CHAPTER I.

THREE DISCONTENTED BOYS.

“I won’t stand it!”

“What will you do, Nick?”

“I’ll run away. If I work for my money I ought to have it. Mr. Steele can get a new boy. I won’t work any longer and get nothing for it.”

The scene was a yard at the rear of a barn that belonged to a comfortable-looking house in Parkdale. Nick Collins, just turned his sixteenth year, was the first speaker, and his companion was Frank Alden, about the same age. Day had just died beyond the high, blue hills, and evening sounds were in the air.

Until two months before the story opens Nick had lived with his grandfather, his only known relative. The old man died, leaving the lad an orphan; at least, people told him so. His mother had passed away when he was very young, and his father, a sailor, had gone to sea and never returned.

Nick was left penniless, and at the death of his grandfather was obliged to earn a living as best he could. He was a bright boy in many respects. At mechanics and navigation, his grandfather’s hobbies, he had become quite proficient, but neither of these sciences offered him any opportunity in the dull, inland town of Parkdale.

So Nick took the only work he could get, that of lighting the lamps of the little town. In this employment he was the assistant of Jerry Steele, the official lamplighter--a man who had treated him none too well.

“Well, Nick,” said Frank Alden, “you’re better off than my brother Will and I are. Six dollars a week----”

“I don’t get six dollars a week.”

“They say you do.”

“All the same, I don’t. That’s my wages, but I don’t get it.”

“Who does, then?”

“Jerry Steele.”

“Doesn’t he give you your board and clothes?”

“He promised to; but you ought to see the board! As for the clothes, look at them. These are my best--Sunday and week day alike. Oh, I don’t want to talk about it. It isn’t worth wasting breath over. I’ve made up my mind. Mr. Jerry Steele and I will part. That’s the end of it.”

There was a resolute look in Nick’s eye, and his friend knew that he meant to keep his word. Just then there came from the barn sounds that were familiar to the ears of one of the boys--Frank Alden.

“Oh, Nick!” he whispered. “Something has happened.”

“I guess you’re right, Frank.”

The familiar sounds were the wailing, pleading cries of a boy in distress, and the harsh, coarse accents of an angry man.

“Ye hain’t had enough of it yit!”

“Oh, yes, I have.”

“No, ye hain’t. I’ll teach ye to worrit the life out o’ me. Take that, an’ that, an’ that! Ha, the switch’s broke. Well, I’ll git a new one.”

“Oh, please don’t,” the victim of the man wailed. “I don’t deserve a licking.”

“Ye don’t, eh?”

“No. It wasn’t me that let the duck into the parlor.”

“Tell that to the marines. Mebbe ye didn’t steal my silk hat?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Ye didn’t, eh? Then who was it?”

For a moment there was silence. Evidently the boy would not tell. “Out with it!” cried the man. “Do ye hear?”

Still silence.

“Then take the consequences, ye stubborn little mule!” exclaimed the other. “I’ll beat it out o’ ye, or my name ain’t Ahab Towns!”

The two boys outside the barn looked at one another significantly, and then at the building whence the talk and wails had come. Their glance spoke indignation and resentment.

“He’s getting it bad, Frank,” said Nick.

“Yes, and it isn’t his fault. I’m not going to stand it.

“I’m with you, Frank,” the other said firmly. “What had we better do?”

“Wait! He’s coming.”

The boys found a convenient clump of lilacs to shelter them as they saw the dim outlines of a man’s burly form at the barn door.

“It’s Ahab Towns, and he’s going to hunt another switch,” whispered Frank. “Come along. Now’s our chance.”

“What’s your plan?”

“Sh! Come and see.”

Frank’s voice was resolute. He led the way toward the barn, entered it quietly, and Nick followed.

“Will, Will! Are you there?” called out Frank in the darkness.

“Yes, yes!” came the quick, eager response. “Oh, help me out of this. Look out! He’s coming back.”

“We’ll help you, Will.”

“Yes,” added Nick. “That’s what we’re here for.”

“Now, Will,” said Frank, “you get out of the window as quick as you can; and you, too, Nick, and wait for me outside. Never mind what I intend to do. Skip!”

Frank and Nick scampered to the other end of the barn, taking Frank at his word, and not turning back to see what he was about. They only noticed, as they were getting out of the window, that Frank was busying himself about something at the door. In the dim light that showed from the outside they could not tell what he was doing.

A minute more, however, and Frank also sprang through the window. Then the boys waited, all together, until Ahab Towns should return. Presently they saw him, armed with a fresh switch, rush for the barn. He was shaking with rage, and determined to whip the stubbornness, as he called it, out of his stepson.

In the semi-darkness and amid his haste, however, he never noticed a rope stretched across the open door, perfectly taut. There was a wild sprawl forward, a quivering shock, and Ahab Towns measured his length on the floor, and made the air hideous with his cries of pain and anger.

“We’ve paid him off, anyway,” muttered Frank grimly. “Now, boys, let us leave here.”

“Yes, and he’ll pay us off when we come home again,” replied Will, in alarm.

“You leave that to me,” was Frank’s assuring response. “Ahab Towns has whipped me for the last time. If you haven’t the grit to say the same, why, stand it, that’s all!”

“What do you mean, Frank?” asked Will.

“Come over to the common, where we will have a fair run if Towns follows us, and I’ll tell you.”

The three boys moved on silently after this. A bright, intelligent trio they were, although the episode of the hour somewhat clouded their youthful, handsome faces.

The expression of the features of each indicated their peculiar individual characteristics.

Frank looked resolute, reckless, defiant. Will’s countenance expressed a haunting fear and anxiety. Their history was a brief but strange one. Frank and Will were brothers and Ahab Towns was their stepfather.

About five years previous their mother, who was a widow, had married again. Two years later she had died, and Ahab Towns, already a disagreeable, fault-finding stepfather, became a cruel, heartless guardian and taskmaster.

He seemed thoroughly to hate the boys, and on every occasion that presented the slightest excuse for an exercise of his mean authority, he beat them unmercifully.

Schooling, clothes, and even proper food were denied them, and the loveless life the boys were thus compelled to lead almost broke their spirits.

Matters had been going from bad to worse until Frank had formed a secret resolve at some near time to cast aside the galling yoke that bound him and his brother to an unhappy fate. He had been delighted at heart, therefore, when he heard Nick Collins complaining of his hard lot, and declaring that he, too, intended to run away and strike out for himself.

The three boys reached the village common and found a grassy spot, where they seated themselves.

They found the playground deserted, for it happened to be that hour when supper claimed boys’ and girls’ attention for a time.

Will kept glancing back apprehensively in the direction of home, as if fearful of pursuit from his stepfather.

Frank translated the significance of his anxious looks with a scornful glance.

“Don’t be afraid, Will!” he said. “I meant what I told you.”

“What?”

“Ahab Towns won’t whip me again.”

“Nor me?”

“Not if you’re wise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll tell you later. When the boys come we’ll play with them. When they go home you and Nick be sure to wait and see me.”

“Look here, Will,” said Nick, “what was the trouble to-night, anyway?”

“Nothing that I was to blame for.”

“I believe that.”

“You know Jack Benson?”

“Yes, and everybody knows him as the meanest, roughest boy in town.”

“You know the gang of loafers he goes with?”

“You bet I do.”

“Well, a few days ago, you remember, we had some trouble with him and his friends--those fellows from the river?”

“Yes, and I guess they’ll remember it, too,” said Frank. “We gave them a good whipping.”

“And you remember what Jack said?”

“Yes--that he’d get even with us.”

“Well, he did.”

“How’s that?”

“Ahab Towns”--the boys never called their ill-natured stepfather otherwise--“caught Jack stealing apples a week ago, and licked him for it.”

“That’s the best thing Ahab ever did,” remarked Frank, with a grin.

“Maybe it was, but the double licking made Jack hot to get even with all of us. To-day, when we were in the garden, Jack came along. He was ready to do anything to spite us. He drove the duck into the parlor and shut it in, and there Towns found it when he brought in a friend an hour or so afterward.”

“I see. And Towns blamed you for it?”

“He whipped me for it,” replied Will, with a long face.

“I should say he did, the way you hollered. Well, go on.”

“Then Jack saw Towns’ high silk hat on the ledge of the sitting-room window. He broke a dozen eggs into it. When Towns put it on you can imagine how he raved and tore. I told him that I saw Jack around and that I knew he did it. No use. I had to take the blame and the punishment for it.”

Just at that moment there was an interruption to the talk of the three boys. The advance courier of the players of the evening had arrived with a joyous shout, and within five minutes several others had joined him. In half an hour a score of light-hearted boys were engaged in harmless, enjoyable games on the village green.

Amid the excitement of the hour, Frank, Nick, and Will forgot all about their troubles and plans, and joined heartily in the fun. Hi-spy, pump-pump, pull-away, and other spirited games finally palled on their spirits, and mischief began its subtle promptings.

“Who wants some real fun?” called out the voice of one of the larger boys.

A ready response came in a dozen voices.

“You know where old Captain Eccles lives?”

“Yes, yes!”

Captain Eccles was a retired sailor who lived alone near the river. His hermitlike life had long been a theme of discussion and mystery to Parkdale boys.

“Well, let us make him a quiet visit.”

“Huh! A nice welcome he’d give us.”

“Oh! I don’t mean a friendly call. We’ll put a “tick-tack” on the window and get him out after us with that old broken blunderbuss of his.”

There were some dissenting voices, but the majority prevailed, and the throng were soon on their way toward the river. Eager for the “real fun,” they could hardly keep silent as they neared the dilapidated cabin where Captain Eccles had lived so many years. It was merged in complete darkness, and the boys got in the shadow of some bushes. One of them had produced the bent pin, stone, and string that comprises that fascinating mischief maker so dear to boys’ hearts.

“Who’ll put it on the window?” was asked.

Will Alden, a ready victim in all cases, assumed the duty. The pin was attached, he returned to the bushes.

Tap, tap! amid the stillness of the place, and then a cry of disappointment.

“The pin has fallen out. It will have to be put in place again, boys,” spoke the leader of the group.

“I’ll fix it,” whispered Nick.

Nick Collins approached the cabin window cautiously. The stealthy application of the pin to the window was only the work of a moment, but it was disturbed rudely.

“Run, Nick!”

“The captain!”

The warning came from the group in the bushes and startled Nick. It came too late, however, for just as he began to run, a man’s form darted from the door of the house.

“Ha! You young rascal! I’ve caught you!” said some one in a gruff voice.

And then appeared Captain Eccles. He dragged his struggling captive to the open door of the cabin, thrust him in roughly, followed himself, and locked the door after them.

Those in the bushes had started to run at the first sign of danger in the appearance of the captain. They paused finally, dismayed and frightened. Frank Alden, less timorous than the others, had remained behind, and checked their flight by a sudden call.

“Don’t be cowards!” he cried. “See here, are you going to desert a comrade?”

There was no reply.

“Let us pelt the house with stones,” suggested Will.

“No--that’s no use. I wonder what the captain will do with Nick?”

But wondering and impatient waiting were all that resulted from a brief consultation. One by one the boys decided that they were expected at home, and abandoned Nick Collins to his fate. All except Frank and Will. They remained behind. The former looked sullen and angry as the last of their companions disappeared toward the village.

“Nice fellows, they are!” he growled.

“What can they do to help Nick, anyway?” asked Will.

“They might wait, at least.”

“Oh! the captain won’t hurt him. See here, Frank, it’s time we were home.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

“Is it?”

“Yes, and Towns will whip us as it is.”

“He won’t whip me!” declared Frank. “I’m not going home, Will. I’m going to wait here for Nick.”

“It may be all night.”

“I don’t care. I shouldn’t go home, anyway. Will, that is what I meant to tell you. I’m through with hard work and hard knocks from Ahab Towns. I shall never go home again. I’m going to try life on my own hook--I am going to run away!”