CHAPTER II.
THE COUNTRY.
SETH had little idea as to the direction he had taken, save that thestreet led straight away from the water, and surely he must come intothe country finally by pursuing such a course.
Neither time nor distance gave him relief of mind; it was much as ifflight served to increase the fear in his mind, and even after havingcome to the suburbs of the city he looked over his shoulderapprehensively from time to time, almost expecting to see the officersof the law in hot pursuit.
If it had been possible for Snip to understand the situation fully, hecould not have behaved with more discretion, according to his master'sviews.
Instead of begging to be let down that he might enjoy a frolic on thegreen grass, he remained passive in Seth's arms, pressing his nose upto the lad's neck now and then as if expressing sympathy. The littlefellow did not so much as whine when they passed rapidly by acool-looking, bubbling stream, even though his tongue was lolling out,red and dripping with perspiration; but Seth understood that his petwould have been much refreshed with a drink of the running water, andsaid, in a soothing, affectionate tone:
"I don't dare to stop yet a while, Snippey dear, for nobody knows hownear the officers may be, and you had better go thirsty a littlelonger, than be kicked out into the street when I'm locked up injail."
A big lump came into the fugitive's throat at the picture he haddrawn, and the brook was left far behind before he could force it downsufficiently to speak.
Then the two were come to a small shop, in the windows of which weredisplayed a variety of wares, from slate pencils to mint drops, andhere Seth halted irresolutely.
He had continued at a rapid pace, and fully an hour was passed sincehe parted from his friends. He was both hungry and weary; there werebut few buildings to be seen ahead, and, so he argued with himself,this might be his last opportunity to purchase anything which wouldserve as food until he was launched into that wilderness known to himas "the country."
No person could be seen in either direction, and Seth persuadedhimself that it might be safe to halt here for so long a time as wouldbe necessary to select something from the varied stock to appeasehunger, and at the same time be within his limited means.
For the first moment since leaving the ferry-slip he allowed Snip toslip out of his arms; but caught him up again very quickly as the doggave strong evidence of a desire to spend precious time in a frolic.
"You must wait a spell longer, Snippey dear," he muttered. "We mayhave to run for it, an' I mightn't have a chance to get you in my armsagain. It would be terrible if the officers got hold of you, an' I'mafraid they'd try it for the sake of catchin' me, 'cause everybodyknows I wouldn't leave you, no matter what happened."
Then Seth stole softly into the shop, as if fearing to awaken thesuspicion of the proprietor by a bold approach, and once inside, gazedquickly around.
Two or three early, unwholesome-looking apples and a jar of gingercakes made up the list of eatables, and his decision was quicklymade.
"How many of them cakes will you sell for five cents?" he askedtimidly of the slovenly woman who was embroidering an odd green floweron a small square of soiled and faded red silk.
She looked at him listlessly, and then gazed at the cakesmeditatively.
"I don't know the price of them. This shop isn't mine; I'm tendin' itfor a friend."
"Then you can't sell things?" and Seth turned to go, fearing lest hehad already loitered too long.
"Oh, dear, yes, that's what I'm here for; but I never had a customerfor cakes, an' to tell the truth I don't believe one of 'em has beensold for a month. Do you know what they are worth?"
"The bakers sell a doughnut as big as three of them for a cent, an'throw in an extra one if they're stale."
The lady deposited her embroidery on a sheet of brown paper whichcovered one end of the counter, and surveyed the cakes.
"It seems to me that a cent for three of them would be a fair price,"she said at length, after having broken one in order to gain someidea of its age.
"Have you got anything else to eat?"
"That candy is real good, especially the checkerberry sticks, butperhaps you rather have somethin' more fillin'."
"I'll take five cents' worth of cakes," Seth said hurriedly, for itseemed as if he had been inside the shop a very long while.
The amateur clerk set about counting the stale dainties in abusinesslike way; but at that instant Snip came into view from behindhis master, and she ceased the task at once to cry in delight:
"What a dear little dog! Did he come with you?"
"Yes, ma'am," Seth replied hesitatingly; and he added as the womanstooped to caress Snip: "We're in a big hurry, an' if you'll give methe cakes I'll thank you."
"Dear me, why didn't you say so at first?" and she resumed her task ofcounting the cakes, stopping now and then to speak to Snip, who wassitting up on his hind legs begging for a bit of the stale pastry."How far are you going?"
"I don't know; you see we can't walk very fast."
"Got friends out this way, I take it?"
"Well,--yes--no--that is, I don't know. Won't you please hurry?"
The woman seemed to think it necessary she should feed Snip with aportion of one cake that had already been counted out for Seth, and tostill further tempt the dog's appetite by giving him an inch or morebroken from one of the checkerberry sticks, before attending to herduties as clerk, after which she concluded her portion of thetransaction by holding out a not over-cleanly hand for the money.
Seth hurriedly gave her five pennies, and then, seizing Snip in hisarms, ran out of the shop regardless of the questions she literallyhurled after him.
His first care was to gaze down the road in the direction from whichhe had just come, and the relief of mind was great when he failed tosee any signs of life.
"They haven't caught up with us yet, Snippey," he said, as if certainthe officers were somewhere in the rear bent on taking him prisoner."If they stop at the store, that woman will be sure to say we werehere."
Having thus spurred himself on, he continued the journey half an hourlonger, when they had arrived at a grove of small trees and bushesthrough which ran a tiny brook.
"We can hide in here, an' you'll have a chance to run around on thegrass till you're tired," he said, as, after making certain there wasno one in sight to observe his movements, he darted amid theshrubbery.
It was not difficult for a boy tired as was Seth, to find arest-inviting spot by the side of the stream where the bushes hid himfrom view of any who might chance to pass along the road, and withoutloss of time Snip set himself the task of chasing every butterfly thatdared come within his range of vision, ceasing only for a few secondsat a time to lick his master's hand, or take his share of the stalepastry.
It was most refreshing to Seth, this halt beneath the shade of thebushes where the brook sang such a song as he had never heard before,and despite the age of the cake his hunger was appeased. Save for thehaunting fear that the officers of the law might be close upon hisheels, he would have been very happy, and even under the painfulcircumstances attending his departure, he enjoyed in a certain degreethe unusual scene before him.
Then Snip, wearied with his fruitless pursuit of the butterflies,crept close by his master's side for a nap, and Seth yielded to thetemptation to stretch himself out at full length on the soft, coolmoss.
There was in his mind the thought that he must resume the flightwithin a short time, lest he fail to find a shelter before the nighthad come; but the dancing waters sang a most entrancing andrest-inviting melody until his eyes closed despite his efforts to holdthem open, and master and dog were wrapped in slumber.
The birds gathered on the branches above the heads of the sleepers,gazing down curiously and with many an inquiring twitter, as if askingwhether this boy was one who would do them a mischief if it lay in hispower, and the butterflies flaunted their gaudy wings within an inchof Snip's eyes; but the slumber was not broken.
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The sun had no more than an hour's time remaining before his day'swork in that particular section of the country had come to an end,when a brown moth fluttered down upon Seth's nose, where he satpluming his wings in such an energetic manner that the boy suddenlysneezed himself into wakefulness, while Snip leaped up with a chorusof shrill barks and yelps which nearly threw the curious birds intohysterics.
"It's almost sunset, Snippey dear, an' we've been idlin' here when weought'er been huntin' for a house where we can stay till mornin'. It'sfine, I know," he added, as he took the tiny dog in his arms; "but Idon't believe it would be very jolly to hang 'round in such a placeall night. Besides, who knows but there are bears? We must be aterrible long way in the country, an' if the farmers are as good asPip Smith tells about, we can get a chance to sleep in a house."
The fear that the officers might be close upon his heels had fled; itseemed as if many, many hours had passed since he took leave of Timand Teddy, and it was possible the representatives of law would notpursue him so far into the country.
He had yet on hand a third of the stale cakes, and with these in hispocket as token that he would not go supperless to bed, and Snip onhis arm, he resumed the flight once more.
After a brisk walk of half an hour, still on a course directly awayfrom the river, as he believed, Seth began to look about him for ashelter during the night.
"We'll stop at the first house that looks as if the folks who live init might be willin' to help two fellers like us along, an' ask if wecan stay all night," he said to Snip, speaking in a more cheery tonethan he had indulged in since the fear-inspiring advertisement hadbeen brought to his attention.
He did not adhere strictly to this plan, however, for when he was cometo a farmhouse which had seemed to give token of sheltering generouspeople, a big black dog ran out of the yard growling and snapping,much to Snippey's alarm, and Seth hurried on at full speed.
"That wouldn't be any place for you, young man," he said, patting thedog's head. "We'll sleep out of doors rather than have you scared halfto death!"
Ten minutes later he knocked at the door of a house, and, on makinghis request to a surly-looking man, was told that they "had no use fortramps."
Seth did not stop to explain that he could not rightly be called atramp; but ran onward as if fearful lest the farmer might pursue topunish him for daring to ask such a favor.
Three times within fifteen minutes did he ask in vain for a shelter,and then his courage had oozed out at his fingers' ends.
"If Pip Smith was here he'd see that there ain't much milk an' pielayin' 'round to be picked up, an' it begins to look, Snippey, as ifwe'd better stayed down there by the brook."
Master Snip growled as if to say that he too believed they had made amistake in pushing on any farther, and the sun hid his face behind thehills as a warning for young boys and small dogs to get under cover.
Seth was discouraged, and very nearly frightened. He began to fearthat he might get himself and Snip into serious trouble by any furtherefforts at finding a charitably disposed farmer, and after the shadowsof night had begun to lengthen until every bush and rock was distortedinto some hideous or fantastic shape, he was standing opposite a smallbarn adjoining a yet smaller dwelling.
No light could be seen from the building; it was as if the place hadbeen deserted, and such a state of affairs seemed more promising toSeth than any he had seen.
"If the people are at home, an' we ask them to let us stay all night,we'll be driven away; so s'pose we creep in there, an' at the firstshow of mornin' we'll be off. It can't do any harm for us to sleep ina barn when the folks don't know it."
The barking of a dog in the distance caused him to decide upon acourse of action very quickly, and in the merest fraction of time hewas inside the building, groping around the main floor on which hadbeen thrown a sufficient amount of hay to provide a dozen boys with acomfortable bed.
He could hear some animal munching its supper a short distance away,and this sound robbed the gloomy interior of half its imaginaryterrors.
Promising himself that he would leave the place before the occupantsof the house were stirring next morning, Seth made his bed byburrowing into the hay, and, with Snip nestling close by his side, wassoon ready for another nap.
The fugitive had taken many steps during his flight, and, despite theslumber indulged in by the side of the brook, his eyes were soonclosed in profound sleep.
Many hours later the shrill barking of Snip awakened Seth, and he satbolt upright on the hay, rubbing his sleepy eyes as if trying to provethat those useful members had deceived him in some way.
The rays of the morning sun were streaming in through the open door ina golden flood, and with the radiance came sweet odors borne by thegentle breeze.
Seth gave no heed just at that moment to the wondrous beauties ofnature to be seen on every hand, when even the rough barn was gildedand perfumed, for standing in the doorway, as if literally petrifiedwith astonishment, was a motherly looking little woman whose upraisedhands told of bewilderment and surprise, while from the expression onher face one could almost have believed that she was really afraid ofthe tiny Snip.
"Is that animal dangerous, little boy?" she asked nervously after abrief but, to Seth, painful pause.
"Who--what animal? Oh, you mean Snip? Why, he couldn't harm anybody ifhe tried, an', besides, he wouldn't hurt a fly. He always barks whenstrange folks come near where I am, so's to make me think he's awatch-dog. Do you own this barn?"
"Yes--that is to say, it has always belonged to the Morses, an' thereare none left now except Gladys an' me."
"I hope you won't be mad 'cause I came in here last night. I countedon gettin' away before you waked up; but the bed was so soft that itain't any wonder I kept right on sleepin'."
"Have you been here all night?" the little woman asked in surprise,advancing a pace now that Snip had decided there was no longer anynecessity for him to continue the shrill outcries.
"I didn't have any place to sleep; there wasn't a light to be seen inyour house. Well, to tell the truth, I was afraid I'd be driven away,same's I had been at the other places, so sneaked in----"
"Aunt Hannah! Aunt Hannah!"
It was a sweet, clear, childish voice which thus interrupted theconversation, and the little woman said nervously, as she glancedsuspiciously at Snip:
"I wish you would hold your dog, little boy. That is Gladys, an' she'sso reckless that I'm in fear of her life every minute she is nearstrange animals."
Seth did not have time to comply with this request before apink-cheeked little miss of about his own age came dancing into thebarn like a June wind, which burdens itself with the petals of theearly roses.
"Oh, Aunt Hannah! Why, where in the world did that little boy--What aperfectly lovely dog! Oh, you dear!"
This last exclamation was called forth by Master Snip himself, whobounded forward with every show of joy, and stood erect on his hindfeet with both forepaws raised as if asking to be taken in her arms.
"Don't, Gladys! You mustn't touch that animal, for nobody knowswhether he may not be ferocious."
The warning came too late. Gladys already had Snip in her arms, and asthe little fellow struggled to lick her cheek in token of his desireto be on friendly terms, she said laughingly:
"You poor, foolish Aunt Hannah! To think that a mite of a dog likethis one could ever be ferocious! Isn't he a perfect beauty? I neversaw such a dear!"
The little woman hovered helplessly around much like a sparrow whosefledglings are in danger. She feared lest the dog should do the childa mischief, and yet dared not come so near as to rescue her from theimaginary danger.
There was just a tinge of jealousy in Seth's heart as he gazed atSnip's demonstrations of affection for this stranger. It seemed as ifhe had suddenly lost his only friend, and, at that moment, it was thegreatest misfortune that could befall him.
Gladys was so occupied with the dog as to be unconscious of AuntHannah's anxiety. She admired
Snip's silky hair; declared that heneeded a bath, and insisted on knowing how "such a treasure" had comeinto Seth's possession.
The boy was not disposed to admit that he had no real claim upon thedog, save such as might result from having found him homeless andfriendless in the street; but willing that the girl should admire hispet yet more.
"Put him on the floor an' see how much he knows," Seth said, withoutreplying to her question.
Then Snip was called upon to show his varied accomplishments. He satbolt upright holding a wisp of straw in his mouth; walked on his hindfeet with Seth holding him by one paw; whirled around and around onbeing told to dance; leaped over the handle of the hay-fork, barkingand yelping with excitement; and otherwise gave token of being veryintelligent.
Gladys was in an ecstasy of delight, and even the little woman so farovercame her fear of animals as to venture to touch Snip'soutstretched paw when he gravely offered to "shake hands."
Not until at least a quarter of an hour had passed was any particularattention paid to Seth, and by this time Aunt Hannah was willing toadmit that while dogs in general frightened her, however peaceablethey appeared to be, she thought a little fellow like Snip might bealmost as companionable as a cat.
"Of course you won't continue your journey until after breakfast," shesaid in a matter-of-fact tone, "and Gladys will take you into thekitchen where you can wash your face and hands, while I am milking."
Then it was that Seth observed a bright tin pail and a three-leggedstool lying on the ground just outside the big door, as if they hadfallen from the little woman's hands when she was alarmed by hearingSnip's note of defiance and warning.
Gladys had the dog in her arms, and nodding to Seth as if to say heshould follow, she led the way to the house, while Aunt Hannahdisappeared through a doorway opening from the main portion of thebarn.
"There's the towel, the soap and water," she said, pointing toward awooden sink in one corner of what was to Seth the most wonderfulkitchen he had ever seen. "Don't you think Snippey would like somemilk?"
"I'm certain he would," Seth replied promptly. "He hasn't had anythingexcept dry ginger cake since yesterday mornin'."
A moment later Master Snip had before him a saucer filled with suchmilk as it is safe to say he had not seen since Seth took him incharge, and the eager way in which he lapped it showed that it wasappreciated fully.
The fugitive did not make his toilet immediately, because of theirresistible temptation to gaze about him.
The walls of the kitchen were low; but in the newcomer's eyes this wasan added attraction, because it gave to the room such an hospitableappearance. The floor was more cleanly than any table he had everseen; the bricks of the fireplace, at one side of which stood a smallcook-stove, were as red as if newly painted; while on the dresser andthe mantel across the broad chimney were tin dishes that shone likenewly polished silver.
A large rocking-chair, a couch covered with chintz, and half a dozenstraight-backed, spider-legged chairs were ranged methodically alongthe sides of the room, while in the centre of the floor, so placedthat the fresh morning breeze which entered by the door would blowstraight across it to the window shaded by lilac bushes, was a tablecovered with a snowy cloth.
"Well, if this is a farmer's house I wouldn't wonder if a good bit ofPip Smith's yarn was true," Seth muttered to himself, as he turnedtoward the sink, over which hung a towel so white that he could hardlybelieve he would be allowed to dry his face and hands with it.
He was alone in the kitchen. Snip, having had a most satisfactorybreakfast of what he must have believed was real cream, had run out ofdoors to chase a leaf blown by the wind, and Gladys was close behind,alternately urging him in the pursuit, and showering praises upon "thesweetest dog that ever lived."
"Folks that live like this must be mighty rich," Seth thought, as heplunged his face into a basin of clear water. "It ain't likely Snipan' me will strike it so soft again, an' I expect he'll be terriblesorry to leave. I reckon it'll be all right to hang 'round an hour orso, an' then we must get out lively. I wonder if that little bit of awoman expects I'll pay for breakfast?"