Seek and Find Part 13

"You have been very mild and gentle to me."

"Well, I was mad, Ernest," said he, with something like a smile. "If you will tell me where my horse is, we will call it all square."

"I told uncle Amos where he is. I left him down in Welch's Lane."

"Where is that?"

"Your father knows where it is. His horse is harnessed, and he will drive you down there," I replied, hoping they would adopt my plan, and thus enable me to enter my chamber and reclaim the valuables I had left there.

"Very well; I will do so. I will help you put the plank across the brook before I go," he replied.

"No, I thank you. I can put it across myself when I get ready to do so,"

I answered, cautiously.

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm not afraid of anything; but I'm not going to put my head in the wildcat's mouth."

"I won't touch you."

"I don't intend you shall. Go and get your horse, and I will take care of myself."

"Well, I will."

He turned, and walked up the path towards the cottage. Of course I had no faith in his word, and I determined to keep at a respectful distance from him. When he had disappeared in the grove beyond the brook, I raised the plank on one end, and then dropped it across the stream, restoring the bridge to its original position. I crossed the brook, and walked towards the house. When I came in sight of it, the buggy was leaving the yard. I concluded Tom and his father had really adopted my suggestion, and were going to Welch's Lane for the horse and chaise. But I was too wary to advance without reconnoitring the ground.

"Your breakfast is all ready, Ernest," said old Betsey, the housekeeper, as I approached the back door.

"Where are my uncle and the gentleman?" I asked.

"They told me they were going down to Parkville, and I need not wait breakfast for them."

I went into the dining-room and sat down at the table, as much for the purpose of getting something for Kate as to eat myself. I was scarcely seated, when I was thrown over backwards, chair and all, and found myself lying on the floor, held down by Tom Thornton.

CHAPTER X.

IN WHICH ERNEST STRIKES A HEAVY BLOW FOR LIBERTY.

"DEAR me! Good gracious! Why!" screamed Betsey, when Tom Thornton threw me upon the floor. "I thought you'd gone off with Mr. Thornton. What in the world are you going to do? Let the poor boy alone!"

Betsey did not think I was having fair play, and old and stiff as she was, she rushed up to Tom, apparently with the intention of interfering.

"Out of the way, old woman!" growled Tom. "Go and get me a rope."

"A rope! I won't get you any rope! And if you don't let the poor boy alone, I'll go out and call the neighbors," replied Betsey, bustling about the room as though she intended to do some desperate thing.

For my own part, I felt that it would be useless for me to resist. Tom was strong, and I was wholly in his power--taken by surprise, and at a disadvantage which I could not overcome. I lay still, therefore, and thus saved some hard knocks.

"What are you going to do with the poor boy? He shan't be treated so!"

persisted Betsey, who had not talked so much before for ten years.

"Be still, old woman! He's a bad boy. He stole my horse, and ran away with a little girl. I shall not hurt him if he behaves himself," replied Tom, who appeared to be afraid she would call in some person to take my part.

"You act like a brute. You treat him worse than an ox," continued Betsey.

"Now get up, sir," said Tom to me, still retaining his hold upon my coat collar.

He helped me to my feet. Being vanquished, I had nothing to say, and I uttered no complaint. When I rose, he tied my hands behind me with his handkerchief. I submitted because it would have been folly for me to resist; but I intended to watch my opportunity, and submit no longer than necessity compelled me to do so. My brutal conqueror took me by the collar, led me into the hall, and thence into the cellar. In one corner there was a kind of closet part.i.tioned off with brick walls, which had been built for a milk-room; but as my uncle kept but one cow, it was seldom used. There was no window in it, and a more damp, dark, and disagreeable dungeon it would be difficult for a boy of sixteen to imagine. It had a heavy wooden door, and altogether the place looked as hopeless as it was gloomy.

Tom led me up to the door and thrust me in, with my hands still tied behind me. The only ray of hope I could obtain was derived from the fact that there was no lock on the door.

"Now, Mr. Ernest Thornton, it is my turn," said Tom, as he partially closed the door of my cell, and gazed in upon me. "You are a smart boy, but you have rather overdone it this time. I told you in the beginning that I was not to be trifled with. You begin to believe what I said by this time. Have you anything to say before I close the door?"

"No," I replied.

"A couple of days in this place will bring you to your senses," added Tom, malignantly.

I made no reply. I did not feel like talking. I was busy thinking how I should recover the ground I had lost. I saw that the cellar wall was not laid in mortar, except two or three feet at the top and above the ground. I had already made up my mind that this wall would begin to come down as soon as I was left alone.

While I was looking at the situation, old Betsey--whom I had never suspected of having the least interest in me--tottered down the cellar stairs, and protested that I should not be confined in such a place. Tom told her it was her employer's orders, and drove her out of the cellar.

I was satisfied that the old housekeeper was not a party to the deceit by which I had been lured into the trap. My uncle told her that he and Tom were going to Parkville after the horse, as Betsey explained to me afterwards, bidding her call me to breakfast, that I might not be late to school. This was Tom's plan to insnare me, and during this time he was in the cellar, preparing the dungeon for my reception. My uncle and old Jerry had gone in the buggy after Tom's horse and chaise.

"Ernest, I am willing to make terms with you now," said Tom, after he had got rid of Betsey. "I came over here after that girl. You say you know where she is. If you will tell me where I can find her, I will not shut you up. Will you do it?"

"No!" I answered, as decidedly as I could speak the word.

"Think well of it. If I can't find her with your help, I shall find her without it."

"Perhaps you will."

"The Hale boy was with you. I shall have him arrested at once by the sheriff."

"Bob Hale don't know where the girl is. If he did, he wouldn't tell.

When you arrest him, he can tell a good story about Mrs. Loraine's motherly care of Kate."

Tom bit his lips; he had no more idea of arresting Bob than he had of arresting me.

"Once more, before I shut you up, will you tell me where the girl is, or not?"

"I will not! I will rot in this hole before I will tell a word about the girl."

He slammed the door upon me, and I was in utter darkness. I heard him putting props against the door, and pounding them down so as to make it secure. Then all was still outside, and I concluded that he had gone up stairs. I had a faint hope that old Betsey would come down and release me; but I immediately went to work upon the handkerchief which confined my hands.

My captor had crossed my wrists and tied them together in this position.