Two Brave Boys and The Wrong Twin

BY

MARY E. ROPES

Author of

"Karl Jansen's Find," "Caroline Street," etc.

LONDON

THE RELIGIOUS TRACT SOCIETY

4 Bouverie Street & 65 St. Paul's Churchyard

CONTENTS.

TWO BRAVE BOYS

CHAPTER I. THE MUTTERINGS OF THE STORM

CHAPTER II. LITTLE DETECTIVES

CHAPTER III. CAPTURED

CHAPTER IV. AN UNEXPECTED FRIEND

CHAPTER V. STEPAN MAKES COFFEE

CHAPTER VI. RED-SCAR GOES TO SLEEP—ALF AND BERT ESCAPE WITH THE PONY

CHAPTER VII. A RACE FOR LIFE—CHASED BY WOLVES

CHAPTER VIII. TRICKING THE WOLVES—THE HUT IN THE FOREST

CHAPTER IX. A WONDERFUL MEETING—HOW PAMPHIL ESCAPED FROM PRISON

CHAPTER X. THE MEETING IN THE HUT—SAFE AT HOME

———————————————— THE WRONG TWIN

CHAPTER I. THE WRONG TWIN AND THE RIGHT ONE

CHAPTER II. THE TWINS' JOKE

CHAPTER III. A DESPERATE PLAN

CHAPTER IV. BROTHER BOB

CHAPTER V. "IS IT BECAUSE YOU WENT TO THE BAD?"

CHAPTER VI. FATHER AND SON

CHAPTER VII. AN ARRIVAL, AND THE NOISE IN THE NIGHT

CHAPTER VIII. GERALDINE'S BURGLAR

CHAPTER IX. THE APPEAL

TWO BRAVE BOYS

CHAPTER I.

THE MUTTERINGS OF THE STORM.

IT was the month of January, and the keen Russian winter had wrapped the woods and marshes in a snowy garment, and put the rivers in prison behind thick panes of ice glass, and dressed up the tall pines and firs till they looked like sheeted ghosts under the cold starlight.

But in Mr. John Oliver's roomy wooden house, standing on ground somewhat raised, and overlooked by the huge chimneys of a big mineral oil factory, was perfect warmth and comfort, for the great stoves built into the walls of the room, and faced with white glazed tiles, kept the whole place of an equal temperature.

It was about eleven o'clock, and two little boys were in bed in their nursery. Their narrow iron bedsteads were drawn close together, and in one of them a little fair-haired lad of about ten or eleven was fast asleep. Not so, however, his brother, who had raised himself to a sitting posture, and now, with his dark head and eager face bent over the sleeper, said in a whisper—

"Wake up, Bert! I want to tell you something. Do wake up!"

Bert stirred uneasily, then rubbed his eyes, yawned, and sat up.

"Oh, it's you, Alf!" he said drowsily. "I was in the middle of a dream. What's the matter?"

"Hush! Don't talk above a whisper. I don't want Niania (nurse) to come in before I've had time to tell you. Matter? Well, nothing yet, but there's going to be heaps the matter if what I've heard comes true."

"What have you heard?" questioned Bert, quite wide awake now.

"I'll tell you," said Alf. "After you'd gone to bed, and I'd finished my lessons for to-morrow, I remembered that I hadn't mended my skate that was broken, and so I went over to our own little workshop, for I hadn't any tools in the house. But as soon as I was inside I forgot all about what I'd come for."

"Did you? Oh, Alf, what was it?"

"Well, you know how thin the partition is between our workshop and the men's tool-room?"

"Yes, and it's full of cracks, too."

"But happily they're too small to see through, or I might have been caught listening," responded Alf.

"But what did you hear?"

"I'm coming to that! There was talk going on between a man, whose voice I did not know, and the foreman of the cooper's shop, Anton Griboff."

"Oh, I know! The chap with the suet-pudding face, the currants for eyes, the plastered hair, and the squint!"

"Yes, that's the chap! Well, the two must have been talking lots before I came to the workshop, for I found I'd jumped into the middle of a plot. And this was to get up a sort of strike; not a real strike though, but just an excuse to mutiny. They have arranged among themselves to demand things that they know very well no manager could give, such as nearly double wages and a six-hours day, and I don't remember what beside. But, of course, dad won't think of it."

"Perhaps they think they can frighten him," suggested Bert.

"Then they don't know dad!" And Alf gave a soft little chuckle of pride in the possession of such a dad.

"Well," he continued, "I stood there as still as a mouse till all was quiet and the men had gone home, and then I crept back to the house and went straight to dad and mother."

"And told them all about it?" asked Bert.

"Of course," replied Alf.

"And what did dad say?"

"Dad said he'd seen this mutinous spirit among the men for some time, and that it was all brought about by a few who were trying to make trouble for the sake of what they could get out of it."

"Was that all, Alf?"

"No; dad turned to mother and said: 'My dear, I must send you and the boys away to England. If there's going to be trouble here, it would not be safe for you to remain.'"

"And what did mother say?" asked Bert, with expectant, shining eyes.

"Mother? Why, she just looked up with her pretty smile and the star-look in her eyes, and she said: 'Herbert, I fear I must disobey you in this matter. If there is going to be danger, my place is here by your side, and the boys cannot go away alone. No, we will all stay together, and trust to God to bring us safely through.'"

"And what did dad say then?"

"Nothing more—not a word. But I saw the tears in his dear old eyes, and so I thought I'd leave him and mother to themselves and come to bed; but I couldn't sleep till I'd told you."

Here a voice from the next room said in Russian: "Why are you talking at this time of night, children? Go to sleep—both of you—like good little pigeons."

"Oh, Niania, I wish you'd come here a minute," said Alf. "I want to ask you something."

Nurse gave a little grunt, but not a cross one, for she was never angry with her children, as she called them.

"Nurse," said Alf very solemnly in Russian, "if there's going to be a rising among the men in the zavot (factory), on whose side will you be—on ours or on theirs?"

Old Niania threw a loving arm round each of the little lads and drew them close.

"My darlings," she cried, "my doves, my gold and silver and diamond children, do I not belong to you, heart and soul? Whatever happens, I am on your side, now and ever; so help me God!"

CHAPTER II.

LITTLE DETECTIVES.

THE plot, part of which Alf Oliver had overheard, ripened so quickly that events followed each other closely. First, the English governess took fright and left in a hurry for St. Petersburg, where she had friends.

In the factory there was a spirit of rebellion and defiance, and the men, instead of doing their work, were constantly gathering in little groups, muttering and scowling when the manager passed them.

At last things came to such a point that next to no work was done. The oil barrels remained unfilled, the cart-horses stood idle in the stables, and the great sledge-carts, which should have been carrying casks of oil to the railway station in the town fifteen miles off, were hauled up close together, lumbering the loading yard.

At length, Mr. Oliver resolved to take a bold step and meet the so-called strike half-way. He gave orders that the men should come together into one of the buildings, and he met them there.

But he had no idea that Alf and Bert, who were like their father's shadows, had followed him in and now stood behind him on a platform made of a few planks laid upon barrels.

"My men," said Mr. Oliver in a loud, clear voice, "something is wrong with you; anyone can see it! You won't work, and I am running the factory at a loss. Well, now! Let us say you are tired, and this being so, I am going to give you all a holiday. To-morrow this factory will be closed, your wages paid, and you will all be discharged.

"Those of you who wish to return to your duty, and do it properly, may come back in a week's time, when the works will open again. But any men who return later than that will find their places filled by new hands.

"Now, foremen of the various departments, see that my orders are carried out. Put out the fires, pile up the empty barrels tidily, put away the tools, lock up everything, and bring the keys to me. I have no more to say—the matter now lies with you. Good-night, my men."

Only one or two loyal voices made response; the rest of the workmen kept silence. Two and two they filed past the manager, some looking nervous and frightened, others sullen, evil and threatening.

Alf pulled Bert's sleeve.

"Look at that squinting pudding of an Anton," said he. "Doesn't he look as if he meant mischief?"

"What can he do?" replied Bert. "Isn't the place to be closed for a week? And perhaps he's one of those who won't come back."

"I don't know; I fancy he's one of the worst of them, and now dad's nipped their little plot in the bud, that villain will think of something else to do. I'm sure of it."

"Well, we must be dad's detectives and keep a sharp look-out, Alf," said little Bert with pride, and his brother assented.

The next day or two passed quietly enough, but on the third night something happened.

The two boys were awakened about eleven o'clock by the sound of men's voices, loud and angry. Their bedroom was over the office, and it was from the office that the sounds came.

Always now on the alert, Alf and Bert quickly got into their dressing-gowns and soft slippers and stole down the wide staircase of the big, two-storeyed house. The office door stood open, the lights were burning, and peering in unperceived from the dark hall, the boys saw Anton Griboff, his friend Stepan the fitter, and a third man, a fierce, rough-looking fellow, with a broken nose and a large red scar that cut across both cheeks on a line with the mouth, giving the appearance of a hideous grin from ear to ear.

The three ruffians were standing before the manager, and the boys heard Anton say: "We have come for the key of that safe, and we mean to have it. Give it up."

"The money in the safe is not mine, and I hold the key in trust," replied Mr. Oliver firmly. "You shall not have it."

Anton made a sign, and the other men suddenly sprang upon Mr. Oliver and held him, while Griboff searched the pockets for the key. In a moment, with a cry of triumph, he held it up.

But the next instant, he suddenly fell violently forward, struck his head sharply against the big open desk, and lay still, the cause of this being that Alf and Bert, creeping in on their hands and knees behind Griboff, just as he found the key, each seized a leg and pulled back with all their might. As the man's burly form came crashing down, the key of the safe dropped from his hand, and Alf pounced upon it and passed it on to Bert.

"Run and hide it," he whispered, "while I try to help dad."

The struggles of the manager were vain. The two rascals, taking no heed of their fallen comrade, proceeded to tie Mr. Oliver's arms to his side, and his ankles together. Alf, behind them in the dark doorway, and unseen by the ruffians, dared not speak, but his father saw him, and gave him a look which the boy rightly understood to mean that he was to go and get help.

For a long minute he stood in the dark corridor, wondering what he should do.

Two of the men belonging to the factory—Oscar Kleinweh, a German, and Samuel Levi, a little Jewish engineer—were true men and loyal to his father, but they had gone away when the factory was closed.

Alf's thoughts turned to his mother, who had gone to bed with a bad headache. Her room was in the next wing, and she would probably have heard nothing; he would not go to her.

There was no one of whom he could ask advice. Well, then, he must judge for himself.

"There's no help to be had nearer than the town," said he to himself, "and that's fifteen miles away."

Alf scampered upstairs.

"Quick, Niania, my clothes!" he said. "I'm the only one to go and get help, and I must start at once."

The nurse did not try to prevent him. She saw that the situation was desperate. The man-servant and coachman had joined the strikers, and would not have helped had they been on the spot. Everything now depended upon this boy, who was hardly more than a child.

"The key, Bert!" said Alf. "What have you done with it?"

"It is here," said nurse, "on a string round my neck, under my dress. It shall be quite safe; have no fear for that! Nor for your father. I am going to lock Bert into this room to keep him safer, while I go down and see if I cannot be of use to the master. But the villains will not dare to harm him. It is the money they want. But now how wilt thou go on thy quest, my pigeon? If thou take the sledge and horse, the men will be sure to see thee."

"Yes," replied Alf, "I must ride the pony, for I can saddle him myself in the stable, and watch my time for getting out. I've got the duplicate key of the stable door. Now, nurse, my short fur coat, my fur cap, and big felt boots! So! Now I'm ready!"

And giving the old woman and Bert each a kiss, Alf left the nursery and slipped noiselessly down the back stairs, meeting no one.

The women servants were asleep in the further wing of the big house, and none of the ordinary working household were about at this time of night.

Alf did not dare to return even for a moment to the front of the building, for fear of being caught. Softly he crept out the back way, and in a moment was inside the stable, and had bolted himself in and lighted a lantern.

Sharik (ball), the pony, was a plump, round, sturdy little creature, a great pet with the boys; and now he rubbed his rough head fondly against Alf's shoulder, as the saddle and bridle were being adjusted.

Then, softly undoing the door, Alf peeped out. There was no one in sight; all was clear. He led Sharik out, locked the door, and was soon in the saddle.

The direct road to the town passed the front of the house, and took a straight line for some distance, but Alf dared not risk going to the front. He made for the frozen river at the back, and only joined the road when he felt it safe to do so. Then, however, he put the pony to its full speed. For such a sturdy little beast, Sharik was very swift, and he was also docile, strong and sure-footed.

The night was fine, and but for the burden of care on his young heart, Alf would quite have enjoyed his ride. In little more than an hour the lad reached the town, and at full gallop arrived at the police-station. The head constable was well-known to the Olivers, and he at once promised to send help.

A sotnia (hundred) of Cossacks, too, were in the town for a day or two, and the sergeant thought that their lieutenant would allow some of his men to accompany the police to the factory.

"Will you wait and go with us, little gentleman?" asked the sergeant.

"No, thank you, Yakov Ivanitch, I must get home quickly; I am so anxious."

The constable eyed the gallant little figure of the boy, who had mounted again.

"You are young to ride out alone so far, at dead of night," said he.

"I was not alone, Yakov Ivanitch," replied Alf, his fearless dark eyes meeting the man's frankly.

"How not?" exclaimed the sergeant.

"God was with me," said the boy. "I felt Him there every step of the way." And with a wave of his small hand, he galloped away.

Sharik needed no urging on the homeward journey, and even Alf's impatience could find no fault with his good little steed.

When within a quarter of a mile of the house, he left the high road and again took the way by the river, coming up at the back of the house.

He could see no lights in any of the windows as he dismounted and led his pony into the stable. The kitchen door was unlocked, as he had left it, and when once inside, he soon had the gas alight. But what was his surprise to see the long pinewood table loaded up with dirty plates and dishes with remnants of food; glasses, cups and empty bottles added to the disorder. The place looked like some low tap-room.

Full of forebodings, the boy took a candle from the shelf, and went down the long corridor that ran from the back to the front of the house.

CHAPTER III.

CAPTURED.

AT the open door of the office Alf paused; the room was empty and dark, but in the corner stood the safe, still apparently fast locked; so at least the key had not been found.

All the other lower rooms had been overhauled and looted, everything valuable having been carried away, unless indeed it had proved too big to be handled.

Alf then went upstairs, but there seemed to be no one anywhere. Even the servants' rooms were empty, their cupboards and drawers open, and garments scattered about, as though they had dressed in great fear and haste.

Last of all, he went to the nursery. By this time the horrible silence of the house was getting upon the boy's nerves, and for the first time he felt his courage giving way, as he stood in the dear familiar room, now so lonely and deserted.

He turned and was about to descend the stairs again, when he fancied he heard a little sound somewhere close by.

"Anyone here?" he called, with a shudder at the sound of his own voice.

Then the door of a big wall-cupboard opened softly, and Bert's fair head and white face appeared.

In an instant the boys were locked in a close embrace, and for a minute or two neither could say a word. But at last Alf mastered his feelings and began to question Bert, learning from him that the workmen had come to the house in force, and had gone all over it, making a great noise and alarming him greatly.

He said that soon after Alf had left for the town, the nurse went to see if she could do anything for Mr. or Mrs. Oliver, promising to return to Bert very soon.

But she had not come back, and meanwhile the child had heard the talk of the ruffians on the stairs, and their threats to bring a bomb or dynamite and blow up the safe, since they could not open it otherwise.

Then, for fear of their coming in and finding him, Bert hid in the cupboard, and only found courage to come out when he heard his brother's voice.

"Then you don't know what has become of dad and mother and nurse?" asked Alf.

"No, I don't know anything," replied Bert.

"Well, happily Yakov Ivanitch will be here presently with his own men and some Cossacks, and perhaps they'll find out what has become of all our people."

"Ach, so? Will they, indeed?" said a harsh voice behind them. "Well, it is well to know what is likely to happen, then one is prepared."

The boys, turning quickly, saw that the speaker standing in the doorway was the man with the great red scar, the brutal face, and heavy, powerful form.

"So it's you we have to thank, young gentlemen, if the whole nest of police hornets comes buzzing about our ears?"

"Not both of us," retorted Alf stoutly; "my brother had nothing at all to do with it."

"Oh, indeed! So it was you alone? Well, whoever it was, I think we won't wait here for your friends to arrive. Lucky I happened to think of taking one more look round! Come along, both of you!"

And grasping in his huge hands the collar of each boy, he dragged them, in spite of their struggles and hearty kicks at his shins, down the stairs and into the back yard, where a sledge was waiting, with a horse harnessed, and Alf recognised both as his father's.

"Where art thou taking us, thou ruffian?" cried Alf.

"That's not your business," replied Red-scar. "I am not here to be questioned; get into the sledge."

"I cannot leave my pony behind," said Alf stoutly. "He is in the stable, and I must go and fetch him."

The man hesitated. "There is no time to lose," he urged.

"It will not take long," rejoined Alf, "and my brother can come with me."

"What! And lock yourselves into the stable and wait for the police?" snarled Red-scar. "No, thank you But the pony is worth money, so you may fetch him, and I shall hold your brother as hostage for your return."

Once in the stable, Alf deliberately fed his pony, for Sharik had made a double journey, at high speed for him, and might have to run far again directly. His saddle and bridle were still on him, so his young master took all the time at his disposal in giving him a good feed of oats, unheeding, until the good little animal had partly satisfied its hunger, the calls and curses of the man.