Jack the Hunchback: A Story of Adventure on the Coast of Maine. Otis James

he turned, going directly away from the city where Louis's mother awaited tidings of her darling.

      The child grew fretful because of the heat and the dust, and the little hunchback heeded not his own fatigue in the effort to quiet him.

      On he went, literally staggering under his heavy burden, until the yellow road seemed to mellow into a mist which danced and fell, and rose and danced again before his eyes until further progress was wellnigh impossible.

      They had arrived at a tiny stream, the banks of which were fringed with alders, and overhead a wooden bridge afforded a most pleasing shelter from the sun's burning rays.

      Wiping the perspiration from his face, Jack looked back.

      No one was in sight.

      If Farmer Pratt had come in pursuit he might have mistaken the road, or turned homeward again some time previous, believing the boat not of sufficient value to warrant the journey which, if successful, would only end at the poorhouse.

      "Here's where we're goin' to stop, Louis," Jack said, lowering the child to the ground. "It'll be cool among these bushes, and if we turn into the fields a bit no one can see us from the road."

      Then Jack took off his shoes and stockings, holding them on one arm as he raised the child with the other, and, wading through the shallow water, made his way among the bushes a distance of forty or fifty feet to where the leafy screen would prevent passing travellers from seeing them.

      "I tell you what, the water feels good around a fellow's feet. I'm goin' to give you the same kind of a dose, an' then you'll be ready to go to sleep."

      Louis, sitting on the grass at the edge of the stream, offered no objection to the plan, and Jack soon made him ready for the partial bath.

      As the child's feet touched the water he laughed with glee, and Jack's fatigue was forgotten in his delight at having been able to afford this pleasure.

      After a few moments of such sport the misshapen guardian wiped the pink feet carefully with his handkerchief, replaced the shoes and stockings, took from his pocket the bread which was crumbled into many fragments, moistened them in the brook, and fed his charge until the latter's eyes closed in slumber.

      Not before he had arranged a screen of leaves in such a manner that the sun would be prevented from looking in upon the sleeping child did Jack think of himself and then he too indulged in the much-needed rest.

      The hours passed until the sun began to sink in the west.

      The birds came out from among the leaves and peeped down curiously at the sleeping children, while a colony of frogs leaped upon a moss-covered log, croaking in chorus their surprise at these unfamiliar visitors.

      One venerable fellow seemed to think this a most fitting opportunity to read his sons a homily on the sin of running away, and after the lengthy lesson was concluded he plunged into the water with a hoarse note of disapprobation, making such a splash that Jack leaped to his feet thoroughly awake and decidedly frightened.

      The hasty departure of the other frogs explained the cause of the disturbance, and he laughed to himself as he said, —

      "I reckon my hump frightened them as much as they did me."

      He made a hurried toilet, bathed Louis's face with his wet handkerchief until the little fellow awoke, and then continued what was at the same time a flight and a journey.

      "We've got to run the risk that somebody else will try to send us to the poor farm," he said when they had trudged along the dusty road until the child became fretful again. "At the next nice-lookin' house we come to I'm goin' to ask the folks if they'll let me do chores enough to pay for our lodging."

      Fully half an hour passed before they were where this plan could be carried into effect, and then Jack halted in front of a small white cottage which stood at the head of an arm of the sea, partially hidden by the trees.

      "Here's where we've got to try our luck," the boy said as he surveyed the house intently, and almost as he spoke a tiny woman with tiny ringlets either side her wrinkled face appeared in the doorway, starting back as if in alarm on seeing the newcomers.

      "Goodness me!" she exclaimed as she suddenly observed Jack staring intently at her. "Why don't you come out of the sun? That child will be burned brown as an Injun if you stand there long."

      Jack pressed Louis closer to him as he stepped forward a few paces, and asked hesitatingly, —

      "Please, ma'am, if you'll let us stay here to-night I'll do up all the chores as slick as a pin."

      The little woman's surprise deepened almost into bewilderment as she glanced first at Louis, who had by this time clambered down from his guardian's arms, and then at Jack's boots, which were covered thickly with dust.

      "Oh, I'll brush myself before I come in," the boy said quickly, believing her hesitation was caused by the dirt on his garments, "an' we won't be a mite of trouble."

      The mistress of the cottage took Louis by the hand and led him, with Jack following close behind, into the wide, cool hall, the floor of which was covered with rugs woven with representations of impossible animals in all the colors of the rainbow.

      "Now tell me where you came from, and why it is necessary to ask for a home?"

      Jack hesitated an instant.

      The fear that she too might insist on sending Louis to the poor farm caused him to question whether he had better tell the whole truth, but another look at the kindly face decided him.

      He related his story with more detail than he had to Farmer Pratt, and when he concluded the little woman said in a motherly tone, —

      "You poor children! If the ship exploded there's no one for you to go home to, and what will become of such a helpless pair?"

      "I can't tell I'm sure, ma'am; but I know we ain't helpless"; and Jack spoke very decidedly now. "I'm big an' can work, so I'll take care of Louis till we find his father."

      "But if the ship was blown all to pieces?" the little woman continued.

      "That don't make any difference," Jack interrupted. "We're goin' right to his house in New York some time, no matter how far it is."

      "But it's a terribly long distance, and you children will surely be sun-struck before you get even to Boston!" Then she added quickly, "Here I am forgetting that you must be hungry! Come straight away into the kitchen while I see what there is in the cupboard, for Aunt Nancy Curtis never lets any one, much less children, want for food very long in her house."

      "Are you Aunt Nancy?" Jack asked.

      "I'm aunt to everybody in the neighborhood, which ain't many, and two or three more nephews won't make any difference. Set right up to the table, and after you've had a glass of cool milk, a piece of chicken and some cake I baked to put away for the summer boarders, we'll see what can be done."

      Jack was disposed to be just a trifle jealous of Louis's evident admiration for this quaint little Aunt Nancy. He had already taken her by the hand, and, in his baby fashion, was telling some story which no one, probably not even himself, could understand.

      "You are a dear little boy," the old lady said as she led him into the kitchen; "but neither you nor Jack here is any more calculated to walk to New York than I am to go to China this minute."

      "If you'll let me have a brush I'll get some of this dust off," Jack said as he glanced at the well-scoured floor and then at his shoes. "I'm not fit to go anywhere till I look more decent."

      "Here's a whisk-broom. Be careful not to break the handle, and don't throw it on the ground when you're done," Aunt Nancy said as she handed the brush to Jack. "There's the pump, and here's a towel and piece of soap, so scrub yourself as much as you please, for boys never can be too clean. I'll comb the baby's hair while you're gone, and then we'll have supper."

      Louis made not the slightest protest when his misshapen little guardian left him alone with Aunt Nancy. He had evidently decided that she was a woman who could be trusted, and had travelled so much during the day that even a journey to the pump was more than he cared to undertake.

      Jack brushed and