Fred Fenton on the Track Part 18

GLORIOUS NEWS

The more Fred thought of it the stronger became his conviction that Buck and Billy would be a long time in finding the lonely Masterson farmhouse, that was off the main road.

They had left him going in a direction that was really at right angles to the shortest way there. But then possibly Buck knew of another route.

And after all it was none of his business.

Evening had now settled down in earnest. There would be a moon later; but darkness was beginning to shut out the last expiring gleams of daylight.

Fred was feeling pretty "chipper" as he himself expressed it. So far as he could ascertain no serious result had accompanied his fall into that hole, and the exposure that followed the mishap.

His muscles having come back to their old condition, he was running as easily as ever before; and he believed himself to be in splendid condition.

This sudden determination to drop in on Arnold Masterson and his daughter was going to take him a considerable distance out of his way; but what are a few miles to an aspiring young athlete, in training for a hard road race on the morrow? It would really do him good to have the exercise, he believed.

Fred had managed to have a good talk with the Mastersons the last time he was over. He had taken both father and daughter into his confidence, and told them how Squire Lemington, in connection with the powerful syndicate, was trying to swindle his folks out of the rich Alaska claim, which they truly believed belonged to them, and not to the capitalists.

Of course Fred had met with ready sympathy from the occupants of the Arnold Masterson house. They themselves had suffered too recently from the grasping methods of the old Squire not to sympathize with new victims.

And Fred had a double object in telling the story of the missing witness, whose evidence, if it could ever be procured, would settle the lawsuit in favor of the Fentons and against Squire Lemington.

Somehow, he believed that if Hiram Masterson did manage to make his way back to the neighborhood of Riverport, bent on righting a great wrong, as he had written in that strange note from Hong Kong, he would be apt to hunt up his brother, whom he had evidently not seen on his last visit.

Now he was at the cross-roads tavern, known as. .h.i.tchen's, and running easily. He did not neglect to follow out the instructions which he had received from the old college graduate and coach, Mr. Shays, about breathing through his nose, and holding himself fairly erect. Only in the mad dash of the last stretch could a well trained athlete be forgiven for neglecting these precautions; since so much depends on their being constantly employed in order to insure staying qualities.

Presently Fred found himself in familiar regions. He vividly remembered the cross-country run, when he and Bristles came upon the well under the apple tree, and were startled at sounds of groans issuing forth from that place.

Now he could just make it out in the gathering gloom; but really he gave it only a pa.s.sing glance, for his attention was directed toward the farmhouse, where in a lower window he could see a lamp burning.

Fred did not mean to be inquisitive, and would not have thought of going a foot out of his way in order to peer in at that window; but as he had to pa.s.s it by on his way to the door, he naturally glanced in.

Then he stopped to look again. Evidently the Mastersons had company, for there were three at the supper table, upon which a bountiful array of enticingly cooked food could be seen; for the good people of Riverport had brought out enough provisions to last them half way through the coming winter.

This might make some difference with Fred's plans.

"Perhaps I ought not to break in on them if they have company," he was saying to himself, as he continued to look through the window. "But I've come so far now, I kind of hate to give over the idea of saying something to Mr. Masterson. Perhaps he'll come to the door if I knock. I could tell him about Buck, to begin with; and might get a chance to speak of his letting us know if anything happened that he thought would interest the Fenton family. Yes, I'll try it."

Before turning away he took another pa.s.sing glance at the stranger, who seemed to be an elderly man with gray hair and a beard of the same color. Whatever he was saying, both Mr. Masterson and Sarah seemed to be hanging on his words as if they were deeply interested.

Fred gave a sigh. He was secretly disappointed, to tell the truth.

Perhaps he had conceived a faint expectation that something about the man might seem familiar; for he had not forgotten how the returned Alaska miner, Hiram Masterson, had looked when he rode about in Squire Lemington's carriage. But there was not the least resemblance so far as he could note between this elderly person and the gay-looking young miner.

"I was foolish to ever think that," Fred said to himself, as he again started in the direction of the farmhouse door.

In this mood, then he reached the door, and knocked. The sound echoed through the house, for Fred had laid his knuckles rather heavily on the upper panel of the double Dutch door.

He heard a scuffling sound, to indicate that chairs had been hurriedly pushed back. Apparently, then, his knock had created something of a little panic within, though Fred could hardly understand why that should be so.

After waiting a reasonable time, without either Sarah or her father coming to the door, Fred again gave a knock.

"Mr. Masterson!" Fred called out, in the hope that his voice might happen to be recognized, so as to allay their fears.

Then he saw that someone was coming in answer to his second summons.

Under the door appeared a thin thread of light. This announced that the door between had been opened, and a lamp was being carried into the front room.

Fred wondered just at that moment whether it would be Sarah or her father who might open the door. He knew Mr. Masterson was recovering his strength; but still he must be more or less weak, after a spell of sickness. And in that event Sarah was apt to be the one to come.

Well, he would ask to see her father then, so as to get a few minutes conversation with the other. Sarah would be surprised to see him, of course, at this queer hour, and in his running costume.

Fred almost wished now he had changed his mind, and turned away before giving that knock. But it was too late. He could hear someone drawing back the bolt by which the door was fastened. The Mastersons had gone through one unpleasant experience, and they did not want another, if such a small thing as a new bolt on the door would ward it off.

Now the door had begun to open, and Fred allowed a smile to come upon his face in antic.i.p.ation of the look of surprise he felt sure would welcome him.

As it happened, however, the surprise was pretty much the other way. The door suddenly flew open, at least the upper half of it did, and Arnold Masterson thrust the muzzle of a double-barrel shotgun through the opening, at the same time exclaiming:

"Now be off with you, or I'll give you a dose of buck shot that you won't like!"

He had just managed to say this when he stared at the figure standing there. Of course Fred had been startled when so suddenly confronted by the armed and angry farmer; but he immediately recovered.

"Hold on, Mr. Masterson, don't you know me? It's Fred Fenton!" he exclaimed.

The farmer seemed too surprised for words. But he did hasten to unfasten the remaining part of the Dutch door, and seize hold of the boy by the short sleeve of his running tunic.

"Fred Fenton, of all things, and right now too, when we were just talking about your folks. Come in, my boy, come in. This is a piece of great luck now. Whatever brings you away up here just at the time we wanted to see you most? Great news for you, Fred! He's come home again, and is right in there. Sarah wanted him to hide, because she thought it was one of my uncle's spies hanging around; but I said no, that they'd never believe it was him, not in a year of Sundays."

"Who?" gasped Fred, feeling weak; but with a great expectation that caused him to tremble all over.

The farmer patted him on the back as he went on to say, joyfully:

"It's my brother Hiram, come back to right the wrong he helped do your people; and defy Uncle Sparks to his face. This is going to be a happy night for you, Fred; a happy night, my boy!"

CHAPTER XX

A WELCOME GUEST

"Hiram come back!"

That was about all Fred could say. After all these dreary months, with hope so long deferred, it was hard to understand that the splendid news could be true. Oh! what joy it would bring in his home, when he arrived to tell the story! In imagination even at that first moment, Fred could see the tired face of his mother light up with thankfulness; and his father taking her in his arms, to shelter her head on his broad shoulder.

For the return of Hiram meant that the truth must be told about that false claim the powerful syndicate had put in for the property left to Mr. Fenton by his brother Fred, up in Alaska; and which had seemed so necessary to the working of the mines really owned by the big company that they had been willing to do almost anything to get possession of the same.

"Yes, that's him in yonder; but n.o.body'd ever know it, he's got himself up so smart," the farmer said, proudly, as he closed and bolted the doors again, ere leading the way into the other room.

Fred saw the supposed old man stare hard at him as he followed Mr.