Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience

The next morning Carl continued his tramp, refusing the offer of continued employment on the same terms. He was bent on pursuing his journey, though he did not know exactly where he would fetch up in the end.

At twelve o’clock that day he found himself in the outskirts of a town, with the same uncomfortable appetite that he had felt the day before, but with no hotel or restaurant anywhere near. There was, however, a small house, the outer door of which stood conveniently open. Through the open window, Carl saw a table spread as if for dinner, and he thought it probable that he could arrange to become a boarder for a single meal. He knocked at the door, but no one came. He shouted out: “Is anybody at home?” and received no answer. He went to a small barn just outside and peered in, but no one was to be seen.

What should he do? He was terribly hungry, and the sight of the food on the table was tantalizing.

“I’ll go in, as the door is open,” he decided, “and sit down to the table and eat. Somebody will be along before I get through, and I’ll pay whatever is satisfactory, for eat I must.”

He entered, seated himself, and ate heartily. Still no one appeared.

“I don’t want to go off without paying,” thought Carl. “I’ll see if I can find somebody.”

He opened the door into the kitchen, but it was deserted. Then he opened that of a small bedroom, and started back in terror and dismay.

There suspended from a hook—a man of middle age was hanging, with his head bent forward, his eyes wide open, and his tongue protruding from his mouth!

CHAPTER VIII

CARL FALLS UNDER SUSPICION

To a person of any age such a sight as that described at the close of the last chapter might well have proved startling. To a boy like Carl it was simply overwhelming. It so happened that he had but twice seen a dead person, and never a victim of violence. The peculiar circumstances increased the effect upon his mind.

He placed his hand upon the man’s face, and found that he was still warm. He could have been dead but a short time.

“What shall I do?” thought Carl, perplexed. “This is terrible!”

Then it flashed upon him that as he was alone with the dead man suspicion might fall upon him as being concerned in what might be called a murder.

“I had better leave here at once,” he reflected. “I shall have to go away without paying for my meal.”

He started to leave the house, but had scarcely reached the door when two persons—a man and a woman—entered. Both looked at Carl with suspicion.

“What are you doing here?” asked the man.

“I beg your pardon,” answered Carl; “I was very hungry, and seeing no one about, took the liberty to sit down at the table and eat. I am willing to pay for my dinner if you will tell me how much it amounts to.”

“Wasn’t my husband here?” asked the woman.

“I—I am afraid something has happened to your husband,” faltered Carl.

“What do you mean?”

Carl silently pointed to the chamber door. The woman opened it, and uttered a loud shriek.

“Look here, Walter!” she cried.

Her companion quickly came to her side.

“My husband is dead!” cried the woman; “basely murdered, and there,” pointing fiercely to Carl, “there stands the murderer!”

“Madam, you cannot believe this!” said Carl, naturally agitated.

“What have you to say for yourself?” demanded the man, suspiciously.

“I only just saw—your husband,” continued Carl, addressing himself to the woman. “I had finished my meal, when I began to search for some one whom I could pay, and so opened this door into the room beyond, when I saw—him hanging there!”

“Don’t believe him, the red-handed murderer!” broke out the woman, fiercely. “He is probably a thief; he killed my poor husband, and then sat down like a cold-blooded villain that he is, and gorged himself.”

Things began to look very serious for poor Carl.

“Your husband is larger and stronger than myself,” he urged, desperately. “How could I overpower him?”

“It looks reasonable, Maria,” said the man. “I don’t see how the boy could have killed Mr. Brown, or lifted him upon the hook, even if he did not resist.”

“He murdered him, I tell you, he murdered him!” shrieked the woman, who seemed bereft of reason. “I call upon you to arrest him.”

“I am not a constable, Maria.”

“Then tie him so he cannot get away, and go for a constable. I wouldn’t feel safe with him in the house, unless he were tied fast. He might hang me!”

Terrible as the circumstances were, Carl felt an impulse to laugh. It seemed absurd to hear himself talked of in this way.

“Tie me if you like!” he said. “I am willing to wait here till some one comes who has a little common sense. Just remember that I am only a boy, and haven’t the strength of a full-grown man!”

“The boy is right, Maria! It’s a foolish idea of yours.”

“I call upon you to tie the villain!” insisted the woman.

“Just as you say! Can you give me some rope?”

From a drawer Mrs. Brown drew a quantity of strong cord, and the man proceeded to tie Carl’s hands.

“Tie his feet, too, Walter!”

“Even if you didn’t tie me, I would promise to remain here. I don’t want anybody to suspect me of such a thing,” put in Carl.

“How artful he is!” said Mrs. Brown. “Tie him strong, Walter.”

The two were left alone, Carl feeling decidedly uncomfortable. The newly-made widow laid her head upon the table and moaned, glancing occasionally at the body of her husband, as it still hung suspended from the hook.

“Oh, William, I little expected to find you dead!” she groaned. “I only went to the store to buy a pound of salt, and when I come back, I find you cold and still, the victim of a young ruffian! How could you be so wicked?” she demanded fiercely of Carl.

“I have told you that I had nothing to do with your husband’s death, madam.”

“Who killed him, then?” she cried.

“I don’t know. He must have committed suicide.”

“Don’t think you are going to escape in that way. I won’t rest till I see you hung!”