A TRUE STORY OF WHAT TWO BOYS DID.
BY GEORGE CARY EGGLESTON.
Everybody talked, of course, when it was known that Bob Towne had run away, and had taken his brother Ned with him, and everybody said it was a shame. By everybody I mean all the people in the little Mississippi town in which Bob's mother lived. They did not know why Bob had run away, and they did not know where he had gone; but they talked about it all the same. They said it was a shame for him to leave his widowed mother, and worse still to take his little brother with him, though not one of them could have suggested any possible way in which Bob could have helped his mother by staying. Bob was "curious," however, and people never think well of persons whom they do not understand. Bob was fond of books, for one thing, and because he read a great deal, and did not "sit around" in the village, they said he was morose; and so when the news spread that Bob had gone away in the night, and had taken his brother with him, everybody said, "I told you so," in a tone which indicated that that was the very worst thing they could say.
Bob's mother had a letter, however, which convinced her that her boy was not heartless at any rate. She said nothing about this letter—found in Bob's room—but she read it over and over again, and cried over it, and even kissed it sometimes in secret. The letter was brief and simple. It said:
"My dear Mother,—Please don't feel badly at my going away: it is my duty. When I found, after father's death, that the estate was worth so little, and that you had almost nothing except the house you live in, I made up my mind that I must be the head of the family, although I am only fourteen years old. After a good deal of thinking, I have hit upon a plan to make some money, I think, and as Ned wants to join me, I'm going to take him with me. Neither of us can earn anything here, but I believe we can where we're going. At least you won't have us to feed. We shall work for you and for our little sisters, and if we make anything, it will all be yours. If we don't, we will at least have tried. When we succeed we'll let you know where we are. We hate to go away without kissing you and little Kate and Mary and Susie, but we must, else you will never let us go. Good-by, and God bless you, mother!"
That was all the trace Bob and Ned left behind them, and nobody could guess where they had gone.
Two days after their disappearance the boys presented themselves to a gentleman who had been a friend of their father, living fifty miles away, and after exacting from him a pledge of secrecy, Bob introduced his business.
"You said last year at our house that you would let any man who chose to get up your swamp land use it for ten years, or something of that sort."
"Yes, I said this: I have ten thousand acres on the Tallahatchee; part of it was under cultivation before the war, but it has grown up in cane so that it is worth almost nothing now to sell, and I haven't the capital nor the energy at my time of life to get it up again. It is superb land, capable of yielding three bales of cotton to the acre, and if it was under cultivation again it would sell for fifty dollars an acre. What I proposed was to let young Bowling go there and get up as much as he pleased of it, cut and sell all the wood he chose, use the land rent free for ten years, and at the end of that time receive from me a bonus of five dollars an acre for all the land brought under cultivation. But what of it? Bowling didn't accept the offer."
Bob explained his own purpose to accept it in a small way, going into the swamp country, and making what money he could with his own hands, for his friend knew he had no capital.