“Is that a good while since?”
“About two hours.”
“Then I will wait for him. He can’t be out much longer.”
“That’s right, pa,” said Septimus. “You’d ought to take him back with you. If he makes any trouble, I’ll help you.”
The landlord regarded Septimus with a glance by no means flattering.
“Who is that boy, Mr. Snowdon?” he asked. “Is he one of your pupils?”
“That is my son, Septimus Snowdon,” answered Ezekiel, with an inflection of pride. It is strange that any one should be proud of such an unfledged cub as Septimus, but Mr. Snowdon was influenced by parental partiality.
Finally the landlord, whose eyes commanded the road outside, saw through the door the approach of Mr. Penrose.
“There’s Mr. Penrose,” he said, “the gentleman your pupil came with, but he is alone.”
“Alone!” repeated Snowdon. “Isn’t the boy with him?”
“No, it seems not. However, he will be here in a minute and you can talk with him.”
Mr. Snowdon advanced to the door, and met Mr. Penrose half way.
“Is this Mr. Penrose?” he asked stiffly.
“The same, Mr. Snowdon.”
“Ha, you know my name?”
“Yes, and I know you. I was once a pupil of yours.”
“Is that so? Where?”
“Out in a town in Illinois. You remember that the big boys rode you out of town on a rail.”
“Is that so, pa?” gasped Septimus in horror-struck amazement, “I don’t remember anything of the kind,” said Mr. Snowdon, disconcerted. “You must have mistaken the person.”
“Not at all. No one who had once met you would be likely to forget you, Mr. Snowdon.”
“We will drop this subject, if you please,” said Snowdon peevishly. “Where is the boy that went out with you this morning?”
“I really cannot say.”
“That answer is not satisfactory. Do you know who that boy is?”
“He says his name is Bernard Brooks.”
“That is true, and he is a pupil of mine.”
“Was a pupil of yours, like myself?”
“He is still my pupil. He was placed with me by his guardian. I charge you with abducting him, Mr. Penrose.”
“Really, this is amusing.”
“You won’t find it an amusing matter. I demand, where is the boy?”
“He went out to walk, and he left me.”
“Is he coming back to the hotel soon?”
“I can’t say. I have no authority over him.”
“Can’t you give me a clue as to his whereabouts?”
“I might, but I don’t choose to.”
“Mr. Wilson, you hear this? You understand that this gentleman is conniving at the escape of my pupil.”
“I have nothing to do with the matter,” said the landlord.
“By the way, Mr. Snowdon,” asked Mr. Penrose, “why did the boy Bernard run away from you?”
“Because he’s a bad lot.”
“Did you treat him kindly?”
“I always treat my pupils kindly,” answered Mr. Snowdon stiffly.
“You didn’t when I was a pupil of yours, five and twenty years ago. However, the boys didn’t treat you kindly. It makes me laugh whenever I think of you being ridden out of town on a rail.”
“Septimus, go outside!” said Mr. Snowdon, who felt sensitive about having this unpleasant episode in his early life made known to his son and heir.
“I want to stay here, pa.”
“Go out at once or I’ll horsewhip you.”
Much against his will, Septimus left the room. He was very curious to learn more about his father’s adventure with the big boys.
Mr. Snowdon waited an hour in the hope that Bernard would appear, but in vain. Finally he summoned Septimus reluctantly and started for home. He had ridden about two miles when he met an open carriage holding three gentlemen. They stopped their carriage and hailed Mr. Snowdon.
“Have you seen anything of a man about five feet eight inches in height, rather slender,” began one, and continued with an accurate description of Mr. Penrose.
“Is his name Penrose?” asked Ezekiel.
“Yes.”
“What do you want him for?”
“He is crazy. We want to take him to an asylum.”
“He is at the hotel in Poplar Plains,” answered Mr. Snowdon eagerly. “He has abducted a pupil of mine. I will go back with you. We shall get Bernard after all, Septimus.”
Both carriages started at a good rate of speed for Poplar Plains, Mr. Snowdon’s face wreathed with triumphant smiles.
CHAPTER VII. AN UNEXPECTED CHAMPION
Bernard posted himself at a point where he could watch the hotel. When he saw the departure of Septimus and his father he made his way back and rejoined Mr. Penrose.
“The coast is clear,” said his elder companion, with a smile. “Thanks to you I have had an interview with my old teacher.”
“Did he remember you?”
“No; and he seemed very touchy on the subject of his experiences in Illinois.”
“Do you think he will come after me again?”
“I don’t know, but he certainly appeared very desirous of getting you back. His son seemed to sympathize with him. Is he a friend of yours?”
“Septimus loves me like a brother,” laughed Bernard. “He was very anxious to have his father give me a horsewhipping. I shall feel glad to get a little farther away from Doncaster and Snowdon Institute.”
“We will go to-morrow morning. I should like to rest here one day.”
The two were seated on the piazza when Bernard, chancing to look up, exclaimed in alarm, “There’s Mr. Snowdon coming back. He is nearly here. There is another carriage behind.”
Mr. Penrose looked up quickly, and Bernard saw that he turned pale.
“The carriage behind,” he said, “contains my cousin, the man who is trying to have me adjudged insane, and the two men with him are doubtless doctors, medical quacks, whom he has hired to certify to my insanity.”
“Good heavens! Then, you are in as great danger as I.”
“Greater,” answered Mr. Penrose, in a low, suppressed tone.
“Can they take you?”
“Not legally, but they will try.”
“Let us escape while we can.”
“No; it would seem to bear out their charges. Besides, they are too near. I will stand my ground. You can get away if you like.”
“No; I will stand by you, Mr. Penrose,” said Bernard firmly.
The two remained seated till the carriage halted in front of the hotel.
“Aha!” said the cousin triumphantly, “we have run our fugitive to earth.”
He jumped out of the carriage, and advanced to