The Tin Box, and What it Contained

CHAPTER XXV

PHILIP BECOMES A PRISONER

"Please let me go, and I'll give you five dollars," said poor Philip, ashe was dragged along the forest path by his captor.

"Humph!" said Temple, grimly, thinking he might as well take the money, though he had no intention of releasing Philip. "Have you got fivedollars with you?"

"No."

"Then you are trying to fool me," exclaimed Temple, with an angry jerkat the boy's collar.

"No, I'm not," answered Philip, terrified. "I've got two dollars withme, and I'll bring you the rest before night.

"Where will you get it?"

"From my father."

"And I suppose you expect me to let you go home and get it?"

"If you please."

"But I don't please. You must think I'm a fool. Just as if you wouldcome back if you had once got away!"

"But I will. I promise it on my word of honor."

"Your word of honor," repeated Temple, scornfully. "As if I didn't knowwhat that amounts to."

Philip would have resented this imputation if he had dared, but therewas a look of grim resolution about Temple's mouth which made him afraidto show any resentment.

"Besides," added Temple, "what do you think I care for five dollars? After you have stolen thousands of dollars from me, you dare to think Iwill let you off for five dollars."

There was something in this speech which, despite Philip's terror, attracted his attention. Temple spoke of being robbed of thousands ofdollars, yet he was generally considered a poor outlaw. How could hehave come into possession of so large a sum?

"Thousands of dollars!" repeated Philip, in undisguised amazement.

"Yes; what have you got to say about it?" demanded Temple, sharply.

"I thought you were poor," Philip couldn't help saying.

Temple paused a moment. He knew that the possession of so much moneywould excite surprise in others besides Philip, and he regretted hisimprudence in speaking of thousands of dollars. As it was done, he mustgive some kind of an explanation.

"So I was poor; but a rich cousin in New York died lately, and left me alarge legacy. Not having any safe to put it in," he added, with a grimsmile, "I concealed it in the wood, thinking it would be safe. When Isaw you and that friend of yours prowling around this morning, itcrossed my mind that it was in danger; but I didn't think you werethieves."

"We are not," said Philip. "We know nothing about your tin box."

"That's all very well to say. What were you doing in the wood justnow?"

"I only went there for a walk."

"Of course," said Temple, with a sneer. "It's a pleasant place for awalk, and handy to your house."

"I hope to die if I ain't telling the truth!" said Philip, desperately.

"You'll die when your time comes, and it may come sooner than you thinkfor," said Temple, taking a malicious pleasure in seeing Philip turnpale and tremble in his grasp.

"You wouldn't kill me?" faltered Philip.

"I don't know what I shall do. If you tell me where the box is, Ishan't."

"But I don't know – hope to die if I do."

"Who was that fellow with you?" demanded Temple, abruptly.

"James Congreve."

"Where does he come from?"

"From New York."

"If you haven't stolen the box, he has. It lies between you."

"James wouldn't steal it. He is a gentleman."

"So gentlemen don't steal?" sneered Temple. "I am not sure about that. Iknow one thing. I've lost the box, and one of you has got it."

It occurred to Temple that it was more likely to be Congreve, who wasolder and bolder than the boy he had captured, but he was not disposedto let Philip go, nevertheless.

Again Philip denied the charge, but this time Temple did not answer.

At length they reached the hut, and entered.

Now came the critical moment. What was this bad man going to do withhim? Philip asked himself.

He was dragged into the hut, and then, for the first time, his captorrelaxed his grip.

"Sit down there," he said, pointing to a wooden chair, from which thepaint had all worn off.

Philip sat down.

"Now, if you dare to stir or try to escape I'll kill you," said Temple, coolly.

"What a blood-thirsty ruffian!" Philip thought, trembling.

Temple opened the door of a closet, which was filled with a variety ofarticles, including a small supply of kitchen utensils.

He took out a case-knife, to the horror of poor Philip, who concluded hewas to be butchered in cold blood. Still, he did not dare to leave hisseat, lest his jailer's threat should be carried into execution. He washappily undeceived, however, for from the floor of the closet Templelifted a portion of a clothesline, and with some difficulty, for theknife was dull, cut off a portion. Then he turned to Philip.

"I can't stay here to stand guard over you, boy," he said, "but I don'tmean that you shall get away in a hurry. I think I have found a way toprevent your escaping."

He approached the boy, and said:

"Hold out your hands."

"What are you going to do to me, Mr. Temple?" asked Philip, nervously.

"Tie you," answered his captor, sententiously. "What do you supposeropes are made for?"

"Please don't tie me," said Philip, in dismay. "I won't run away."

"No, I don't think you will. Hold out your hands."

There was no help for it. Philip, much against his will, held out hishands, and they were tied tightly around the wrists, so that thestricture was painful.

"It hurts me," he complained.

"It would hurt your neck worse," replied Temple.

Philip understood what he meant, and turned pale. But a ray of hope cameto him in his despondency. Even if his hands were tied he might escape, and he resolved to do so as soon as Temple was at a safe distance.

His hands being tied would not prevent his walking or running, and onceout of the wood he would feel comparatively safe.

He reckoned without his host, however; or, rather, he reckoned withoutknowing the intentions of his captor.

"There," said Temple, when the boy's hands were tied, "so far so good!

Now for your feet!"

Hope died once more in Philip's breast. He might escape with his handstied, but with his feet tied it was quite another matter. In vain heprotested against this second indignity. His jailor was not to bemoved.

"You may as well spare your breath, boy," he said. "I ain't quite afool. I'm not going to leave you free to get away as soon as my back isturned."

So Philip's feet were tied, too, and he realized how utterly helpless hewas.

"There, you can amuse yourself now as much as you like," said Temple, with a humor that Philip did not by any means appreciate. "You'll have anice, easy time, with nothing to do."

He turned and left the hut, relieving Philip of his presence, which wasone comfort, but did not go very far.

As my readers will conclude, Philip began to work his wrists up anddown, vainly endeavoring to unloose the rope, but only succeeded inhurting himself. Next he tried his feet, but they, also, were securelyconfined.

It was a righteous retribution for the trick he had played on HarryGilbert. He was being paid off in his own coin. Though his consciencewas not particularly sensitive, it did occur to him that he was inprecisely the same condition as the boy whom he and Congreve had leftalone in the dark wood, fully expecting that he would have to remain allnight.

But even then he could not be said to feel deep regret for his unworthyact. He was sensible of the inconvenience to which he was subjected byhis constrained position, and began to chafe and fret under it.

"I wonder how long he's going to leave me here?" thought Philip, though, in truth, he hardly knew whether he wanted Temple to return or not.

"Just as soon as I get away, I'll ask pa to have him arrested. Iwouldn't mind seeing him hung."

An hour passed – about the longest hour Philip had ever known. At lengthhis eager ears discerned steps outside the hut. It might be a friend! Atany rate, he would call, and perhaps the call would bring rescue.

"Hello, there!" he called out. "Come in; I need help!"

CHAPTER XXVI

PHILIP IS FORCED TO APOLOGIZE

There were two persons outside, one of whom was our hero, Harry Gilbert. The other, though dressed in citizen's clothes, was an officer, who hadbeen sent to arrest Temple, on a charge of being implicated with Vernonin the robbery of the tin box.

Harry at once recognized the voice of Philip, and it is needless to saythat he was filled with genuine surprise.

"That must be Philip Ross," he said, in a low voice, to the officer.

"Who is Philip Ross?"

Harry gave a few words of explanation. He did not, however, mention themean trick which Philip had played on him.

"He is not a friend of Temple?" asked the officer.

"Oh, no! He must have got into some trouble with Temple. Please stayhere, and let me go in and see what is the matter. I have a reason forwishing him to think I am alone, just at first."

"Just as you say," returned the officer. "I take it for granted Templeisn't here, or the boy wouldn't have called. Suppose the man comesback?"

"Let him come in, and you can follow. Between us, I guess we can makehim a prisoner."

"You have plenty of courage," said the officer. "Are you not afraid tohave him come in upon you?"

"Not while you are near to help me," answered Harry. "In that cabin wecould pen him up."

"That's true. Well, go in to your friend."

"A queer sort of a friend Philip is," thought Harry, but he did notobject to the title.

Opening the cabin door, which Temple had closed, Harry regarded Philipwith amazement. He could hardly believe the testimony of his eyes whenhe saw his enemy, tied hand and foot, very much as he had been the nightbefore.

"What's the matter, Philip?" he asked. "What has happened to you?"

"Can't you see for yourself," demanded Philip, querulously. "I'm tied sotight I can't move."

"Who did it?"

"That thief, Temple! I should like to wring his neck!" said Philip, spitefully.

Though Harry was not a vindictive boy, it did strike him as appropriatethat Philip should have a chance to see for himself how it seemed to bebound. Deferring the gratification of his curiosity, he inquired:

"How do you like it?"

"How do I like it?" echoed Philip, furiously. "Don't ask such absurdquestions, but come and untie me."

"Wait a minute," said Harry. "Perhaps you have forgotten that this isthe way you and Congreve served me only last night. I suppose youthought it a good joke. Well, Ralph Temple has played the same joke onyou."

"Joke!" repeated Philip. "He'll find out what kind of a joke it is whenmy father has him put in jail."

"Do you think he deserves to be put in jail just for that?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then it seems to me that you and your friend Congreve deserve the samepunishment for what you did to me."

"It's entirely different; but stop talking and come and untie me."

"You didn't untie me. You left me to pass the night in the forestalone."

Philip eyed Harry attentively, and it struck him that perhaps it wouldbe better to drop his haughty and domineering tone and temporize alittle, if he wanted a rescue. He could afterward treat Harry as hepleased.

"I didn't think you'd make so much of a little matter like that," hesaid. "It was a mistake. I didn't mean you to stay all night. Congrevepromised to go back and untie you. Didn't he do it?"

"No," answered Harry, dryly.

"Then he broke his promise. Just untie me, that's a good fellow, andI'll make it up to you. I've got two dollars in my pocket, and you mayhave them if you'll get me out of this scrape. Be quick, for Temple maybe coming back, and he may kill us both."

"I don't want your two dollars, Philip," said Harry. "I am ready torelease you without that – "

"Quick, then; that's a good fellow."

"Hear me out. I was going to say, on one condition."

"What is it?" asked Philip, impatiently.

"That you will beg my pardon for the trick you played on me," said

Harry, quietly.

"What! I beg your pardon?" exclaimed Philip, haughtily.

"That is what I said."

"Do you think I would demean myself by asking anybody's pardon?" demanded Philip, his pride getting the better of his prudence.

"That is exactly what I expect, Philip Ross. If I had played such a meantrick on any one, I should think it no more than right to do just thatthing."

"No," said Philip, stubbornly; "I won't do that, but I will give you thetwo dollars."

"I don't want your two dollars," returned Harry, contemptuously.

Two dollars was not so large a sum in his eyes as it would have been theday previous, for in the last twenty-four hours he had earned, and wasconfident of receiving, a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars. Still, even if this had not been the case, he would have disdained tosell his assistance to Philip.

"The money will do you a great deal more good than my asking yourpardon," argued Philip.

"No, it won't. I am not very much in need of money, but I won't help aboy who has acted toward me as you have, unless you will apologize."

"Don't be a fool! Come and help me, and the money will be yours."

"It is no use, Philip; my mind is made up. Will you apologize?"

"No."

"Then, good-day! Give my respects to Mr. Temple when he returns."

So saying, Harry turned to leave the cabin, and Philip's heart sank indismay as he saw the only one from whom he could hope for help leavinghis presence.

"Hold on!" he called out. "I'll give you five dollars! I haven't got itwith me, but I can get it from my father. I'll hand it to youto-morrow."

Philip hated to humble his pride, and he would rather have paid fivedollars, even if it came out of his own pocket, than submit to such ahumiliation.

"Good-by, Philip," said Harry, resolutely.

"Are you really going to leave me? That's mean."

"You know the condition on which I'll help you."

"I'll give you ten dollars!" exclaimed Philip, desperately.

"Not a cent! I won't take a cent from you! Either I will help you orleave you here, but no money shall pass between us."

There was a calm resolution in Harry's tone which at last convinced

Philip that he was in earnest.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked, sullenly.

"That you are sorry for the mean trick you played on me, and ask mypardon."

"All right. Now untie me."

"You haven't said it."

"It's the same thing."

"I don't consider it so."

"Well, tell me what you want, then," said Philip, querulously.

"Repeat after me: 'I am sorry for the mean trick I played on you, and Ibeg your pardon.'"

Philip was perforce obliged to do as Harry required, and he repeated thewords, though with a very bad grace.

"That will do," said Harry. "Now I am satisfied."

He felt for his knife, but did not have it with him.

He therefore knelt down, and set to work to untie the knots in therope.

He succeeded at last, but not without considerable difficulty and theexpenditure of not a little time. At last he loosened the last knot, andsaid:

"Now you are free."

Philip jumped to his feet – for these were the last to be released – withan exclamation of satisfaction.

"Thank goodness!" he cried; "now I am free, and can leave this miserablehut!"

He looked up, and his hopefulness was succeeded by quick dismay.

There, in the doorway, scowling at the two boys, was the master of thecabin.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE ARREST

Philip's face changed suddenly, and he uttered an exclamation of dismay.

He really believed that his life was in danger.

"There he is!" he ejaculated, his eyes nearly starting out of his head.

Harry turned, and his glance, too, fell on the menacing face of theoutlaw. But his face did not reflect the terror so plainly to be seen onPhilip's. It should be remembered, however – for I do not wish to giveour hero more credit than he really deserves for his courage – that heknew help was near at hand, and Philip didn't.

Ralph Temple didn't speak at first. Then he looked from Philip to Harry, and demanded, savagely:

"Who released that boy?"

"I did," answered Harry, undaunted.

"How dared you do it!" again demanded Temple, in the same tone.

"I thought he must be uncomfortable."

Temple looked at him as if puzzled to account for his cool courage. Itwas evident that here was a boy who would not be easily scared.

"Did you know that I tied him?" asked Temple, fiercely.

"Yes."

"And yet you dared to untie him?"

"Certainly. You had no business to tie him."

"What! you dare say this to my face?"

"Why shouldn't I? What did you tie him for?"

"Didn't he tell you?"

"No."

"Then I will, though it's none of your business. He stole my property."

"Did you do that, Philip?" asked Harry, who was not yet aware of

Temple's suspicion.

"No; I hope to die. I did not!" answered Philip, solemnly.

"What does he say that you stole?" continued Harry.

"He says I stole a tin box, containing some bonds or something."

"I begin to understand," thought Harry. "Philip is suffering for what Ihave done. I must free him, if I can.

"Was the box in the cabin?" he asked, not considering it prudent tobetray all that he knew.

"No; it was buried in the earth, out in the woods," said Philip.

"That's true," said Temple, with an oath. "It was all the property Ihad."

"It's a queer place to keep articles of value," said Harry, lookingsteadily at Temple.

"I shall keep my own property where I please," said Temple, doggedly. "You don't suppose I'd keep it here in this hut. It wouldn't be safe fortwenty-four hours."

"Did you see Philip take it?" continued Harry, assuming, unconsciously, the tone of a judge or advocate.

"No; but I saw him prowling round near-by, and the earth had beendisturbed. As for the tin box, that was gone, and he stays here till itis found."

As he spoke he approached Philip, to tie him anew.

"Oh, please don't tie me again, Mr. Temple!" pleaded the terrified boy.

"Indeed, I didn't carry off your tin box. I didn't know you had any."

"Perhaps the box dug itself up and walked off," said Temple, withwithering sarcasm. "You must think I am a fool. Somebody dug it up, andknows where it is now."

"It wasn't me."

"At any rate, it won't do any harm to tie you up until I find out moreabout it."

Temple picked up the rope which Harry had thrown on the floor, and wasabout to repeat his work, when Philip exclaimed, partly from theinstinct of self-preservation, partly to gratify his mean spite againstHarry:

"I shouldn't wonder if Harry Gilbert carried it off himself. He wasprowling about the wood yesterday."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. This boy who accused him was theone he had just released from his bonds.

He looked at Philip, his face expressing the contempt he felt.

"I suppose this is to pay me for untying you?" he said.

"I can't help it; I am sure you did it," persisted Philip, thinking whata fine thing it would be for Harry to change places with him. "I amrich, and I have no need to steal. You are poor, and, I dare say, wouldlike to get hold of Mr. Temple's bonds."

Temple paused a moment, and then said:

"The boy may be right. I'll tie both of you. One of you knows somethingabout it, or I'm mistaken."

Philip's face fell. He had hoped to get free himself. It would be somesatisfaction for him to see the boy he hated in the same plight, butstill he would rather go free.

"Tie him first," he said.

It occurred to him that while Harry was being tied he might slip away.

"I know my own business best, youngster," said Temple.

And he made Philip sit down again in the chair from which he had beenreleased.

"Don't you dare leave the cabin, unless you want to be brought back," hesaid to Harry. "Your turn will come next."

Harry did not answer, but coughed. It was the signal agreed upon betweenhim and the officer outside.

Temple was on his knees beside Philip's chair, tying the boy, with hisback toward the door. He listened to hear whether our hero made anyattempt to escape, being prepared to pursue and bring him back byforce.

He heard a slight motion, and looked around quickly.

There in the doorway stood a stranger, quietly covering him with arevolver.

Temple jumped to his feet, in surprise and alarm.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"I am an officer of the law, Ralph Temple, and I call upon you tosurrender," said the stranger, coolly.

"An officer? I don't believe it. Where is your uniform?"

"I had my reasons for not wearing it. Do you surrender?"

"Why should I? What do you want of me?" asked the outlaw, uneasily.

"I want you for the theft of a tin box of bonds, taken from an office in

New York."

"I know nothing about it," said Temple, hastily.

"That is too late! I have heard you charge that boy with stealing itfrom you. You admitted that you had concealed it in the wood."

"That was my own property. I have been robbed of it."

"You will have a chance to prove that in a court of law."

"I'll do that, if you'll let me alone."

"I have orders to arrest you."

"Then you'll have to show that you are a stronger man than I!" exclaimed

Temple, with an oath, and he prepared to dash forward.

"Stay where you are, or I fire!" said the officer, sternly.

Temple looked in his eyes, and saw that he was dealing with a man ofresolution. He knew something of faces, and he saw that this man wouldbe as good as his word.

"What do you want of me?" he said, sullenly.

"You must go with me."

"Lead on, then. I'll follow."

"I must adopt a little prudential measure first, Harry, take thesehandcuffs."

Harry stepped forward and received them from the officer.

"Hold out your hands" – this was said to Temple – "and let this boy put onthe handcuffs."

"I'll kill him before I'll allow him to do it!" exclaimed Temple, violently.

"I don't think you will, or even make the attempt," said the officer, quietly. "You forget that I hold your life in my hands," and he made aslight motion with the revolver.

"You wouldn't dare to shoot?"

"If you should prove to be mistaken, it would be a serious mistake," said the officer, quietly.

It was his very quietness and freedom from excitement that daunted

Temple.

"You'll repent this!" he said. "You've got the whip hand on me now, butthe time will come when I'll get even with you."

"I have been threatened before," said the officer, briefly. "Harry, dowhat I told you."

Temple sullenly held out his wrists, and Harry put on the handcuffs.

"Now, follow me!"

They went out of the cabin, Philip following. He tried to be social withHarry, but our hero had not forgotten his mean attempt to throwsuspicion upon him, after a service received at his hands, and receivedhis advances very coldly.

CHAPTER XXVIII

MR. CHASE IS BROUGHT TO JUSTICE

Temple's manner was sullen as he walked beside Harry and the officer, handcuffed. He overcame his sullenness, after a while, so far as toinquire:

"How came you to suspect me of this robbery?"

"Your friend Vernon has confessed it," answered the officer. "You may aswell know, for it will do no harm."

"So he betrayed me?" said Temple, bitterly.

"He had no choice. He was trapped himself."