Luck and Pluck

"I don't think I shall need to trouble you, David," said John.

"Whereabouts are you going?"

"I have an aunt living about fifty miles away. I shall go there for the present."

"Well, I'm sorry you're going to leave Jackson. I mean I'm sorry I shan't see you any more. Can't you write to me now and then?"

"I would but for one thing," said John.

"What's that?"

"I am afraid the letters would be noticed by the postmaster, and put Mr. Huxter on the track. I don't want to have any more to do with him."

"There's something in that. I didn't think of it. At any rate I hope we'll meet again some time."

"So do I, David. You have been very kind to me, and I shall not forget it. I don't know what lies before me, but I shall keep up good courage, hoping that things will come out right in the end."

"That's the best way. But I am afraid I must bid you good-by here. I turn up that side road. I suppose you are going straight ahead."

"Yes."

"I wish I could carry you further."

"It's been quite a help what I have already ridden."

"Whoa, Dan!" said David, and the horse stopped.

"Good-by, David," said John, as he jumped out of the wagon.

"Good-by, John. Then you haven't any message to send back to Mr. Huxter?"

"Not to him," said John; "but," he added, after a moment's thought, "if you happen to see Mrs. Huxter, just let her know that you saw me, and that I am grateful for all she tried to do for me."

"You're sure she won't tell her husband?"

"No; she acted like a good friend. I would like to have said good-by; but it wouldn't do."

"All right, I'll remember what you say. Good-by, old fellow."

"Good-by, David."

John estimated that he was now nearly ten miles from his starting-place. The sun was already shining brightly, and it promised to be a fine day. Our hero began to feel hungry. The fresh morning air had given him an appetite.

CHAPTER XXIV.

JOHN IS PURSUED

Mr. Huxter felt better after a night's rest. In fact, his injuries had not been as serious as he wished Mrs. Huxter to suppose. The truth is, he was a coward, and even a small sickness terrified him. But with the morning, finding himself very little inconvenienced by his mishap of the day previous, his courage returned, and with it his determination to wreak condign vengeance on John.

"How do you feel, Mr. Huxter?" asked his wife.

"I feel like whipping that young scamp, Oakley," said her husband.

"He has done nothing that deserves punishment, I am sure."

"Of course, scalding me is a very slight affair, in your opinion; but I happen to think differently," he said, with a sneer.

He drew on his pantaloons as he spoke, and seizing a leather strap, left the room.

"Oh, dear," sighed Mrs. Huxter, "I do wish Mr. Huxter wouldn't be so violent. I don't see what can have turned him so against that poor boy. I am sure he's very polite and gentlemanly."

She wanted to say more, in the hope of dissuading her husband from his harsh resolution, but she dared not. She went to the foot of the attic stairs to listen, fearing that she would hear the sounds of an altercation. She saw Mr. Huxter draw the bolt and enter the chamber, but she was quite unprepared to see him burst forth furiously a minute later, exclaiming in a rage:—

"He's gone,—the young rascal has escaped."

"Escaped?" repeated Mrs. Huxter, bewildered, for she could not conceive how John could escape from a third-story room when the door was bolted.

"Ha, are you there?" demanded her husband. "What do you know of this?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Nothing at all," said Mrs. Huxter. "I don't see how he could have got away."

"You'll see plain enough if you come upstairs," said her husband. "He got out of the window."

"Jumped out?" gasped Mrs. Huxter.

"Slid down by the bed-cord, you fool!" said her husband, who was too angry to be polite.

"I declare!" exclaimed Mrs. Huxter, in a tone indicating her surprise.

"Did you advise him to run away?" asked Mr. Huxter.

"Of course not."

"And did you know nothing of his going? Didn't he tell you?" he asked, suspiciously.

"Not a word. But I'm glad he's gone,—I really am."

"You're glad we've lost six dollars a week, are you?" growled her husband. "You'd like to see us starvin', I suppose. But you needn't be in such a hurry to be glad. I'll have him back yet, and then if he doesn't get the tallest kind of a flogging, that'll sicken him of running away forever, my name is not Huxter."

"You'd better let him go, husband. Don't go after him."

"You'll oblige me by minding your business, Mrs. Huxter. I shall go after him, as soon as I have eaten breakfast."

Meanwhile John, feeling very hungry, as was stated at the close of the last chapter, determined to get a breakfast at the first inn on the road. He had only to walk a mile further, when he came to a country inn, with its long piazza, and stable-yard alongside. It had a comfortable look, suggestive of good old-fashioned hospitality.

John walked through the front entrance, chancing to meet the landlord.

"Can I have some breakfast?" he asked.