the effect on the boys was startling.

in the confusion of the moment, george probably took it for one of his “sprites;” and he dropped steve’s bow, stepped on it, and broke it.

marmaduke felt that there must be something ghostly and necromantic in such a cry, coming, in the hush of evening, from a shapely evergreen that rose beside a rolling, moonlit river.

jim was seized with a painful attack of his chills, and ran bellowing homewards.

stephen, impetuous and heedless as ever, picked up a stone and threw it furiously into the tree.

the reader of fiction does not need to be told that “all this happened in an instant.”

where the stone struck mr. herriman is not known; but with a crash he fell headlong to the ground, rolled over twice,—roaring, meantime, with rage, pain, and terror,—and before the thunderstruck boys could recover from their stupefaction, he had disappeared in the water.

then stephen, with great presence of mind, exclaimed: “boys, i told you that tree was inhabited!”

“save him! save him! whoever he is, save him!”[223] charles cried. “get george’s rope, and throw it out to him!”

he and stephen made a rush for it, and stumbled over each other, but finally managed to get all but a few inches of it into the water. there their rescuing ceased.

mr. herriman, whose feet touched bottom, floundered and sputtered about in the water like a madman. he could easily have made his way to the shore, but apparently he had lost his wits. every other second he gave utterance to some pithy interjection. doubtless he would have yelled continually; but every time he opened his mouth a small cupful of water and animalcules poured down his throat, and well-nigh choked him.

a panic seized upon the boys, and although chattering and gesticulating like monkeys, they were powerless to help him. and so bob struggled in the river, in some danger of being drowned.

but a deliverer was at hand. carlo awoke to what was going on, and, more sensible than the boys, plunged into the river, and an instant later was beside demoralized bob. he caught first his coat, then his pants, then his coat again, bob insanely striking him off each time.

the truth is, it galled the boy to be rescued by tip’s successor.

the noble dog persevered in his efforts, however, and bob, eventually seeing the folly of resisting, suffered himself to be towed to the bank.

then the brave boys exerted themselves, and succeeded in hauling bewildered robert herriman on shore.

his first act betrayed his cowardly nature.

“get out, you brute!” he said, and struck the gallant dog which had just saved him, and which stood by, wagging his tail to express his delight.

then, with a jeering laugh at the dog’s low growl, he darted away from the now enraged boys.

he ran a few’ steps, then halting, he picked up a stone, and heaved it among the experimentalists.

“take that for throwing stones at me!” he said derisively, as he took to his heels again. “look out for your dog, stepping hen, and good-bye till i see you again,” he shouted as he ran.

[224]

this was more than human nature could bear. with fury in their eyes, and uttering a warwhoop that electrified the flying wretch, they all broke into a run and gave chase, determined to wreak dire vengeance on him.

bob yelled fearfully,—well he might,—and redoubled his speed.

the pursuers were gaining on him, when a wild cry, a beseeching, almost despairing, appeal for help, reached their ears.

they stopped and stared vacantly at each other. the look each one put on seemed plainly to inquire, “what next?”

“it’s will,” charles said. “where on earth is he?”

“follow the sound,” the sage said, philosophical as ever.

the pursuit was instantly given over, for all the boys bore will too much love to neglect him. one and all, the four ran back to the scene of their late exploits, and herriman escaped.

“who saw will last?” george asked anxiously.

“the last i saw of him,” said steve, “was when you told him to bring the paddles.”

in fact, poor will was so startled at bob’s appalling cry that he had tumbled backwards into the pit. he and his paddles. in the confusion that ensued he was not missed, but was left to his own resources while the others were engaged in “rescuing” and dealing with rob.

unhappy boy, he found himself in narrow quarters. the hole was large at the top, but small at the bottom, and he was unable to climb out of it. soon he found himself sinking into the horrible, sickening mire, which gave way beneath him.

he heard the shouts of his companions, and struggled manfully to save himself—and his paddles.

why didn’t he cry out for help immediately? that is very easily explained.

will got into trouble so often and made so many egregious blunders—which invariably provoked the laughter of others—that he had fallen into the habit of keeping as many of them secret as possible. he had a[225] preternatural horror of being made a laughing-stock, and consequently, when he found himself out of sight in a pit, he was desirous to work his way out of it before he should be missed.

besides, after his exploits in the cave, this experiment of the sages was but ignoble pastime, and it would ill become him, the hero who had delivered and cured his insane uncle, to come to grief in this slimy hole.

he struggled heroically to gain dry land, but the more he struggled the deeper he sank in the mire. at last, hearing his comrades chasing some one, he concluded that he should have to cry out for help, or else be left to a horrible fate.

but it grieved him to think that he was not missed and searched for.

“whatever is the matter, among so many there might be one to think of me,” he muttered, sadly. “don’t i amount to a button, that they don’t miss me? or is something awful going on?”

then, with great reluctance, he shouted for help.

when the four gathered round the hole, they beheld its tenant with wonder.

“how in this world did you get down there?” steve asked.

“fell down,” will said, laconically. “i knew there was a hole in these regions, and, botheration! i found it, and tumbled overboard into it! but say, what was all that row about?”

“so you’ve missed all the fun!” charles said, pityingly.

then the boys told him all that had happened.

“but why didn’t you yell for us to help you at first?” steve asked.

“why didn’t you miss me?” will retorted, sourly.

the boys could not be blamed for this. probably not more than ten minutes had elapsed from bob’s first cry of terror till will’s cry for help; and they had been very much excited and distressed all that time.

“this is no way to get will out!” charles said, angrily. “stop talking, steve, and bring george’s rope here.”

[226]

“george’s rope!” said will. “that will be the very thing! get it, steve; you’re used to hauling donkeys out of pits, you know, so show us your skill.”

the boys laughed for a full minute, and steve said, as he darted away for the rope, “will, that’s blunder number ten thousand seven hundred and one for you.”

the rope was found, but it was wet from end to end. however, it proved more useful than when the boys attempted to rescue herriman with it, and will, with considerable detriment to his clothes, was pulled out of the hole—his paddles, too.

although coated with disagreeable slime up to his watch pocket—which, by the way, contained fish-hooks instead of a watch—he took it coolly, as became a redoubtable hero.

in order to turn the conversation from himself, he said, hurriedly, “now, go into details about herriman, and then i must pack off home.”

foolish boy, he need not have been alarmed; he was an object of pity rather than of laughter.

“we told you about herriman,” growled steve. “i wish i could have got my claw’s on that boy; i would have made him strain his voice and his muscles!”

“you had better go home this minute, will,” charles said, kindly. “as for herriman, steve, i guess he has strained his voice and his muscles and his joints enough already. well, will, i’ll go home with you, and tell all about herriman as we journey along. stephen, i suppose you will stay here to go on with the necromancy business, which was so meanly interrupted. be sure to bring home will’s paddles and everything else.”

“yes, the necromancer must be routed,” steve replied. “i’ll see to everything; good-bye.”

“good-bye,” said charles and will, as they plodded off.

“i say, will,” charles said, with a grin, as soon as they were out of hearing, “i say, will, by to-morrow i guess i’ll be the only one to see any fun in this business; for jim ran howling away, bob got the worst of it, you robbed the hole of much mud, steve’s dog was insulted several times, and before steve gets through with the sage and marmaduke, all three will be sick of it.”

[227]

thus let them go.

the sport seemed to have lost much of its zest after all these interruptions and departures; but george and stephen mended the bow as well as they could, and then the former, with due solemnity, shot an arrow through the tree lately occupied by herriman.

if the complicated plot of this and the preceding chapter has not proved too great a strain on the reader’s memory, he will probably remember that the next thing to be done was to dig.

marmaduke came up with the paddles, and tried to make a spade of one of them; but it rebounded and jarred his hand till it ached.

“stop!” screamed the sage. “you’ll spoil the charm! the sods must be raised with something sharp, of course. boys,” solemnly, “they must be raised with a knife that has slain something!”

“slain!” marmaduke repeated, aghast.

“yes; and i’ve brought along a knife that once killed a deer and a lion.”

“george, this is going a little too far; what business have you to tote around a hunter’s weapon?” stephen inquired. “why, if you had fallen into the river with that horrible knife hitched fast to you, you would have been ruined.”

“don’t be jealous, steve,” george said, sarcastically. “you know there isn’t a boy in the state that owns such a knife as this; you know it has a romantic history; you know my grandfather willed it to me; you know it once saved seth warner’s life; you know an old turk once——”

“yes,” interrupted steve, “i know; i’ve heard you talk about that knife ever since i first knew you. but if you don’t look out, it will come to grief like all your other wonderful knives—you’ll lose it.—well, never mind, george; i was only surprised to think you could bring along that keepsake—no, relic—to dig up sods! so,” mildly, “go on, george.”

george “went on,” and soon the sods were raised, and a circle of earth exposed. then the paddles were used[228] very laboriously, first by one and then by another. it was hard work, but at last a hole was scooped out, and steve, in despair, took up the spade and dug with ease.

“how do you suppose herriman came to be in that tree?” george asked.

“that’s a mystery,” steve replied. “likely he was prowling around, and saw us coming, and scrambled into the tree to hide himself. well, i never hankered to make a squirrel of myself in an evergreen.”

“let me dig,” george now said.

stephen handed over the spade to him, and after a vigorous attack with it, with a thud that startled the three, he struck something very hard.

visions of gold and precious stones flashed through their mind; george trembled with excitement; marmaduke was in ecstacy; steve was bewildered.

george stopped for a moment, panting and eager; then he turned to digging again—so furiously that the sweat streamed from every part of his body.

not a word was spoken.

dirt enough was soon removed to discover—what?

an iron-bound box!

again the sage paused. although steve was as much excited as the others, he thought this a fitting time to observe: “well, george, we have exposed the necromancer’s fable, and it is getting late; so let us pack up and go home.”

“go home?” echoed george. “go home—without seeing what we have found?”

“certainly. it can’t be a treasure, you know; because it isn’t six feet down in the ground!”

george was thunder-struck. but he soon rallied, and made answer: “well, so many queer things have happened, perhaps the spirits got demoralized, and raised the box.”

“no they didn’t,” steve retorted; “spirits never get demoralized. and besides, i’m ashamed of you, george, for staying here any longer. you know you don’t believe a single word of it,” with cutting irony. “so, let us do what the copy-book tells us, and make the most of time while we are young. let us hurry home.”

[229]

whilst this talk was going on, marmaduke—much to the secret satisfaction of both boys—was busy, trying, by using the spade and paddles as levers, to get the iron-bound box out of the hole. not finding it so heavy as he expected, he succeeded without much effort.

now that it was out of the ground, george, stephen, and marmaduke, pounced on it, pried off the lid, and found—what?

a heap of mouldy old boots, a cracked cow-bell, a worn-out vest, several broken articles, a few door-knobs, a defaced copy of the constitution, rusty nails, the works of a clock, the rudder of a toy ship, a heavy flat-iron, the head of a medieval image, rubbish, all sorts of things.

steve, foolish boy, laughed till he was obliged to sit down. as for the other two, they were, to use a polite expression, “deeply chagrined.”

as soon as steve recovered himself he said, “this is some of crazy tom’s work! of course you two have heard of him; he used to live in these parts, and spent all his time gathering up all kinds of trash, and the boys say he buried it sometimes. now i know that story is true. oh! what a treasure we have found! our fortune is made!”

george and marmaduke were familiar with the legends respecting crazy tom, and they were mute.

“oh dear,” groaned steve, “we must get this box back into the hole, and shovel in the dirt, before we can go home.”

this proves that there was something good in stephen, after all. a great many boys would have gone away, leaving everything in confusion.

“there might be something valuable in it,” marmaduke suggested.

“yes, of course,” steve replied. “but i don’t know who’d want to rummage among all these disgusting old things.”

george and marmaduke thought of the bones in the woods, and with one breath, both said, “no!”

“to be sure,” steve continued, peering into the box, “if we could find some fellow that hadn’t any respect for[230] himself, we might hire him to handle its contents, and separate the good from the bad. now, i’ve a good mind to take out this——roanwer!”

“what’s the matter?”

“matter!” roared steve, starting back. “my gracious! that box is inhabited with some awful looking grubs!”

without further parley the lid was laid on, the box shoved into the hole, and the dirt shoveled in.

“steve,” said george suddenly, “i believe you knew about this. why were you all at once so eager to go, and why did you pick out this tree, and guess the box was crazy tom’s so quick?”

“now, george, don’t be foolish. i came for the fun of it, that’s all. now, didn’t you shoot all the arrows, and didn’t i do all i could to help you? didn’t i work hard digging? why did i know about where crazy tom buried his treasures? why, george, are you losing your wits? come, now, be sensible; and think it’s a great joke.”

george looked full in stephen’s honest face, relented, and said desperately, “well, i suppose it is very funny; but i’ve made an awful fool of myself.”

everything except the big rope was taken home. it was enough for the sage to carry it when in excellent spirits, unruffled temper, and fired with “enthusiasm.” now, his spirits were broken,—for the time only,—his temper was soured, he himself was sore and weary, and the rope was “forgotten.”

the three wended their way homeward in a different frame of mind. steve was so light of heart that he chuckled to himself and his dog, and swung his arms furiously. marmaduke was uneasy about his lessons for the next day; george was glum and miserable, full of bitterness against necromancers, sprites, and crazy toms.

“i’ll never meddle with nonsense again,” he muttered, as he jogged on. “and as for captain kidd——”

from that day, he had another name—the necromancer. it was not much used, however.