CHAPTER XXV. A SOLITARY WALK.

IT WAS a long and tedious ride. The roads were not of the best—indeed they were not far from the worst—and more than once the stage had a narrow escape from tipping over.

Tom did not complain, however. He liked the excitement of the ride, and did not mind the violent jolting, though it made his limbs ache and his bones sore.

Percy Burnett grumbled enough for Tom and himself, too.

“I wouldn’t have taken this infernal stage,” he said, at a halting-place, “if I had known it would shake me to pieces.”

“It is better than walking,” said one of the passengers, philosophically.

“I don’t know about that,” answered Burnett. “I would about as soon walk.”

Tom heard this, but did not think Mr. Burnett in earnest. For his own part, though an inexperienced traveler, he showed that he was already a good one, for he met, with cheerful good humor, the discomforts of the trip.

About five miles before the stage reached its destination Percy Burnett called out to the driver:

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“How much further have we got to go, driver?”

“Five or six miles, sir.”

“I can’t stand it.”

“You won’t have to stand,” said a good-natured fellow-passenger. “You can sit.”

Percy Burnett turned upon him irritably.

“You may consider that very witty, sir,” he said, “but I don’t.”

“No offense intended,” said the other, pleasantly.

“I’ve a great mind to walk,” said Burnett. “Driver, is it easy to find the road?”

“Yes, sir; straight ahead.”

“And it’s only about five miles?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then I will walk; but I shall want company. Tom, are you tired?”

“No, sir.”

“Are you willing to walk the rest of the way with me?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Tom, cheerfully.

He answered truly, for his limbs were cramped by sitting for many hours in one position, and he felt that it would be agreeable to limber them a little with exercise.

“I don’t know but I’ll join you,” said a passenger.

Percy Burnett looked excessively annoyed.

“If you don’t object to my company,” continued the other.

“Please yourself, sir,” said Burnett in a repellent tone, which showed very clearly his aversion to the proposal.

141 “On the whole, I guess, I will stick by the stage,” said the other, seeing that his company would be unwelcome.

Mr. Burnett looked very much relieved.

“You can leave your baggage on the coach,” said the driver, noticing that Burnett had his bag in his hand.

“I’d rather keep it. Tom, bring yours with you.”

Of course Tom obeyed, though he did not see any advantage in burdening himself with what might just as well have gone in the coach.

“That’s an agreeable man,” said the passenger, whose overtures had been declined, after the coach drove off.

“As sweet as a crab-apple,” said the driver. “I’m glad to be rid of him.”

“The boy’s a different sort.”

“Yes, the boy’s a good fellow. Pity he’s tied to such a man.”

So the coach drove away, leaving Tom and his employer plodding along in a heavy, muddy road. It was hard work walking, but Tom did not care for that. He would like, however, to have had a more agreeable companion.

A little ahead of them was a fallen bough of a tree, separated from the parent trunk probably by some violent storm. It occurred to Tom that it would be a good idea to cut from it a stick, which might serve as a staff, and so lighten the labor of walking. He went up to the bough, therefore, and drew out a stout jack-knife, which he had in his pocket.

142 “What are you going to do?” asked Mr. Burnett, quickly.

“Going to cut me a cane,” replied Tom, innocently.

“I can’t stop for any such nonsense,” said Burnett, crossly.

“Go right on, Mr. Burnett, and I’ll catch you,” said Tom, good-humoredly.

“I positively forbid your cutting a cane, do you hear me?” said Burnett, angrily.

“I hear you, but I don’t understand you,” said Tom, considerably surprised.

“I believe I speak plain English. Leave that, and come along.”

Tom began to think his employer very unreasonable, but as he accepted wages from him he did not think it wise to quarrel. So he resumed his march, but did not attempt to speak to his companion.

Presently the road entered a wood. It was already dusk, and the trees, though leafless, still contributed to deepen the darkness which surrounded them.