Try and Trust Or Abner Holden's Bound Boy Part 24

"You had better go away, Mr. Holden, or he may go at you again."

A low growl from the dog whom he held by the collar re-enforced this suggestion, and Abner, uttering threats both against the dog and his master, strode out of the cabin and bent his steps homeward.

As he entered the kitchen, the housekeeper turned, and, noticing his torn coat, exclaimed, "Good gracious, Mr. Holden, what's happened to you? How came your coat so badly torn?"

"It was a dog," muttered Abner, who did not care to be questioned.

Mrs. Bickford supposed he must have taken off the coat, and the dog had torn it as it lay upon the ground.

"What a pity!" she exclaimed. "Whose dog was it?"

"Alfred Martin's. I'll make Martin pay for the coat. He has no right to keep such a brute."

"You must be hungry, Mr. Holden."

"Yes, get me something as quick as possible."

"Have you seen anything of Herbert?" asked the housekeeper.

"No," snapped Abner.

This was a falsehood, of course, but he felt rather ashamed to confess that he had seen Herbert, and that the latter had got the better of him.

Mrs. Bickford perceived that he was out of humor, and did not press the question. She concluded that he was angry because his quest had been unsuccessful.

CHAPTER XVI

JUST TOO LATE

Leaving Abner Holden bound in his cabin, Ralph led Herbert, by a short path, out of the woods.

"Your best course," he said, "will be to take the cars for Columbus at Vernon. At Columbus you will go to Wheeling, and from there, over the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad to Baltimore, and thence to New York. But all this will cost money."

"I have money," said Herbert.

"How much?"

"About fifteen dollars."

"Is that all?"

"Is it not enough to carry me to New York?"

"Hardly. Besides, when you get there, how will you get along? Have you any relations in the city?"

"Yes, an uncle."

"Then you will go to him?"

"No," said Herbert, hastily.

"Why not?"

"He does not care to see me. Shall I tell you what sort of a letter he wrote to Dr. Kent about me?"

"Yes, tell me."

Herbert, in indignant language, which correctly represented his feelings, gave the substance of the letter, which is already known to us.

"I shall not feel easy," he said, "until I am able to return the ten dollars which my uncle sent me. I am not willing to remain under obligations to one who cares so little for me."

"I think you are proud," said Ralph, bending his eyes upon the lad's glowing countenance.

"Perhaps I am," said Herbert; "but is it not a proper pride?"

"I cannot say no," answered Ralph; "but would you feel the same about incurring obligations to a friend?"

"No," said Herbert; "that would be different."

"I am glad to hear you say so, for I am going to ask you to accept help from me."

To Herbert's surprise, Ralph drew out a small bag, originally intended for shot, and drew therefrom five golden coins, of five dollars each.

"Take them," he said, simply.

Herbert hesitated, while his face indicated extreme surprise.

"I thought--" he commenced, and then paused.

"You thought me poor," said Ralph, finis.h.i.+ng the sentence for him. "Is it not so?"

"Yes," said Herbert.

"Most people think so," said Ralph. "But it was not poverty that drove me from the busy world to this solitude. Rich or poor, I had money enough for my wants. Here I have little use for money. To me it is a useless and valueless thing. You need have no hesitation in taking this.

But on second thoughts, I had better give you more." And he was about to draw forth more.

"No, no," said Herbert, hastily. "It is quite sufficient. You are very, very kind. Some time I hope to repay you."

"No," said Ralph. "Do not talk of repayment. Let me have the pleasure of giving you this small sum."

"How kind you are," said Herbert, impulsively, "and to a stranger."

"Yet my obligation to you is greater than yours to me," said Ralph.

"How can that be?" asked the boy, raising his eyes to Ralph's grave face.