CHAPTER XXXII
HOW IT HAPPENED
When the terrific roar of waters reached the ears of the three PiketonRangers in their tent, McGovern and Wagstaff started at headlong speedup the right side of the valley toward higher ground, the formersucceeding in saving himself with the help of Dick Halliard, while thelatter lost his life.
Bob Budd turned the opposite way, impelled only by the wild desire toescape, with little hope of doing so. But fortune was kinder to himthan to his companions. Had they followed his footsteps they wouldhave been saved with little difficulty, for the ground on that sidewas not only freer from undergrowth, but rose so much more rapidlythan that on the opposite slope that his efforts kept him ahead of thetorrent, and he struck the level ground where it was untouched by theflood.
But Bob was in a panic, and instead of waiting to see how his friendsmade out, he broke into a run that was never stopped until, pantingand tired, he could barely stand. He was near his own home, and satdown to reflect upon the situation.
He was clear of one danger, but he believed he was in another equallyto be dreaded. In fact, although he repressed all signs of theagitation at the time, he was as uncomfortable as can be imaginedwhile talking with his companions before the giving way of themill-dam.
He believed that Dick Halliard was sure to make known his attack onhim. It was so flagrant in its nature that imprisonment wasinevitable, for when he came to think over the matter he lost hisfaith in a triumphant alibi. He knew that Dick Halliard's simpleassertion would outweigh all the perjuries he and his companions couldutter.
It was a fearful prospect, and Bob felt he could not face it. Therewas but one escape that presented itself--that was flight.
Everything pointed to this as a successful recourse. The people wouldbelieve he was drowned in the flood, as he believed Wagstaff andMcGovern had already been, and therefore they would not dream oflooking elsewhere. If he could get out of the neighborhood withoutbeing recognized he would be safe.
He resolved to do so. Knowing that his uncle was absent, he managed toclimb into the rear of his own home without discovery. Making his wayto his room without disturbing any one, he changed his clothing,putting on a slouch hat, which could be pulled down over his face soas to hide most of his features. Then, drawing up the collar of hiscoat, he sneaked out again by the way he had entered without hispresence having been suspected by his aunt or any of the servants.
Bob always had abundance of money at command, so no inconvenience waslikely to result from lack of funds. It was three miles to the nearestrailroad station, but the walk was not a trying one on this cool nightin autumn, and he easily made it.
Luck was certainly with the young scapegrace on that eventful evening.The hour was so late that he encountered only one person on the road.He was an old farmer, so tipsy that he would not have recognized hisown mother in broad daylight. He paid no attention to the solitaryfigure on the highway, with his slouch hat drawn far down over hisface and his collar about his ears, as though it were midwinter.
Reaching the station just as the night express was starting, he leapedupon the rear platform without stopping to purchase a ticket, and thusescaped another danger of recognition. He saw no one in the car thathe knew, and the conductor who collected his fare was also a stranger.
Thus Bob succeeded in getting away from Piketon without a livingperson suspecting the fact.
Arriving in the metropolis he went to the Astor House, where heregistered under an assumed name. He had been in New York before, andbreathed somewhat freely, believing that the great city offered betterfacilities for concealment from the authorities than can be found inthe fastnesses of the Rocky Mountains.
Conscience makes cowards of us all, and Bob could never feel perfectlysecure. He feared every stranger whom he encountered on the streetsand who looked sharply at him was an officer that suspected hisidentity and was meditating his arrest.
Even when he read in the papers the account of the disaster atPiketon, and saw the name of Wagstaff and himself as the two worthyyoung men that were drowned, he failed to obtain the consolation thatmight have been expected. He was known to a good many in New York, andfeared he could not keep his secret much longer.
In this distressful state he dispatched a messenger boy to the home ofJim McGovern, with the request that he would come to a certain room atthe Astor House to meet a person on important business. Bob did notsend a note or give his name, so that when the wondering Jim presentedhimself at the famous hostelry, it was without the remotest suspicionof whom he was to meet.
Possibly the amazement of McGovern may be imagined when he stood inthe presence of the former captain of the Piketon Rangers and listenedto his story.
"I have a great mind to sail for Europe," he said, after making thefacts known.
"And why?"
"Because I'll never be safe as long as I'm on this side of theAtlantic; my attack on Dick Halliard will send me to prison for twentyyears."
The frightened Bob now gave Jim a truthful account of his stoppingyoung Halliard on the highway and shooting at him.
"Have you told your uncle and aunt that you are here?" asked McGovern,without referring to the incident, which, of course, he heard for thefirst time.
"Gracious, no!" replied the startled Bob; "I wouldn't do it for theworld."
"Don't you think you can trust them?"
"I know they would do anything for me, but it is too risky; they wouldbe sure to drop some hint that would let the cat out of the bag."
"You needn't be afraid of that; haven't you reflected, Bob, howdistressed they are over your supposed death?"
"Yes, that is so, but I don't know how it can be helped; you see how Iam fixed."
"You are mistaken, and before I can agree to stand by you I mustinsist that you write a letter to your uncle, Captain Jim, and lethim know that the thousand dollars he has offered for the recovery ofyour body is safe. You can ask that until he hears from you again heand Aunt Ruth shall let no one one suspect you are alive. You know hebelieves in you, and you have only to say that you have importantreasons for the request, and they will be sure to respect it."
"I wish I could feel as certain about that as you do," said Bob, whowas made uncomfortable by the words of his friend.
"I am certain, and I can't feel much sympathy for you as long as youshow yourself indifferent to the feelings of your best friends."
"That's queer talk for you, Jim; you didn't think much about thefeelings of your folks when you and Tom run away from home."
"I trust I am a different person from what I was then," said Jim, hisface flushing.
Bob looked at him curiously, but did not speak the thought which cameinto his mind at that moment.
"Well," said he, with a sigh, "if you insist so strongly, why, I'll doit."
"When?"
"In the course of a day or two."
"I want you to do it _now_, while I am in this room."
"But where's the hurry, Jim?" asked Bob, impatiently; "I don't see whythings need be rushed in the style you want."
"Do it to oblige me, Bob, and then I have something to say to youwhich is of importance and which will please you."
"Let me hear it now," said Bob, brightening up with expectancy.
"You sha'n't hear a word till after the letter is written."
The task was distasteful to young Budd, and he held off for awhilelonger, but Jim would not let up. He was determined that the lettershould be written in his presence and before he went away.
Seeing there was no escape, Bob turned to the stand containing writingmaterial, and addressed a brief note to his uncle, giving him theimportant information that he had not suffered the slightestinconvenience from the flood that drowned one of his companions andcame mighty near carrying off the other.
The main portion of the letter was taken up with an emphatic requestof his uncle and aunt not to give the slightest hint of what they hadlearned until they heard further from him.
; This letter was sealed and directed.
"Let me have it," said Jim.
"What for?"
"I will drop it in the letter box as I go out."
"Well, you beat the bugs," laughed Bob, passing the missive over tohim; "now, what have you to tell me?"
It may be added that Bob Budd's letter promptly reached the astoundedCaptain, who found it hard to keep the joyful news to himself, but hemanaged to do so, as did his wife, who went into hysterics when thenews was first broken to her.
But, as a means of averting suspicion, the Captain immediately doubledthe reward offered for the recovery of the body of his nephew. Hesmiled grimly as he did so, and looked upon the matter as a capitaljoke; but then some people do entertain peculiar ideas as to whatconstitutes a joke.
The Campers Out; Or, The Right Path and the Wrong Page 32