"What's that?" said Mrs. Barton to herself.

A moment later she was descending the staircase more rapidly than she had gone up just before.

"Look at that," she exclaimed, holding out a sc.r.a.p of paper to Joel Barton.

"I don't see nothin' but a bit of paper," said her husband.

"Don't be a fool! Read what it is."

"Read it aloud. I ain't got my specks."

"The boys have run away. Abner writ it. Listen to this."

Rudely written on the paper, for Abner was by no means a skillful penman, were these words:

"Bub and I have runned away. You needn't worry. I reckon we can get along. We're going to make our fortunes. When we're rich, we'll come back. ABNER."

"What do you think of that, Joel Barton?" demanded his wife.

Joel shrugged his shoulders.

"I shan't worry much," he said. "They'll be back by to-morrer, likely."

"Then you'll have to split some wood to-day, Joel. You can't expect a delicate woman like me to do such rough work."

"You're stronger'n I be, Mrs. B."

"Perhaps you'll find I am if you don't go to work."

"I'll do it this afternoon."

"All right. Then we'll have dinner in the even-in'. No wood, no dinner."

"Seems to me you're rather hard on me, Mrs. B. I don't feel well."

"Nor you won't till you give up drinkin'."

Much against his will, Mr. Barton felt compelled by the stress of circ.u.mstances to do the work expected of him. It made him feel angry with Abner, whom he did not miss for any other reason.

"I'll break that boy's neck when he comes back," he muttered. "It's a shame to leave all this work for his poor, old dad."

To-morrow came, but the boys did not. A week slipped away, and still they were missing. Mrs. Barton was not an affectionate mother, but it did seem lonesome without Abner. As for Herbert, she did not care for his absence. If Willis Ford did not continue to pay his board, she felt that she would rather have him away.

On the sixth day after the departure of the boys there came a surprise for Mrs. Barton.

As she was at work in the kitchen, she heard a loud knock at the door.

"Can it be Abner?" she thought. "He wouldn't knock."

She went to the door, however, feeling rather curious as to who could be her visitor, and on opening it started in surprise to see Willis Ford.

"Mr. Ford!" she e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"I thought I would make you a call," answered Ford. "How's the boy getting along?"

"If you mean the boy you left here," she answered, composedly, "he's run away, and took my boy with him."

"Run away!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ford, in dismay.

"Yes; he made tracks about a week ago. He and my Abner have gone off to make their fortunes."

"Why didn't you take better care of him, woman?" exclaimed Ford, angrily. "It's your fault, his running away!"

"Look here, Ford," retorted Mrs. Barton; "don't you sa.s.s me, for I won't stand it. Ef it hadn't been for you, Abner would be at home now."

"I didn't mean to offend you, my dear Mrs. Barton," said Ford, seeing that he had made a false step. "Tell me all you can, and I'll see if I can't get the boys back."

"Now you're talkin'," said Mrs. Barton, smoothing her ruffled plumage. "Come into the house, and I'll tell you all I know."

CHAPTER x.x.xV -- HERBERT BREAKS DOWN

"I don't think I can walk any further, Abner. I feel sick," faltered Herbert.

Abner, who had been walking briskly, turned round to look at his young companion. Herbert was looking very pale, and had to drag one foot after the other. Day after day he had tried to keep up with Abner, but his strength was far inferior to that of the other boy, and he had finally broken down.

"You do look sick, bub," said Abner, struck by Herbert's pallid look. "Was I walking too fast for you?"

"I feel very weak," said Herbert. "Would you mind stopping a little while? I should like to lie under a tree and rest."

"All right, bub. There's a nice tree." "Don't you feel tired, Abner?"

"No; I feel as strong as hearty as a horse."

"You are bigger than I am. I guess that is the reason."

Abner was a rough boy, but he showed unusual gentleness and consideration for the little boy, whose weakness appealed to his better nature. He picked out a nice, shady place for Herbert to recline upon, and, taking off his coat, laid it down for a pillow on which his young companion might rest his head.

"There, bub; I reckon you'll feel better soon," he said.

"I hope so, Abner. I wish I was as strong as you are."

"So do I. I reckon I was born tough. I was brought up different from you."

"I wish I were at home," sighed Herbert. "Is it a long way from here?"