Luck and Pluck or John Oakley's Inheritance E-Book

Horatio Alger Jr.

• Herausgeber: GIANLUCA
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

"Luck and Pluck" appeared as a serial story in the juvenile department of Ballou's Magazine for the year 1869, and is therefore already familiar to a very large constituency of young readers. It is now presented in book form, as the first of a series of six volumes, designed to illustrate the truth that a manly spirit is better than the gifts of fortune. Early trial and struggle, as the history of the majority of our successful men abundantly attests, tend to strengthen and invigorate the character.
The author trusts that John Oakley, his young hero, will find many friends, and that his career will not only be followed with interest, but teach a lesson of patient fortitude and resolute endeavor, and a determination to conquer fortune, and compel its smiles. He has no fear that any boy-reader will be induced to imitate Ben Brayton, whose selfishness and meanness are likely to meet a fitting recompense.
New York, Nov. 8, 1869.

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

PREFACE.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTERII.

JOHN RECEIVES SOME PROFESSIONAL ADVICE.

CHAPTER III.

JOHN'S TROUBLES BEGIN.

CHAPTER IV.

BEN BRAYTON'S RIDE.

CHAPTER V.

BEN IS COMFORTED.

CHAPTER VI.

OPEN HOSTILITIES.

CHAPTER VII.

MRS. OAKLEY DECIDES WHAT TO DO.

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. EPHRAIM HUXTER.

CHAPTER IX.

MORE ABOUT MR. HUXTER.

CHAPTER X.

HOW THE MATTER WAS SETTLED.

CHAPTER XI.

JOHN CONSULTS A LAWYER.

CHAPTER XII.

AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY.

CHAPTER XIII.

JOHN OAKLEY'S NEW HOME.

CHAPTER XIV.

MR. HUXTER AT HOME.

CHAPTER XV.

MRS. OAKLEY'S NOTE.

CHAPTER XVI.

MR. HUXTER MAKES A DISCOVERY, AND SO DOES JOHN.

CHAPTER XVII.

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

CHAPTERXIX.

ON THE TRACK.

CHAPTER XX.

MRS. OAKLEY FINDS THE WILL.

CHAPTER XXI.

SQUIRE SELWYN'S CALL.

CHAPTER XXII.

MR. HUXTER GETS INTO HOT WATER.

CHAPTER XXIII.

IN WHICH JOHN TAKES FRENCH LEAVE.

CHAPTER XXIV.

JOHN IS PURSUED.

CHAPTER XXV.

THE VALUE OF A BOAT.

CHAPTER XXVI.

ONE DISAPPOINTMENT FOLLOWS ANOTHER.

CHAPTER XXVII.

JOHN OAKLEY'S AUNT.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

JOHN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

CHAPTER XXIX.

MR. HALL'S DISCOMFITURE.

CHAPTER XXX.

A DANGEROUS ACQUAINTANCE.

CHAPTER XXXI.

BEN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

CHAPTER XXXII.

MRS. OAKLEY'S SUSPICIONS.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

A STRANGE METAMORPHOSIS.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Horatio Alger Jr.

Luck and Pluck or John Oakley's Inheritance

PREFACE.

"Luck and Pluck"appeared as a serial story in the juvenile department of Ballou's Magazine for the year 1869, and is therefore already familiar to a very large constituency of young readers. It is now presented in book form, as the first of a series of six volumes, designed to illustrate the truth that a manly spirit is better than the gifts of fortune. Early trial and struggle, as the history of the majority of our successful men abundantly attests, tend to strengthen and invigorate the character.

The author trusts that John Oakley, his young hero, will find many friends, and that his career will not only be followed with interest, but teach a lesson of patient fortitude and resolute endeavor, and a determination to conquer fortune, and compel its smiles. He has no fear that any boy-reader will be induced to imitate Ben Brayton, whose selfishness and meanness are likely to meet a fitting recompense.

New York, Nov. 8, 1869.

CHAPTER I.

CHAPTER I.

INTRODUCING TWO BOYS AND A HORSE.

"Whatare you going to do with that horse, Ben Brayton?"

"None of your business!"

"As the horse happens to belong to me, I should think it was considerable of my business."

"Suppose you prove that it belongs to you," said Ben, coolly.

"There is no need ofproving it. You know it as well as I do."

"At any rate, it doesn't belong to you now," said Ben Brayton.

"I should like to know why not?"

"Because it belongs to me."

"Who gave it to you?"

"My mother."

"It wasn't hers to give."

"You'll find that the wholeproperty belongs to her. Your father left her everything, and she has given the horse to me. Just stand aside there; I'm going to ride."

John Oakley's face flushed with anger, and his eyes flashed. He was a boy of fifteen, not tall, but stout and well-proportioned, and stronger than most boys of his age and size, his strength having been developed by rowing on the river, and playing ball, in both of which he was proficient. Ben Brayton was a year and a half older, and half a head taller; but he was of a slender figure, and, having no taste for vigorous out-of-door amusements, he was not a match in strength for the younger boy. They were not related by blood, but both belonged to the same family, Ben Brayton's mother having three years since married SquireOakley, with whom she had lived for a year previous as house-keeper. A week since the squire had died, and when, after the funeral, the will had been read, it was a matter of general astonishment that John, the testator's only son, was left entirely unprovided for, while the entire property was left to Mrs. Oakley. John, who was of course present at the reading of the will, was considerably disturbed at his disinheritance; not because he cared for the money so much as because it seemed as if his father had slighted him. Not a word, however, had passed between him and his father's widow on the subject, and things had gone on pretty much as usual, until the day on which our story commences. John had just returned from the village academy, where he was at the head of a class preparing for college, when he saw Ben Brayton, the son of Mrs. Oakley by a former marriage preparing to ride out on a horse which for a year past had been understood to be his exclusive property. Indignant at this, he commenced the conversation recorded at the beginning of this chapter.

"Stand aside there, John Oakley, or I'll ride over you!"

"Will you, though?" said John, seizing the horse by the bridle. "That's easier said than done."

Ben Brayton struck the horse sharply, hoping that John would be frightened and let go; but our hero clung to the bridle, and the horse began to back.

"Let go, I tell you!" exclaimed Ben.

"I won't!" said John, sturdily.

The horse continued to back, until Ben, who wasa coward at heart, becoming alarmed, slid off from his back.

"That's right," said John, coolly. "Another time you'd better not meddle with my horse."

"I'll meddle with you, and teach you better manners!" exclaimed Ben, a red spot glowing in each of his pale cheeks.

As he spoke, he struck John smartly over the shoulders with the small riding-whip he carried.

John was not quarrelsome. I am glad to bear this testimony to his character, for I have a very poor opinion of quarrelsome boys; but he had a spirit ofhis own, and was not disposed to submit tamely to a blow. He turned upon Ben instantly, and, snatching the whip from his hand, struck him two blows in return for the one he had received.

"I generally pay my debts with interest, Ben Brayton," he said, coolly. "You ought to have thought of that before you struck me."

A look of fierce vindictiveness swept over the olive face of his adversary as he advanced for another contest.

"Stand back there!" exclaimed John, flourishing the whip in a threatening manner. "I've paid you up, and I don't want to strike you again."

"I'll make you smart for your impudence!" fumed Ben, trying to get near enough to seize the whip from his hands.

"I didn't strike first," said John, "and I shan't strike again, unless I am obliged toin self-defence."

"Give me that whip!" screamed Ben, livid with passion.

"You can't have it."

"I'll tell my mother."

"Go and do it if you like," said John, a little contemptuously.

"Let go that horse."

"It's my own, and I mean to keep it."

"It is notyours. My mother gave it to me."

"It wasn't hers to give."

John still retained his hold of the saddle, and kept Ben at bay with one hand. He watched his opportunity until Ben had retreated sufficiently far to make it practicable, then, placing his foot inthe stirrup, lightly vaulted upon the horse, and, touching him with the whip, he dashed out of the yard. Ben sprang forward to stop him; but he was too late.

"Get off that horse!" he screamed.

"I will when I've had my ride," said John, turning back in hissaddle. "Now, Prince, do your best."

This last remark was of course addressed to the horse, who galloped up the street, John sitting on his back, with easy grace, as firmly as if rooted to the saddle; for John was an admirable horseman, having been in thehabit of riding ever since he was ten years old.

Ben Brayton looked after him with a face distorted with rage and envy. He would have given a great deal to ride as well as John; but he was but an indifferent horseman, being deficient in courage, and sitting awkwardly in the saddle. He shook his fist after John's retreating form, muttering between his teeth, "You shall pay for this impudence, John Oakley, and that before you are twenty-four hours older! I'll see whether my mother will allow me to be insultedin this way!"

Sure of obtaining sympathy from his mother, he turned his steps towards the house, which he entered.

"Where's my mother?" he inquired of the servant.

"She's upstairs in her own room, Mr. Benjamin," was the answer.

Ben hurried upstairs, and opened the door at the head of the staircase. It was a spacious chamber, covered with a rich carpet, and handsomely furnished. At the time of his mother's marriage to Squire Oakley, she had induced him to discard the old furniture, and refurnish it to suither taste. There were some who thought that what had been good enough for the first Mrs. Oakley, who was an elegant and refined lady, ought to have been good enough for one, who, until her second marriage, had been a house-keeper. But, by some means,—certainly not her beauty, for she was by no means handsome,—she had acquired an ascendency over the squire, and he went to considerable expense to gratify her whim.

Mrs. Oakley sat at the window, engaged in needlework. She was tall and thin, with a sallowcomplexion, and pale, colorless lips. Her eyes were gray and cold. There was a strong personal resemblance between Ben and herself, and there was reason to think that he was like her in his character and disposition as well as in outward appearance. She was dressed in black, for the husband who had just died.

"Why have you not gone out to ride, Ben?" she asked, as her son entered the room.

"Because that young brute prevented me."

"Whom do you mean?" asked his mother.

"I mean John Oakley, of course."

"How could he prevent you?"

"He came up just as I was going to start, and told me to get off the horse,—that it was his."

"And you were coward enough to do it?" said his mother, scornfully.

"No. I told him it was not his any longer; that you had given it to me."

"What did he say then?"

"That you had no business to give it away, as it was his."

"Did he say that?" demanded Mrs. Oakley, her gray eyes flashing angrily.

"Yes, he did."

"Why didn't you ride off without minding him?"

"Because he took the horse by the bridle, and made him contrary; I didn't want to be thrown, so I jumped off."

"Did you have the whip in your hand?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you lay it over his back? That might have taught him better manners."

"So I did."

"You did right," said his mother, withsatisfaction; for she had never liked her husband's son. His frank, brave, generous nature differed too much from her own to lead to any affection between them. She felt that he outshone her own son, and far exceeded him in personal gifts and popularity with the young people of the neighborhood, and it made her angry with him. Besides, she had a suspicion that Ben was deficient in courage, and it pleased her to think that he had on this occasion acted manfully.

"Then I don't see why you didn't jump on thehorse again and ride away," she continued.

"Because," said Ben, reluctantly, "John got the whip away from me."

"Did he strike you with it?" asked Mrs. Oakley, quickly.

"Yes," said Ben, vindictively. "He struck me twice, the ruffian! But I'll be even with him yet!"

"You shall be even with him," said Mrs. Oakley, pressing her thin lips firmly together. "But I'm ashamed of you for standing still and bearing the insult like a whipped dog."

"I tried to get at him," said Ben; "but he kept flourishing the whip, sothat I couldn't get a chance."

"Where is he now?"

"He's gone to ride."

"Gone to ride! You let him do it?"

"I couldn't help it; he was too quick for me. He jumped on the horse before I knew what he was going to do, and dashed out of the yard at fullspeed."

"He is an impertinent young rebel!" said Mrs. Oakley, angrily. "I am ashamed of you for letting him get the advantage of you; but I am very angry with him. So he said that I had no business to give you the horse, did he?"

"Yes; he has no more respect for you than for a servant," said Ben, artfully, knowing well that nothing would be so likely to make his mother angry as this. Having once been in a subordinate position, she was naturally suspicious, and apprehensive that she would not be treated witha proper amount of respect by those around her. It was Ben's object to incense his mother against John, feeling that in this way he would best promote his own selfish ends.

"So he has no respect for me?" exclaimed Mrs. Oakley, angrily.

"None at all," saidBen, decisively. "He says you have no right here, nor I either."

This last statement was an utter fabrication, as Ben well knew; for John, though he had never liked his father's second wife, had always treated her with the outward respect which proprietyrequired. He was not an impudent nor a disrespectful boy; but he had a proper spirit, and did not choose to be bullied by Ben, whom he would have liked if he had possessed any attractive qualities. It had never entered his mind to grudge him the equal advantages which Squire Oakley, for his mother's sake, had bestowed upon her son. He knew that his father was a man of property, and that there was enough for both. When, however, Ben manifested a disposition to encroach upon his rights, John felt that the time for forbearance had ceased, and he gave him distinctly to understand that there was a limit beyond which he must not pass. Very soon after Ben first entered the family John gave him a thrashing,—in self-defence, however,—of which he complained to his mother. Though very angry, she feared to diminish her influence with his father by moving much in the matter, and therefore contented herself by cautioning Ben to avoid him as much as possible.

"Some time or other he shall be punished," she said; "but at present it is most prudent for us to keep quiet and bide our time."

Now, however, Mrs. Oakley felt that the power was in her own hands. She had no further necessity for veiling her real nature, or refraining from gratifying her resentment. The object for whichshe had schemed—her husband's property—was hers, and John Oakley was dependent upon her for everything. If she treated him ungenerously, it would create unfavorable comments in the neighborhood; but for this she did not care. The property was hers by herhusband's will, and no amount of censure would deprive her of it. She would now be able to enrich Ben at John's expense, and she meant to do it. Henceforth Ben would be elevated to the position of heir, and John must take a subordinate position as a younger son, or, perhaps, to speak still more accurately, as a poor relation with a scanty claim upon her bounty.

"I'll break that boy's proud spirit," she said to herself. "He has been able to triumph over Ben; but he will find that I am rather more difficult to deal with."

There was an expression of resolution upon her face, and a vicious snapping of the eyes, which boded ill to our hero. Mrs. Oakley undoubtedly had the power to make him uncomfortable, and she meant to do it, unless he would submit meekly to her sway. That this was not very likely may be judged from what we have already seen of him.

Mrs. Oakley's first act was to bestow on Ben the horse, Prince, which had been given to John a year before by his father. John had been accustomed to take a daily ride on Prince, whom he had come to love. The spirited horse returned his young master's attachment, and it was hard to tell which enjoyed most the daily gallop, the horse or his rider. To deprive John of Prince was to do him a grievous wrong, since it was,of all his possessions, the one which he most enjoyed. It was the more unjustifiable, since, at the time Prince had been bought for John, Squire Oakley, in a spirit of impartial justice, had offered to buy a horse for Ben also; but Ben, who had long desired to own a gold watch and chain, intimated this desire to his mother, and offered to relinquish the promised horse if the watch and chain might be given him. Squire Oakley had no objection to the substitution, and accordingly the same day that Prince was placed in the stable, subject to John's control, a valuable gold watch and chain, costing precisely the same amount, was placed in Ben's hands. Ben was delighted with his new present, and put on many airs in consequence. Now, however, he coveted the horse as well as the watch, and his mother had told him he might have it. But it seemed evident that John would not give up the horse without a struggle. Ben, however, had enlisted his mother as his ally, and felt pretty confident of ultimate victory.

CHAPTERII.

JOHN RECEIVES SOME PROFESSIONAL ADVICE.

John Oakleyhad triumphed in his encounter with Ben Brayton, androde off like a victor. Nevertheless he could not help feeling alittle doubtful and anxious about the future. There was no doubtthat Ben would complain to his mother, and as it was by her expresspermission that he had taken the horse, John felt apprehensive thatthere would be trouble between himself and his stepmother. I havealready said, that, though a manly boy, he was not quarrelsome. Hepreferred to live on good terms with all, not excepting Ben and hismother, although he had no reason to like either of them. But hedid not mean to be imposed upon, or to have his just rightsencroached upon, if he could help it.

What should he do if Ben persevered in his claim and his mothersupported him in it? He could not decide. He felt that he must beguided by circumstances. He could not help remembering how fouryears before Mrs. Brayton (for that was her name then) answered hisfather's advertisementfor a house-keeper; how, when he hesitated inhis choice, she plead her poverty, and her urgent need of immediateemployment; and how, influenced principally by this consideration,he took her in place of another to whom he had been more favorablyinclined. How she should have obtained sufficient influence overhis father's mind to induce him to make her his wife after thelapse of a year, John could not understand. He felt instinctivelythat she was artful and designing, but his own frank, open naturecould hardly be expected to fathom hers. He remembered again, how,immediately after the marriage, Ben was sent for, and was at onceadvanced to a position in the household equal to his own. Ben wasat first disposed to be polite, and even subservient to himself,but gradually, emboldened by his mother's encouragement, becamemore independent, and even at times defiant. It was not, however,until now that he had actually begun to encroach upon John'srights, and assume airs of superiority. He had been feeling hisway, and waited until it would be safe to show out his realnature.

John had never liked Ben,—nor had anybody else except hismother felt any attachment for him,—but he had not failed totreat him with perfect politeness and courtesy. Though he hadplenty of intimations from the servants and others that it wasunjust to him that so much expense should be lavished upon Ben, hewas of too generous a nature to feel disturbed by it, or to grudgehim his share of his father's bounty.

"There's enough for bothof us," he always said, to those whotried to stir up his jealousy.

"But suppose your father should divide his property between you?How would you like to see Ben Brayton sharing the estate?"

"If my father chooses to leave his property in that way, Ishan't complain," said John. "Fortunately there is enough for usboth, and half will be enough to provide for me."

But John had never anticipated such a contingency as Ben and hismother claiming the whole property, and, frank and unsuspicious ashe was, he felt that his father would never have left him soentirely dependent upon his stepmother unless improper means hadbeen used to influence his decision. There was a particular reasonwhich he had for thinking thus. It was this: Three days before hisfather died, he was told by the servant, on entering the house,that the sick man wished to see him. Of course he went up instantlyto the chamber where, pale and wasted, Squire Oakley lay stretchedout on the bed.

He was stricken by a disease which affected his speech, andprevented him from articulating anything except in a whisper. Hebeckoned John to the bedside, and signed for him to place his earclose to his mouth. John did so. His father made a great effort tospeak, but all that John could make out was, "Mywill."

"Your will, father?" he repeated.

The sick man nodded, and tried to speak further. John thought hecould distinguish the word "drawer," but was not certain. He wasabout to inquire further, when his stepmother entered the room, andlooked at him suspiciously.

"Why have you come here to disturb your sick father?" she asked,coldly.

"I did not come here to disturb him," said John. "I came becausehe wished to speak to me."

"Has he spoken to you?" she asked, hastily.

"He tried to, but did not succeed."

"You should not allow him to make the effort. It can only do himharm. The doctor says he must be kept very quiet. You had betterleave the room. He is safest in my care."

John did leave the room, and though he saw his fatherafterwards, it was always in his stepmother's presence, and he hadno farther opportunity of communicating with him.

He could not help thinking of this as he rode along, andwondering what it was that his father wished to say. He knew thatit must be something of importance, from the evident anxiety whichthe dying man manifested to speak to him. But whatever it was mustremain unknown. His father's lips were hushed in death, and withsuch a stepmother John felt himself worse than alone in the world.But he had a religious nature, and had been well trained in theSunday school, and the thought came to him that whatever trialsmight be in store for him he had at least one Friend, higher thanany earthly friend, to whom he might look for help and protection.Plunged in thought, he had suffered Prince to subside into a walk,when, all at once, he heard his name called.

"Hallo, John!"

Looking up, he saw Sam Selwyn, son of Lawyer Selwyn, and aclassmate of his at the academy.

"Is that you, Sam?" he said, halting his horse.

"That is my impression," said Sam, "but I began to think itwasn't just now, when my best friend seemed to have forgottenme."

"I was thinking," said John, "and didn't notice."

"Where are you bound?"

"Nowhere in particular. I only came out for a ride."

"You're a lucky fellow, John."

"You forget, Sam, the loss I have just met with;" and Johnpointed to his black clothes.

"Excuse me, John, you know I sympathize with you in that. ButI'm very fond of riding, and never get any chance. You have a horseof your own."

"Just at present."

"Just at present! You're not going to lose him, are you?"

"Sam, I am expecting a little difficulty, and I shall feelbetter if I advise with some friend about it. You are my bestfriend in school, and I don't know but in the world, and I've agreat mind to tell you."

"I'll give you the best advice in my power, John, and won'tcharge anything for it either, which is more than my father would.You know he's a lawyer, and has to be mercenary. Not that I oughtto blame him, for that's the way he finds us all in bread andbutter."

"I'll turn Prince up that lane and tie him, and then we'll liedown under a tree, and have a good talk."

John did as proposed. Prince began to browse, apparently wellcontented with the arrangement, and the two boys stretchedthemselves out lazily beneath a wide-spreading chestnut-tree, whichscreened them from the sun.

"Now fire away," said Sam, "and I'll concentrate all myintellect upon your case gratis."

"I told you that Prince was mine for the present," commencedJohn. "I don't know as I can say even that. This afternoon when Igot home I found Ben Brayton just about to mount him."

"I hope you gave him a piece of your mind."

"I ordered him off," said John, quietly, "when he informed methat the horse was his now,—that his mother had given it tohim."

"What did you say?"

"That it was not hers to give. I seized the horse by the bridle,till he became alarmed and slid off. He then came at me with hisriding-whip, and struck me."

"I didn't think he had pluck enough for that. I hopeyou gave himas good as he sent."

"I pulled the whip away from him, and gave him two blows inreturn. Then watching my opportunity I sprang upon the horse, andhere I am."

"And that is the whole story?"

"Yes."

"And you want my advice?"

"Yes."

"Then I'llgive it. Sink or swim, live or die, survive or perish,stick to that horse, and defy Ben Brayton to do his worst."

"It seems to me I've heard part of that speech before," saidJohn, smiling. "As to the advice, I'll follow it if I can. I'm notafraid of anything Ben Brayton can do; but suppose his mother takeshis part?"

"Do you think she will?"

"I am afraid she will."

"Then defy her too," said Sam, hastily.

"I don't know about that," said John. "I am only a boy offifteen, and she is my father's widow. If she chooses to take thehorse away, I don't know that I can do anything."

"Ben Brayton is a mean rascal. Didn't he get a gold watch at thesame time that you got the horse?"

"Yes; he might have had a horse too, but he preferred the watchand chain. They cost as much as Prince."

"And now he wants the horse too?"

"So it seems."

"That's what I call hoggish. I only wish Ben Brayton would cometo school, and sit next to me."

"What for?" asked John, a little surprised at this remark.

"Wouldn't I stick pins into him, that's all. I'd make him yelllike—a locomotive," said Sam, the simile being suggested bythe sound of the in-coming train.

John laughed.

"That's an old trick of yours," he said, "I remember you servedme so once. And yet you profess to be my friend."

"I didn't stick it in very far," said Sam, apologetically; "itdidn't hurt much, did it?"

"Didn't it though?"

"Well, I didn't mean to have it. Maybe I miscalculated thedistance."

"It's all right, if you don't try it again. And now about theadvice."

"I wouldn't be imposed upon," said Sam. "Between you and me Idon't think much of your stepmother."

"Nor she of you," said John, slyly. "I heard her say the otherday that you were a disgrace to the neighborhood with yourmischievous tricks."

"That is the 'mostunkindest' cut of all," said Sam. "I'd shed afew tears if I hadn't left my handkerchief at home. I have a greatmind to tell you something," he added, more gravely.

"Well?" said John, inquiringly.

"It's something that concerns you, only I happened to overhearit, which isn't quite fair and aboveboard, I know. Still I think Ihad better tell you. You know my father was your father'slawyer?"

"Yes."

"Well, he as well as everybody else was surprised at the willthat left everything to your stepmother, only hehad the best reasonto be surprised. I was sitting out on our piazza when I heard himtell my mother that only three months ago your father came to hisoffice, and had a will drawn up, leaving all the property to you,except the thirds which your stepmother was entitled to."

"Only three months ago?" said John, thoughtfully.

"Yes."

"And did he take away the will with him?"

"Yes; he thought at first of leaving it in my father's charge,but finally decided to keep it himself."

"What can have become of it? Hemust have destroyed itsince."

"My father doesn't think so," said Sam.

"What does he think?"

"Mind you don't say a word of what I tell you," said Sam,lowering his voice. "He thinks that Mrs. Oakley has put it out ofthe way, in order to get hold of the whole property herself."

"I can hardly think she would be so wicked," said John, shockedat the supposition.

"Isn't it easier to believe that of her, than to believe thatyour father would deal so unjustly by you?"

"I won't call it unjustly, even if he hasreally left her thewhole property," said John. "Still, I was surprised at being leftout of the will. Besides," he added, with a sudden reflection,"there's something that makes me think that the will you speak ofis still in existence."

"What's that?" asked Sam.

In reply John gave the particulars of his father's attempt tocommunicate with him, and the few words he was able to makeout.

"I understand it all now," said Sam, quickly.

"Then you're ahead of me."

"It's plain as a pike-staff. Your father hid the will, fearingthat your stepmother would get hold of it and destroy it. He wantedto tell you where it was. Do you know of any secret drawer in yourhouse?"

John shook his head.

"There must be one somewhere. Now, if you want my advice, I'llgive it. Justhunt secretly for the drawer, wherever you think itmay possibly be, and if you find it, and the will in it, just bringit round to my father, and he'll see that justice is done you.Come, I'm not a lawyer's son for nothing. What do you say?"

"I shouldn'twonder if you were right, Sam."

"You may depend upon it I am. I'm your lawyer, remember, and youare my client. I give advice on the 'no cure no pay' system. If itdon't amount to anything I won't charge you a cent."

"And if it does?"

"If you get your property by my professional exertions, I trustto your generosity to reward me."

"All right, Sam."

"Of course you won't let your stepmother suspect what you'reafter. Otherwise she might get the start of you, and find itherself, and then much good it woulddo you."

"I'm glad to think it is still in existence, and that she hasn'tdestroyed it."

"She would if she could, you may depend on that."

"Well, Sam, I'm much obliged to you for your advice. I think Imust be going now."

"Well, good-by, old fellow. Keepa stiff upper lip, and don'tgive up the ship—horsemanship, I mean. I must go round to theoffice, and see if father doesn't need a little professionalassistance."

John leaped on Prince's back, and turned him in the direction ofhome. The revelation whichSam had made gave a new direction to histhoughts. If his father had really intended to give him a share ofthe estate, he felt that he ought to have it, and determined toinstitute a search as cautiously as possible.

Driving into the yard he saw Ben sitting sullenly on thedoor-step. He eyed John with no very friendly glance.

"Where've you been?" he demanded.

"Up the road," said John, briefly.

"It's the last time you'll ridemyhorse."

"It's not your horse."

"You'll find out whose horse it is," muttered Ben.

"I don't care about disputing with you," said John, quietly,turning towards the stable.

"My mother wishes to see you at once; do you hear?" said Ben,unpleasantly. "She's going to make you apologize to me for yourimpudence."

"I'll go in and see heras soon as I have put the horse in thestable," John answered, quietly.

"I hate that fellow," muttered Ben, following our hero withlowering eyes; "he puts on too many airs altogether. But mymother'll fix him."