JUST HIS LUCK.

CHAPTER I. PEACHES AND A HORSEWHIP.

“THERE are some peaches worth eating,” said Lon Trustleton to his two companions, as they passed an orchard of this delicious fruit on the river road, as it was called.

“Them’s tip-top,” added Matthew Swikes: “I go for havin’ some on ’em.”

“So I say,” replied Lon; and he leaped over the fence, followed by Matt. “Come along, Wade.”

“No: I’m not going to steal anybody’s peaches,” answered Wade Brooks.

“Oh, come along!” called Lon, the son of the rich Captain Trustleton, who lived on the hill near the village of Midhampton.

“No: I won’t have any thing to do with the scrape. Besides, I have to go on an errand to the village,” said Wade.

“See here, Wade Brooks, if you don’t come over[8] here, I’ll break your skull,” continued Lon Trustleton, shaking his head to emphasize his words.

“What for? for not stealing peaches?” added Wade, with a smile at the absurdity of the idea.

“You want to set up for a goody; and when any thing is said about hooking peaches, you blow on Matt and me, that’s the way of it; and if you don’t come over here I’ll go over there—that’s all.”

Matt Swikes was already shaking a tree filled with peaches, which were even more tempting to Wade than to his companions; for he was a friendless boy, whom no one fed with nice peaches. As the fruit was fully ripe, a great quantity came down when Matt shook the tree. He and Lon filled their pockets, and returned to the road as quickly as possible; for the consequences of stealing peaches were not always pleasant, though stolen fruit may be the sweetest.

The first thing that Lon did when he was in the road was to bat Wade Brooks over the head, as he had promised to do.

“What are you about, Lon?” demanded Wade Brooks, as he dodged the blow.

“I told you I’d do it, and I will,” replied Lon, following up his victim, who tried to escape from him; but in the end he received several heavy blows.

“What’s that for, I should like to know?” said the victim, when his persecutor seemed to be fully satisfied with the punishment he had inflicted.

[9]“I told you what it was for, while I was in the orchard. Now, if you ever say a word about this thing, I’ll give you a broken head that will last you longer than this one will. I don’t want any fellow canting where I am.”

“I didn’t meddle with you,” replied Wade, who thought it a very hard case to be pounded for not stealing peaches. “If you want to steal peaches, that is your affair, and not mine.”

“If you say any thing more about stealing, I’ll give you another dose now. Can’t a fellow help himself to a few peaches without it’s being called stealing?” demanded Lon, with a look of injured innocence.

Wade Brooks did not think it was worth while to discuss the matter any more in just that manner, and he was silent. He walked behind his two companions, and wished they had been half a mile or more from him. He was a nobody, and Lon was the son of a rich man, even Matt Swikes, though only the son of a poor farmer, was a good deal better off than he was, though they both lived under the same roof.

As the party approached the house of Mr. Garlick, who owned the peach-orchard they had entered, they found its occupant in the road, with a horsewhip in his hand. By his side stood his two hired men; and on the grass near him lay a large dog which had a very bad reputation and very sharp teeth.

“I think we had better be moving in some other direction,” suggested Matt Swikes, when he saw the array of force before them.

[10]He halted as he spoke, and Lon did the same. Wade, who was innocent, continued on his way till he came up with Mr. Garlick, who, without any ceremony, gave him several hard cuts on the legs, and each one of the blows seemed to the victim to take the skin off.

“I’ll teach you to steal my peaches,” said the exasperated farmer.

“I did not touch your peaches: I did not get into the field,” pleaded Wade, who thought it was even harder to be whipped for stealing the peaches than it had been to be pounded for not stealing them.

The farmer hit him several times more before Wade got out of the way; or, rather, till the attention of the persecutor was called to the other two. Lon and Matt were disposed to make their escape by jumping over the fence, and retreating in another direction.

“Stop, there! if you try to run away, I’ll send my dog after you!” shouted Mr. Garlick.

The dog was more dangerous than the man: indeed, he was so fierce that he was kept chained in the daytime, or Lon would not have dared to enter the orchard. The brute had no discretion in the use of his teeth, and had never read the law of the State relating to assaults. The farmer would be careful in the use of the whip; and Lon did not believe Garlick would dare to strike the son of Captain Trustleton. He put a bold face on the matter, and continued his walk towards his father’s house, which was on the same road.

[11]But Lon under-rated the pluck of the farmer; for, as soon as the boy was within his reach, he hit him the hardest cut he could administer with the whip; and, not satisfied with this, he gave him half a dozen more. The two hired men had placed themselves behind the boys in the road, so that they could not retreat; and the farmer thrashed them to his heart’s content.

“Let me alone!” yelled Lon, and the whip cut his soul as much as the skin of his legs.

“I’ll teach you to steal my peaches, you young villains!” roared the farmer.

“I’ll teach you to steal my Peaches, you Young Villains!”—Page 11.

“My father will give it to you for this!” cried Lon, smarting under the pain.

Then Mr. Garlick rested Lon by giving it to Matt.

“Let me alone,” groaned Matt, writhing under the torture. “I did not touch your peaches. It was the fellow that has gone ahead.”

That was the sort of a fellow Matt Swikes was; and a little more of the whip would do him no harm.

“I tell you it was the fellow that has gone ahead,” repeated Lon, when Garlick spelled Matt by turning his attention to the rich man’s son. “It was Wade Brooks that stole the peaches.”

“I saw two of them in the orchard; but I don’t know which they were,” said one of the hired men.

“They have got peaches in their pockets now,” said the other hired man.

“Take hold of them, and empty their pockets,” said Mr. Garlick angrily.

[12]The hired men were stout fellows, and they rather enjoyed the job. They took the peaches from the pockets of the culprits, and laid them on the grass as carefully as though they had been little babies; for the fruit was of the choicest kind on the farm of the owner.

“That proves that you did steal peaches; and my man saw you take them,” said Mr. Garlick, out of breath with excitement. “Here, Jacob, run after that other fellow, and see if he has got any in his pockets.”

The man obeyed the order. Wade Brooks had not gone far; for he had halted at a safe distance from the scene to witness, if not to enjoy, the castigation of his tyrants. He was near enough to hear what was said, for the farmer spoke as though all the listeners were as deaf as posts.

“Come, youngster, give up your peaches,” said Jacob, when he came to the place where Wade had halted.

“I haven’t any peaches: I haven’t touched a peach this year,” pleaded Wade. “You will not find any about me; and I did not go into the orchard, and Lon Trustleton licked me because I wouldn’t.”

“I must see for myself,” answered Jacob; and he did see for himself that the boy spoke the truth.

“No peaches here; but you had better come up here, and tell the old man about it yourself. You do not look like one of the boys I saw in the peach-orchard.”

[13]“I was not one of them: I wouldn’t steal peaches,” pleaded Wade; and he felt as though his legs would not have smarted any more if he had stolen them; and being honest was very poor consolation at this time. As he approached the place where farmer Garlick was meeting out justice, he saw the judge give Lon and Matt another dose of the horsewhip; and he came to the conclusion that he had got off easy, compared with his more guilty companions.

Jacob reported that he had found no peaches in the pockets of Wade Brooks, and that he thought he was not one of the boys he had seen in the peach-orchard.

“He is the only one of us that did go into the orchard,” said Lon, uttering another abominable lie.

The words were hardly out of his mouth when the farmer gave him half a dozen cuts with the whip. Lon was so mad, that he swore like a young pirate: his father used profane language, and why shouldn’t he?

“Don’t tell me any more lies, you villain!” roared farmer Garlick. “Don’t tell me that this boy stole all the peaches, when I find he has none in his pockets, and yours are full of them.”

“He asked us to keep them for him,” answered Matt, wishing to back up his friend; but the farmer gave him another dose for the lie he invented.

“My boy, I am sorry I struck you with the whip; for I believe you did not go into the orchard,” said[14] the farmer, turning to Wade.—“Give him three of the handsomest peaches of the lot.”

“Lon Trustleton licked him because he would not go into the orchard,” said Jacob, as he gave Wade the fruit.

“And he’ll do it again as soon as he gets a chance,” said Wade.

“That’s so,” added Lon; and the remark cost him half a dozen cuts on the legs.

“Now, Wade Brooks, you go along, and I will keep these fellows here till you are out of sight,” said the farmer.

Wade went his way; and, when he was out of sight, Garlick told the thieves he had done with them till they stole some more of his fruit. It was no use for him to go to law to save his property, and he should look out for it himself.

“You have not heard the last of this,” growled Lon, shaking his head in his wrath. “I will get even with you in some way. This will cost you more than all the peaches you will raise this year.”

“It has given me some satisfaction, at any rate, whatever it may cost me. I want you to understand that a rich man’s son can’t rob me of my property without something being done.”

The culprits departed as fast as their smarting legs would permit.

CHAPTER II. SUPPERLESS TO BED.

WADE BROOKS had no long history to be related. He was an orphan, but not a foundling or any thing of that sort; and there is no chance of his turning out to be the son of an English baronet or of an American nabob. He was just what he seemed to be. His father had died a miserable sot, six months before the peach-orchard was invaded, and was buried at the expense of the town. Only a year before that event, his mother had passed away, the victim of a hard lot. But she had not lived in vain; for she was a good woman, and had left many good principles in the mind of her son and only child. No stone marked her resting-place in the churchyard, but her memory was preserved in the heart of her boy.

Midhampton consisted of a considerable village, with a large farming territory. Not a few wealthy men who had made fortunes in the city had homes within its limits, for it was not more than sixty miles from New York City. On the river road were the residences of several such; though, after the highway passed the hill, it was bordered by no more handsome[16] houses. The next dwelling was that of Philip Garlick, a decided man, who believed that his own property belonged to him. The next house was that of Obed Swikes, the father of Matthew Swikes. Matt was a bad boy; but he came honestly by the evil in his nature, for his father was the meanest man, by all odds, in the town of Midhampton.

Just beyond Swikes’s house, which was an old, black, and rickety mansion, was the brook, by the side of which ran a lane down to the river. At its mouth the little river widened out into quite a bay, at the head of which were the ruins of the cabin in which Wade’s father had lived and died. It had been set on fire by some bad boys, it was thought, and had burned to the ground. It was owned by Obed Swikes, who had not been able to find another tenant for the shanty in this out-of-the-way place.

Wade’s father had been a loafer: he had spent all his time wandering about the country on foot or in his boat, gunning and fishing for his living. In this way he made a scanty living, for, when he sold the product of his trips, he spent most of the money for liquor; and Wade often had to pick up his own food after his mother died. The old sail-boat which the sportsman used was still at the creek, as the place was called. Anybody used it who wished to do so. It had been a good boat in its day, and had a cuddy forward where the fisherman had often slept in his wanderings.

After the death of Wade’s father, Obed Swikes[17] had taken the boy into his own family. The orphan was twelve years old; and Swikes kept him at work so that he more than paid his keeping, for the keeping was about as mean as ever a boy knew. Wade lodged in the garret; and, as the house was badly out of repair, he was hardly sheltered from the weather. In the winter he often slept in a snow-bank; and, as his clothing was very meagre, he suffered a great deal from the cold.

After Wade parted with his companions, he went to the village to do his errand. He hurried home, so as to make up the time he had lost in the peach scrape. He took care to eat the three peaches before he went into the village, for he knew that Lon and Matt would take them away from him if they found them in his possession. They were going to the village, and he might expect to meet them there.

“Where on airth have you been all this time, Wade Brooks?” demanded Mrs. Swikes, as he entered the house on his return. “You’ve been gone over an hour.”

“I couldn’t get back any sooner,” pleaded Wade; and, as the distance to the village was two miles, he had made the four miles in very good time, considering the time of which the bad boys had robbed him.

“Yes, you could! you’ve been stopping on the way,” continued the old woman. “I’ve a great mind to give you a hiding for your laziness. We have to board and clothe you, and you don’t airn your salt.[18] You belong in the poorhouse; and, if you don’t do better, we shall have to send you there.”

But this was only a specimen of the abuse to which the boy was subjected every day of his life; and, with poor food and little clothing, he was almost disgusted with his efforts to get along in the world. If Obed Swikes’s tongue was not as cutting as that of his wife, he made it up by putting heavy burdens on the boy. He called him from his bed at daylight in the morning, and kept him at work till into the night on the farm and about the barn.

When he had done his errand, he was set to work without any delay, at digging early potatoes in the garden, which Swikes was to take to the village to sell in the morning. He worked till dark, and then he was called to supper. He went into the house hungry as every growing boy is, and seated himself at the table. The family, consisting of five persons, had taken the meal an hour before; but Wade was required to work as long as he could see.

Wade’s supper was a bowl of milk and a plate of brown bread,—very good if there had only been enough of it, and if it had not been his diet every night in the week. The boy did not complain of his food, for he had often seen the time when he could not get even this.

“Have you seen any thing of Matthew?” asked Mrs. Swikes, as Wade seated himself at table.

“Yes, marm: I saw him and Lon Trustleton as I was going over to the village,” replied the weary[19] boy; but he was careful not to say any thing more. He knew it would cost him a pounding if he told the whole truth.

“He hain’t been home to his supper yet,” added Mrs. Swikes. “Do you know where he is, Wade?”

“No, marm. He didn’t tell me where he was going,” answered Wade.

But at this moment Matt came into the kitchen to speak for himself. He was limping, and seemed to be very sore, as well he might be after such a castigation as he had received.

“Where have you been, Matthew?” asked his mother, as the stealer of peaches dragged himself into the room. “What ails you? What makes you limp and squirm so?”

Matthew was the only boy of the family: the other children were all girls; and, for this reason, his parents thought more of him than of all the others, and did their best to spoil him, and succeeded remarkably well. Mrs. Swikes was anxious when she saw that something ailed her son; and her tones were quite tender, compared with those she had used to Wade.

“Garlick has been licking me with a horsewhip,” moaned Matt, bursting into tears, and breaking down completely in the presence of his mother.

“Lickin’ you! What on airth did he do that for?” demanded the indignant mother.

“He said I stole his peaches,” sobbed Matt; “but I didn’t. It was Wade Brooks that stole ’em, and laid it to Lon and me.”

[20]Without waiting to investigate this statement, Mrs. Swikes, who was a great raw-boned woman,—her husband had married her because he thought she would be able to do a good deal of work,—seized poor Wade, and dragged him from his chair at the table, upsetting his bowl of milk, and pitched him on the floor. The boy was an infant in her grasp, and he did not offer any resistance. The Amazon gazed at her prostrate victim, while her eyes glowed with hate and rage; then, resorting to a masculine accomplishment, she savagely kicked him in the ribs.

“I didn’t steal any peaches,” pleaded Wade, as humbly as the case seemed to require: “I didn’t touch one of them.”

“Yes, he did, mother. He told Garlick we did it; and Garlick give him three peaches for telling,” howled Matt, still blubbering like a baby.

“Mr. Garlick did give me three peaches, but it was because he licked me when I did not deserve it,” pleaded Wade. “You can ask Mr. Garlick, and he will tell you the same thing.”

“Ketch me asking Garlick any thing about it!” exclaimed Mrs. Swikes furiously. “I’ll take it out of his hide for licking my boy.”

Wade was entirely willing she should do this, if she did not take it out of his own hide, which she was more likely to do.

“He licked Lon Trustleton too; and, if you ask him, he will tell you just what I say,” whined Matt.

[21]Mrs. Swikes seized a green-hide, which was her husband’s wagon-whip, and began to belabor poor Wade with it. It was a terrible instrument of torture when applied to a boy’s skin, covered only with a pair of thin overalls. The boy did not cry out with the pain, for he had found that it did no good, and, the more he screamed, the worse he got it; but he could not endure the blows, and he made a spring for the open door. Mrs. Swikes followed him, and attempted to catch him; but, goaded by the instinct of self-preservation, he succeeded in getting out of the way.

“Stop, you rascal!” shouted the Amazon. “Do you mean to run away from me? I’ll give you a double dose for this.”

“What’s the matter now?” demanded Mr. Swikes, coming in from the barn at this point in the difficulty.