CHAPTER IV. A ROAD SIDE ACQUAINTANCE.
|The position was critical. Bernard was tall and muscular for his age,but of course he was not a match for the teacher.
He was, however, cool and collected, and not at all nervous. Hemaintained his ground till Mr. Snowdon, with slow and cautious steps,had crossed the narrow bridge, and then ran to the back part of theloft.
The schoolmaster followed him as well as he could, but in hisimpetuosity he lost his balance and fell on the hay.
Bernard made a dash for the plank. Seeing him coming, Bridget was seizedwith a panic and hastily dismounted from the ladder.
Bernard took advantage of this, and descending to the barn floor, seizedthe ladder and carried it out of doors, leaving Professor Snowdon aprisoner in the barn loft.
Septimus, who was prudently standing just outside, called out, in alarm,"Where's my pa? What have you done to him?"
Bernard was not called upon to answer, as there was an angry roar frominside the barn.
"Bring back the ladder, you audacious young ruffian!"
Bridget had fled to the house, and Septimus, who was far fromcourageous, ran out behind the barn.
"I think the place is too hot to hold me," thought Bernard, and hestruck for the road on a half run.
He had managed to catch up his bundle of clothes when fleeing from theangry teacher, and there was nothing to prevent his bidding a finalfarewell to the Snowdon Institute.
Meanwhile Professor Snowdon found himself in a quandary. He was in thehay loft, unable to descend to the barn floor.
He could indeed walk across the plank to the opposite scaffold, but thatwould not help him. It was certainly very aggravating. Bernard, he hadno doubt, was in full flight, while he was unable to follow him.
"Bridget!" he cried. "What has become of the ladder?"
But Bridget had already returned to the house.
"Drat that girl," he muttered angrily. "Has she left me in the lurch?"
Then he bethought himself of his son.
"Septimus!" he cried, or rather roared.
"What is it, pa?" asked Septimus, who had gathered enough courage toreturn to the barn.
"Where is Bernard Brooks?"
"He's ran away."
"Has he taken the ladder with him?"
"He took it out of the barn."
"He won't carry it far. Go and bring it here."
"I dassn't. He'll come back and lick me."
"Do as I tell you at once. If you don't I will flog you."
Septimus thought it prudent to heed his father's appeal, especially asit was evident that Bernard had got away.
He lugged the ladder into the barn.
"Now put it up against the scaffold so that I can get down."
Septimus did so, but he did not see that the ladder had a securefooting, so that when his father was part way down it fell, and thelearned pedagogue tumbled sprawling on the barn floor, receiving somepainful contusions, which did not improve his temper.
"It's your fault, you young booby!" he exclaimed furiously, andspringing for Septimus he lashed him across the legs.
"Ouch!" yelled Septimus. "Are you crazy, pa? I ain't Bernard."
"I'd like to flog that boy within an inch of his life!" exclaimedEzekiel Snowdon, excited to fury by the sound of Bernard's name.
"Then you'd better try to catch him instead of licking me."
"Come into the house, Septimus," said his father more calmly. "Look downthe road and see if you can see him."
Septimus shaded his eyes, and looked down the road, but no runaway boywas visible.
"I can't see him, pa. He may be hiding somewhere."
"Go and ask Mr. Sweetland if he will lend me his horse. I'll go afterhim."
"There's Leslie Sweetland now. I'll ask him." Leslie Sweetland, a boy ofsixteen, well and strongly built, was walking by.
"I say, Leslie," called out Septimus, "do you think your father willlend us his horse?"
Leslie stopped short. He had very little friendship for Septimus, anddisliked the elder Snowdon.
"What do you want him for?" he asked.
"Bernard Brooks has run away, and pa and I want to catch him."
"Has Bernard run away?" asked Leslie, immediately interested.
"Yes."
"What did he run away for?"
"Pa went to the barn to horsewhip him for his owdacious conduct. Hecarried off the ladder and left pa in the hay loft, and now he's runaway."
Leslie burst into a fit of laughter.
"Well, that's a good joke!" he said.
"I don't see where the joke comes in," growled Ezekiel.
"I don't blame him for running away," said Leslie, with spirit.
"I've a great mind to horsewhip you," cried the amiable Snowdon.
"You'd find you'd tackled the wrong boy,"-retorted Leslie. "You can'thave our horse."
"That's for your father to say."
"He won't help you to catch Bernard. I'll tell him not to."
"The impudence of the boys in this village is positively terrible," saidMr. Snowdon. "Septimus, go over to Mr. Bacon, and see if he will lend ushis horse."
Septimus did as ordered, but he found Mr. Bacon's horse in use, and uponhis return Mr. Snowdon felt that it was too late to make otherarrangements.
"I'll write to the boy's guardian," he said, "and probably he will sendhim back without expense to me. If he does I'll make the boy howl."
Meanwhile Bernard was making the best of his time. He ran half a milewithout stopping. He passed a covered buggy, and as he did so turnedback to look at it.
It was occupied by a man of perhaps forty, who seemed to be in trouble.He held the reins loose in his hands, his eyes were partly closed, andhis body swayed from side to side of the carriage.
"He needs help," thought Bernard.
He ran to the horse, seized him by the bridle, and stopped him.
The driver did not seem to be aware of his interference.
Bernard, after a moment's hesitation, climbed into the carriage, andseating himself beside the gentleman, took the reins from hisunresisting fingers.
"Are you sick, sir?" he said.
The gentleman opened his eyes and looked at Bernard.
"Yes," he said. "I came near fainting away."
"Shan't I drive for you?"
"Yes, I wish you would. Who are you?"
"My name is Bernard Brooks."
"All right! I don't know you, but you seem like a good boy."
"Where shall I drive you?"
"To the next town."
"Poplar Plains?"
"Yes."
This suited Bernard very well. Poplar Plains was five miles away, andhere there was a station on the nearest railroad.
He drove on, while his companion leaned back in the carriage and closedhis eyes. Bernard took a side glance and noted his appearance.
He was a man with dark hair and eyes, and his complexion was also dark.He looked to be in good health but for the pallor occasioned by hispresent attack.
He roused up when they came within a mile of Poplar Plains.
"Are you feeling better?" asked Bernard.
"Yes; a little. You haven't any hartshorn about you?"
"No, sir; but there is a drug store at the Plains. I can get some foryou."
"Do so."
"Shall I drive you to any particular place?"
"Yes. Drive to the hotel. Do you know where it is?"
"Yes, sir."
In a very few minutes Bernard halted in front of the Poplar PlainsHotel. A servant came out to receive the expected guest.
"Is your father going to stop with us?" he asked. "He isn't my father,but he will stop. He is feeling unwell, and I will get you to help himout." Assisted by Bernard and the hotel porter, the gentleman descendedfrom the buggy and went into the hotel.
"Sit down here a moment, sir, and I will get you the ammonia," Bernardsaid. "The drug store is close by."
"Wait a moment. You will want so
me money. Here is a dollar."
He drew a dollar bill from his vest pocket and handed it to Bernard, whoreturned in five minutes with a small bottle.
The gentleman, removing the cork, applied the bottle to his nose. Hesneezed, but seemed revived.
"I feel better," he said. "Go and take a room for me and help me up toit."
"What name shall I put down on the register?"
"William Penrose."
"Where from?"
"Buffalo."
Bernard did as requested. Mr. Penrose was assigned to a room on thesecond floor. Then Bernard, taking out some silver, offered it to hiscompanion.
"The hartshorn only cost ten cents," he said. "Here is the change."
"Keep it," said Mr. Penrose.
"Thank you, sir. It will be very acceptable. Now I will bid you good-by."
"No, don't go. Stay with me, unless you have to go home. I may needyou."
"I have no home, sir. I can stay as well as not."
"Then go down and put your name on the register. There is another bed inthe room. You can sleep there."
Bernard Brooks' Adventures: The Experience of a Plucky Boy Page 4