Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition, Jr. Horatio Alger [most important books to read txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Perhaps you'll find I am if you don't go to work.”
“I'll do it this afternoon.”
“All right. Then we'll have dinner in the even-in'. No wood, no dinner.”
“Seems to me you're rather hard on me, Mrs. B. I don't feel well.”
“Nor you won't till you give up drinkin'.”
Much against his will, Mr. Barton felt compelled by the stress of circumstances to do the work expected of him. It made him feel angry with Abner, whom he did not miss for any other reason.
“I'll break that boy's neck when he comes back,” he muttered. “It's a shame to leave all this work for his poor, old dad.”
To-morrow came, but the boys did not. A week slipped away, and still they were missing. Mrs. Barton was not an affectionate mother, but it did seem lonesome without Abner. As for Herbert, she did not care for his absence. If Willis Ford did not continue to pay his board, she felt that she would rather have him away.
On the sixth day after the departure of the boys there came a surprise for Mrs. Barton.
As she was at work in the kitchen, she heard a loud knock at the door.
“Can it be Abner?” she thought. “He wouldn't knock.”
She went to the door, however, feeling rather curious as to who could be her visitor, and on opening it started in surprise to see Willis Ford.
“Mr. Ford!” she ejaculated.
“I thought I would make you a call,” answered Ford. “How's the boy getting along?”
“If you mean the boy you left here,” she answered, composedly, “he's run away, and took my boy with him.”
“Run away!” ejaculated Ford, in dismay.
“Yes; he made tracks about a week ago. He and my Abner have gone off to make their fortunes.”
“Why didn't you take better care of him, woman?” exclaimed Ford, angrily. “It's your fault, his running away!”
“Look here, Ford,” retorted Mrs. Barton; “don't you sass me, for I won't stand it. Ef it hadn't been for you, Abner would be at home now.”
“I didn't mean to offend you, my dear Mrs. Barton,” said Ford, seeing that he had made a false step. “Tell me all you can, and I'll see if I can't get the boys back.”
“Now you're talkin',” said Mrs. Barton, smoothing her ruffled plumage. “Come into the house, and I'll tell you all I know.”
CHAPTER XXXV — HERBERT BREAKS DOWN
“I don't think I can walk any further, Abner. I feel sick,” faltered Herbert.
Abner, who had been walking briskly, turned round to look at his young companion. Herbert was looking very pale, and had to drag one foot after the other. Day after day he had tried to keep up with Abner, but his strength was far inferior to that of the other boy, and he had finally broken down.
“You do look sick, bub,” said Abner, struck by Herbert's pallid look. “Was I walking too fast for you?”
“I feel very weak,” said Herbert. “Would you mind stopping a little while? I should like to lie under a tree and rest.”
“All right, bub. There's a nice tree.” “Don't you feel tired, Abner?”
“No; I feel as strong as hearty as a horse.”
“You are bigger than I am. I guess that is the reason.”
Abner was a rough boy, but he showed unusual gentleness and consideration for the little boy, whose weakness appealed to his better nature. He picked out a nice, shady place for Herbert to recline upon, and, taking off his coat, laid it down for a pillow on which his young companion might rest his head.
“There, bub; I reckon you'll feel better soon,” he said.
“I hope so, Abner. I wish I was as strong as you are.”
“So do I. I reckon I was born tough. I was brought up different from you.”
“I wish I were at home,” sighed Herbert. “Is it a long way from here?”
“I reckon it is, but I don't know,” answered Abner, whose geographical notions were decidedly hazy.
An hour passed, and still Herbert lay almost motionless, as if rest were a luxury, with his eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the clouds that could be seen through the branches floating lazily above.
“Don't you feel any better, bub?” asked Abner.
“I feel better while I am lying here, Abner.”
“Don't you feel strong enough to walk a little further?”
“Must I?” asked Herbert, sighing. “It is so nice to lie here.”
“I am afraid we shall never get to New York if we don't keep goin'.”
“I'll try,” said Herbert, and he rose to his feet, but he only staggered and became very white.
“I am afraid I need to rest a little more,” he said.
“All right, bub. Take your time.”
More critically Abner surveyed his young companion. He was not used to sickness or weakness, but there was something in the little boy's face that startled him.
“I don't think you're fit to walk any further today,” he said. “I wish we had some good place to stay.”
At this moment a carriage was seen approaching. It was driven by a lady of middle age, with a benevolent face. Her attention was drawn to the two boys, and especially to Herbert. Her experienced eyes at once saw that he was sick.
She halted her horse.
“What is the matter with your brother?” she said to Abner.
“I reckon he's tuckered out,” said Abner, tacitly admitting the relationship. “We've been travelin' for several days. He ain't so tough as I am.”
“He looks as if he were going to be sick. Have you any friends near here?”
“No, ma'am. The nighest is over a hundred miles off.”
The lady reflected a moment. Then she said: “I think you had better come to my house. My brother is a doctor. He will look at your little brother and see what can be done for him.”
“I should like it very much,” said Abner,
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