Paul Prescott's Charge

  VIII.

  A FRIEND IN NEED.

  Our hero did not stop till he had put a good five miles between himselfand the poorhouse. He knew that it would not be long before Mr. Mudgewould discover his absence, and the thought of being carried back wasdoubly distasteful to him now that he had, even for a short time, feltthe joy of being his own master. His hurried walk, taken in the freshmorning air, gave him quite a sharp appetite. Luckily he had the meansof gratifying it. The night before he had secreted half his supper,knowing that he should need it more the next morning. He thought hemight now venture to sit down and eat it.

  At a little distance from the road was a spring, doubtless used forcattle, since it was situated at the lower end of a pasture. Closebeside and bending over it was a broad, branching oak, which promised acool and comfortable shelter.

  "That's just the place for me," thought Paul, who felt thirsty as wellas hungry, "I think I will take breakfast here and rest awhile before Igo any farther."

  So saying he leaped lightly over the rail fence, and making his way tothe place indicated, sat down in the shadow of the tree. Scooping upsome water in the hollow of his hand, he drank a deep and refreshingdraught. He next proceeded to pull out of his pocket a small package,which proved to contain two small pieces of bread. His long morning walkhad given him such an appetite that he was not long in despatching allhe had. It is said by some learned physicians, who no doubt understandthe matter, that we should always rise from the table with an appetite.Probably Paul had never heard of this rule. Nevertheless, he seemed ina fair way of putting it into practice, for the best of reasons, becausehe could not help it.

  His breakfast, though not the most inviting, being simply unbutteredbread and rather dry at that, seemed more delicious than ever before,but unfortunately there was not enough of it. However, as there seemedlikely to be no more forthcoming, he concluded in default of breakfastto lie down under the tree for a few minutes before resuming his walk.Though he could not help wondering vaguely where his dinner was to comefrom, as that time was several hours distant, he wisely decided not toanticipate trouble till it came.

  Lying down under the tree, Paul began to consider what Mr. Mudge wouldsay when he discovered that he had run away.

  "He'll have to milk the cows himself," thought Paul. "He won't fancythat much. Won't Mrs. Mudge scold, thought? I'm glad I shan't be withinhearing."

  "Holloa!"

  It was a boy's voice that Paul heard.

  Looking up he saw a sedate company of cows entering the pasture singlefile through an aperture made by letting down the bars. Behind themwalked a boy of about his own size, flourishing a stout hickory stick.The cows went directly to the spring from which Paul had already drunk.The young driver looked at our hero with some curiosity, wondering,doubtless, what brought him there so early in the morning. After alittle hesitation he said, remarking Paul's bundle, "Where are youtraveling?"

  "I don't know exactly," said Paul, who was not quite sure whether itwould be politic to avow his destination.

  "Don't know?" returned the other, evidently surprised.

  "Not exactly; I may go to New York."

  "New York! That's a great ways off. Do you know the way there?"

  "No, but I can find it."

  "Are you going all alone?" asked his new acquaintance, who evidentlythought Paul had undertaken a very formidable journey.

  "Yes."

  "Are you going to walk all the way?"

  "Yes, unless somebody offers me a ride now and then."

  "But why don't you ride in the stage, or in the cars? You would getthere a good deal quicker."

  "One reason," said Paul, hesitating a little, "is because I have nomoney to pay for riding."

  "Then how do you expect to live? Have you had any breakfast, thismorning?"

  "I brought some with me, and just got through eating it when you camealong."

  "And where do you expect to get any dinner?" pursued his questioner, whowas evidently not a little puzzled by the answers he received.

  "I don't know," returned Paul.

  His companion looked not a little confounded at this view of the matter,but presently a bright thought struck him.

  "I shouldn't wonder," he said, shrewdly, "if you were running away."

  Paul hesitated a moment. He knew that his case must look a littlesuspicious, thus unexplained, and after a brief pause for reflectiondetermined to take the questioner into his confidence. He did this themore readily because his new acquaintance looked very pleasant.

  "You've guessed right," he said; "if you'll promise not to tell anybody,I'll tell you all about it."

  This was readily promised, and the boy who gave his name as JohnBurgess, sat down beside Paul, while he, with the frankness ofboyhood, gave a circumstantial account of his father's death, and theill-treatment he had met with subsequently.

  "Do you come from Wrenville?" asked John, interested. "Why, I've gotrelations there. Perhaps you know my cousin, Ben Newcome."

  "Is Ben Newcome your cousin? O yes, I know him very well; he's afirst-rate fellow."

  "He isn't much like his father."

  "Not at all. If he was"--

  "You wouldn't like him so well. Uncle talks a little too much out ofthe dictionary, and walks so straight that he bends backward. But I say,Paul, old Mudge deserves to be choked, and Mrs. Mudge should be obligedto swallow a gallon of her own soup. I don't know but that would beworse than choking. I wouldn't have stayed so long if I had been in yourplace."

  "I shouldn't," said Paul, "if it hadn't been for Aunt Lucy."

  "Was she an aunt of yours?"

  "No, but we used to call her so, She's the best friend I've got, and Idon't know but the only one," said Paul, a little sadly.

  "No, she isn't," said John, quickly; "I'll be your friend, Paul.Sometime, perhaps, I shall go to New York, myself, and then I will comeand see you. Where do you expect to be?"

  "I don't know anything about the city," said Paul, "but if you come, Ishall be sure to see you somewhere. I wish you were going now."

  Neither Paul nor his companion had much idea of the extent of the greatmetropolis, or they would not have taken it so much as a matter ofcourse that, being in the same place, they should meet each other.

  Their conversation was interrupted by the ringing of a bell from afarmhouse within sight.

  "That's our breakfast-bell," said John rising from the grass. "It ismeant for me. I suppose they wonder what keeps me so long. Won't youcome and take breakfast with me, Paul?"

  "I guess not," said Paul, who would have been glad to do so had hefollowed the promptings of his appetite. "I'm afraid your folks wouldask me questions, and then it would be found out that I am runningaway."

  "I didn't think of that," returned John, after a pause. "You haven't gotany dinner with you?" he said a moment after.

  "No."

  "Well, I'll tell you what I'll do. Come with me as far as the fence, andlie down there till I've finished breakfast. Then I'll bring somethingout for you, and maybe I'll walk along a little way with you."

  "You are very kind," said Paul, gratefully.

  "Oh, nonsense," said John, "that's nothing. Besides, you know we aregoing to be friends."

  "John! breakfast's ready."

  "There's Nelson calling me," said John, hurriedly. "I must leave you;there's the fence; lie down there, and I'll be back in a jiffy."

  "John, I say, why don't you come?"

  "I'm coming. You mustn't think everybody's got such a thundering greatappetite as you, Nelson."

  "I guess you've got enough to keep you from pining away," said Nelson,good-naturedly, "you're twice as fat as I am."

  "That's because I work harder," said John, rather illogically.

  The brothers went in to breakfast.

  But a few minutes elapsed before John reappeared, bearing under his arma parcel wrapped up in an old newspaper. He came up panting with thehaste he had made.

  "It didn't take you long to eat brea
kfast," said Paul.

  "No, I hurried through it; I thought you would get tired of waiting. Andnow I'll walk along with you a little ways. But wait here's somethingfor you."

  So saying he unrolled the newspaper and displayed a loaf of bread,fresh and warm, which looked particularly inviting to Paul, whose scantybreakfast had by no means satisfied his appetite. Besides this, therewas a loaf of molasses ginger-bread, with which all who were born in thecountry, or know anything of New England housekeeping, are familiar.

  "There," said John, "I guess that'll be enough for your dinner."

  "But how did you get it without having any questions asked?" inquiredour hero.

  "Oh," said John, "I asked mother for them, and when she asked what Iwanted of them, I told her that I'd answer that question to-morrow.You see I wanted to give you a chance to get off out of the way, thoughmother wouldn't tell, even if she knew."

  "All right," said Paul, with satisfaction.

  He could not help looking wistfully at the bread, which looked veryinviting to one accustomed to poorhouse fare.

  "If you wouldn't mind," he said hesitating, "I would like to eat alittle of the bread now."

  "Mind, of course not," said John, breaking off a liberal slice. "Whydidn't I think of that before? Walking must have given you a famousappetite."

  John looked on with evident approbation, while Paul ate with greatapparent appetite.

  "There," said he with a sigh of gratification, as he swallowed the lastmorsel, "I haven't tasted anything so good for a long time."

  "Is it as good as Mrs. Mudge's soup?" asked John, mischievously.

  "Almost," returned Paul, smiling.

  We must now leave the boys to pursue their way, and return to thedwelling from which our hero had so unceremoniously taken his departure,and from which danger now threatened him.