CHAPTER III
A COLLISION
It was a week later when an incident befell Herbert which is worthy ofmention, since it brought him into collision with a man who was destinedto have some influence over his future life.
A neighboring farmer, for whom, during his mother's life, he hadoccasionally gone on errands, drove up in front of the doctor's house,and asked Herbert if he could take his horse and wagon and drive overto the mill village to get some corn ground. Herbert was rather gladto accept this proposal, not only because he was to receive twenty-fivecents for so doing, but also because he was fond of driving a horse.
He was only about a mile from the mill village, when he saw approachinghim a man in a light open buggy. Herbert knew every horse in Waverley,and every man, woman, and child, for that matter, and he perceived atonce that the driver was a stranger. To tell the truth, he was not veryfavorably impressed by his appearance. The man was very dark, with blackhair and an unshaven beard of three days' growth, which did not set offhis irregular and repulsive features. His mouth, partly open, revealedseveral yellow tusks, stained with tobacco juice. On his head he wore abroad-brimmed straw hat, rather the worse for wear.
It so happened that just at this point the middle of the road was muchbetter than the sides, which sloped considerably, terminating in gullieswhich were partly full from the recent rains. The road was narrow, beingwide enough for two vehicles to pass each other, if each veered to theside, but not otherwise.
Herbert observed that the buggy, which was now rapidly approaching, waskept in the center of the road, and that the driver appeared to have nointention of turning out.
"What does he mean?" thought our hero. "He cannot expect me to do thewhole of the turning out. I will turn out my half, and if he wants toget by, he must do the same."
Accordingly, he turned partially to one side, as much as could bereasonably expected, and quietly awaited the approach of the man in thebuggy. The latter still kept the center of the road, and did not turnout his carriage at all. As soon as it was close at hand, the driverleaned forward and exclaimed angrily:
"Turn out, boy!"
If he expected that Herbert would be intimidated by his tone he wasmuch mistaken. Our hero was bold, and not easily frightened. He lookedquietly in the man's face, and said composedly, "I have turned out."
"Then turn out more, you young vagabond! Do you hear me?"
"Yes, sir, I hear you, and should if you didn't speak half so loud."
"Curse your impudence! I tell you, turn out more!" exclaimed thestranger, becoming more and more angry. He had expected to get his ownway without trouble. If Herbert had been a man, he would not have beenso unreasonable; but he supposed he could browbeat a boy into doingwhatever he chose to dictate. But he had met his match, as it turnedout.
"I have already given you half the road," said Herbert, firmly, "and Idon't intend to give you any more."
"You don't, eh? Young man, how old are you?"
"I am fourteen."
"I should think you were forty by the airs you put on."
"Is it putting on airs to insist on my rights?" asked our hero.
"Your rights!" retorted the other, laughing contemptuously.
"Yes, my rights," returned Herbert, quietly. "I have a right to half ofthe road, and I have taken it. If I turn out any more, I shall go intothe gully."
"That makes no difference. A wetting won't do you any harm. Yourimpudence needs cooling."
"That may be," said Herbert, who did not choose to get angry, but wasresolved to maintain his rights; "but I object to the wetting, for allthat, and as this wagon is not mine, I do not choose to upset it."
"You are the most insolent young scamp I ever came across!" exclaimedthe other, furiously. "I've a good mind to give you something much worsethan a wetting."
"Such as what?" asked our hero, coolly. In reply the man flourished hiswhip significantly. "Do you see that?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Oh, very well," said the other, ironically; "I'm glad you do. Perhapsyou wouldn't like to feel it?"
"No, I don't think I should," said Herbert, not exhibiting the leastapprehension.
The stranger handled his whip, eyeing our hero viciously at the sametime, as if it would have afforded him uncommon pleasure to lay itover his back. But there was something in the look of our hero whichunconsciously cowed him, and, much as he wished to strike him, he heldback.
"Well, you're a cool hand," he said, after a moment's hesitation.
To this our hero did not see fit to make any reply. But he grasped hisown whip a little tighter. So brutal had been the tone assumed by thestranger, that he was not sure but he might proceed to carry out histhreat, and lay the whip over his back. He determined, in that case, togive him as good as he sent. I will not express any opinion as to thepropriety of this determination, but I am certain, from what I know ofour hero's fearless spirit, that he would not have hesitated to doit, be the consequences what they might. But he did not have theopportunity.
"Once more," demanded the stranger, furiously; "are you going to turnout?"
"No," said the boy, decidedly.
"Then--I'll run you down."
So saying, he brought the whip violently on the horse's back. The lattergave a convulsive spring forward. But his driver had not taken intoconsideration that the farm-wagon was the stronger of the two vehicles,and that in any collision the buggy must come off second best. So ithappened that a wheel of the buggy was broken, and the driver, in theshock, thrown sprawling into a puddle on the other side of the road.The wagon suffered no damage, but the old horse, terrified, set off at arapid pace. Herbert looked back to see if the stranger was injured, butseeing that he had already picked himself up unwounded, but decidedlydirty, he concluded to keep on his way to the mill.
The driver of the overturned vehicle was considerably more angry thanhurt at this catastrophe.
It chafed his pride not a little to think that, after all his vaunts,the boy had maintained his ground, and got the better of him. For aman of forty-five to be worsted by a boy of fourteen was, it must beconfessed, a little mortifying. It was something like a great ship ofthe line being compelled to surrender to a little monitor.
No one feels particularly dignified or good-natured when he is pickinghimself out of a mud puddle. Our black-haired acquaintance proved noexception to this remark. He shook his fist at the receding wagonand its occupant--a demonstration of defiance which our hero did notwitness, his back being now turned to his late opponent.
Mr. Abner Holden--for this was the stranger's name--next turned hisattention to the buggy, which had been damaged to some extent, and sowas likely to involve him in expense. This was another uncomfortablereflection. Meanwhile, as it was no longer in a fit state for travel,he must contrive some way to have it carried back to the stable, and,unless he could procure another vehicle, perform the rest of the journeyon foot.
Luckily, some men in a neighboring field had witnessed the collision,and, supposing their services might be required, were now present tolend their aid.
"Pretty bad accident," remarked one of them. "That 'ere wheel'll needconsiderable tinkering afore it's fit for use. How came you to get itbroke so, squire?"
"A little rascal had the impudence to dispute the road with me, andwould not turn out at my bidding," said Mr. Holden, in a tone ofexasperation, which showed that his temper had been considerably souredby the accident.
"Wouldn't turn out? Seems to me from the marks of the wheels, you musthave been drivin' along in the middle of the road. I guess you didn'ttake the trouble to turn out, yourself."
"Well, there was room enough for the boy to turn out one side," saidHolden, doggedly.
"You are slightly mistaken, stranger," said the other, who was disgustedat the traveler's unreasonableness. "There wasn't room; as anyone cansee that's got eyes in his head. Didn't the youngster turn out at all?"
"Yes," snapped Holden, not relishing the other's free speech.
Holden looked savagely at the broken wheel, but that didn't mendmatters. He would have answered the countryman angrily, but, as he stoodin need of assistance, this was not good policy.
"What would you advise me to do about it?" he inquired.
"You will have to leave the buggy where it is just now. Where did youget it?"
"Over at the mill village."
"Well, you'd better lead the horse back--'tain't more'n a mile orso--get another wagon, and tell 'em to send for this."
"Well, perhaps that is the best way."
"Where was you goin'?"
"Over to Waverley."
"That's where the boy came from."
"What boy?"
"The boy that upset you."
"What is his name?" asked Abner Holden, scowling.
"His name is Herbert Mason, son of the Widder Mason that died two orthree weeks since. Poor boy, he's left alone in the world."
"Where's he stopping?" asked Holden, hardly knowing why he asked thequestion.
"Dr. Kent took him in after the funeral, so I heard; but the selectmenof Waverley are trying to find him a place somewheres, where he can earnhis own livin'. He's a smart, capable boy, and I guess he can do 'most aman's work."
Abner Holden looked thoughtful. Some plan had suggested itself to himwhich appeared to yield him satisfaction, for he began to look decidedlymore comfortable, and he muttered to himself: "I'll be even with himYET. See if I don't."
"How far am I from Waverley?" he asked, after a slight pause.
"Well, risin' three miles," drawled the other.
"If I could get somebody to go back with this horse, I don't know butwhat I'd walk to Waverley. Are you very busy?"
"Well, I don't know but I could leave off for a short time," said theother, cautiously. "Work's pretty drivin', to be sure. What do youcal'late to pay?"
"How much would it be worth?"
"Well, there's the walk there and back, and then again there's thetime."
"You can mount the horse going."
"I guess fifty cents'll about pay me."
Mr. Holden took out his pocketbook and paid the required sum.
"By the way," he said, as if incidentally, "who is the chairman of theselectmen in the village of Waverley?"
"You ain't thinkin' of takin' that boy, be you?" said the other,curiously.
"I've had enough to do with him; I don't want ever to lay eyes on himagain."
"Well, I dunno as I should, if I was you," said the countryman, ratherslyly.
"You haven't answered my question yet," said Holden, impatiently.
"Oh, about the cheerman of the selectmen. It's Captain Joseph Ross."
"Where does he live?"
"A leetle this side of the village. You'll know the house, well enough.It's a large, square house painted white, with a well-sweep in front."
Without a word of thanks for the information, Abner Holden turned,and began to walk toward Waverley. Perhaps his object in making theseinquiries has been guessed. It happened that he needed a boy, and, formore reasons than one, he thought he should like to have Herbert boundto him. Herbert, as he had noticed, was a stout boy, and he probablycould get a good deal of work out of him. Then, again, it would begratifying to him to have our hero in subjection to him. He could payhim off then, ten times over, for his insolence, as he chose to term it.
"I'll break his proud spirit," thought Abner Holden. "He'll find he'sgot a master, if I get hold of him. He don't know me yet, but he willsome time."
Mr. Holden resolved to wait on Captain Ross at once, and concludearrangements with him to take Herbert before our hero had returned fromthe mill village. He pictured, with a grim smile, Herbert's dismay whenhe learned who was to be his future master.
With the help of a handkerchief dipped into a crystal stream at theroadside, Abner Holden succeeded in effacing some of the muddy stainsupon his coat and pantaloons, and at length got himself into presentabletrim for calling upon a "selectman."
At length he came in sight of the house which had been described to himas that of Captain Ross. There was a woman at the well-sweep engaged indrawing water.
"Does Captain Ross live here?" he inquired.
"Yes, sir."
"Is he at home?"
"He's over in the three-acre lot. Was you wantin' to see him?"
"I should like to. Is the field far away?"
"No, it's just behind the house."
"Then I guess I'll go and find him. I want to see him on a little matterof business."
Mr. Holden crossed a mowing-field, and then, climbing over a stonewall, found himself at the edge of the three-acre lot. The captain wassuperintending one or two hired men, and, as he had his coat off, hadprobably been assisting them.
"Captain Ross?" said Abner Holden, interrogatively.
"That's my name."
"You are chairman of the selectmen, I believe?"
"Yes, sir."
"I understand that you have a boy that you want to bind out."
"I reckon you mean Herbert Mason."
"Yes, I believe that's the name I heard."
"Are you in want of a boy?"
"Yes, I am looking out for one."
"What is your business?"
"I keep a store, but I should want him to work on land part of thetime."
"Do you live hereabouts?"
"Over at Cranston."
"If you'll come to the house, we'll talk the matter over. The boy'sa good boy, and we want to get a good place for him. His mother was awidder, and he's her only son. He's a smart, capable lad, and good towork."
"I've no doubt he'll suit me. I'll take him on your recommendation."
"We should want him to go to school winters. He's a pretty good scholaralready. His father was a larned man, and used to teach him before hedied. If he had lived, I reckon Herbert would certainly have gone tocollege."
"I'll agree to send him to school in the winter for the next twoyears," said Holden, "and will give him board and clothes, and when he'stwenty-one a freedom suit, and a hundred dollars. Will that do?"
"I don't know but that's reasonable," said Captain Ross, slowly. "Theboy's a bit high-spirited, but if you manage him right, I guess you'lllike him."
"I'll manage him!" thought Abner Holden. "Can I take him with meto-morrow?" he asked. "I don't come this way very often."
"Well, I guess that can be arranged. We'll go over to Dr. Kent's afterdinner, and see if they can get him ready."
"In the meantime," said Holden, afraid that the prize might slip throughhis fingers, "suppose we make out the papers. I suppose you have fullauthority in the matter."
Captain Ross had no objection, and thus poor Herbert was unconsciouslydelivered over to the tender mercies of a man who had very little lovefor him.
Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy Page 3