Rufus and Rose; Or, The Fortunes of Rough and Ready

"Yes. William shall have his fifty dollars clear to start on when he gets there."

Miss Manning had nearly got through with the morning lessons, when a quick step was heard ascending the stairs two or three at a time. Rose let drop the arithmetic, from which she had been reciting, and exclaimed, in glad excitement, "That's Rufie, I know it is!"

The door opened, and she was proved to be correct.

"Where've you been, Rufie?" exclaimed his sister, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Mr. Martin carried me off, Rosy."

"I knew he would; but you said you was too big."

"He was smarter than I thought for. Sit down, Rosy, and I'll tell you all about it. Were you anxious about me, Miss Manning?"

"Yes, Rufus. I don't mind saying now that I was, though I would not confess it to Rose, who fretted enough for you without."

So the story had to be told again, and was listened to, I need not say, with breathless interest.

"You won't let him catch you again, will you, Rufie?" said Rose, anxiously, when it was finished.

"Not if I know myself, Rosy," answered Rufus. "That can't be done twice. But I've got to be going. I've got ever so much to do. I'll be back to dinner at six."

He hastened downstairs, and rejoined Humpy, who had been waiting for him in the street.

CHAPTER XXV.

UNPLEASANT DISCOVERIES

Smith did not go home immediately. He intended to do so, but happened to think of an errand, and this delayed him for an hour or two.

When he entered the house, he looked around for his errand-boy, but looked in vain.

"Humpy!" he called out in a voice which could be heard all over the house.

There was no answer. Smith, who was not remarkable for patience, began to grow angry.

"Very likely the young rascal is in his room," he said to himself. "I'll stir him up."

He took the whip and ascended the stairs two or three at a time. Arrived in the attic, he peered into Humpy's room, but, to his disappointment, saw nobody.

"The little villain got tired of waiting, and went out, thinking I couldn't find him out," he muttered. "He shall have a taste of the whip when he comes back."

He went downstairs more slowly than he ascended. He was considerably irritated, and in a state that required an object to vent his anger upon. Under these circumstances his prisoner naturally occurred to him. He had the proper key in his pocket, and, stopping on the second floor, he opened the door of the chamber in which our hero had been confined. His anger may be imagined when he found it untenanted. It was not very dignified, but Smith began to stamp in his vexation, and lash with his whip an unoffending chair in which Rufus ought to have been seated.

"I wish it was that young villain!" muttered Smith, scowling at the chair, and lashing it harder. "I'd teach him to run away! I'd make him howl!"

Smith was considerably discomposed. Things were going decidedly against him. Besides, the escape of Rufus might entail serious consequences, if he should give information to the police about the place of his captivity. A visit from these officials was an honor which Smith felt disposed respectfully, but firmly, to decline. Unfortunately, however, policemen are not sensitive, and are very apt to intrude where they are not wanted. A visit to Smith's abode might lead to unpleasant discoveries, as he very well knew, and he could not easily decide what course it would be best for him to pursue. He inferred at once that Humpy had been bought over, and had released the prisoner, otherwise he would, undoubtedly, have detected or frustrated our hero's attempt to escape. This did not inspire very amiable feelings towards Humpy, whom it would have yielded him great satisfaction to get into his power. But Humpy had disappeared, and that satisfaction was not to be had.

Mingled with Smith's anger was a feeling of surprise. Humpy had been a good while in his employ, and he had reposed entire confidence in his fidelity. He might have continued to do so but for the brutal assault upon the boy recorded in a previous chapter. He did not think of this, however, or guess the effect it had produced on the mind of the deformed errand-boy.

"I think I had better get out of the city a week or two till this blows over," thought Smith. "I guess I'll take the afternoon train for Philadelphia."

This was a wise resolution; but Smith made one mistake. He ought to have put it into effect at once. At that very moment information was lodged at the office of police, which threatened serious consequences to him; but of this he was ignorant. He had no idea that Rufus would act so promptly.

In spite of his anger Smith was hungry. His morning walk had given him an excellent appetite, and he began to think about dinner. As, on account of the unlawful occupation in which he was engaged, he did not think it prudent to employ a cook, who might gossip about his affairs, he generally devolved the task of preparing the dinner upon Humpy, whom he had taught to cook eggs, broil beef-steak, make coffee, fry potatoes, and perform other simple culinary duties. Now that Humpy was gone, he was obliged to do this work himself.

He looked into the pantry, and found half-a-dozen eggs, and a slice of steak. These he proceeded to cook. He had nearly finished his unaccustomed task when the door opened, and Martin returned, with his nose a little redder than usual, and his general appearance somewhat disordered by haste.

"What brings you here so soon?" asked Smith, in surprise. "What's the matter?"

"I came near gettin' nabbed; that's what's the matter," said Martin.

"How did that happen?"

"I went into a cigar-store near the ferry in Jersey City," said Martin, "and asked for a couple of cigars,—twenty-cent ones. I took 'em, and handed in one of your ten-dollar bills. The chap looked hard at it, and then at me, and said he'd have to go out and get it changed. I looked across the street, and saw him goin' to the police-office. I thought I'd better leave, and made for the ferry. The boat was just goin'. When we'd got a little ways out, I saw the cigar man standin' on the drop with a copp at his elbow."

"You'd better not go to Jersey City again," said Smith.

"I don't mean to," said Martin. "Have you got enough dinner for me? I'm as hungry as a dog."

"Yes, there's dinner enough for two, and that's all there is to eat it."

Something significant in his employer's tone struck Martin.

"There's the boy upstairs," he said.

"There isn't any boy upstairs."

"You haven't let him go?" queried Martin, staring open-mouthed at the speaker.

"No, he got away while I was out this morning,—the more fool I for leaving him."

"But there was Humpy. How did the boy get away without his seeing him?"

"Humpy's gone too."

"You don't say!" ejaculated Martin.

"Yes, I do."

"What you goin' to do about it?" inquired Martin, hopelessly.

"I'll half kill either of the little rascals when I get hold of them," said Smith, spitefully.

"I'd give something out of my own pocket to get that undootiful son of mine back," chimed in Martin.

"I'll say this for him," said Smith, "he's a good sight smarter than his father."

"I always was unlucky," grumbled Martin. "I aint been treated right."