“Now,” said the stranger, setting him up against the stone wall, which bordered the lane, “I will bid you good-night. I might take your horse, but, on the whole, I don’t want it. I will fasten it to this tree, where it will be all ready for you in the morning. That’s considerate in me. Good-night. I hope you are comfortable.”
He disappeared in the darkness, and Harry was left alone.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE GOOD SAMARITAN.
Harry’s reflections, as he lay on the ground, were not the most cheerful. He was sitting in a constrained posture, his hands and feet being tied, and, moreover, the cold air chilled him. The cold was not intense, but as he was unable to move his limbs he, of course, felt it the more.
The horse evidently began to feel impatient, for he turned round and looked at our hero, as much as to say, “Why are we stopping here? Why don’t you keep on?”
“I wish somebody would come this way,” thought Harry, and he looked up and down the lane as well as he could, but could see no one.
The horse whinnied again, and again looked inquiringly at his young driver, but the latter was not master of the situation, and was obliged to disregard the mute appeal.
“I wonder the robber didn’t carry off the horse,” thought Harry. “I suppose he had his reasons. It isn’t likely he left it out of regard for me.”
Two hours passed, and Harry still found himself a prisoner. No person had passed, nor had he heard any sound as he lay there, except the occasional whinny of the horse, which was tied as well as himself, and did not appear to enjoy his confinement any better.
It was at this moment that Harry’s heart leaped with sudden hope, as he heard in the distance the sound of a whistle. It might be a boy, or it might be a man; but, as he listened intently, he perceived that it was coming nearer.
“I hope I can make him hear,” thought Harry, earnestly.
It was a boy of about his own age, who was advancing along the road from which he had turned into the lane. The boy was not alone, as it appeared, for a large dog ran before him. The dog first noticed the horse and buggy, and next our hero, lying on the ground, and, concluding that something was wrong, began to bark violently, circling uncomfortably near Harry, against whom he seemed to cherish hostile designs.
“What’s the matter, Cæsar?” shouted his young master.
There was another volley of barks, which seemed liked to be followed by an attack. Just at this moment, however, luckily for our hero, the dog’s master came up.
“Why, Cæsar,” he called, “what is the matter with you?’
“Please take your dog away;” said Harry. “I am afraid he will bite me.”
“Who are you?” inquired the boy, in surprise.
“Come and untie these cords, and I will tell you.”
“What! are you tied?”
“Yes, hand and foot.”
“Who did it?” asked the boy, in increasing surprise.
“I don’t know his name, but he robbed me of my pocketbook before doing it.”
“What, a robber around here!” exclaimed the boy, incredulous.
“Yes; I met him first over in Carmansville. Thank you; now my feet, if you please. It seems good to be free again”; and Harry swung his arms, and jumped up and down to bring back the sense of warmth to his chilled limbs.
“How much money did he take from you?”
“Forty dollars.”
“That’s a good deal,” said the country boy. “Was it yours?”
“Yes.”
“I never had so much money in my life.”
“It has taken me almost six months to earn it. But I had more money with me, only he didn’t know it.”
“How much?”
“A hundred and fifty dollars.”
“Was it yours?” asked the boy, surprised.
“No; it belonged to my employer.”
“Who is he?”
“Professor Henderson, the ventriloquist.”
“Where is he stopping?”
“Over at Pentland. He is sick at the hotel there.”
“It’s lucky for you I was out to-night. I ain’t often out so late, but I went to see a friend of mine, and stayed later than I meant to. Come home with me. The folks will take you in, and the horse can be put up in the barn.”