Perhaps no one will be able to take in the moral lurking in the following chapters—except, it may be, some atramental old critic, who can discern a “hidden meaning” where no meaning, “hidden” or otherwise, is intended. Our only hope of escape from such critics is that they will consider this story entirely beneath their notice, and so pass it by in silence and contempt.

[150]

Will was sent to his aunt’s. This would have been, perhaps, a wise proceeding, if his aunt had been a severe old maid—but she was not. She was, on the contrary, a loving and cheerful woman, with a mettlesome, rattle-headed, yet resolute, son, Will’s “Cousin Henry.”

Will’s rueful mien excited the compassion of the entire family to such an extent that they did their utmost to divert him. Cousin Henry, with a noble disregard of self, gave up his school for two weeks, and devoted himself wholly to Will’s services. The sequel was, the two were soon sworn bosom-friends, pledged to stand by each other to the close of life.

Now, as this Henry was a hare-brained sort of fellow, permitted to do as he pleased, it may readily be supposed that he and Will were not long in getting into trouble.

“Will, did you see my balloon when you were here last?” Henry asked one day.

“Balloon? No; can you make a balloon?” Will inquired, in some surprise.

“Of course I can. American boys can make or do anything. All we want is some tissue paper for the cover; whalebone or cane for the ribs; a piece of wire; and a piece of cotton batten dipped in alcohol to make the gas.”

“I never heard of such a balloon,” Will replied. “How do you make the gas?”

“Why, just set fire to the batten,—that will be fastened under the mouth of the balloon by a bit of wire, you know,—and that’ll soon make the gas. Then away it goes, like a rocket.”

“I should think it might set something on fire,” said Will.

“Well, let it set. There are fire-engines enough in the town to put it out,” Henry replied, with easy indifference. “But, Will,” he added, “don’t be afraid; I’ve rigged lots of them, and they never set anything on fire yet.”

Ah, Henry! You did not observe that your balloons were generally fabricated so fragilely that it was impossible for them to do any harm!

“Then let us make one!” Will rejoined with alacrity.

The cousins, without delay, repaired to Mrs. Mortimer’s[151] apartments, to look for some of the things required. Henry rummaged in a careless way that quite shocked poor Will, and at last issued from the room, leaving everything in appalling disorder. Next, Mr. Mortimer’s valuables were overhauled, and last of all, the hero’s own.

“Now we’ve found everything we need, Will, even to the tools,” he said. “Let us go to work.”

“Won’t you straighten up things, Henry?” Will ventured to ask.

“Straighten! Creation, no! Don’t you know it’s fall house-cleaning time? I don’t fool away my time in straightening!” with virtuous indignation.

Choosing Henry’s room for a workshop, the two fell to work. Notwithstanding the fact that the science of a?ronautics was entirely new to him, Will suggested so many improvements that Henry was both astonished and delighted.

“We shall have a famous balloon!” he exclaimed.

“Why shouldn’t it be as good as any you ever made?” Will asked mildly.

“Why, yes, of course; why shouldn’t it. I don’t see,” Henry answered, not at all disconcerted.

“Will, would you like to go with me to the Demon’s Cave some day?” he asked abruptly.

“I never heard of the ‘Demon’s Cave.’ Where is it, and what is the Demon?”

“Then I can tell you all about it while we work. The ‘demon,’ Will, isn’t a ‘what’ but a ‘who;’ and a terrible sort of a fellow he is. Everybody around these parts knows all about him; some foolish people are afraid of him, some even pretend that he is a ghost! Some people that ought to know better say he’s an escaped criminal; but,” in a positive tone, “my father always knows what he is talking about, and he says the poor fellow is more or less crazy. He lives in a queer sort of a cave, or hovel, or hole, in a bank of earth. I’ve heard lots of the boys say that there are several rooms inside; but they don’t know; how should they?”

“Did you ever see him?” Will asked eagerly.

“I never got a good look at him, because he stays[152] denned up like a bear in winter; but one night, a long time ago, some of us boys went howling and yelling around his cave, and he came out at us and chased us like a hungry wolf. The boys ran away like velocipedes, and I—I ran too. The demon was as fierce as a humbugged pirate [Henry was fond of comparison], and he caught one boy, and mauled him like a Spanish blood-hound. That was the only time I ever saw the demon; but that was enough for me.”

Will became interested in the man, and he inquired: “What did he look like?”

“Look! How can I tell? I was only a little boy then, or I shouldn’t have ran away. Well, let me think. Will,” suddenly, “did you ever see a correct picture of Satan?”

“No!” Will said, with horror.

“Well, I have, and it wasn’t half so ugly as the demon. That’s enough to say about his looks, isn’t it? And his clothes! Why, Will, they set him off so well that he looked like a shipwrecked Turk, dressed up in a savage’s stolen spoil!”

Will endeavored to grasp the meaning of this, but Henry hurried on.

“Well, Will, at any rate, he lives there all alone, and has for years. Some folks say he has lots of money; and likely they are right, for what else can he live on?”

“Why, does he buy food at the market?” Will asked.

“No; didn’t I tell you that he keeps shut up like a nun in a coffin? They say a friend of his goes there every once in a while with victuals and things; and likely the demon pays him for them. All the boys say that he has a poultry-yard full of hens and chickens somewhere in his cave. I’ve heard, though, that he prowls around at night, and gets his living that way. Very likely a little of both; for he is often seen out in the night. For all you or I know, Will, he may have a chest full of gold, like a hermit in a story-book for little girls.”

“Then it’s a wonder he doesn’t get robbed,” Will observed.

“You’ve hit it, Will!” said Henry. “A whole gang of[153] thieves broke into his cave once, so the story goes, thinking they would carry off his money, if he had any. But the demon was too clever for them. He hid himself in a dark corner, and frightened the robbers nearly to death. They rushed out of the cave like bumble-bees on a holiday.”

“And didn’t they steal anything?”

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