Julian Mortimer

The first business in order, after they had conducted Julian into his prison, was to rob him of his clothes. Jake untied his hands and stood close by his side, in order to seize him if he made any attempt to escape, while Tom picked up a heavy club and stationed himself in front of the door, ready to knock the prisoner down if he eluded his brother. But Julian, shivering violently with the cold and utterly incapable of any exertion, thought only of dry clothes and comfort and not of escape. He felt much more at his ease after he had relieved himself of his wet garments and put on those Tom had provided for him, and told himself that if his captors would bring him the blankets Jack had stolen from his camp on the bluff, he could obtain a night’s refreshing sleep in spite of the cold and his bonds. But he soon found that they did not intend to permit him to go to sleep at all; and during the next few minutes he gained some idea of what was in store for him.

As soon as the exchange had been made, and Julian had again been bound, Tom dropped his club, and catching up a long rope which he had brought with him from the house, mounted upon a box and made one end of it fast to a beam overhead. At the same time Jake pushed his prisoner under the beam, and seizing the other end of the rope tied it to his hands. Julian was now confined so that he could neither sit, lie nor walk about. He must remain upon his feet and stand in one place during the rest of the night.

“I don’t see any use in this,” said he, dismayed at the gloomy prospect before him. “I can’t escape from this house as long as my hands are tied.”

“Wal, we can see use in it, if ye can’t,” replied Tom. “We’re doin’ jest what pap told us to do.”

“An’ we don’t do it ’cause we’re afeared of yer gettin’ away, nuther,” said Jake. “Ye’ve got to stand right here without a wink of sleep or a bite to eat till ye tell us whar that money is hid. Mebbe ye’ll tell us now.”

“No, I’ll not,” replied Julian promptly and decidedly.

“All right. Ye’ll think different in the mornin’, I tell ye. The ole woman will be here bright an’ arly, an’ if ye ain’t ready to open yer mouth, she’ll give ye a dozen or two as hard as ever she can lay ’em on. When pap comes home to-morrer he’ll take the job outen her hands. Ye’ve got into a hard row of stumps, feller.”

After carefully examining their captive’s bonds, and looking carefully about the smoke-house to make sure that there was no opening in it from which he could escape, even if he succeeded in freeing his hands, Jake and Tom went out, locking the door after them.

When the sound of their footsteps had died away, and Julian began to ponder upon what they had said to him, and to realize how powerless he was in the hands of his enemies, his courage for the first time gave away utterly. He took a step forward and threw his weight upon the rope, but it was firmly tied to the beam above and too strong to be broken, and the movement only pulled his hands between his shoulders, thus “tricing him up” most effectually. He had never dreamed that his enemies would endeavor to torture his secret out of him in this way. He had expected to be beaten, and he believed that he could endure that; but was his fortitude proof against such a test as this? In order to save himself suffering would it not be policy to give Jack the information he demanded, and when his liberty was restored to him, resume his old occupation of trapping until he could earn enough to purchase an outfit for his proposed journey? He had worked hard for two winters to accumulate the little property he now possessed, and should he surrender it at the command of one who had not the smallest shadow of a right to it? Julian passed an hour debating such points as these, and at the end of that time his decision was made.

“I’ll never do it,” said he to himself. “It belongs to me alone. Nobody else has a claim upon it. The woods are as free to Jack Bowles as they once were to me – much more so, in fact, for there is no one to dog his steps, destroy his traps and steal his earnings – and if he wants money let him work for it. That’s the way I got mine. He will find that I am not to be starved or beaten into telling him where that box is concealed. Jake and Tom are coming back again. I hope they have not brought the rawhide with them.”

The footsteps which had attracted Julian’s attention drew nearer and nearer, and presently a cautious hand laid hold of the padlock with which the door was secured. Julian listened to hear the bolt turned, but soon found out that his visitor, whoever he was, did not intend to effect an entrance with the assistance of a key; for after shaking the lock to assure himself that it was fast in the staple, he placed his shoulders against the door and tried to burst it open. The prisoner heard him panting and puffing as he applied his strength to the stout planks. He heard, too, the angry words he muttered when he found that his efforts were useless, and caught the sound of his footsteps as he moved around the smoke-house.

Julian wondered greatly. Who was he? Was he some friend who, knowing that he was confined there, had come with the hope of rescuing him? There was scarcely a man in the settlement who would not have hurried to his relief had it been known that he was in trouble, but unfortunately no one was aware of his situation. Of course, then, the visitor could not be a friend. Most likely he was some hungry prowler, whose only object was to filch a ham or a side of bacon from the smoke-house.

In spite of the unpleasantness of his situation, Julian became interested in the man’s movements. He walked around the building and finally came back and tried the door again, but with no better success than before. Then there was silence for a few minutes, during which the man was, no doubt, thinking what was best to be done, and at length a noise at one corner of the house told the prisoner that he had decided upon a plan of operations. He was using the projecting ends of the logs as a ladder, and mounting to the top of the building. His success was certain now. The roof was covered with narrow oak boards, laid on like shingles, and held in place by small nails; and it would be a matter of no difficulty for him to pull a few of them off and drop down on the inside of the smoke-house. That such was the visitor’s intention soon became evident. He attacked the shingles at once, using extreme caution in removing them from their fastenings, and in a few seconds an opening had been made in the roof, that was immediately filled by the head and shoulders of the man, who lighted a match and held it up to take a survey of things below him. Julian had a good view of him. Could he believe his eyes? He stared hard at his visitor, and uttered a cry of delight.

CHAPTER XIV
SANDERS TELLS HIS STORY

JULIAN’S visitor was the man Sanders. He recognized him by the handkerchief that was tied over his head. If he had come there to release him would it not be sufficient proof that he was really the friend he professed to be?

“Julian!” exclaimed the man, in a low but excited tone of voice.

“I am here!” replied the prisoner, so overjoyed that he could scarcely speak plainly.

“Wal, come out o’ that. You needn’t stay thar no longer.”

“I can’t go up there – I am tied.”

“Are you? Then I’ll soon be down to turn you loose.”

After burning another match to make sure the way was clear below him, Sanders crawled through the opening in the roof, and hanging by his hands, dropped to the ground. A knife which he drew from his pocket made quick work with the prisoner’s bonds, and in a few seconds he was free.

“How came you here?” Julian asked of his deliverer, after he had taken a few turns around the smoke-house to relieve his cramped limbs. “I left you ten miles down the river fast asleep on board the flatboat.”

“Not much I wasn’t asleep,” replied Sanders, with a laugh. “I seed every thing that happened. But we hain’t got no time to talk. Be thar any men in the house?”

“No. Jake and Tom are alone with their mother.”

“Them boys? If I had known that, you wouldn’t have been brought in here. Climb up on my shoulders now, and crawl out.”

Not having entirely recovered from the effects of his long ride in his wet clothes, Julian was not very strong or active, but after some difficulty he succeeded in mounting upon Sanders’ broad shoulders, and drawing himself up to the opening in the roof, he crawled through and dropped to the ground. The man climbed up the logs and followed him, and when he once more stood by Julian’s side he gave utterance, with the first words he spoke, to the very thoughts that were passing through the boy’s mind.

“I reckon that if I do a few more things of this kind you will be willin’ to b’lieve that I am any thing but an enemy to you, won’t you?” he asked.

“You have rendered me a most important service,” answered the boy, guardedly, “and I am very grateful to you for it. I only wish I was as well satisfied of your friendship, and the truth of some things you told me this morning, as I am of the interest you somehow take in me. I can not understand why you, who are an utter stranger to me, should put yourself to so much trouble to assist me.”

“I hain’t no stranger to you,” replied Sanders earnestly. “I tell you I knowed you and your brother afore either of you could walk. You were stole away from your home by Dick Mortimer. Your friends have just found out whar you are, an’ sent me arter you. You’re goin’ to start for the plains now, hain’t you?”

“I am, and in less than five minutes.”

“Wal, I’m goin’ the same way. You needn’t travel in my company unless you’re a mind to, but I’d be powerful glad to have you. I can show you the way to St. Joe anyhow, an’ as we go along I will tell you about the folks you hain’t seed fur so many years.”

Julian leaned against the smoke-house and thought over this proposition. It was a very fair one, and he could not see that he would place himself in any danger by accepting it. He was almost ready to put entire faith in his new acquaintance, and to believe everything he had told him. He wanted to believe it, and if Sanders had made his appearance a few hours before – prior to his meeting with Mr. Mortimer – Julian would have placed unlimited confidence in him. But his experience with Jack Bowles’ guest had made him timid and suspicious.

Sanders did not ask him to give himself up to his guidance and control, but seemed satisfied to wait until he was willing to do so of his free will; and Julian told himself that that was a good sign.

He at last decided that he would accept the offer of the man’s guidance as far as St. Joseph, and that when he reached that point he would decide upon his future movements. In the meantime he would watch his companion closely, and leave him at the very first sign of treachery. This determination he communicated to Sanders, who seemed to be immensely delighted by it.

“I am monstrous glad to hear you say it,” said he. “And I’ll tell you what’s a fact: If you go with me as fur as St. Joe, you will go all the rest of the way with me.”

Julian did not quite like the tone in which these words were spoken, for it made him feel that there was more in them than he could understand; and had there been light enough for him to see the expression the man’s face wore at that moment the opinion would have been confirmed.

“Whar you goin’ now?” asked Sanders, as Julian moved toward the cabin.

“Jake and Tom have some of my property in their possession,” was the reply; “a suit of clothes, a rifle and a pair of blankets. I must have them before I start.”

“‘Taint wuth while,” said Sanders. “You’ve got money; buy more.”

“I may need the little I have for other purposes when I get out on the plains.”

“Sho! You’ll find more out thar than you ever dreamed of. You can walk up a ravine a little way from your father’s rancho an’ pick up nuggets of gold as big as you can tote.”

“But I don’t know how long it will be, or what I shall be obliged to pass through, before I get there,” replied Julian. “Another thing, Jack Bowles and his boys shall not have the satisfaction of using anything that belongs to me.”

“Wal, go ahead, then, if you’re so sot onto it, an’ I’ll be close by to lend a hand if you get into trouble.”

While this conversation was being carried on Julian and his companion were walking toward the cabin, and now they were close beside it. The boy at once pushed open the door and entered, while Sanders took his stand upon the steps where he could see all that went on.

There was a roaring fire on the hearth, and by the aid of the light it threw out Julian could distinguish every object in the cabin.

Almost the first things his eyes rested upon were the clothes of which he had been robbed, spread out on a couple of nail-kegs to dry. His rifle stood beside the bed in which Jake and Tom lay fast asleep, and his powder-horn and bullet-pouch hung from a nail over their heads. Walking across the floor with his ordinary step, and without taking the least pains to avoid arousing the occupants of the cabin, Julian took the horn and pouch down from the nail, and while slinging them over his shoulder discovered the other articles of which he was in search – his blankets, which were snugly tucked around the shoulders of the sleeping brothers.

“You are very good to yourselves, are you not?” said Julian aloud. “You leave me to freeze in the smoke-house, and make use of my property to keep yourselves warm. You’ll sleep colder for the rest of the night.”

As he said this he jerked the blankets off the bed. The movement awoke Tom Bowles who started up in alarm, and was greatly amazed to see his prisoner standing unbound beside his bed.

“Ye Julian!” he exclaimed, as soon as he found his tongue.

“That’s just what’s the matter!” replied our hero.

“How come ye outen that ar smoke-house?”

“I crawled out.”

“Ye’ll crawl back agin mighty sudden, I tell ye,” replied Tom, seizing his brother by the shoulder. “Wake up here, Jake.”

“Hold on!” said Julian, lifting his recovered rifle over Tom’s head. “No noise, now.”

If Tom was alarmed by this movement on the part of Julian, he was still more terrified when he saw a head and a pair of broad shoulders thrust in at the door, and a clenched hand, which looked as though it might have knocked down an ox, shaken threateningly at him. He understood the gesture and took his hand off his brother’s shoulder.

“Good-by, Tom,” said Julian, shouldering his rifle and gathering his clothes and blankets under his arm. “I am sorry that I am in so great a hurry, for I have several little accounts against you and Jake that I should like to settle up before I go. Give my very kindest regards to your father when he returns, and be sure and follow the excellent advice your mother gave you a while ago in my hearing.”

So saying Julian left the cabin, and Sanders slammed the door after him. Followed by his ally, the boy walked toward the corn-cribs, and while he was pulling off Tom’s tattered garments and putting on his own, which were now dry and comfortable, he saw the door of the cabin opened and the heads of Mrs. Bowles and her two sons thrust cautiously out. But they did not speak to him or venture beyond the threshold. They peered into the darkness a moment and then closed and fastened the door; and that was the last Julian ever saw of them.

Billy, proving more tractable than on a former occasion, was captured and saddled without difficulty. In two hours more Julian’s camp on the bluff was again occupied. The brush shanty which Jack Bowles had pulled down had been restored to an upright position; a fire was burning brightly before it; Billy was standing hitched to a tree close by; and Julian, with his saddle under his head for a pillow, and the tin box containing his money safely stowed away in his pocket, lay stretched out on one of the blankets, while Sanders reclined upon the other smoking his pipe. The man had been relating how he had hidden behind the corn-crib and overheard Jack Bowles’ plans concerning Julian, and thus been able to take measures to defeat them. He had been a witness to everything that happened on board the flatboat. He had seen Julian go overboard, and knowing that Jake and Tom were close by waiting to pick him up, he had clambered down into the yawl, as soon as he saw an opportunity to do so without attracting the attention of any one of the flatboat’s crew, and pushed off to Julian’s assistance. His story was followed by a long pause, which was broken by our hero, who said:

“I am ready to hear what you have to tell me about my parents. You say they are both alive?”

“Both of ’em,” replied Sanders.

“How does my father look?”

“Jest as nateral as life – enough like you to be your brother, if it wasn’t for his gray har an’ mustache. He’s a tall, broad-shouldered man, has an eye like an eagle’s, an’ is the best hossman an’ rifle-shot in the West. He’s awful rich, too; I don’t b’lieve he knows how much he’s wuth. You see, your mother – an’ she’s a lady, you bet – is a Spanish woman. Her father, long years ago,” Sanders went on hurriedly, as if he did not intend to allow his listener any time to ask questions, “took it into his ole head that he wanted to be away from everybody, an’ so he located out thar in the mountains. He allers was rich, but when he got out thar he found himself richer’n ever. Thar was gold all around him. He couldn’t walk without steppin’ onto it, an’ he picked it up by cart-loads. Your father, who was out thar sojerin’, resigned his commission in the army an’ married his darter; an’ in course when the ole man died he came into possession of all his gold dust. But thar were some people about who didn’t want him to keep it. The only kin folks your mother had after her father died were a brother an’ cousin, an’ you see if everybody else had been out of the way, all the money would have fell to her brother. They ain’t the honestest fellers in the world, her kin folks ain’t, I must say. They’re the wust sort of gamblers, bein’ monstrous fond of three-card monte, an’ they are even suspicioned of doin’ things a heap sight wuss than that; an’ since your father an’ his family wouldn’t die an’ leave them to take charge of the money, they laid a plan to hurry up matters an’ divide the plunder between them. But all the harm they done was to steal you away from home, an’ that didn’t do ’em no good ’cause I’ve found you agin.”

“You say that Dick Mortimer is the man who kidnapped me?” asked Julian, when Sanders paused.

“Sartin, I do.”

“And that he is a relative of my mother’s?”

“Them’s my very words.”

“Well, now, is he her brother or her cousin?”

“He’s her brother.”

“Her own brother?”

“In course.”

“How can that be? My mother’s name wasn’t Mortimer before she was married, was it?”

“Eh?” exclaimed Sanders, somewhat disconcerted by this question. “Oh, no; in course not. Her name was Cordova, an’ Dick’s her cousin.”

“Then how does it come that his name is Mortimer?”

“Eh? I’m blessed if I know. I guess it jest happened so. An’ your brother’s alive an’ all right, too. Now he’s a boy, he is. You’re mighty right. His name’s Fred. Won’t he make things lively for you though when you get out thar? You hain’t goin’ to sleep, be you?”

“Yes, I am,” replied Julian, rearranging his blanket and resting his head on his hard pillow, “I have scarcely closed my eyes during the past forty-eight hours, and I begin to feel the need of rest. We have a long journey to make to-morrow, you know. Goodnight.”

Sanders looked sharply at the boy, and settled back on his blanket, muttering as he did so:

“Did I tell him anything out of the way, I wonder? I am afraid I got that brother an’ cousin business mixed up a trifle too much. I said jest what Reginald told me to say as nigh as I could. If I can only manage to keep him with me till we reach St. Joe, I am all right. It will make a rich man of me.”

“It is no use to waste time in listening to this fellow and building hopes on what he says,” thought Julian, throwing his arm over his head, and watching his companion through his half-closed eyes. “He repeated his story as if he had learned it by heart, and some portions of it didn’t hold together. I wish he would take off that handkerchief and give me a fair view of his face. Who is he, and why did he come here? My father never sent him, for, if he is alive and well, and knows where I am, he would have come himself if he wanted to have me near him. He is no friend of Dick Mortimer, for he is working against him. Is he up to some trick of his own, or is he employed by somebody? I’ll not go to sleep, for I am afraid of him. I can’t well avoid traveling in his company as far as St. Joseph, but when I get there I will have no more to do with him.”

For a short while Julian was wakeful enough. His recent excitement and adventures, and his speculations concerning the future, kept his brain busy and banished sleep. But at last his thoughts became confused, his eyelids grew heavy, and in a few minutes more he was in the land of dreams.