Mr. Sims naturally supposed that Owen had fallen from his horse while attempting to ford the river. He saw that the boy was extremely weak, and ordered him to bed at once. Owen told his story briefly, and handed the official doc.u.ment to the farmer. Before the sun had set, it was placed in the hands of the commanding officer at the little fort near the falls of the Ohio. From Louisville to Pittsburg, from Pittsburg to Washington--at last the message of General Jackson was delivered to the President.

When the man who had followed Owen for nearly eight miles saw that he was foiled in his attempt he hastily retraced his steps to the place where he had abandoned his wounded horse. Here he was joined by Tom the Tinker, who had set out with him from Bardstown, but lagged behind, since he did not wish to be recognized by Owen.

"The rascal of a boy shot this horse just as I was about to overtake him," said the man, as the Tinker came up to him.

"The message--did you get the message?"

"How could I when he shot the horse?"

"My! my!" continued Tom, in tones of despair, "a hundred dollars for the horse! did not get the message! My! my! And all my work for nothing!"

"And I want the fifty dollars you promised me," interrupted the man.

"You do?"

"Yes, I do! Did I not ride my horse half to death before you borrowed that second one from the farmer?"

"But you did not get the message."

"I am going to have that money. I worked hard enough for it. I followed the little devil until--until he jumped into the river."

"And where was his horse?" asked Tom.

"It gave out, too. There it is up there," answered the man, pointing to the place where old Hickory was lying, apparently dead.

"Perhaps the boy was drowned while trying to cross the river," said the Tinker.

"I watched him until he came to Sims'."

"Then he's safe."

"Of course he is. At least, you'll never see that message. I won't be surprised, however, if the boy dies."

"I hope he does," said Tom. "Those Howards have been in my way for fifteen years. You see, they live near me. I hate every one of them!"

"See here! I want my fifty dollars," interrupted the man. "I don't care about your Howards and your neighbors. I want my money."

"I promised you fifty dollars if you caught the boy. I'll give you ten for your work."

"Not a cent less than fifty," demanded the man.

"Say twenty-five and you shall have it," replied Tom.

"If you don't give me fifty dollars we are going to fight here!" growled the angry man, at the same time grasping the reins of the Tinker's horse.

As much as Tom the Tinker loved his money, he was not willing to fight for it; he therefore gave the man the full amount. Then he paid a hundred dollars more for the horse which he had borrowed from his accomplice, and which Owen had shot. He then rode off toward Bardstown, uttering imprecations against the boy who had thwarted him, against the man who had robbed him, against everybody and everything. How was he to regain the money which he had lost? For a long time he sought an answer to this question. He seemed to have solved the difficulty before he reached the town, for he was in the best of spirits. Here he consulted several men on some secret business, and then proceeded at once to the cave on the banks of the Beech Fork.

Late that same evening Martin joined Owen at Mr. Sims'.

"Did you see old Hickory?" inquired Owen, sitting up in the bed where he had been sleeping.

"Yes!"

"How is he? Tell me quick! How is the poor old fellow?"

"First tell me about yourself, and then we'll see about the horse!"

"Nothing the matter with me. I never felt better, although that was a pretty cold bath I took--and now about Hickory."

"Well, Owen, if you must know it," said Martin, in a broken voice, "the old fellow is dead--stiff--shot through the head."

Owen did not answer, but fell back in the bed and wept bitterly.

When he returned home two days later, what was his surprise to find old Hickory eating away contentedly in his stall. It was the horse wounded by Owen that Martin had seen lying in the road, and in the dark had mistaken for Hickory. As it was impossible for the animal to recover, the owner had shot it through the head.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE TINKER DISTURBS THE INMATES OF THE CAVE.

It was after midnight when Tom the Tinker reached the cave.

"Have you heard the news?" he inquired of Stayford, who seemed to be the only occupant of the dingy abode.

"News! What news?" growled Stayford. "We hear nothing in this hole.

Jerry and myself spend our whole time working for you. I am tired of it, Tom, and it's got to stop. That's the news I've for you!"

"Don't be hard on me, Stayford," said the Tinker in almost piteous tones. "I've lost a hundred and fifty dollars to-day. My! my! a hundred and fifty dollars!"

"And is this the news you wished to give me?" demanded Stayford.

"No; it was this. Our troops have whipped the English at New Orleans.

The war is over, and there will be no more tax on whisky."

"And then all of our work will be for nothing?"

"It seems so, Stayford; it seems so. But where is Jerry? I've business news to communicate to both of you."

"He just went to bed. Since you were not here to help him, he had to work hard for fully fifteen hours to keep the mash from souring."

Stayford now spoke in the most friendly way. At the approach of danger he forgot that he was angry.

"Let him sleep!" said the Tinker, as he and Stayford seated themselves on a pile of wood at the end of the cave. "We can settle the affair; he will agree to it, I know he will. First, let me tell you about the hundred and fifty dollars. I wanted to take revenge on those men at Washington for putting me in prison and robbing me when I was in the whisky business in Pennsylvania twenty years ago. Every man, from the President down to the lowest officer, had a hand in the work. They ruined me when I was a rich man; for years and years I've been waiting to square up accounts with them. I had a chance to-day, but it failed. I was going to change Jackson's letter, and put the English down as the winners. This would have frightened the authorities at Washington, and they wouldn't find out their mistake for a month. It is probable that the whisky tax would have been doubled."

"And why did you not get the general's message about the battle?"

interrupted Stayford.