Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy, Jr. Horatio Alger [me reader .TXT] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“No.”
“Then, hadn't you better look at mine again?” he said, persuasively.
“It would be of no use.”
“If the price is any objection,” said Abner, insinuatingly, “I don't know but I might say a LEETLE less, though the animal's wuth more'n I ask for it.”
“It isn't the price that stands in the way, Mr. Holden.”
“What is it, then? Sam Nichols hain't been slandering me, I hope. If he has, I'll be even with him.”
“Spare your anger against Sam Nichols. He said nothing against you; though I believe you warned me against him.”
“Yes, I did. I felt it my duty to caution you, so you might not be overreached by him.”
“You prefer to overreach me yourself,” said the other, quietly.
Abner started, and changed color.
“What do you mean?” he said. “Who told you I wanted to overreach you?”
“Why, this is the way the matter stands. I asked you for a good family horse, such as my wife might drive with safety. Didn't you understand me so?”
“Of course.”
“And you tried to sell me an ill-tempered brute, blind of one eye, for an extortionate price. Can you deny it?”
“Somebody's been telling you a pack of lies,” said Abner, hoarsely.
“I don't think they are lies. I have every reason to think they are true. By the way, what is the animal's name?”
“Spitfire,” said Abner, rather reluctantly.
“A good name for a family horse,” said the stranger, sarcastically.
“Where did you learn all this?” demanded Abner. “Who's been slandering the horse?”
“I got my information at your place, from one who ought to know.”
A light dawned upon Abner Holden's mind.
“Herbert told him,” muttered Abner to himself. “That cursed boy has spoiled my bargain, and he shall smart for it.”
In a furious rage, he retraced his steps homeward, breathing threats of vengeance dire against our hero.
CHAPTER XI A CRISIS
Abner Holden's disappointment was excessive at the sudden falling through of his horse trade, and his feeling of anger against Herbert for his agency in the matter was in proportion to his disappointment. His chief thought, as he hurried home from the tavern, was that he would make the boy smart for his interference.
“I'll give him a good flogging,” muttered Abner to himself, and he felt that this would be some slight compensation for the injury and slight loss which Herbert had caused him to sustain.
“I'll teach him to spoil my bargains,” he said, while his face wore an expression decidedly ugly. “I reckon he won't do it a second time.”
It was in this frame of mind that he reached home.
Herbert had just entered the kitchen with an armful of wood for the housekeeper, and having thrown down his burden, was about to go back, when, on turning, he confronted the stormy and wrathful face of his employer.
“He's found out,” Herbert concluded at once, and he braced his nerves for the storm which he knew must come.
“Well, young man, I've an account to settle with you,” said Abner, abruptly.
Herbert did not reply, but waited for Mr. Holden to state the matter. But in Abner's present angry condition, he chose to construe his silence into cause of offense.
“Why don't you speak?” he said. “What do you mean by looking me impudently in the face?”
“I have no intention of being impudent,” said Herbert. “I think you are mistaken, Mr. Holden.”
“Do you dare to tell me I am mistaken?” roared Holden, lashing himself into a rage.
“I don't mean to do or say anything that is not perfectly respectful,” said Herbert, manfully, looking steadily in his employer's face.
“Why did you tell a pack of lies about my horse this morning, and so make me lose my trade?”
“I didn't tell a pack of lies,” said Herbert.
“Didn't you tell the man who came here that he was an ill-tempered brute, and blind of one eye?”
Abner Holden glared upon the boy as if he wanted to spring upon him, and give him a thrashing on the spot.
“I told him that Spitfire was not suitable for a family horse.”
“What did you tell him that for?”
“Because it was true.”
“Supposing it was true, didn't you know that you were spoiling my trade?”
“I am sorry for that, Mr. Holden, but if he had bought the horse, supposing it to be gentle, it might have broken his wife's neck.”
“What business was that of yours? That was his lookout.”
“I didn't look upon it in that way. I thought he ought to buy the horse with his eyes open.”
“You did, did you?” roared Abner. “Then I advise you to open your own eyes, for you're going to get one of the worst lickings you ever had.”
Abner Holden's anger now reached an ungovernable pitch. Looking about him for a weapon, he espied the broom resting against the wall. He seized it, and with a scream of rage, made for Herbert, shaking off the grasp of the housekeeper, who tried to stay him.
Herbert, perceiving the peril in which he stood, ran round the table, which stood, with leaves open, in the middle of the floor. Abner pursued him with headlong haste.
“Lord preserve us! The man is mad!” ejaculated the housekeeper, trying to get out of the way. But in this she was not successful. The kitchen was small, and before she could guard against a collision, Abner had stumbled over Mrs. Bickford, and both came down together. She uttered a succession of piercing shrieks, and, with a view of relieving Herbert, pretended that her life was in danger, grasping Abner by the hair and holding him fast.
Herbert saw that this was the favorable moment for escape, and, seizing his hat, dashed out of the house. He ran across the fields as fast as
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