"Gently, Thomas; don't be rash," interposed my uncle.

"Keep your distance, or I'll smash your head!" I added, making a few vigorous pa.s.ses with the bat.

He was prudent enough to heed this warning, and left the room, but only to return with the club he had selected before.

CHAPTER IX.

IN WHICH ERNEST, AFTER A SUCCESSFUL RETREAT, FALLS INTO A TRAP.

TOM THORNTON was the maddest man I ever saw when he returned to my chamber armed with the club. His father had followed him down stairs, evidently for the purpose of pacifying him; and when they returned he was still trying to dissuade him from any act of violence.

"Don't be rash, Thomas," pleaded my uncle, as they were coming up the stairs.

"Don't talk to me, governor. I will bring the young cub to his senses!"

roared Tom, violently.

"Control your temper, and listen to reason. You will ruin yourself and me by your rashness."

"I'll take care of that," replied Tom, as he rushed into the room.

Uncle Amos caught him by the shoulder when he reached the door and attempted to detain him; but Tom was in such a fury that nothing could check him. He shook off his father, and advanced towards me, apparently with the intention of making an end of me. I raised the heavy bat, and looked him steadfastly in the eye. I was the cooler of the two, and the experience I had had in a hand-to-hand fight with Mr. Parasyte gave me both courage and skill for such a conflict.

He came upon me with reckless vehemence, aiming a blow at my head; but I struck at and hit his club with such force that it was knocked out of his hands, and flew over into one corner of the room. Quick to take advantage of this favorable circ.u.mstance, I ran to the spot, and put my foot on the stick, in order to hold the weapon I had captured.

Tom rushed forward to recover his club at any hazard, but I laid about me, right and left, with all my might, so that the bat whizzed through the air. To have come within the circle of the flying bat would have insured him a broken head, and he paused a moment. My uncle stepped forward, and taking him by the shoulder, drew him back from such dangerous proximity to my weapon.

"One of you will certainly be killed!" gasped my uncle. "Stop, Ernest!"

"I am ready to stop when he is," I replied, panting with my exertions.

"What have you done with my horse, you villain?" roared Tom.

"I'll tell you when you have cooled off," I answered. "I want you to understand now that I am not to be trifled with."

"I'll bring you to your senses, yet," said Tom, with an awful scowl, as he turned and rushed out of the room again, followed by my uncle.

It was plain that he had gone after another weapon, and perhaps this time he would bring something more dangerous than a stick from the wood-pile. Fighting was not at all to my taste, and I was not quite willing to risk my prowess against such an insane a.s.sailant. I realized that he would just as lief kill me as not, and I might not again be as fortunate as I had been during the first onslaught. Discretion was certainly the better part of valor in such an encounter, for there were no laurels to be won in the battle; and I determined to make my escape before the return of my savage foe. I did not mean to come back, for my mission was in the great world until I had developed the mystery of my own wrongs.

I approached the closet, after I had opened the window, for the purpose of obtaining the will and the money I had concealed there. I was on the point of opening the closet, when I heard a step on the stairs, and then my uncle appeared at the door.

"Ernest, if you have any regard for me, or any grat.i.tude for what I have done for you, don't incense him any more," said he, in pleading tones.

"What shall I do?--let him kill me?" I replied.

"What have you done with the horse and chaise?"

"They are in Welch's Lane."

"Don't resist Thomas any more."

"I shall resist him to the death, if he don't let me alone," I answered, firmly. "I didn't begin it."

"Yes, you did, Ernest. You carried the girl off, and he is acting for her mother."

"The girl has been abused. If she hadn't been, she wouldn't have jumped overboard."

"There! Thomas is coming!" exclaimed he, greatly alarmed at the prospect of a renewal of hostilities. "Tell him where the girl is, for my sake, if not for your own."

"I will not," I replied, as I heard Tom's step on the stairs.

The window was open, and while there was yet time, I leaped out upon the roof of the library, with the bat still in my hand. Throwing the weapon down, I stepped on the bay window, and from that dropped to the ground.

Picking up the bat, I retreated to the grove which bordered the lake beyond the house. I had left the valuables in the closet, and was therefore not prepared to take my final departure.

I had advanced but a few steps before Tom and his father appeared at the window. My furious foe staid there only long enough to obtain a sight of me. A moment afterwards he rushed out at the front door, and started in pursuit of me. I doubted just then whether I had gained any advantage by transferring the battle-ground to the open air, for Tom's legs were longer than mine, though probably he had not practised running so much as I had. Taking the path near the bank of the lake, I ran with all my speed, till I came to the brook which flowed round the hill in the rear of the cottage and discharged itself into the lake. For some distance above the outlet the stream was from ten to fifteen feet wide. There was a rude foot-bridge, consisting of a single wide plank, across it, for my uncle's domain extended a short distance beyond it.

I crossed this bridge. Tom was only a few rods behind me, and a brilliant strategic idea flashed into my mind as I stepped upon the plank. As it is considered good policy for a retreating army to destroy the bridges behind it, I adopted the suggestion, and as soon as I had reached the other side of the brook, I lifted the end of the plank, and pulled it over after me. Tom rushed up to the other side just as I had completed the job. The stream was a good ten feet wide, and its banks were rather soft and slippery.

From the movements he made, I thought, at first, that he intended to leap over the brook; and I placed myself in such a position as to insure his falling into the water, if he attempted such a piece of gymnastics.

Tom wore nice clothes, and he did not run the risk of soiling them by a possible accident. He paused on the brink of the stream, and feared to cross the Rubicon.

"How are you, Tom Thornton?" I exclaimed, after he had looked about him for the means of bettering his situation, and of continuing the chase.

The exertions he had made to catch me had evidently cooled him off in some measure. He was out of breath, and was apparently becoming "demoralized." He looked at me, and scowled most unamiably.

"Follow the brook up to the road, and you can get across there," I added, as he again looked about him for the means of overcoming his difficulty.

"None of your impudence, you puppy!" replied he; but his invective was tame compared with what it had been.

"If I am a puppy, Tom Thornton, perhaps you would like my bark to cross the brook with," I answered.

"The time to settle up all this business will soon come," said he, shaking his head.

"Mr. Tom Thornton, if you think you can scare me with any bugbears, you are mistaken. I know you better than you think I do."

"What do you know?" demanded he, surprised out of his malignity by my remark.

"What I know I keep to myself. When you go back to Mrs. Loraine, I wish you would tell her from me that it won't sound well when it is told she kept that poor girl shut up in her room for a week or ten days, with the blinds nailed so that she could not open them, just because she took long st.i.tches, or trod on a flower. If I were in your place I shouldn't like to marry a woman like that."

Tom looked uneasy, and played with his watch chain. I thought he wanted to say something conciliatory; that he desired to extend to me the olive branch of peace, the better to get me into his power. I was quite willing to listen to any overtures of this kind, for I wanted to return to the cottage, obtain the will and the money, and then bid a final adieu to Parkville until I had solved the problem of my existence. I was fearfully anxious lest my uncle should discover the loss of the valuable doc.u.ment I had taken, and it should be found where I had concealed it.

"Ernest, you are getting yourself into trouble," said Tom, after a while, in milder tones than he had yet used.

"For which, no doubt, you are very sorry," I added.

"I'm sure I don't want to quarrel with you."