Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition by Jr. Horatio Alger
"I reckon you're right. Do you think that Ford feller will sendmoney for your board?"
"I think he will, if he can, for he wants to keep me here; but Idon't think he has much money with him."
"All the worse for marm."
"Abner," said Herbert, after a pause, during which he had beenthinking seriously, "would you mind running away pretty soon?"
"No, bub; I'm ready any time. Are you in a hurry?"
"You see, Abner, I don't want to live on your mother. She isn'trich--"
"No, I guess not. Ef she hadn't married sech a good-for-nothin' asdad--"
"I wouldn't speak so of your father, Abner."
"Why not? Isn't it the truth? Dad's no grit. He gits drunk wheneverhe has a chance. Marm's a good, hard-workin' woman. She'd git alongwell enough ef she was alone."
"At any rate, she can't afford to board me for nothing. So I amready to start whenever you are, Abner."
"Suppose we get up early to-morror and start?"
"How early?"
"Three o'clock. Marm gets up at five. We must be on the road beforethat time."
"I'm willing, Abner. You must wake me up in time."
"You'd better go to bed early, bub, and git all the sleep you can.We'll have a hard day to-morrer."
CHAPTER XXXIII -- THE JOURNEY BEGINS
"Wake up, there."
The little boy stirred in his sleep, and finally opened his eyes. Bythe faint light that entered through the window, he saw Abnerbending over him.
"What is it?" he asked, drowsily.
"The kitchen clock's just struck three," whispered Abner. "Youhaven't forgotten that we are going to run away, have you?"
"I'll get right up," said Herbert, rubbing his eyes.
In two minutes the boys were dressed and ready for a start. It hadtaken a great deal longer for Herbert to dress at home, but he hadbecome less particular as to his toilet now.
The boys took their shoes in their hands, and stole out in theirstocking feet. As they passed the door of the room in which Mr. andMrs. Barton slept, they heard the deep breathing of both, and knewthat they were not likely to be heard.
Outside the door they put on their shoes, and were now ready tostart.
"Wait a minute, bub," said Abner.
He re-entered the house, and presently came out holding half a loafin his hand.
"That'll do for our breakfast," he said. "We won't eat it now. We'llwait till five o'clock. Then we'll be hungry."
By five o'clock they were as many miles on their way. They hadreached the middle of the next town.
"Do you feel tired, bub?" asked Abner.
"A little. I feel hungry. Don't you think we can eat the bread now?"
"Yes, we'd better. I feel kind o' gone myself."
They sat down under a tree, and Abner divided the bread fairly.
"You ought to have more than I," protested Herbert. "You're biggerthan I, and need more."
"Never mind that! You'll need it to keep up your strength."
Abner was not naturally unselfish, but he was manly enough to feelthat he ought to be generous and kind to a boy so much smaller, andhe felt repaid for his self-denial by noticing the evident relishwith which Herbert ate his allowance of bread, even to the smallestcrumb.
They found a spring, which yielded them a cool, refreshing draught,and soon were on their way once more. They had proceeded perhaps twomiles further, when the rumbling of wheels was heard behind them,and a farm wagon soon came up alongside. The driver was a man ofabout thirty--sunburned and roughly clad.
"Whoa, there," he said.
The horse stopped.
"Where are you two goin'?" he asked.
"We're travelin'," answered Abner, noncommittally.
"Where's your home?"
"Some ways back."
"Where are you goin'?"
"I'm after work," answered Abner.
"Well, you'd orter be a good hand at it. You look strong. Is thatlittle feller your brother?"
"No; he's my cousin."
Herbert looked up in surprise at this avowal of relationship, but hethought it best not to say anything that would conflict with Abner'sstatement.
"Is he after work, too?" asked the driver, with a smile.
"No; he's goin' to his father."
"Where does he live?"
"Further on."
"Have you walked fur?"
"Pretty fur."
"Ef you want to ride, I'll give you a lift for a few miles."
"Thank you," said Abner, prompt to accept the offer. "I'll help youin, bub."
The two boys took their seats beside the driver, Herbert being inthe middle. The little boy was really tired, and he found it verypleasant to ride, instead of walking. He had walked seven milesalready, and that was more than he had ever before walked at onetime.
They rode about three miles, when the driver pulled up in front of acomfortable-looking house.
"This is where I stop," he said. "My aunt lives here, and my sisterhas been paying her a visit. I've come to take her home."
The front door was opened, and his aunt and sister came out.
"You're just in time for breakfast, John," said his aunt. "Come inand sit down to the table. Bring in the boys, too."
"Come in, boys," said the young man. "I guess you can eat something,can't you?"
"We've had---" Herbert began, but Abner checked him.
"Come along, bub," he said. "What's a bit of bread? I ain't halffull."
CHAPTER XXIV -- MRS. BARTON'S SURPRISE
A hearty breakfast, consisting of beefsteak, potatoes, corn bread,fresh butter and apple sauce, made Abner's eyes glisten, for he hadnever in his remembrance sat down at home to a meal equallyattractive. He wielded his knife and fork with an activity andenergy which indicated thorough enjoyment. Even Herbert, though inthe city his appetite had been delicate, and he had already eatenpart of a loaf of bread, did excellent justice to the good thingsset before him. He was himself surprised at his extraordinaryappetite, forgetting the stimulating effect of a seven-mile walk.
After breakfast they set out again on their tramp. At sunset, havingrested several hours in the middle of the day, they had accomplishedtwenty miles. Abner could have gone further, but Herbert was welltired out. They obtained permission from a friendly farmer to spendthe night in his barn, and retired at half-past seven. Mr. Reynoldswould have been shocked had he known that his little son wascompelled to sleep on a pile of hay, but it may truthfully be saidthat Herbert had seldom slept as soundly or felt more refreshed.
"How did you sleep, Abner?" he asked.
"Like a top. How was it with you, bub?"
"I didn't wake up all night," answered the little boy.
"I wonder what dad and marm thought when they found us gone?" saidAbner, with a grin.
"Won't they feel bad?"
"Not much," said Abner. "They ain't that kind. I reckon it won'tspoil their appetite."
When they descended from the haymow, the farmer was milking hiscows.
"Well, youngsters," he said, "so you're up and dressed?"
"Yes, sir."
"And ready for breakfast, I'll be bound."
"I reckon I should feel better for eatin'," said Abner, promptly.
"Jest you wait till I get through milkin', and we'll see what Mrs.Wiggins has got for us."
Abner heard these words with joy, for he was always possessed of agood appetite.
"I say, bub, I'm glad I run away," he remarked, aside, to Herbert."We live enough sight better than we did at home."
Leaving the boys to pursue their journey, we will return to thebereaved parents, and inquire how they bore their loss.
When Mrs. Barton rose to commence the labors of the day, she foundthat no wood was on hand for the kitchen fire.
"Abner's gittin' lazier and lazier," she soliloquized. "I'll soonhave him up."
She went to the foot of the stairs, and called "Abner!" in a voiceby no means low or gentle.
There w
"That boy would sleep if there was an earthquake," she muttered."Come down here and split some wood, you lazy boy!" she cried, stilllouder.
Again no answer.
"He hears, fast enough, but he don't want to work. I'll soon havehim down."
She ascended the stairs, two steps at a time, and opened the door ofher son's room.
If Abner had been in bed his mother would have pulled him out, forher arm was vigorous, but the bed was empty.
"Well, I vum!" she ejaculated, in surprise. "Ef that boy isn't upalready. That's a new wrinkle. And the little boy gone, too. Whatcan it mean?"
It occurred to Mrs. Barton that Abner and Herbert might have got upearly to go fishing, though she had never known him to make so earlya start before.
"I reckon breakfast'll bring 'em round," she said to herself. "Ireckon I shall have to split the wood myself."
In half an hour breakfast was ready. It was of a very simplecharacter, for the family resources were limited. Mr. Barton camedownstairs, and looked discontentedly at the repast provided.
"This is a pretty mean breakfast, Mrs. B.," he remarked. "Where'syour meat and taters?"
"There's plenty of 'em in the market," answered Mrs. Barton.
"Then, why didn't you buy some?"
"You ought to know, Joel Barton. You give me the money, and I'll seethat you have a good breakfast."
"Where's all the money that man Ford gave you?"
"Where is it? It's eaten up, Mr. Barton, and you did your share. Efyou'd had your way, you'd have spent some of the money for drink."
"Why don't he send you some more, then?"
"Ef you see him anywheres, you'd better ask him. It's your businessto provide me with money; you can't expect one boy's board tosupport the whole family."
"It's strange where them boys are gone," said Joel, desirous ofchanging the subject. "Like as not, they hid under the bed, andfooled you."
"Ef they did, I'll rout 'em out," said Mrs. Barton, who thought thesupposition not improbable.
Once more she ascended the stairs and made an irruption into theboy's chamber. She lifted the quilt, and peered under the bed. Butthere were no boys there. Looking about the room, however, shediscovered something else. On the mantelpiece was a scrap of paper,which appeared to be so placed as to invite attention.
"What's that?" said Mrs. Barton to herself.
A moment later she was descending the staircase more rapidly thanshe had gone up just before.
"Look at that," she exclaimed, holding out a scrap of paper to JoelBarton.
"I don't see nothin' but a bit of paper," said her husband.
"Don't be a fool! Read what it is."
"Read it aloud. I ain't got my specks."
"The boys have run away. Abner writ it. Listen to this."
Rudely written on the paper, for Abner was by no means a skillfulpenman, were these words:
"Bub and I have runned away. You needn't worry. I reckon we can getalong. We're going to make our fortunes. When we're rich, we'll comeback. ABNER."
"What do you think of that, Joel Barton?" demanded his wife.
Joel shrugged his shoulders.
"I shan't worry much," he said. "They'll be back by to-morrer,likely."
"Then you'll have to split some wood to-day, Joel. You can't expecta delicate woman like me to do such rough work."
"You're stronger'n I be, Mrs. B."
"Perhaps you'll find I am if you don't go to work."
"I'll do it this afternoon."
"All right. Then we'll have dinner in the even-in'. No wood, nodinner."
"Seems to me you're rather hard on me, Mrs. B. I don't feel well."
"Nor you won't till you give up drinkin'."
Much against his will, Mr. Barton felt compelled by the stress ofcircumstances to do the work expected of him. It made him feel angrywith Abner, whom he did not miss for any other reason.
"I'll break that boy's neck when he comes back," he muttered. "It'sa shame to leave all this work for his poor, old dad."
To-morrow came, but the boys did not. A week slipped away, and stillthey were missing. Mrs. Barton was not an affectionate mother, butit did seem lonesome without Abner. As for Herbert, she did not carefor his absence. If Willis Ford did not continue to pay his board,she felt that she would rather have him away.
On the sixth day after the departure of the boys there came asurprise for Mrs. Barton.
As she was at work in the kitchen, she heard a loud knock at thedoor.
"Can it be Abner?" she thought. "He wouldn't knock."
She went to the door, however, feeling rather curious as to whocould be her visitor, and on opening it started in surprise to seeWillis Ford.
"Mr. Ford!" she ejaculated.
"I thought I would make you a call," answered Ford. "How's the boygetting along?"
"If you mean the boy you left here," she answered, composedly, "he'srun away, and took my boy with him."
"Run away!" ejaculated Ford, in dismay.
"Yes; he made tracks about a week ago. He and my Abner have gone offto make their fortunes."
"Why didn't you take better care of him, woman?" exclaimed Ford,angrily. "It's your fault, his running away!"
"Look here, Ford," retorted Mrs. Barton; "don't you sass me, for Iwon't stand it. Ef it hadn't been for you, Abner would be at homenow."
"I didn't mean to offend you, my dear Mrs. Barton," said Ford,seeing that he had made a false step. "Tell me all you can, and I'llsee if I can't get the boys back."
"Now you're talkin'," said Mrs. Barton, smoothing her ruffledplumage. "Come into the house, and I'll tell you all I know."
CHAPTER XXXV -- HERBERT BREAKS DOWN
"I don't think I can walk any further, Abner. I feel sick," falteredHerbert.
Abner, who had been walking briskly, turned round to look at hisyoung companion. Herbert was looking very pale, and had to drag onefoot after the other. Day after day he had tried to keep up withAbner, but his strength was far inferior to that of the other boy,and he had finally broken down.
"You do look sick, bub," said Abner, struck by Herbert's pallidlook. "Was I walking too fast for you?"
"I feel very weak," said Herbert. "Would you mind stopping a littlewhile? I should like to lie under a tree and rest."
"All right, bub. There's a nice tree." "Don't you feel tired,Abner?"
"No; I feel as strong as hearty as a horse."
"You are bigger than I am. I guess that is the reason."
Abner was a rough boy, but he showed unusual gentleness andconsideration for the little boy, whose weakness appealed to hisbetter nature. He picked out a nice, shady place for Herbert torecline upon, and, taking off his coat, laid it down for a pillow onwhich his young companion might rest his head.
"There, bub; I reckon you'll feel better soon," he said.
"I hope so, Abner. I wish I was as strong as you are."
"So do I. I reckon I was born tough. I was brought up different fromyou."
"I wish I were at home," sighed Herbert. "Is it a long way fromhere?"
"I reckon it is, but I don't know," answered Abner, whosegeographical notions were decidedly hazy.
An hour passed, and still Herbert lay almost motionless, as if restwere a luxury, with his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the clouds thatcould be seen through the branches floating lazily above.
"Don't you feel any better, bub?" asked Abner.
"I feel better while I am lying here, Abner."
"Don't you feel strong enough to walk a little further?"
"Must I?" asked Herbert, sighing. "It is so nice to lie here."
"I am afraid we shall never get to New York if we don't keep goin'."
"I'll try," said Herbert, and he rose to his feet, but he onlystaggered and became very white.
"I am afraid I need to rest a little more," he said.
"All right, bub. Take your time."
More critically Abner surveyed his young companion. He was not us
"I don't think you're fit to walk any further today," he said. "Iwish we had some good place to stay."
At this moment a carriage was seen approaching. It was driven by alady of middle age, with a benevolent face. Her attention was drawnto the two boys, and especially to Herbert. Her experienced eyes atonce saw that he was sick.
She halted her horse.
"What is the matter with your brother?" she said to Abner.
"I reckon he's tuckered out," said Abner, tacitly admitting therelationship. "We've been travelin' for several days. He ain't sotough as I am."
"He looks as if he were going to be sick. Have you any friends nearhere?"
"No, ma'am. The nighest is over a hundred miles off."
The lady reflected a moment. Then she said: "I think you had bettercome to my house. My brother is a doctor. He will look at yourlittle brother and see what can be done for him."
"I should like it very much," said Abner, "but we haven't got anymoney to pay for doctors and sich."
"I shan't present any bill, nor will my brother," said the lady,smiling. "Do you think you can help him into the carriage?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am."
Abner helped Herbert into the carriage, and then, by invitation, gotin himself.