Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition, Jr. Horatio Alger [most important books to read txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition, Jr. Horatio Alger [most important books to read txt] 📗». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
Grant shook his head.
“Nothing definite,” he said. “Mr. Reynolds has gone to Georgia to follow up a clew.”
“Two weeks since,” said the postman, “I left a letter here dated at Scipio, Ill. It was in a boy's handwriting. I thought it might be from the lost boy.”
“A letter from Scipio, in a boy's handwriting!” repeated Grant, surprised. “Mr. Reynolds has shown me all his letters. He has received none from there.”
“I can't understand it. I left it here, I am positive of that.”
“At what time in the day?” asked Grant, quickly.
“About eleven o'clock in the forenoon.”
“Can you tell to whom you gave it?”
“To the servant.”
“It is very strange,” said Grant, thoughtfully. “And it was in a boy's handwriting?”
“Yes; the address was in a round, schoolboy hand. The servant couldn't have lost it, could she?”
“No; Sarah is very careful.”
“Well, I must be going.”
By this time Grant had opened the letter. He had glanced rapidly at the signature, and his face betrayed excitement.
“This is from Herbert,” he said. “You may listen, if you like.”
He rapidly read the letter, which in part was as follows:
“DEAR GRANT: I write to you, or rather I have asked Miss Stone, who is taking care of me, to do so, because I wrote to papa two weeks since, and I am afraid he did not get the letter, for I have had no answer. I wrote from the town of Scipio, in Illinois—
“Just what I said,” interrupted the postman.
“I wrote that Mr. Ford had carried me away and brought me out West, where he put me to board in a poor family, where I had scarcely enough to eat. Mr. Barton had one son, Abner, who treated me well, and agreed to run away with me to New York, if we could get money from papa. But we waited and waited, and no letter came. So at last we decided to run away at any rate, for I was afraid Mr. Ford would come back and take me somewhere else. I can't tell you much about the journey, except that we walked most of the way, and we got very tired—or, at least, I did, for I am not so strong as Abner—till I broke down. I am stopping now at the house of Dr. Stone, who is very kind, and so is his sister, who is writing this letter for me. Will you show papa this letter, and ask him to send for me, if he cannot come himself? I do so long to be at home once more. I hope he will come before Willis Ford finds me out. I think he has a spite against papa, and that is why he stole me away. Your affectionate friend,
“HERBERT REYNOLDS.”
“Please say nothing about this,” said Grant to the postman. “I don't want it known that this letter has come.”
“What will you do?”
“I shall start for the West myself to-night.”
“Mrs. Estabrook intercepted that letter,” said Grant to himself. “I am sure of it.”
CHAPTER XXXVII — WILLIS FORD FINDS THE RUNAWAYS
“I shall be absent for a few days, Mrs. Estabrook,” said Grant to the housekeeper, as he entered the house.
“Where are you going?” she inquired.
“I can't tell you definitely.”
“Hadn't you better wait till Mr. Reynolds gets back?”
“No; business is not very pressing in the office, and I can be spared.”
The housekeeper concluded that Grant was going to Colebrook, and did not connect his journey with the lost boy.
“Oh, well, I suppose you understand your own business best. Herbert will miss you if he finds you away when his father brings him back.”
“Do you think he will?” asked Grant, eyeing the housekeeper sharply.
“I'm sure I don't know. I suppose he expects to, or he would not have traveled so far in search of him.”
“Shall you be glad to see him back, Mrs. Estabrook?”
“Of course! What makes you doubt it?” demanded the housekeeper, sharply.
“I thought you didn't like Herbert.”
“I wasn't always petting him. It isn't in my way to pet boys.”
“Do you often hear from Willis Ford?”
“That is my business,” answered Mrs. Estabrook, sharply. “Why do you ask?”
“I was wondering whether he knew that Herbert had been abducted.”
“That is more than we know. Very likely the boy ran away.”
Grant called on the cashier at his private residence, confided to him his plan, and obtained a sum of money for traveling expenses. He left the Grand Central Depot by the evening train, and by morning was well on his way to Chicago.
Meanwhile, Willis Ford had left no stone unturned to obtain news of the runaways. This he did not find difficult, though attended with delay. He struck the right trail, and then had only to inquire, as he went along, whether two boys had been seen, one small and delicate, the other large and well-grown, wandering through the country. Plenty had seen the two boys, and told him so.
“Are they your sons, mister?” asked a laborer of whom he inquired.
“Not both of them—only the smaller,” answered Ford, with unblushing falsehood.
“And what made them run away now?”
“My son probably did not like the boarding place I selected for him.”
“Why didn't he write to you?”
“He didn't know where to direct.”
“Who is the other lad?”
“The son of the man I placed him with. I think he may have induced Sam to run away.”
Finally Ford reached Claremont, the town where the boys had actually found refuge. Here he learned that two boys had been taken in by Dr. Stone, answering to the description he gave. One, the younger one, had been sick, but now was better. This information he obtained at the hotel.
Ford's eyes sparkled with
Comments (0)