Robert Coverdale's Struggle; Or, on the Wave of Success

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  THE VICTIM OF TYRANNY

  Andrew Jackson made his appearance with a piece of brown paper over animaginary bruise on his head and eye and the carefully assumedexpression of a suffering victim.

  "What is this I hear?" asked his father. "Have you had a difficulty withBill?"

  "Yes," answered Andrew in the tone of a martyr. "He knocked me down witha hoe, and if mother had not come out just as she did I think he wouldhave killed me."

  "What made him attack you?" asked Mr. Badger, exceedingly surprised.

  "I asked him if he would dig some fish-worms for me."

  "Couldn't you dig some yourself?"

  "I s'pose I could, but he knew better than I where to find them."

  "What next?"

  "He said he wouldn't. I told him that I would tell you about hisimpertinence. Then he hit me with the hoe as hard as he could."

  "Was that all that passed?"

  "Yes."

  "I don't quite understand it. You are surely stronger than Bill. How didit happen that you allowed him to strike you?"

  "He had a hoe and I hadn't anything," answered Andrew meekly. "He was sofurious that he wouldn't have made anything of killing me."

  "I always thought he was rather mild and milk-and-watery," said NathanBadger thoughtfully.

  "You wouldn't have thought so if you'd seen him, Mr. Badger," said hiswife, drawing upon her imagination. "He looked like a young fiend. DearAndrew is right. The boy is positively dangerous! I don't know but weshall be murdered in our beds some night if we let him go on this way."

  Mr. Badger shrugged his shoulders, for he was not quite a fool, andanswered dryly:

  "That thought won't keep me awake. He isn't that kind of a boy."

  "Oh, well, Mr. Badger, if you are going to take his part against yourown flesh and blood, I've got no more to say."

  "Who's taking his part?" retorted Mr. Badger sharply. "I'm not going touphold him in attacking Andrew, but I'm rather surprised at hismustering spunk enough to do it. As for his doing us any harm, that'sall nonsense."

  "You may change your mind when it's too late, Mr. Badger."

  "Are you afraid of him?" asked her husband contemptuously as he regardedthe tall, muscular figure of his wife, who probably would have been amatch for himself in physical strength.

  "I can defend myself if I am awake," said Mrs. Badger. "But what's tohinder his attacking me when I'm asleep?"

  "You can fasten your door if you are afraid. But that isn't my troublewith him. There's something more serious, Mrs. B."

  "What is it? What's he been doin'?"

  "It isn't he. It's Charles Waldo. I'm free to say that Mr. Waldo is themeanest man I ever had dealings with. You know I wrote to him to see ifhe wouldn't allow me something extra toward the boy's keep."

  "Yes."

  "Well, read that letter. Or, stay, I'll read it to you."

  Mr. Badger took the letter from his pocket and read it aloud to his wifeand son. Mrs. Badger was as much disappointed as her husband, for shewas quite as fond of money as he.

  "What are you goin' to do?" she asked.

  "I can't do anything," answered Mr. Badger in deep disgust.

  "Will you keep the boy?"

  "Of course I will. Between ourselves, he more than earns his victuals;but, all the same, Mr. Waldo is perfectly able to allow us a littleprofit."

  "You must make him work harder," suggested Mrs. Badger.

  "I mean to. Now, we will settle about this little affair. Where isBill?"

  "Out in the field, digging potatoes," said Andrew glibly.

  "Go and call him."

  "All right, sir."

  And the boy prepared to obey the command with uncommon alacrity.

  Poor Bill, nervous and unhappy, had been hard at work in the potatofield through the long forenoon, meditating bitterly on his sadposition. So far as he knew, there was no one that loved him, no onethat cared for him. He was a friendless boy. From Mr. and Mrs. Badgerand Andrew he never received a kind nor encouraging word, but, instead,taunts and reproaches, and the heart of the poor boy, hungering forkindness, found none.

  "Will it always be so?" he asked himself. "If Andrew would only be kindto me I would do anything for him, but he seems to hate me, and so doesMrs. Badger. Mr. Badger isn't quite so bad, but he only cares for thework I do."

  The poor boy sighed heavily as he leaned for a moment upon his hoe. "Hewas roused by a sharp voice.

  "Shirking your work, are you?" said Andrew. "I've caught you this time.What'll my father say to that?"

  "I have been working hard, Andrew," said Bill. "I can show you what Ihave done this forenoon."

  "That's too thin. You're lazy, and that's all about it. Well, myfather's got home, and now you're going to catch it. Maybe you'll knockhim down with a hoe," said Andrew tauntingly.

  "I'm sorry I hit you, Andrew, as I told you; but you shouldn't havestruck me with a whip."

  "I had a perfect right to do it. I'm your master."

  "No, you're not!" returned Bill with spirit.

  "We'll see whether I am or not. Come right up to the house."

  "Who says so?"

  "My father told me to call you."

  "Very well, I will come," and the bound boy shouldered his hoe andfollowed Andrew wearily to the farmhouse yard, where Mr. and Mrs. Badgerwere standing.

  One look at the stern faces of the pair satisfied Bill that troubleawaited him. He knew very well that he could not hope for justice andthat one word from Andrew in the mind of his parents would outweigh allhe could say.

  "Here comes the young ruffian!" said Mrs. Badger as soon as he camewithin hearing distance. "Here comes the wicked boy who tried to kill mypoor Andrew."

  "That is not true, Mrs. Badger," said Bill earnestly. "I was onlydefending myself."

  "You hear, Mr. Badger. He as much as tells me I lie! Do you hear that?"demanded the incensed woman.

  "Bill Benton," said Mr. Badger sternly, "I hear you have made a savageand brutal attack on Andrew Jackson. Now, what have you to say foryourself, sir?"

  "He struck me twice with a whip, Mr. Badger, and I got mad. I didn'tmean to hurt him."

  "You might have killed him!" broke in Mrs. Badger.

  "No, I wouldn't, ma'am."

  "Contradicting me again! If there was ever a boy looked like a youngfiend, you did when I came out to save my boy from your brutal temper.Oh, you'll swing on the gallows some day, sir! I'm sure of that."

  To an unprejudiced observer all this would have been very ridiculous.The delicate, refined-looking boy, whose face showed unmistakablegentleness and mildness, almost carried to an extreme, was about thelast boy to whom such words could suitably have been addressed.

  "Andrew Jackson, did you strike Bill with a whip?" asked Mr. Badger,turning to his son.

  "No, I didn't," answered Andrew without a blush.

  "How can you tell such a lie?" said Bill indignantly.

  "Mr. Badger, will you allow this young ruffian to accuse your own son offalsehood?" cried the mother.

  "Did you have a whip in your hand, Andrew?" asked his father.

  Andrew hesitated a moment, but finally thought it best to say he did.

  "Did you strike Bill with it?"

  "No."

  "You see how candid the poor boy is," said his mother. "He tells youthat he had a whip in his hand, though many boys would have denied it.But my Andrew was always truthful."

  Even Andrew felt a little embarrassed at this undeserved tribute to avirtue in which he knew that he was very deficient.

  "Bill Benton," said Mr. Badger sternly, "it appears that you have notonly made an atrocious assault on my son, but lied deliberately aboutit. You shall have neither dinner nor supper, and tonight I will giveyou a flogging. Now, go back to your work!"

  "Ho, ho! You'll hit me again, will you?" said Andrew triumphantly as thepoor boy slowly retraced his way to the field.

  As the bound boy walked wearily back to the field he
felt that he hadlittle to live for. Hard work--too hard for his slenderstrength--accompanied by poor fare and cruel treatment, constituted hisonly prospect. But there seemed no alternative. He must keep on workingand suffering--so far he could foresee.

  He worked an hour and then he began to feel faint. He had eaten butlittle breakfast and he needed a fresh supply of food to restore hisstrength. How he could hold out till evening he could not tell. Alreadyhis head began to ache and he felt weary and listless.

  He was left to work alone, for Mr. Badger usually indulged himself inthe luxury of an after-dinner nap, lasting till at least three o'clock.

  As he was plodding along suddenly he heard his name called in a cheeryvoice:

  "Hello, Bill!"

  Looking up, he saw Dick Schmidt, the son of a neighbor, a good-naturedboy, whom he looked upon as almost his only friend.

  "Hello, Dick!" he responded.

  "You're looking pale. Bill," said his friend. "What's the matter?"

  "I don't feel very well, Dick."

  "You ought not to be at work. Have you had dinner?"

  "I am not to have any."

  "Why not?" asked Dick, opening his eyes. "I knew old Badger was mean,but I didn't think he was mean enough for that!"

  "It's a punishment," Bill explained.

  "What for?"

  "For hitting Andrew Jackson with a hoe and knocking him down."

  "Did you do that, Bill?" exclaimed Dick in great delight, for hedisliked Mr. Badger's petted heir. "I didn't think it was in you! Shakehands, old fellow, and tell me all about it."

  "I am afraid it was wicked, Dick, but I couldn't help it. I must havehurt him, for he screamed very loud."

  "Better and better! I know how he treats you, Bill, and I tell you it'lldo him good--the young tyrant! But you haven't told me about it."

  Bill told the story, to which Dick listened with earnest attention. Heexpressed hearty approval of Bill's course and declared that he wouldhave done the same.

  "So you are in disgrace," he said. "Never mind. Bill. It'll all come outright. It is worth something to have punished that young bully. Butwhat's the matter, Bill? What makes you so pale?"

  "I think it's going without my dinner. The hard work makes me hungry."

  "Just wait a minute. I'll be back in a jiffy!"

  Dick was off like a shot. When he returned he brought with him twoslices of bread and butter, a slice of cold meat and two apples.

  "Eat 'em, Bill," he said. "They'll make you feel better."

  "Oh, Dick! I didn't want to trouble you so much."

  "It was no trouble, old fellow."

  "What will your mother say to your taking all this?"

  "She'll be glad of it. She isn't so mean as Mrs. Badger. I say, Bill,you must come over and take supper with us some time. There's plenty toeat at our house."

  "I should like to, Dick, if Mr. Badger would let me."

  "Don't talk any more till you have eaten what I brought you."

  Bill obeyed his friend's directions, and, to Dick's great satisfaction,ate all that had been brought him with evident appetite.

  "I feel a good deal better," he said as he took the hoe once more andset to work. "I feel strong now."

  "It's lucky I came along. I say. Bill, is that your only punishment?"

  A shadow came over Bill's face.

  "I am to be flogged this evening," he said. "Mr. Badger told me so, andhe always keeps his word."

  Dick set his teeth and clinched his fists.

  "I'd like to flog old Badger," he said energetically. "Are you going tostand it?"

  "I can't help it, Dick."

  "I'd help it!" said his friend, nodding emphatically.

  Bill shook his head despondently.

  The whipping seemed to him inevitable, and there seemed to be no way ofavoiding it.

  "What time do you expect he will whip you--the old brute?" asked Dick.

  "He waits till nine o'clock, just after I have gone to bed."

  "Then will you follow my advice?"

  "What is it?"

  Dick whispered in Bill's ear the plan he had in view. There was no needto whisper, but he did it to show that the communication wasconfidential.

  This was the plan:

  Bill was to go to bed as usual, but in about fifteen minutes he was toget out of the window, slide along the roof of the L and descend to theground, when Dick was to meet him, escort him to his house and allow himto share his room for the night.

  "Then," said he, "when the old man comes up to tackle you he'll have topound the bed and get his satisfaction out of that. Won't that be asplendid joke?"

  Bill smiled faintly. It seemed to him a daring defiance of Mr. Badger,but, after all, he wouldn't fare any worse than he was sure of doing,and he finally acquiesced, though with serious doubts as to thepropriety of the plan.

  "Don't say a word to let 'em know what you're going to do. Bill--mindthat!"

  "No, I won't."

  "You'll be sure to find me waiting for you outside the house, just atthe back of the barn. I'll give you some supper when you reach thehouse."

  When the bound boy came from work in the evening he met stern, coldlooks from Mr. and Mrs. Badger, but Andrew Jackson wore a look oftriumphant malice. He was gloating over the punishment in reserve forthe boy whom he so groundlessly hated.

  "Ain't you hungry?" he said tauntingly.

  Bill looked at him, but did not answer.

  "Oh, you needn't answer. I know you are," said the young tyrant. "Youdidn't like it very much, going without your dinner. You ain't going tohave any supper, either. If you're very hungry, though, and will go downon your knees and beg my pardon, I'll get you something to eat. What doyou say?"

  "I won't do what you say," said Bill slowly. "I don't care enough forsupper to do that."

  "You don't?" exclaimed Andrew angrily. "So you're stubborn, are you?Anyhow, you can't say I haven't given you a chance."

  "You're very kind!" said the bound boy sarcastically, in spite of hisgentleness.

  "Of course I am," blustered Andrew Jackson. "Most boys wouldn't be,after the way you treated me."

  "You want the satisfaction of having me beg your pardon," said Bill,looking full in the face of the petty despot.

  "Yes, I do; and I mean to have it."

  "You can, upon one condition."

  "What's that?" asked Andrew Jackson, his curiosity overcoming hisindignation.

  "If you'll beg my pardon for striking me with your whip, I'll beg yoursfor hitting you with the hoe."

  Andrew fairly gasped for breath at this daring proposal, and he lookedfor a moment as if he were in danger of having a stroke of apoplexy.

  "You saucy beggar!" he ejaculated. "How dare you talk to me in thatimpertinent way? I'll tell father to give you the worst flogging everyou had to-night--see if I don't!"

  And the boy left to report Bill's new insolence to his mother.

  Bill crept up to bed a little earlier than usual. He knew that Mr.Badger would not ascend to his humble room to administer the threatenedpunishment till nine o'clock or later.

  Through a refinement of cruelty that humane gentleman chose to let hisintended victim lie in an anxious anticipation of the flogging, thusmaking it assume greater terror.

  In fact, he probably would not return from the village till nine o'clockor later, and this was an additional reason why he put it off.

  His absence made it easier for Bill to carry out the plan which had beenformed for him by his trusty friend, Dick Schmidt, and escape from thehouse.

  He accomplished his escape unnoticed about half-past eight o'clock.

  Dick was waiting for him behind the barn. He had been a little afraidthat Bill would repent the promise he had made and back out. When he sawhim he welcomed him gladly.

  "I was afraid you wouldn't dare to come, Bill," he said.

  "I shan't be any worse off," said the bound boy. "Mr. Badger was goingto give me a flogging, anyway, and he can't do any more than that as itis
."

  "What an old brute he is!" exclaimed Dick.

  "He isn't as bad as his wife or Andrew Jackson."

  "That's so! Andrew is a mean boy. I'm glad you hit him."

  "I am sorry, Dick."

  "Don't you think he deserved it?"

  "Yes, but I don't like to be the one to do it."

  "I wouldn't mind it," said Dick, "but he's precious careful not to getinto any muss with me."

  "You're not bound to Mr. Badger."

  "If I were, he wouldn't dare to order me round. Catch him bulldozingme!"

  "You're more plucky than I am, Dick."

  "You're too good-natured, Bill--that's what's the matter with you."

  "I hate fighting, Dick."

  "What did Andrew say to you when you came home from work?"

  "He wanted me to go down on my knees and beg his pardon for hittinghim."

  "Why didn't you knock him down?" said Dick quickly.

  "I told him I'd do it----"

  _"What!"_ exclaimed Dick Schmidt in the deepest disgust.

  "If he'd beg my pardon first for striking me with a whip."

  "That's better. I thought you wouldn't be so much of a coward as to beghis pardon."

  "He didn't accept the offer," said Bill, smiling.

  "No, I suppose not. Was he mad?"

  "He looked as if he was. He called me a saucy beggar and threatened totell his father."

  "I've no doubt he will. He's just mean enough to do that. I say. Bill,it's a pity you don't work for my father."

  "I wish I did, Dick, but perhaps you'd boss me, too."

  "Not much danger. We'd be like brothers."

  While this conversation was going on the two boys were walking acrossthe fields to Mr. Schmidt's farm. The distance was not great, and bythis time they were at the back door.

  As they went in Bill's eyes glistened as he saw a nice supper laid onthe kitchen table, waiting for him, for Dick had told his mother of theguest he expected. He decided to say nothing of the circumstances thatled to the invitation. He might safely have done so, however, for Mrs.Schmidt was a good, motherly woman, who pitied the boy and understoodvery well that his position in Mr. Badger's family must be a verydisagreeable one.

  "I am glad to see you, William," she said. "Sit right down and eatsupper. I've got a hot cup of tea for you."

  "I'll sit down, too, mother. I only ate a little supper, for I wanted tokeep Bill company."

  Presently the boys went to bed and had a social chat before going tosleep.

  "I wish," said Dick, "I could be where I could look on when old Badgergoes up to your room and finds the bird flown."

  If Dick could have been there, he would have witnessed an extraordinaryscene.