. When we, at St. Louis, unexpectedly turned westward, Jenkins rode on the same train with us. When we set out to walk across the plains, Jenkins, procuring a horse and light cart, trotted along the country roads which followed the railroad track, stopping at the different stations until we made our appearance, and then driving on to the next one.
It seemed to him such an exquisite joke that two boys should thus painfully tramp across the country,—perseveringly running away from nothing,—that, feeling sure the station-agents would appreciate the joke too well to spoil it, he would let them into the secret; and while the agent, standing on the platform, would jocularly cheer us on our way, Jenkins would be sitting in the waiting-room, taking his ease, until such time as it should become necessary for him to drive on again.
After the episode of the train-wreckers Jenkins might perhaps have lost us for a time had it not been for the fact that he was staying for the night at the station to which the conductor had gone for assistance, and walking back with him to the train had heard our request to be carried on. Promptly abandoning his horse and cart, he once more rode on the train with us, occupying a different car. By our action in getting off short of Ogden he did lose us for the moment, but having found out from our talkative acquaintance that we were going to walk to Golconda, he went on to Ogden, where he met Jack, who had ridden down to meet us, Jenkins having kept him, as well as the folks at home, informed of our whereabouts.
Setting out at once on horseback, the pair overtook us when we were yet two or three miles from our destination, and there Jenkins, his mission accomplished, turned back to town, whence he sent to Percy’s father the prearranged telegraphic message, “Goods delivered.”
When Jack had reached this point in his story he stopped. He was too kind-hearted to laugh at us again, knowing pretty well what was passing in our minds, and for a time all three sat silent, Percy and I furtively eying each other meanwhile.
How exceedingly small we did feel! To think that we had taken all this trouble, suffered all these discomforts, travelled all this distance,—for nothing!
As I watched Percy, however, I presently saw a change come over his face. He raised his head and sat up straight; then, to the great astonishment of Toby, Jack’s horse, he suddenly sprang to his feet, dashed his hat upon the ground, and, snapping his fingers and thumbs, shouted “Hurrah!” at the very top of his voice; at the same time waving his arms above his head, and spinning round first on one foot and then on the other.
I knew what he was thinking about, because I was thinking the very same thing myself. I jumped up, too, kicked Percy’s hat far away into the bushes, hurled my own after it, and joined him in his shouting and capering and generally absurd behaviour; while Jack leaned back against a tree and laughed until the tears ran out of his eyes.