CHAPTER XII.

TONY ON THE WAR-PATH.


"She did it all," said Harry, when they had told the tale to half the
village, on the store-porch.

"I!" exclaimed Kate. "Rob, you mean."

"That's a good dog," said Mr. Darby, the storekeeper; "what'll you take
for him?"

"Not for sale," said Harry.

"Rob's all very well," remarked Tony Kirk; "but it won't do to have a
feller like that in the woods, a fright'nin' the children. I'd like to
know who he is."

Just at this moment Uncle Braddock made his appearance, hurrying along
much faster than he usually walked, with his eyes and teeth glistening
in the sunshine.

"I seed him!" he cried, as soon as he came up.

"Who'd you see?" cried several persons.

"Oh! I seed de dog after him, and I come along as fas' as I could, but
couldn't come very fas'. De ole wrapper cotch de wind."

"Who was it?" asked Tony.

"I seed him a-runnin'. Bress my soul! de dog like to got him!"

"But who was he, Uncle Braddock?" said Mr. Loudon, who had just reached
the store from his house, where Kate, who had run home, had told the
story. "Do you know him?"

"Know him? Reckon I does?" said Uncle Braddock, "an' de dog ud a knowed
him too, ef he'd a cotched him! Dat's so, Mah'sr John."

"Well, tell us his name, if you know him," said Mr. Darby.

"Ob course, I knows him," said Uncle Braddock. "I'se done knowed him fur
twenty or fifty years. He's George Mason."

The announcement of this name caused quite a sensation in the party.

"I thought he was down in Mississippi," said one man.

"So he was; I reckons," said Uncle Braddock, "but he's done come back
now. I'se seed him afore to-day, and Aunt Matilda's seed him, too. Yah,
ha! Dat dere dog come mighty nigh cotchin' him!"

George Mason had been quite a noted character in that neighborhood five
or six years before. He belonged to a good family, but was of a lawless
disposition and was generally disliked by the decent people of the
county. Just before he left for the extreme Southern States, it was
discovered that he had been concerned in a series of horse-thefts, for
which he would have been arrested had he not taken his departure from
the State.

Few people, excepting Mr. Loudon and one or two others, knew the extent
of his misdemeanors; and out of regard to his family, these had not been
made public. But he had the reputation of being a wild, disorderly man,
and now that it was known that he had contemplated boxing Kate Loudon's
ears and whipping Harry, the indignation was very great.

Harry and Kate were favorites with everybody--white and black.

"I tell ye what I'm goin' to do," said Tony Kirk; "I'm goin' after that
feller."

At this, half a dozen men offered to go along with Tony.

"What will you do, if you find him?" asked Mr. Loudon.

"That depends on circumstances," replied Tony.

"I am willing to have you go," said Mr. Loudon, who was a magistrate and
a gentleman of much influence in the village, "on condition that if you
find him you offer him no violence. Tell him to leave the county, and
say to him, from me, that if he is found here again he shall be
arrested."

"All right," said Tony; and he proceeded to make up his party.

There were plenty of volunteers; and for a while it was thought that
Uncle Braddock intended to offer to go. But, if so, he must have changed
his mind, for he soon left the village and went over to Aunt Matilda's
and had a good talk with her. The old woman was furiously angry when she
heard of the affair.

"I wish I'd been a little quicker," she said, "and dere wouldn't a been
a red spot on him."

Uncle Braddock didn't know exactly what she meant; but he wished so,
too.

Tony didn't want a large party. He chose four men who could be depended
upon, and they started out that evening.

It was evident that Mason knew how to keep himself out of sight, for he
had been in the vicinity a week or more--as Tony discovered, after a
visit to Aunt Matilda--and no white person had seen him.

But Tony thought he knew the country quite as well as George Mason did,
and he felt sure he should find him.

His party searched the vicinity quite thoroughly that night, starting
from Tom Riley's tobacco barn; but they saw nothing of their man; and in
the morning they made the discovery that Mason had borrowed one of
Riley's horses, without the knowledge of its owner, and had gone off,
north of the mica mine. Some negroes had seen him riding away.

So Tony and his men took horses and rode away after him. Each of them
carried his gun, for they did not know in what company they might find
Mason. A man who steals horses is generally considered, especially in
the country, to be wicked enough to do anything.

At a little place called Jordan's cross-roads, they were sure they had
come upon him. Tom Riley's horse was found at the blacksmith's shop at
the cross-roads, and the blacksmith said that he had been left there to
have a shoe put on, and that the man who had ridden him had gone on over
the fields toward a house on the edge of the woods, about a mile away.

So Tony and his men rode up to within a half-mile of the house, and then
they dismounted, tied their horses, and proceeded on foot. They kept, as
far as possible, under cover of the tall weeds and bushes, and hurried
along silently and in single file, Tony in the lead. Thus they soon
reached the house, when they quietly surrounded it.

But George Mason played them a pretty trick.




CHAPTER XIII.

COUSIN MARIA.


After posting one of his men on each side of the house, which stood on
the edge of a field, without any fence around it, Tony Kirk stepped up
to the front door and knocked. The door was quickly opened by a woman.

"Why, Cousin Maria," said Tony, "is this you?"

"Certainly it's me, Anthony," said the woman; "who else should it be?"

Cousin Maria was a tall woman, dressed in black. She had gray hair and
wore spectacles. She seemed very glad to see Tony, and shook hands with
him warmly.

"I didn't know you lived here," said Tony.

"Well, I don't live here, exactly," said Cousin Maria; "but come in and
sit awhile. You've been a-huntin', have you?"

"Well, yes," said Tony, "I am a-huntin'."

Without mentioning that he had some friends outside, Tony went in and
sat down to talk with Cousin Maria. The man in front of the house had
stepped to one side when the door opened, and the others were out of
sight, of course.

Tony entered a small sitting-room, into which the front door opened, and
took a seat by Cousin Maria.

"You see," said she, "old Billy Simpson let this house fur a hundred
dollars--there's eighty acres with it--to Sarah Ann Hemphill and her
husband; and he's gone to Richmond to git stock for a wheelwright's
shop. That's his trade, you know; and they're goin' to have the shop
over there in the wagon-house, that can be fixed up easy enough ef Sam
Hemphill chooses to work at it, which I don't believe he will; but he
_can_ work, ef he will, and this is just the place for a wheelwright's
shop, ef the right man goes into the business; and they sold their two
cows--keeping only the red-and-white heifer. I guess you remember that
heifer; they got her of old Joe Sanders, on the Creek. And they sold one
of their horses--the sorrel--and a mule; they hadn't no use fur 'em
here, fur the land's not worth much, and hasn't seen no guano nor
nothin' fur three or four years; and the money they got was enough to
start a mighty good cooper-shop, ef Sam don't spend it all, or most of
it, in Richmond, which I think he will; and of course, he being away,
Sarah Ann wanted to go to her mother's, and she got herself ready and
took them four children--and I pity the old lady, fur Sam's children
never had no bringin' up. I disremember how old Tommy is, but it isn't
over eight, and just as noisy as ef he wasn't the oldest. And so I come
here to take care of the place; but I can't stay no longer than Tuesday
fortnight, as I told Sarah Ann, fur I've got to go to Betsey Cropper's
then to help her with her spinnin'; and there's my own things--seven
pounds of wool to spin fur Truly Mattherses people, besides two bushel
baskets, easy, of carpet-rags to sew, and I want 'em done by the time
Miss Jane gits her loom empty, or I'll git no weavin' done this year,
and what do you think? I've had another visitor to-day, and your comin'
right afterwards kind o' struck me as mighty queer, both bein' Akeville
people, so to speak tho' it's been a long day since he's been there, and
you'll never guess who it was, fur it was George Mason."

And she stopped and wiped her face with her calico apron.

"So George Mason was here, was he?" said Tony. "Where is he now?"

"Oh! he's gone," replied Cousin Maria. "It wasn't more 'n ten or fifteen
minutes before you came in, and he was a-sittin' here talking about ole
times--he's rougher than he was, guess he didn't learn no good down
there in Mississippi--when all ov a sudden he got up an' took his hat
and walked off. Well, that was jist like George Mason. He never had much
manners, and would always just as soon go off without biddin' a body
good-by as not."

"You didn't notice which way he went, did you?" asked Tony.

"Yes, I did," said Cousin Maria; "he went out o' the back door, and
along the edge of the woods, and he was soon out of sight, fur George
has got long legs, as you well know; and the last I saw of him was just
out there by that fence. And if there isn't Jim Anderson! Come in, Jim;
what are you doin' standin' out there?"

So she went to the window to call Jim Anderson, and Tony stepped to the
door and whistled for the other men, so that when Cousin Maria came to
the door she saw not only Jim Anderson, but Thomas Campbell and Captain
Bob Winters and Doctor Price's son Brinsley.

"Well, upon my word an' honor!" said Cousin Maria, lifting up both her
hands.

"Come along, boys," said Tony, starting off toward the woods. "We've got
no time to lose. Good-by, Cousin Maria."

"Good-by, Cousin Maria," said each of the other men, as the party
hurried away.

Cousin Maria did not answer a word. She sat right down on the door-step
and took off her spectacles. She rubbed them with her apron, and then
put them on again. But there was no mistake. There were the men. If she
had seen four ghosts she could not have been more astonished.

Tony did not for a moment doubt Cousin Maria's word when she told him
that George Mason had gone away. She never told a lie. The only trouble
with her was that she told too much truth.

In about an hour and a half the five men returned to the place where
they had left their horses. They had found no trace of George Mason.

When they reached the clump of trees, there were no horses there!

They looked at each other with blank faces!

"He's got our horses!" said Jim Anderson, when his consternation allowed
him to speak.

"Yes," said Tony, "and sarved us right. We oughter left one man here to
take care uv 'em, knowin' George Mason as we do.'

"I had an idea," said Dr. Price's son Brinsley, "that we should have
done something of that kind."

"Idees ain't no good," said Tony with a grunt, as he marched off toward
the blacksmith's shop at Jordan's cross-roads.

The blacksmith had seen nothing of Mason or the horses, but Tom Riley's
horse was still there; and as the members of the party were all well
known to the blacksmith, he allowed them to take the animal to its
owner. So the five men rode the one horse back to Akeville; not all
riding at once, but one at a time.




CHAPTER XIV.

HARRY'S GRAND SCHEME.


This wholesale appropriation of horses caused, of course, a great
commotion in the vicinity of Akeville, and half the male population
turned out the next day in search of George Mason and the five horses.

Even Harry was infected with the general excitement, and, mounted on old
Selim, he rode away after dinner (there was no school that afternoon) to
see if he could find any one who had heard anything. There ought to be
news, for the men had been away all the morning.

About two miles from the village, the road on which Harry was riding
forked, and not knowing that the party which had started off in that
direction had taken the road which ran to the northeast, as being the
direction in which a man would probably go, if he wanted to get away
safely with five stolen horses, Harry kept straight on.

The road was lonely and uninteresting. On one side was a wood of
"old-field pines"--pines of recent growth and little value, that spring
up on the old abandoned tobacco fields--and on the other a stretch of
underbrush, with here and there a tree of tolerable size, but from which
almost all the valuable timber had been cut.

Selim was inclined to take things leisurely, and Harry gradually allowed
him to slacken his pace into a walk, and even occasionally to stop and
lower his head to take a bite from some particularly tempting bunch of
grass by the side of the road.

The fact was, Harry was thinking. He had entirely forgotten the five
horses and everything concerning them, and was deeply cogitating a plan
which, in an exceedingly crude shape, had been in his mind ever since he
had met old Miles on the road to the railroad.

What he wished to devise was some good plan to prevent the interruption,
so often caused by the rising of Crooked Creek, of communication between
the mica mine, belonging to the New York company, and the station at
Hetertown.

If he could do this, he thought he could make some money by it; and it
was, as we all know, very necessary for him, or at least for Aunt
Matilda, that he should make money.

It was of no use to think of a bridge. There were bridges already, and
when the creek was "up" you could scarcely see them.

A bridge that would be high enough and long enough would be very costly,
and it would be an undertaking with which Harry could not concern
himself, no matter what it might cost.

A ferry was unadvisable, for the stream was too rapid and dangerous in
time of freshets.

There was nothing that was really reliable and worthy of being seriously
thought of but a telegraph line. This Harry believed to be feasible.

He did not think it would cost very much. If this telegraph line only
extended across the creek, not more than half a mile of wire, at the
utmost, would be required.

Nothing need be expended for poles, as there were tall pine-trees on
each side of the creek that would support the wire; and there were two
cabins, conveniently situated, in which the instruments could be placed.

Harry had thoroughly considered all these matters, having been down to
the creek several times on purpose to take observations.

The procuring of the telegraphic instruments, however, and the necessity
of having an operator on the other side, presented difficulties not easy
to surmount.

But Harry did not despair.

To be sure the machines would cost money, and so would the wire,
insulators, etc., but then the mica company would surely be willing to
pay a good price to have their messages transmitted at times when
otherwise they would have to send a man twenty miles to a telegraphic
station.

So if the money could be raised it would pay to do it--at least if the
calculations, with which Harry and Kate had been busy for days, should
prove to be correct.

About the operator on the other side, Harry scarcely knew what to think.
If it were necessary to hire any one, that would eat terribly into the
profits.

Something economical must be devised for this part of the plan.

As to the operator on the Akeville side of the creek, Harry intended to
fill that position himself. He had been interested in telegraphy for a
year or two. He understood the philosophy of the system, and had had the
opportunity afforded him by the operator at Hetertown of learning to
send messages and to read telegraphic hieroglyphics. He could not
understand what words had come over the wires, simply by listening to
the clicking of the instrument--an accomplishment of all expert
telegraphers--but he thought he could do quite well enough if he could
read the marks on the paper slips, and there was no knowing to what
proficiency he might arrive in time.

Of course he had no money to buy telegraphic apparatus, wire, etc., etc.
But he thought he could get it. "How does any one build railroads or
telegraphic lines?" he had said to Kate. "Do they take the money out of
their own pockets?"

Kate had answered that she did not suppose they did, unless the money
was there; and Harry had told her, very confidently, that the money was
never there. No man, or, at least, very few men, could afford to
construct a railroad or telegraph line. The way these things were done
was by forming a company.

And this was just what Harry proposed to do.

It was, of course, quite difficult to determine just how large a company
this should be. If it were composed of too many members, the profits,
which would be limited, owing to the peculiar circumstances of the case,
would not amount to much for each stockholder. And yet there must be
members enough to furnish money enough.

And more than that, a contract must be made with the mica-mine people,
so that the business should not be diverted from Harry's company into any
outside channels.

All these things occupied Harry's mind, and it is no wonder that he
hardly looked up when Selim stopped. The horse had been walking so
slowly that stopping did not seem to make much difference.

But when he heard a voice call out, "Oh, Mah'sr Harry! I'se mighty glad
to see yer!" he looked up quickly enough.

And there was old Uncle Braddock, on horseback!

Harry could scarcely believe his eyes.

And what was more astonishing, the old negro had no less than four other
horses with him that he was leading, or rather trying to lead, out of a
road through the old-field pines that here joined the main road.

"Why, what's the meaning of this?" cried Harry. "Where did you get those
horses, Uncle Braddock?"

And then, without waiting for an answer, Harry burst out laughing. Such
a ridiculous sight was enough to make anybody laugh.

Uncle Braddock sat on the foremost horse, his legs drawn up as if he
were sitting on a chair, and a low one at that, for he had been
gradually shortening the stirrups for the last hour, hoping in that way
to get a firmer seat. His long stick was in one hand, his old hat was
jammed down tightly over his eyes, and his dressing-gown floated in the
wind like a rag-bag out for a holiday.

"Oh, I'se mighty glad to see yer, Mah'sr Harry!" said he, pulling at his
horse's bridle in such a way as to make him nearly run into Selim and
Harry, who, however, managed to avoid him and the rest of the cavalcade
by moving off to the other side of the road.

"I was jist a-thinkin' uv gittin' off and lettin' em go 'long they own
se'ves. I never seed sich hosses fur twistin' up and pullin' crooked. I
'spected to have my neck broke mor' 'n a dozen times. I never was so
disgruntled in all my born days, Mah'sr Harry. Whoa dar, you yaller
hoss! Won't you take a-hole, Mah'sr Harry, afore dey're de death uv me?"

The old man had certainly got the horses into a mixed-up condition. One
of them was beside the horse he rode, two were behind, and one was
wedged in partly in front of these in such a way that he had to travel
sidewise. The bridle of one horse was tied to that of another, so that
Uncle Braddock led them all by the bridle of the horse by his side. This
was tied to his long cane, which he grasped firmly in his left hand.

Harry jumped down from Selim, and, tying him to the fence, went over to
the assistance of Uncle Braddock. As he was quite familiar with horses,
Harry soon arranged matters on a more satisfactory footing. He
disentangled the animals, two of which he proposed to take charge of
himself, and then, after making Uncle Braddock lengthen his stirrups,
and lead both his horses on one side of him, he fastened the other two
horses side by side, mounted Selim, and started back for Akeville,
followed by Uncle Braddock and his reduced cavalcade.

The old negro was profuse in his thanks; but in the middle of his
protestations of satisfaction, Harry suddenly interrupted him.

"Why, look here, Uncle Braddock! Where did you get these horses? These
are the horses George Mason stole."

"To be sure they is," said Uncle Braddock. "What would I be a-doin' wid
'em ef they wasn't?"

"But how did you get them? Tell me about it," said Harry, checking the
impatient Selim, who, now that his head was turned homeward, was anxious
to go on with as much expedition as possible under the circumstances.

"Why, ye see, Mah'sr Harry," said the old man, "I was up at Miss
Maria's; she said she'd gi' me some pieces of caliker to mend me
wrapper. I put 'em in me pocket, but I 'spects they's blowed out; and
when I was a-comin' away fru de woods, right dar whar ole Elick Potts
used to hab his cabin--reckon you nebber seed dat cabin; it was all
tumbled down 'fore you was born--right dar in de clarin' I seed five
horses, all tied to de trees. 'Lor's a massy!' I said to mesef, 'is de
war come agin?' Fur I nebber seed so many hosses in de woods sence de
war. An' den while I was a-lookin' roun' fur a tree big enough to git
behind, wrapper an' all, out comes Mah'sr George Mason from a bush, an'
he hollers, 'Hello, Uncle Braddock, you come a-here.' An' then he says,
'You ain't much, Uncle Braddock, but I guess you'll do!' An' I says,
'Don't believe I'll do, Mah'sr George, fur you know I can't march, an' I
nebber could shoot none, an' I got de rheumertiz in both me legs and me
back, and no jint-water in me knees--you can't make no soldier out er
me, Mah'sr George.' And then he laughed, an' says, 'You would make a
pretty soldier, dat's true, Uncle Braddock. But I don't want no
soldiers; what I want you to do is to take these horses home.' 'To
where? says I. 'To Akeville,' says Mah'sr George. An' he didn't say much
more, neither; for he jist tied dem horses all together and led 'em out
into a little road dat goes fru de woods dar, an' he put me on de head
horse, an' he says, 'Now, go 'long, Uncle Braddock, an' ef anything
happens to dem hosses you'll have to go to jail fur it. So, look out!'
An' bress your soul, Mah'sr Harry, I did have to look out, fur sich a
drefful time as I did have, 'specially wid dat yaller hoss, I nebber did
see."




CHAPTER XV.

THE COUNCIL.


When Harry's mother heard that he had gone off to try and meet the
horse-hunters she was quite anxious about him.

But Mr. Loudon laughed at her fears.

"If there had been the slightest danger," he said, "of course I would
not have allowed him to go. But I was glad he wanted to go. A youngster
of his age ought to have a disposition to see what is going on and to
take part, too, for that matter. I had much rather find it necessary to
restrain Harry than to push him. You mustn't want to make a girl of him.
You would only spoil the boy, and make a very poor girl."

Mrs. Loudon made no reply. She thought her husband was a very wise man;
but she took up her key basket and went off to the pantry with an air
that indicated that she had ideas of her own upon the subject in
question.

Kate had no fears for Harry. She had unbounded faith in his good sense
and his bravery, if he should happen to get into danger.

The fact is, she was quite a brave girl herself; and brave people are
very apt to think their friends as courageous as themselves.

When Harry and Uncle Braddock reached the village they found several of
the older inhabitants on the store porch, and they met with an
enthusiastic reception.

And when, later in the afternoon, most of the men who had gone out after
George Mason, returned from their unsuccessful expedition, the
discussion in regard to Mason's strange proceeding grew very animated.
Some thought he had only intended to play a trick; others that he had
been unable to get away with the horses, as he had hoped to do when he
had taken them.

But nobody knew anything about the matter excepting George Mason
himself, and he was not there to give the village any information.

As for Harry, he did not stay long to hear the discussions at the store.

His mind was full of a much more important matter and he ran off to find
Kate. He wanted to talk over his latest impressions with her.

When he reached the house, where his appearance greatly tranquillized
his mother's mind, he found Kate in the yard under the big
catalpa-trees, always a favorite place of resort in fine weather.

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, when she saw him, "did they find the horses?"

"No," said Harry; "they didn't find them."

"Oh, what a pity! And some of them were borrowed horses. Tony Kirk had
Captain Caseby's mud-colored horse. I don't know what the captain will
do without him."

"Oh, the captain will do very well," said Harry.

"But he can't do very well," persisted Kate. "It's the only horse he has
in the world. One thing certain, they can't go to church."

Harry laughed at this, and then he told his sister all about his meeting
with Uncle Braddock. But while she was wondering and surmising in regard
to George Mason's strange conduct, Harry, who could not keep his
thoughts from more important matters, broke in with:

"But, I say, Kate, I've made up my mind about the telegraph business.
There must be a company, and we ought to plan it all out before we tell
people and sell shares."

"That's right," cried Kate, who was always ready for a plan. "Let's do
it now."

So, down she sat upon the ground, and Harry sat down in front of her.

Then they held a council.

"In the first place, we must have a President," said Harry.

"That ought to be you," said Kate.

"Yes," said Harry, "I suppose I ought to be President. And then we must
have a Treasurer, and I think you should be Treasurer."

"Yes," said Kate, "that would do very well. But where could I keep the
money?"

"Pshaw!" said Harry. "It's no use to bother ourselves about that. We'd
better get the money first, and then see where we can put it. I reckon
it'll be spent before anybody gets a chance to steal it. And now then,
we must have a Secretary."

"How would Tom Selden do for Secretary?" asked Kate.

"Oh, he isn't careful enough," answered Harry. "I think you ought to be
Secretary. You can write well, and you'll keep everything in order."

"Very well," said Kate, "I'll be Secretary."

"I think," said Harry, "that we have now about all the officers we want,
excepting, of course, an Engineer, and I shall be Engineer; for I have
planned out the whole thing already."

"I didn't know there was to be an engine," said Kate.

"Engine!" exclaimed Harry, laughing. "That's a good one! I don't mean an
engineer of a steam-engine. What we want is a Civil Engineer; a man who
lays out railroad lines and all that kind of thing. I'm not right sure
that a Civil Engineer does plan out telegraph lines; but it don't make
any difference what we call the officer. He'll have to attend to putting
up the line."

"And do you think you can do it?" said Kate, "I should suppose it would
be a good deal harder to be Engineer than to be President."

"Yes, I suppose it will; but I've studied the matter. I've watched the
men putting up new wires at Hetertown, and Mr. Lyons told me all he knew
about it. It's easy enough. Very different from building a railroad."

"It must be a good deal safer to build a railroad, though," said Kate.
"You don't have to go so high up in the air."

"You're a little goose," said Harry, laughing at her again.

"No, I'm not," said Kate. "I'm Treasurer and Secretary of the--What
shall we call the company, Harry? It ought to have a name."

"Certainly it ought," said her brother. "How would 'The Mica Mine
Telegraph Company'--No, that wouldn't do at all. It isn't theirs. It's
ours."

"Call it 'The Loudon Telegraph Company,'" said Kate.

"That would be nearer the thing, but it wouldn't be very modest, though
people often do call their companies after their own names. What do you
think of 'The Akeville and Hetertown Company'?"

"But it won't go to either of those places," said Kate. "It will only
cross the creek."

"All right!" exclaimed Harry. "Let's call it 'The Crooked Creek
Telegraph Company.'"

"Good!" said Kate. "That's the very name."

So the company was named.

"Now," said Kate, "we've got all the head officers and the name; what do
we want next?"

"We want a good many other things," said Harry. "I suppose we ought to
have a Board of Directors."

"Shall we be in that?" asked Kate.

Harry considered this question before answering it. "I think the
President ought to be in it," he said, "but I don't know about the
Secretary and Treasurer. I think they are not generally Directors."

"Well," said Kate, with a little sigh, "I don't mind."

"You can be, if you want to," said Harry. "Wait until we get the Board
organized, and I'll talk to the other fellows about it."

"Are they going to be all boys?" asked Kate, quickly.

"I reckon so," said Harry. "We don't want any men in our Board. They'd
be ordering us about and doing everything themselves."

"I didn't mean that. Will there be any girls?"

"No," said Harry, a little contemptuously, it is to be feared. "There
isn't a girl in the village who knows anything about telegraph lines,
except you."

"Well, if it's to be all boys, I don't believe I would care to belong to
the Board," said Kate. "But who are we going to have?"

This selection of the members of the Board of Directors seemed a little
difficult at first, but as there were so few boys to choose from it was
settled in quite a short time.

Tom Selden, Harvey Davis, George Purvis, Dr. Price's youngest son,
Brandeth, and Wilson Ogden, were chosen, and these, with the addition of
Harry, made up the Board of Directors of the Crooked Creek Telegraph
Company.

"Well," said Kate, as the council arose and adjourned, "I hope we'll
settle the rest of our business as easily as we have settled this part."




CHAPTER XVI.

COMPANY BUSINESS.


After the selection of the Directors, all of whom accepted their
appointments with great readiness, although, with the exception of Tom
Selden, none of them had known anything about the company until informed
by Harry of their connection with its management, it remained only to
get subscriptions to the capital stock, and then the construction of the
line might immediately begin.

Harry and Kate made out a statement of the probable expense, and a very
good statement it was, for, as Harry had said, he had thoroughly studied
up the matter, aided by the counsel of Mr. Lyons, the operator at
Hetertown.

This statement, with the probable profits and the great advantages of
such a line, was written out by Harry, and the Secretary, considering
all clerical work to be her especial business, made six fair copies, one
of which was delivered to each of the Board of Directors, who undertook
to solicit subscriptions.

A brief constitution was drawn up, and by a clause in this instrument,
one-quarter of the profits were to go to the stockholders and the rest
to Aunt Matilda.

The mica-mine men, when visited by Harry, who carried a letter from his
father, at first gave the subject but little consideration, but after
they found how earnest Harry was in regard to the matter and how,
thoroughly he had studied up the subject, theoretically and practically,
under the tuition of his friend, Mr. Lyons, they began to think that
possibly the scheme might prove of advantage to them.

After a good deal of talk--enough to have settled much more important
business--they agreed to take stock in the telegraph company, provided
Harry and his Board purchased first-class instruments and appliances.

Their idea in insisting upon this was the suggestion of their manager,
that if the boys failed in their project they might get possession of
the line and work it themselves. Consequently, with a view both to the
present success of the association and their own possible acquisition of
the line, they insisted on first-class instruments.

This determination discouraged Harry and his friends, for they had not
calculated upon making the comparatively large expenditures necessary to
procure these first-class instruments.

They had thought to buy some cheap but effective apparatus of which they
had heard, and which, for amateur purposes, answered very well.

But when the mica-mine officers agreed to contribute a sum in proportion
to the increased capital demanded, Harry became quite hopeful, and the
other members of the Board agreed that they had better work harder and
do the thing right while they were about it.

The capital of the company was fixed at one hundred and fifty dollars,
and to this the mica-mine people agreed to subscribe fifty dollars. They
also gave a written promise to give all the business of that kind that
they might have for a year from date, to Harry and his associates,
provided that the telegraphic service should always be performed
promptly and to their satisfaction.

A contract, fixing rates, etc., was drawn up, and Harry, the Directors,
the Secretary, and the Treasurer, all and severally signed it. This was
not actually necessary, but these officers, quite naturally, were
desirous of doing all the signing that came in their way.

Private subscriptions came in more slowly. Mr. Loudon gave fifteen
dollars, and Dr. Price contributed ten, as his son was a Director. Old
Mr. Truly Matthews subscribed five dollars, and hoped that he should see
his money back again; but if he didn't, he supposed it would help to
keep the boys out of mischief. Small sums were contributed by other
persons in the village and neighborhood, each of whom was furnished with
a certificate of stock proportioned to the amount of the investment.

There were fifty shares issued, of three dollars each; and Miss Jane
Davis, who subscribed one dollar and a quarter, got five-twelfths of a
share. The members of the Board, collectively, put in thirty dollars.

The majority of the shareholders considered their money as a donation to
a good cause, for of course, it was known that Aunt Matilda's support
was the object of the whole business; but some hoped to make something
out of it, and others contributed out of curiosity to see what sort of a
telegraph the company would build, and how it would work.

It was urged by some wise people that if this money had been contributed
directly to Aunt Matilda, it would have been of much more service to
her; but other people, equally wise, said that in that case, the money
could never have been raised.

The colored people, old and young, took a great interest in the matter,
and some of them took parts of shares, which was better. Even John
William Webster took seventy-five cents worth of stock.

The most astonishing subscription was one from Aunt Matilda herself. One
day she handed to Kate a ten-cent piece--silver, old style--and
desired that that might be put into the company for her. Where she got
it, nobody knew, but she had it, and she put it in.

Explanations were of no use. The fact of the whole business being for
her benefit made no impression on her. She wanted a share in the
company, and was proud of her one-thirtieth part of a share.

A Shareholder

Taking them as a whole, the Board of Directors appeared to have been
very well chosen. Tom Selden was a good fellow and a firm friend of
Harry and Kate. They might always reckon upon his support, although he
had the fault, when matters seemed a little undecided, of giving his
advice at great length. But when a thing was agreed upon he went to work
without a word.

Harvey Davis was a large, blue-eyed boy, very quiet, with yellow hair.
He was one of the best scholars in the Akeville school, and could throw
a stone over the highest oak-tree by the church--something no other boy
in the village could do. He made an admirable Director.

Dr. Price's son, Brandeth, and Wilson Ogden, lived some miles from the
village, and sometimes one or the other of them did not get to a meeting
of the Board until the business before it had been despatched. But they
always attended punctually if there was a horse or a mule to be had in
time, and made no trouble when they came.

George Purvis lived just outside of the village. He was a tall fellow
with a little head. His father had been in the Legislature, and George
was a great fellow to talk, and he was full of new ideas. If Harry and
Kate had not worked out so thoroughly the plan of the company before
electing the Directors, George would have given the rest of the Board a
great deal of trouble.

When about four-fifths of the capital stock had been subscribed, and
there was not much likelihood of their getting any more at present, the
Board of Directors determined to go to work.

Acting under the advice and counsel of Mr. Lyons (who ought to have been
a Director, but who was not offered the position), they sent to New York
for two sets of telegraphic instruments--registers, keys, batteries,
reels, etc., etc.--one set for each office, and for about half a mile
of wire, with the necessary office-wire, insulators, etc.

This took pretty much all their capital, but they hoped to economize a
good deal in the construction of the line, and felt quite hopeful.

But it seemed to be a long and dreary time that they had to wait for the
arrival of their purchases from New York. Either Harry or one of the
other boys rode over to Hetertown every day, and the attention they paid
to the operation of telegraphy, while waiting for the train, was
something wonderful.

It was a fortunate thing for the Board that, on account of the sickness
of the teacher, the vacation commenced earlier than usual in Akeville
that year.

More than a week passed, and no word from New York. No wonder the boys
became impatient. It had been a month, or more, since the scheme had
been first broached in the village, and nothing had yet been done--at
least, nothing to which the boys could point as evidence of progress.

The field of operation had been thoroughly explored. The pine trees
which were to serve as telegraph poles had been selected, and contracts
had been made with "One-eyed Lewston," a colored preacher, who lived
near the creek on the Akeville side, and with Aunt Judy, who had a log
house on the Hetertown side, by which these edifices were to be used as
telegraphic stations. The instruments and batteries, when not in use,
were to be locked up in stationary cases, made by the Akeville
carpenter, after designs by Harry.

Of course, while waiting for the arrival of their goods from New York,
the Board met every day. Having little real business, their discussions
were not always harmonious.

George Purvis grew discontented. Several times he said to Brandeth Price
and Harvey Ogden that he didn't see why he shouldn't be something more
than a mere Director, and a remark that Harvey once made, that if Harry
and Kate had not chosen to ask him to join them he would not have been
even a Director, made no impression upon him.

One day, when a meeting was in session by the roadside, near "One-eyed
Lewston's" cabin--or the Akeville telegraph station, as I should
say--George and Harry had a slight dispute, and Purvis took occasion to
give vent to some of his dissatisfaction.

"I don't see what you're President for, anyway," said he to Harry.
"After the Board of Directors had been organized it ought to have
elected all the officers."

"But none of you fellows knew anything about the business," said Harry.
"Kate and I got up the company, and we needn't have had a Board of
Directors at all, if we hadn't wanted to. If any of you boys had known
anything about telegraphs we would have given you an office."

"I reckon you don't have to know anything about telegraphs to be
Secretary, or Treasurer either," said George, warmly.

"No," answered Harry, "but you've got to know how to keep accounts and
to be careful and particular."

"Like your sister Kate, I suppose," said George, with a sneer.

"Yes, like Kate," answered Harry.

"I'd be ashamed of myself," said George, "if I couldn't get a better
Secretary or Treasurer than a girl. I don't see what a girl is doing in
the company, anyway. The right kind of a girl wouldn't be seen pushing
herself in among a lot of boys that don't want her."

Without another word, the President of the Crooked Creek Telegraph
Company arose and offered battle to George Purvis. The contest was a
severe one, for Purvis was a tall fellow, but Harry was as tough as the
sole of your boot, and he finally laid his antagonist on the flat of his
back in the road.

George arose, put on his hat, dusted off his clothes, and resigned his
position in the Board.




CHAPTER XVII.

PRINCIPALLY CONCERNING KATE.


During all this work of soliciting subscriptions, ordering instruments
and batteries, and leasing stations, Kate had kept pretty much in the
background. True, she had not been idle. She had covered a great deal of
paper with calculations, and had issued certificates of stock, all in
her own plain handwriting, to those persons who had put money into the
treasury of the company. And she had received all that money, had kept
accurate account of it, and had locked it up in a little box which was
kindly kept for her in the iron safe owned by Mr. Darby, the
storekeeper.

When the money was all drawn out and sent to New York, her duties became
easier.

School had closed, as has been before stated, and although Kate had home
duties and some home studies, she had plenty of time for outdoor life.
But now she almost always had to enjoy that life alone, if we except the
company of Rob, who generally kept faithfully near her so long as she
saw fit to walk, but when she stopped to rest or to pursue some of her
botanical or entomological studies he was very apt to wander off on his
own account. He liked to keep moving.

One of her favorite resorts was what was called the "Near Woods," a
piece of forest land not far from Mr. Loudon's house, and within calling
distance of several dwellings and negro cabins. She visited Aunt Matilda
nearly every day; but the woods around her cabin were principally pine,
and pine forests are generally very sombre.

But the "Near Woods" were principally of oak and hickory, with dogwood,
sweet gum, and other smaller trees here and there; and there were open
spots where the sun shone in and where flowers grew and the insects
loved to come, as well as heavily shaded places under grand old trees.

She thoroughly enjoyed herself in a wood like this. She did not feel in
the least lonely, although she would have found herself sadly alone in a
busy street of a great city.

Here, she was acquainted with everything she saw. There was company for
her on every side. She had not been in the habit of passing the trees
and the bushes, the lichens and ferns, and the flowers and mosses as if
they were merely people hurrying up and down the street. She had stopped
and made their acquaintance, and now she knew them all, and they were
her good friends, excepting a few, such as the poison-vines, and here
and there a plant or reptile, with which she was never on terms of
intimacy.

She would often sit and swing on a low-bending grape-vine, that hung
between two lofty trees, sometimes singing, and sometimes listening to
the insects that hummed around her, and all the while as happy a Kate as
any Kate in the world.

It was here, on the grape-vine swing, that Harry found her, the day
after his little affair with George Purvis.

"Why, Harry!" she cried, "I thought you were having a meeting.

"There's nothing to meet about," said Harry, seating himself on a big
moss-covered root near Kate's swing.

"There will be when the telegraph things come," said Kate.

"Oh, yes, there'll be enough to do then, but it seems as if they were
never coming. And I've been thinking about something, Kate. It strikes
me that, perhaps, it would be better for you to hold only one office."

"Why? Don't I do well enough?" asked Kate, quickly, stopping herself
very suddenly in her swinging.

"Oh, yes! you do better than any one else could. But, you see, the other
fellows--I mean the Board--may think that some of them ought to have
an office. I'd give them one of mine, but none of them would do for
Engineer. They don't know enough about the business."

"Which office would you give up, if you were me?" asked Kate.

"Oh, I'd give up the Secretaryship, of course," said Harry. "Nobody but
you must be Treasurer. Harvey Davis would make a very good Secretary,
considering that there's so little writing to do now."

"Well, then," said Kate, "let Harvey be Secretary."

There was no bitterness or reproachfulness in Kate's words, but she
looked a little serious, and began to swing herself very vigorously. It
was evident that she felt this resignation of her favorite office much
more deeply than she chose to express. And no wonder. She had done all
the work; she had taken a pride in doing her work well, and now, when
the company was about to enter upon its actual public life, she was to
retire into the background. For a Treasurer had not much to do,
especially now that there was so little money. There was scarcely a
paper for the Treasurer to sign. But the Secretary--Well, there was no
use of thinking any more about it. No doubt Harry knew what was best. He
was with the Board every day, and she scarcely ever met the members.

Harry saw that Kate was troubled, but he did not know what to say, and
so he whittled at the root on which he was sitting.

"I should think, Harry," said Kate directly, "that George Purvis would
want to be Secretary. He's just the kind of a boy to like to be an
officer of some kind."

"Oh, he can't be an officer," said Harry, still whittling at the root.
"He has resigned."

"George Purvis resigned!" exclaimed Kate. "Why, what did he do that
for?"

"Oh, we didn't agree," said Harry; "and we're better off without him. We
have Directors enough as it is. Five is a very good number. There can't
be a tie vote with five members in the Board."

Kate suspected that something had happened that she was not to be told.
But she asked no questions.

After a few minutes of swinging and whittling, in which neither of them
said anything, Kate got out of her grape-vine swing and picked up her
hat from the ground, and Harry jumped up and whistled for Rob.

As they walked home together, Kate said:

"Harry, I think I'd better resign as Treasurer. Perhaps the officers
ought all to be boys."

"Look here, Kate," said Harry; and he stopped as he spoke, "I'm not
going to have anybody else as Treasurer. If you resign that office I'll
smash the company!"

Of course, after that there was nothing more to be said, and Kate
remained Treasurer of the Crooked Creek Telegraph Company.

Before very long, of course, she heard the particulars of George
Purvis's resignation. She did not say much about it, but she was very
glad that it was not Harry who had been whipped.

The next morning, quite early--the birds and the negroes had been up
some time, but everybody in Mr. Loudon's house was still sleeping
soundly--Harry, who had a small room at the front of the house, was
awakened by the noise of a horse galloping wildly up to the front gate,
and by hearing his name shouted out at the top of a boy's voice.

The boy was Tom Selden, and he shouted:

"Oh, Harry! Harry Loudon! Hello, there! The telegraph things have come!"

Harry gave one bound. He jerked on his clothes quicker than you could
say the multiplication table, and he rushed down stairs and into the
front yard.

It was actually so! The instruments and batteries and everything, all
packed up in boxes--Tom couldn't say how many boxes--had come by a
late train, and Mr. Lyons had sent word over to his house last night,
and he had been over there this morning by daybreak and had seen one of
the boxes, and it was directed, all right, to the Crooked Creek
Telegraph Company, and--

There was a good deal more intelligence, it appeared, but it wasn't easy
to make it out, for Harry was asking fifty questions, and Kate was
calling out from one of the windows, and Dick Ford and half-a-dozen
other negro boys were running up and shouting to each other that the
things had come. Mr. Loudon came out to see what all the excitement was
about, and he had to be told everything by Tom and Harry, both at once;
and Rob and Blinks were barking, and there was hubbub enough.

Harry shouted to one of the boys to saddle Selim, and when the horse was
brought around in an incredibly short time--four negroes having clapped
on his saddle and bridle--Harry ran into the house to get his hat; but
just as he had bounced out again, his mother appeared at the front door.

"Harry!" she cried, "you're not going off without your breakfast!"

"Oh, I don't want any breakfast, mother," he shouted.

"But you cannot go without your breakfast. You'll be sick."

"But just think!" expostulated Harry. "The things have been there all
night."

"It makes no difference," said Mrs. Loudon. "You must have your
breakfast first."

Mr. Loudon now put in a word, and Selim was led back to the stable.

"Well, I suppose I must," said poor Harry, with an air of resignation.
"Come in, Tom, and have something to eat."

The news spread rapidly. Harvey Davis was soon on hand, and by the time
breakfast was over, nearly every body in the village knew that the
telegraph things had come.

Harry and Tom did not get off as soon as they expected, for Mr. Loudon
advised them to take the spring-wagon--for they would need it to haul
their apparatus to the telegraphic stations--and the horse had to be
harnessed, and the cases which were to protect the instruments, when not
in use, were to be brought from the carpenter-shop, and so it seemed
very late before they started.

Just as they were ready to go, up galloped Brandeth Price and Wilson
Ogden. So away they all went together, two of the Board in the wagon and
three on horseback.

Kate stood at the front gate looking after them. Do what she would, she
could not help a tear or two rising to her eyes. Mr. Loudon noticed her
standing there, and he went down to her.

"Never mind Kate," said he. "I told them not to unpack the things until
they had hauled them to the creek; and I'll take you over to Aunt Judy's
in the buggy. We'll get there by the time the boys arrive."