Young Captain Jack; Or, The Son of a SoldierAlger, Horatio, Jr.
History
Young Captain Jack; Or, The Son of a Soldier
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
"I reckon I have done enough for one night," he said to himself grimly.
"With that boy in my power, perhaps she and the others will sing a
different tune. Anyway, I'll not let the lad out of my grasp until he
promises to do exactly as I desire."
CHAPTER XXIV.
THE HUNT FOR JACK.
"Marion, where is Jack?" asked Mrs. Ruthven, in the morning.
"I do not know, mamma."
"When did you see him last?"
"Just before he started for the stable last night."
Mrs. Ruthven was very much worried, and with good cause, as my readers
know. She sought out Old Ben, who had his shoulder bandaged.
"Ben, have you seen Jack?"
"No, missus, I aint."
"Is he around the stable or the barns?"
"Perhaps he is, missus. Ole Ben will go an' look, if yo' want it."
"Yes, Ben; I cannot imagine what has become of him."
Old Ben hurried off, and Mrs. Ruthven went upstairs to wait upon George
Walden, who had now developed a raging fever.
"It is very odd what has become of Jack," said the lady of the
plantation. "He never went off like this before."
It was fully half an hour before Old Ben came back. The colored man
looked much worried.
"Can't find him nowhar, missus," he said. "An' dat dar guerrilla is
gone, too."
"The man who was shot while trying to steal the horses?"
"Yes, missus."
"Then something must be wrong. Didn't you find any trace at all of
Jack?"
"Not de slightest, missus. Old Ben looked eberywhar, too--'deed I did,
missus."
"I do not doubt you, Ben. But this is terrible. Jack must be somewhere."
"Dat's so, too, missus."
"Were there any signs of violence about?" asked Marion. "Any--any blood,
for example?"
"Some blood at de stable. Miss Marion. But I rackon dat was from de
shootin' ob dat dar guerrilla."
Marion heaved a deep sigh, and Mrs. Ruthven shook her head slowly. Here
was fresh trouble, more painful than any that had gone before.
"The guerrilla couldn't go off alone, could he?" asked Marion.
"Jack said he was quite seriously wounded, Marion. Still, the rascal may
have been playing possum with Jack, and stolen off on the sly."
"If he was strong enough to do that, perhaps he took Jack with him to
keep the boy from sounding an alarm."
"You may be right. We must find the boy if we can."
Slowly the day wore away, and no tidings came to the plantation. Toward
evening St. John put in an appearance.
"The soldiers have cleared out," he said. "There isn't a regiment of any
sort within a dozen miles."
"I am glad of it," answered Mrs. Ruthven, and then continued quickly,
"Have you seen anything of Jack?"
"Do you mean to-day?"
"Yes."
"No, I haven't seen him since he made such a mess of it up at our house,
putting out the fire," growled the spendthrift.
"It's a wonder you didn't put out the fire yourself," put in Marion
sharply. She did not like talk against her brother.
"I--I was sick, sicker than anybody supposed," stammered St. John. "Had
I been at all well, things would have gone on very differently, I can
assure you."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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