Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's ExperienceAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Didactic fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction; Runaway teenagers -- Juvenile fiction
“Tie me if you like!” he said. “I am willing to wait here till some one
comes who has a little common sense. Just remember that I am only a boy,
and haven’t the strength of a full-grown man!”
“The boy is right, Maria! It’s a foolish idea of yours.”
“I call upon you to tie the villain!” insisted the woman.
“Just as you say! Can you give me some rope?”
From a drawer Mrs. Brown drew a quantity of strong cord, and the man
proceeded to tie Carl’s hands.
“Tie his feet, too, Walter!”
“Even if you didn’t tie me, I would promise to remain here. I don’t want
anybody to suspect me of such a thing,” put in Carl.
“How artful he is!” said Mrs. Brown. “Tie him strong, Walter.”
The two were left alone, Carl feeling decidedly uncomfortable. The
newly-made widow laid her head upon the table and moaned, glancing
occasionally at the body of her husband, as it still hung suspended from
the hook.
“Oh, William, I little expected to find you dead!” she groaned. “I only
went to the store to buy a pound of salt, and when I come back, I find
you cold and still, the victim of a young ruffian! How could you be so
wicked?” she demanded fiercely of Carl.
“I have told you that I had nothing to do with your husband’s death,
madam.”
“Who killed him, then?” she cried.
“I don’t know. He must have committed suicide.”
“Don’t think you are going to escape in that way. I won’t rest till I
see you hung!”
“I wish I had never entered the house,” thought Carl, uncomfortably.
“I would rather have gone hungry for twenty four hours longer than find
myself in such a position.”
Half an hour passed. Then a sound of voices was heard outside, and half
a dozen men entered, including besides the messenger, the constable and
a physician.
“Why was he not cut down?” asked the doctor, hastily. “There might have
been a chance to resuscitate him.”
“I didn’t think of it,” said the messenger. “Maria was so excited, and
insisted that the boy murdered him.”
“What boy?”
Carl was pointed out.
“That boy? What nonsense!” exclaimed Dr. Park. “Why, it would be more
than you or I could do to overpower and hang a man weighing one hundred
and seventy-five pounds.”
“That’s what I thought, but Maria seemed crazed like.”
“I tell you he did it! Are you going to let him go, the red-handed
murderer?”
“Loose the cord, and I will question the boy,” said Dr. Park, with an
air of authority.
Carl breathed a sigh of relief, when, freed from his bonds, he stood
upright.
“I’ll tell you all I know,” he said, “but it won’t throw any light upon
the death.”
Dr. Park listened attentively, and asked one or two questions.
“Did you hear any noise when you were sitting at the table?” he
inquired.
“No, sir.”
“Was the door closed?”
“Yes, sir.”
“That of itself would probably prevent your hearing anything. Mrs.
Brown, at what hour did you leave the house?”
“At ten minutes of twelve.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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