The Great Oakdale Mystery. Scott Morgan

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СКАЧАТЬ What sort of reasons could you have, unless – ”

      “It might be the case, you know, that I had had trouble with my former employer. Perhaps,” he went on hastily, “we quarreled over something for which I was not at all to blame, and that quarrel led to my leaving without giving due notice. You see, that would deprive me of references and would make it impossible for me to hope for any benefit by stating where and for whom I had worked.”

      “Yes, I see,” nodded Hooker slowly. “That would put you in bad. In such a case, unless someone was in great need of a man, I doubt if you could find employment.”

      The stranger made a quick gesture with one hand.

      “There you are,” he said; “or rather, there I am. Until you get up against it yourself, you’ll not be able to understand such a predicament, and I hope you’ll never have the misfortune to face such a situation.”

      Now Hooker had been led to believe that the misfortunes which usually befall a person, barring ill health, were almost always the result of incompetence, carelessness or dishonesty, and the fact that this stranger was wholly indisposed to make known his past history led the boy to regard him with doubt and suspicion. Perhaps the man understood something of what was passing in Roy’s mind, for suddenly he said:

      “You can see how it is; even you would hesitate about giving me work. That’s the way with everybody. They demand to know a person’s past; they want to pry into his private affairs. But I tell you,” he added, a trifle bitterly, “I feel that it’s none of their business, and I resent their impertinence. The man who gives me a job at which I can earn an honest living will find me ready to do my work, and do it well. Why should he insist on probing private matters concerning me, any more than I should demand to know about his personal history? In fact, in many cases it would be to the advantage of the laborer if his employer were compelled to lay bare such secrets. A great many would be shown up as grinders of the poor, bloodsuckers living and growing fat upon the life-toll of others, unfeeling despots paying their workmen a mere pittance while they piled up riches by what those workmen produced. And some would be branded as dishonest rascals from whom their neighbors would shrink in abhorrence.”

      “Jingoes!” exclaimed Hooker, fancying himself enlightened by the vehement words of the stranger. “I guess I know what’s the matter with you. You must be a Socialist.”

      The man laughed. “That’s the usual term applied in these days to those who have courage enough to question the honesty and fair dealing of a certain greedy, selfish brand of employers. But I’m not claiming that all employers are of that sort. If they were, conditions in this country would be desperate indeed. But what’s the use in talking to you of such things; you’re simply a boy, and at your age problems of that nature had never troubled me for a moment. At your age,” he continued, something like a dreamy look of sadness creeping into his blue eyes, “I was as carefree and thoughtless as you are to-day. I’d give a great deal if it were possible for me to go back to that time.”

      This statement served to convince Hooker that the stranger was carrying a secret locked in his heart, and that the secret was one which gave him no small amount of regret and remorse. Otherwise, why should a man in the very prime of his youth and vigor, a time to which Roy looked forward with eager anticipation, desire to blot out a portion of his life that he might return to the days of his boyhood?

      The sad and dreamy look was gone in a moment, and the stranger asked:

      “Have you lived long in Oakdale?”

      “Brought up there,” answered Hooker.

      “Then I presume you know nearly everyone in town?”

      “Sure. In a little place like that everybody knows everybody else.”

      The man’s next question gave the lad a start: “Do you know any people by the name of Sage?”

      “What? Sage? I should say so!”

      “Ah!” breathed the man. “There is a family by that name in Oakdale?”

      “Yes.”

      “How long have they been there?”

      “Let me see. About three years, I think.”

      “Where did they come from? Do you know?”

      “Not exactly, though I believe they came from somewhere in New York State. Why, Fred Sage is my chum.”

      “Oh, is he?” The stranger’s eyes were now bright with interest and his manner eager.

      “You bet he is,” nodded Roy. “He’s a fine chap, too. We’re gunning together to-day. He’s the fellow I spoke of. I left him back yonder with his dog. Do you know the Sages? If you do, perhaps they might give you a recommendation that would help you get work.”

      At this moment the report of a gun, only a short distance away, rang through the woods.

      “That’s Fred – that’s him now,” cried Hooker. “I’ll bet he bagged that old biddy.” Then he lifted his voice and shouted: “Hey, Fred! Here I am, out in the road. Did you get anything?”

      “I didn’t miss that time,” came back the triumphant answer. “It’s a partridge.”

      “The one I was after, I reckon,” said Roy, with a touch of chagrin. “She must have run on the ground so that I lost track of her. Here comes Fred now.”

      There was a sound of someone pushing through the underbrush, and Roy, facing the woods, waited for his chum to appear. In a few moments, followed by the dog, Sage came out of the woods, triumphantly holding aloft a dead partridge.

      “The other one fooled me and I lost her,” he said; “but I got a good open chance at this old biddy. She didn’t get away.”

      “She got away from me,” said Roy. “I’m sure that’s the one I chased, but she gave me the slip all right. I was so hot after her that I came near shooting – ”

      He stopped abruptly, his mouth open as he looked around for the mysterious stranger. To his astonishment, the man had disappeared.

      CHAPTER III.

      THE HOME OF THE SAGES

      “Well, what do you know about that?” muttered Hooker wonderingly. “He’s gone.”

      “Who?” questioned Fred, reaching the road.

      “The man – the man I was talking with. He was sitting right here on this stone when I came sneaking down through the woods, and I almost shot his head off. He rose up into view just in time. Where the dickens has he gone?”

      In both directions a strip of road lay in plain view, but, save themselves, there was no human being to be seen upon it.

      “When did he go?” questioned Sage.

      “After you fired; while I was watching for you to come out of the woods. He was right here within five feet of me. I can’t understand how he got away so quickly without my knowing it. He must have put off into the woods on the other side.”

      “What made him do that?”

      “You’ve got me. He was a stranger around these parts, and said he was looking for work. There was something queer about him, СКАЧАТЬ