Jack's Ward; Or, The Boy Guardian by Jr. Horatio Alger (adventure books to read .txt) 📕

"All right," said Jack, in a tone of satisfaction.

Peg went out, closing the door after her. She, at the same time, softly slipped a bolt which had been placed upon the outside. Then hastening downstairs she found the proprietor of the house, a little old man with a shrewd, twinkling eye, and a long, aquiline nose.

"I have brought you a boarder," she said.

"Who is it?"

"A lad, who is likely to interfere in our plans. You may keep him in confinement for the present."

"Very good. Is he likely to make a fuss?"

"I should think it very likely. He is high-spirited and impetuous, but you know how to manage him."

"Oh, yes," nodded the old man.

"You can think of some pretext for keeping him."

"Suppose I tell him he's in a madhouse?" said the old man, laughing, and thereby showing some yellow fangs, which by no means improved his appearance.

"Just the thing! It'll frighten him."

There was a little further conversation in a low tone, and then Peg went away.

"Fairly trapped, my young bird!" she thought to herself. "I think that will put a stop to your troublesome appearance for the present."

Meanwhile Jack, wholly unsuspicious that any trick had been played upon him, seated himself in a rocking-chair and waited impatiently for the coming of Ida, whom he was resolved to carry back to New York.

Impelled by a natural curiosity, he examined attentively the room in which he was seated. There was a plain carpet on the floor, and the other furniture was that of an ordinary bed chamber. The most conspicuous ornament was a large full-length portrait against the side of the wall. It represented an unknown man, not particularly striking in his appearance. There was, besides, a small table with two or three books upon it.

Jack waited patiently for twenty minutes.

"Perhaps Ida may be out," he reflected. "Still, even if she is, Mrs. Hardwick ought to come and let me know. It's dull work staying here alone."

Another fifteen minutes passed, and still no Ida appeared.

"This is rather singular," thought Jack. "She can't have told Ida I am here, or I am sure she would rush up at once to see her brother Jack."

At length, tired of waiting, Jack walked to the door and attempted to open it.

There was a greater resistance than he anticipated.

"Good heavens!" thought Jack, in consternation, as the real state of the case flashed upon him, "is it possible that I am locked in?"

He employed all his strength, but the door still resisted. He could no longer doubt that it was locked.

He rushed to the windows. They were two in number, and looked out upon a yard in the rear of the house. There was no hope of drawing the attention of passersby to his situation.

Confounded by this discovery, Jack sank into his chair in no very enviable state of mind.

"Well," thought he, "this is a pretty situation for me to be in. I wonder what father would say if he knew that I had managed to get locked up like this? I am ashamed to think I let that treacherous woman, Mrs. Hardwick, lead me so quietly into a snare. Aunt Rachel was about right when she said I wasn't fit to come alone. I hope she'll never find out about this adventure of mine. If she did, I should never hear the last of it."

Time passed. Every hour seemed to poor Jack to contain at least double the number of minutes. Moreover, he was getting hungry.

A horrible suspicion flashed across his mind.

"The wretches can't mean to starve me, can they?" he asked himself. Despite his constitutional courage he could not help shuddering at the idea.

He was unexpectedly answered by the opening of the door, and the appearance of the old man.

"Are you getting hungry, my dear sir?" he inquired, with a disagreeable smile upon his features.

"Why am I confined here?" demanded Jack, angrily.

"Why are you confined? Really, one would think you didn't find your quarters comfortable."

"I am so far from finding them agreeable, that I insist upon leaving them immediately," returned Jack.

"Then all you have got to do is to walk through that door."

"You have locked it."

"Why, so I have," said the old man, with a leer.

"I insist upon your opening it."

"I shall do so when I get ready to go out, myself."

"I shall go with you."

"I think not."

"Who's to prevent me?" said Jack, defiantly.

"Who's to prevent you?"

"Yes; you'd better not attempt it. I should be sorry to hurt you, but I mean to go out. If you attempt to stop me, you must take the consequences."

"I am afraid you are a violent young man. But I've got a man who is a match for two like you."

The old man opened the door.

"Samuel, show yourself," he said.

A brawny negro, six feet in height, and evidently very powerful, came to the entrance.

"If this young man attempts to escape, Samuel, what will you do?"

"Tie him hand and foot," answered the negro.

"That'll do, Samuel. Stay where you are."

He closed the door and looked triumphantly at our hero.

Jack threw himself sullenly into a chair.

"Where is the woman that brought me here?" he asked.

"Peg? Oh, she couldn't stay. She had important business to transact, my young friend, and so she has gone. She commended you to our particular attention, and you will be just as well treated as if she were here."

This assurance was not calculated to comfort Jack.

"How long are you going