Crowded Out o' Crofield; or, The Boy who made his Way by William O. Stoddard (top novels txt) 📖

Thursday evening, and said she had promised to bring Miss Ogden. Of course Mary said she would go, but Jack declined.

After supper, Jack was eager to set out upon his hunt after news-items.

"I mustn't let a soul know what I'm doing," he said to Mary. "We'll see whether I can't find out as much as the Inquirer's man can."

He hurried away from the house, but soon ceased to walk fast and began to peer sharply about.

"There's a new building going up," he said, as he turned a corner; "I'll find out about it."

So he did, but it was only "by the way"; he really had a plan, and the next step took him to Mr. Prodger's livery-stable.

"Well, Ogden," said Prodger, when he came in. "That bay team has earned eight dollars and fifty cents to-day. I'm glad you brought them over. How long are you going to be in town?"

"I can't tell," said Jack. "I'm staying at Murdoch's."

"The editor's? He's a good fellow, but the Eagle is slow. All dry fodder. No vinegar. No pickles. He needs waking up. Tell him about Link's bridge!"

That was a good beginning, and Jack soon knew just how high the water had risen in the creek at Mertonville; how high it had ever risen before; how many logs had been saved; how near Sam Hutchins and three other men came to being carried over the dam; and what people talked about doing to prevent another flood, and other matters of interest. Then he went among the stable-men, who had been driving all day, and they gave him a number of items. Jack relied mainly upon his memory, but he soon gathered such a budget of facts that he had to go to the public reading-room and work a while with pencil and paper, for fear of forgetting his treasures.

Out he went again, and it was curious how he managed to slip in among knots of idlers, and set them to talking, and make them tell all they knew.

"I'm getting the news," he said to himself; "only there isn't much worth the time." After a few moments he exclaimed, "This is the darkest, meanest part of all Mertonville!"

It was the oldest part of the village, near the canal and the railway station, and many of the houses were dilapidated. Jack was thinking that Mary might write something about improving such a neglected, squalid quarter, when he heard a shriek from the door of a house near by.

"Robbers!—thieves!—fire!—murder!—rob-bers!—villains!"

It was the voice of a woman, and had a crack in it that made it sound as if two voices were trying to choke each other.

"Robbers!" shouted Jack springing forward, just as two very short men dashed through the gate and disappeared in the darkness.

If they were robbers they were likely to get away, for they ran well.

Jack Ogden did not run very far. He heard other footsteps. There were people coming from the opposite direction, but he paid no attention to them, until just as he was passing the gate.

Then he felt a hand on his left shoulder, and another hand on his right shoulder, and suddenly he found himself lying flat on his back upon the sidewalk.

"Hold him, boys!"

"We've got him!"

"Hold him down!"

"Tie him! We needn't gag him. Tie him tight! We've got him!"

There were no less than four men, and two held his legs, while the other two pinioned his arms, all the while threatening him with terrible things if he resisted.

It was in vain to struggle, and every time he tried to speak they silenced him. Besides, he was too much astonished to talk easily, and all the while an unceasing torrent of abuse was poured upon him, over the gate, by the voice that had given the alarm.

"We've got him, Mrs. McNamara! He can't get away this time. The young villain!"

"They were goin' to brek into me house, indade," said Mrs. McNamara. "The murdherin' vagabones!"

"What'll we do with him now, boys?" asked one of his captors. "I don't know where to take him—do you, Deacon Abrams?"

"What's your name, you young thief?" sternly demanded another.

Jack had begun to think. One of his first thoughts was that a gang of desperate robbers had seized him. The next idea was, that he never met four more stupid-looking men in Mertonville, nor anywhere else. He resolved that he would not tell his name, to have it printed in the Inquirer, and so made no answer.

"That's the way of thim," said Mrs. McNamara. "He's game, and he won't pache. The joodge'll have to mak him spake. Ye'd betther lock him up, and kape him till day."

"That's it, Deacon Abrams."

"That's just it," said the man spoken to. "We can lock him up in the back room of my house, while we go and find the constable."

Away they went, guarding their prisoner on the way as if they were afraid of him.

They soon came to the dwelling of Deacon Abrams.

It was hard for Jack Ogden, but he bore it like a young Mohawk Indian. It would have been harder if it had not been so late, and if more of the household had been there to see him. As it was, doors opened, candles flared, old voices and young voices asked questions, a baby cried, and then Jack heard a very sharp voice.

"Sakes alive, Deacon! You can't have that ruffian here! We shall all be murdered!"

"Only till I go and find the constable, Jerusha," said the deacon, pleadingly. "We'll lock him in the back room, and Barney and Pettigrew'll stand guard at the gate, with clubs, while Smith and I are gone."

There was another protest, and two more children began to cry, but Jack was led on into his prison-cell.

It was a comfortable room, containing a bed and a chair. There was real ingenuity in the way they secured Jack Ogden. They backed a chair against a bedpost and made him sit down, and then they tied the chair, and the wicked young robber in it, to the post.

"There!" said Deacon Abrams. "He can't get away now!" and in a moment more Jack heard the key turn in the lock, and he was left in the dark, alone and bound,—a prisoner under a charge of burglary.

"I never thought of this thing happening to me," he said to himself, gritting his teeth and squirming on his chair. "It's pretty hard. May be I can get away, though. They thought they pulled the ropes tight, but then—"

The hempen fetters really hurt him a little, but it was partly because of the chair.

"May be I can kick it out from under me," he said to himself, "and loosen the ropes."

Out it came, after a tug, and then Jack could stand up.

"I might climb on the bed, now the ropes are loose," he said, "and lift the loops over the post. Then I could crawl out of 'em."

He was excited, and worked quickly. In a moment he was standing in the middle of the room, with only his hands tied behind him.

"I can cut that cord," he thought, "if I can find a nail in the wall."

He easily found several, and one of them had a rough edge on the head of it, and after a few minutes of hard sawing, the cord was severed.

"It's easy to saw twine," said he. "Now for the next thing."

He went to the window and looked out into the darkness.

"I'm over the roof of the kitchen," he said, "and that tree's close to it."

Up went the window—slowly, carefully, noiselessly—and out crept Jack upon that roof. It was steep, but he stole along the ridge. Now he could reach the tree.

"It's an apple-tree," he said. "I can reach that longest branch, and swing off, and go down it hand over hand."

At an ordinary time, few boys would have thought it could be done, and Jack had to gather all his courage to make the attempt; but he slid down and reached for that small, frail limb, from his perilous perch in the gutter of the roof.

"Now!" said Jack to himself.

Off he went with a quick grasp, and then another lower along the branch, before it had time to break, but his third grip was on a larger limb, below, and he believed he was safe.

"I must be quick!" he said. "Somebody is striking a light in that room!"

Hand over hand for a moment, and then he was astride of a limb. Soon he was going down the trunk; and then the window (which he had closed behind him) went up, and he heard Deacon Abrams exclaiming:

"He couldn't have got out this way, could he? Stop thief! Stop thief!"

"Let 'em chase!" muttered Jack, as his feet reached the ground. "This is the liveliest kind of news-item!"

Jack vaulted over the nearest fence, ran across a garden, climbed over another fence, ran through a lot, and came out into a street on the other side of the square.

"I've got a good start, now," he thought, "but I'll keep right on. They don't expect me at Murdoch's to-night. If I can only get to the Eagle office! Nobody'll hunt for me there!"

He heard the sound of feet, at that moment, around the next corner. Open went the nearest gate, and in went Jack, and before long he was scaling more fences.

"It's just like playing 'Hare-and-Hounds,'" remarked Jack, as he once more came out into a street. "Now for the Eagle, and it won't do to run. I'm safe."

He heard some running and shouting after that, however, and he did not really feel secure until he was on his bed, with the doors below locked and barred.

"Now they can hunt all night!" he said to himself, laughing. "I've made plenty of news for Mary."

So she thought next morning; and the last "news-item" brought out the color in her cheeks and the brightness in her eyes.

"I'll write it out," she said, "just as if you were the real robber, and we'll print it!"

"Of course," said Jack; "but I'd better keep shady for a day or so. I wish I was on my way to New York!"

"Seems to me as if you were," said Mary. "They won't come here after you. The paper's nearly full, now, and it'll be out to-morrow!"

Mr. Murdoch would have been gratified to see how Mary and Jack worked that day. Even Mr. Black and the type-setters worked with energy, and so did Mr. Bones, and there was no longer any doubt that the Eagle would be printed on time. Mr. Murdoch felt better the moment he was told by Mary, at tea-time, that she had found editing no trouble at all. He was glad, he said, that all had been so quiet, and that nobody had called at the editor's office, and that people did not know he was sick. As to that, however, Mr. Bones had not told Mary how much he and Mr. Black had done to protect her from intrusion. They had been like a pair of watch-dogs, and it was hardly possible for any outsider to pass them. As for Jack, he was not seen outside of the Eagle all that day.

"If any of Deacon Abram's posse should come in," he remarked to Mary, "they wouldn't know me with all the ink that's on my face."

"Mother would have to look twice," laughed Mary. "Don't I wish I knew what people will think of the paper!"

She did not find out at once, even on Thursday. Jack had the engine going on time, and as fast as papers were printed, the distribution of them followed. It was a very creditable Eagle, but Mary blushed when she read in print the account Mr. Murdoch had written of the doings in Crofield.

"They'll think Jack's a hero," she said, "and what will they think of me?—and what will Miss Glidden say? But then he has complimented her."

Jack, too, was much pleased to read the vivid accounts she had written of the capture and escape of the daring young burglar who had broken into the house of Mrs. McNamara, and of the falling of Link's bridge. Neither of them, however, had an idea of how some articles in the paper would affect other people. Before noon, there was such a rush for Eagles, at the front office, that Mr. Black got out another