Luck and Pluck

John shook his head.

"I can't go back."

"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, changing his tone; "you think I bear malice for the little accident that happened yesterday. I don't mind confessing that it made me feel ugly when I fell into that tub of hot water. You wouldn't have liked it yourself, would you?"

"No, I don't think I should," said John, smiling in spite of himself, as the image of Mr. Huxter's downfall rose before him.

"You can't blame me for feeling mad. But I know it was an accident, and I forgive you. You know it's your duty to come back."

"I don't know about that," said John.

"Your stepmother made the arrangement for your good, and it's your duty to obey her."

"Mrs. Oakley has not treated me as I had a right to expect," said John. "There was no reason for her sending me away from home."

"She thought it best for you," said Mr. Huxter, condescending to reason with the boy, who was beyond his reach.

"She took me from school, though she knew that my father wished me to remain there, and get ready for college."

"She thinks you know enough already. You know more than Ben."

"Ben doesn't care for study. He could have prepared for college if he had wished."

"Well, perhaps you're right," said Mr. Huxter, with wily diplomacy. "I didn't see it in that light before. If your father wanted you to go to college, it's all right that you should go. I'll write to my sister as soon as we get home, and tell her how you feel about it. So just come ashore, and we'll talk it over as we go home."

Mr. Huxter's words were smooth enough, but they did not correspond very well with his tone, when the conference began. John detected his insincerity, and understood very well the cause of his apparent mildness.

"I shall be glad to have you write to Mrs. Oakley," he said; "but there won't be any need of my going home with you."

"How can you find out what she writes me?" asked Mr. Huxter, subduing his wrath.

"If Mrs. Oakley is willing to have me go home and attend the academy, as I have been accustomed to do, she can let Squire Selwyn know it, and he will get word to me."

"Does he know you are running away?" demanded Mr. Huxter, frowning.

"No, he does not; but I shall tell him."

"Come, Oakley," said Mr. Huxter, persuasively, "you know this is all wrong,—your running away, I mean. I don't want you to stay at my house if you don't like it, of course, but I don't like to have it said that you ran away. Just come ashore and go home with me, and to-morrow I'll take the responsibility of sending you home to my sister. I can write her that I think she hasn't done the right thing by you. That's fair, isn't it?"

John felt that it would be fair; but unfortunately he had no faith in Mr. Huxter's sincerity. He had seen too much of him for that. He could not help thinking of the spider's gracious invitation to the fly, and he did not mean to incur the fly's fate by imitating his folly.

"I don't think it will be wise for me to go back," said John.

"I wish I could get at you," said Mr. Huxter to himself.

"My sister will be very angry when she hears of your running away," he said, aloud.

"Yes," said John, "I suppose she will."

"You must take care not to provoke her. You are dependent upon her."

"That I am not!" said John, proudly.

"Didn't your father leave her all the property?"

"So it seems," said John, wincing.

"Then how can you live without her help?"

"I am old enough to earn my own living," answered John.

"Come, Oakley, don't be foolish. What's the use of working for your living, when, by behaving right, you can have a home without?"

Mr. Huxter seemed to forget that he had intended to set John at work in his shoe-shop as soon as he could obtain a supply of work.

"I am not afraid to work," said John. "What I dislike is to be dependent. I am not dependent upon Mrs. Oakley, for the property which my father left was partly intended for my benefit, even if it was not willed to me. If Mrs. Oakley intends me to feel dependent, and breaks up all my plans, I will go to work for myself, and make my own way in the world."

"Very fine talk; but you'll repent it within a week."

"No," said John; "I have made up my mind, and I shall do as I have determined."

"Then you won't come ashore?" demanded Mr. Huxter, his tone changing.

"No, I will not," said John.

"If I ever get hold of you, I'll make you smart for this," said Mr. Huxter, now wholly throwing off the mask which for prudential motives he had worn.

"I don't mean that you shall get hold of me," said John, coolly. And with a sweep of the oars, he sent the boat further from the shore.

Mr. Huxter was beside himself with rage, but perfectly powerless to do any harm. Nothing is more ludicrous than such a spectacle. He screamed himself hoarse, uttering threats of various kinds to John, who, instead of being frightened, took it all very coolly, dipping his oars tranquilly in the water.

"There's one way of getting at you," said Huxter, suddenly picking up a good-sized stone and flinging it at the boat.

If he had been a good marksman the stone might have hit John, for the boat was within range; but it veered aside and struck the water. Admonished of a new danger, John took several rapid strokes, and was quickly free from this peril. Mr. Huxter shook his fist wrathfully at the young boatman, and was considering if there was any way of getting at him, when an unexpected mischance called his attention in another direction. Looking towards the road, he found that his horse had managed to break loose, and was now heading for home.

"Whoa!" he shouted, as he ran towards the retreating vehicle, forgetting that his voice would hardly reach a third of a mile.

Certainly this was not one of Mr. Huxter's lucky days. John was left master of the situation.

CHAPTER XXVI.

ONE DISAPPOINTMENT FOLLOWS ANOTHER

At the close of the last chapter we left John floating at his ease in a row-boat, while his pursuer was compelled, by the sudden departure of his horse, to give up his immediate purpose, and chase the flying animal. It was very much against his will that he left John; but the horse, as he knew, was the best in the stable, and valued at not less than three hundred dollars,—a sum which he would be unable to make up. Besides this, the chaise might be injured.

"Curse my luck!" exclaimed Mr. Huxter, as he glanced back at John, with a baffled look. "Every thing turns against me. But I'll come back after the young rascal as soon as I catch the horse."

But, unfortunately for Mr. Huxter, it proved that two legs were no match for four. When he got to the road, the horse was half a mile ahead. In spite of his haste, he was obliged to pause a moment and recover his breath, which the unusual exercise of running had exhausted.