Alger Horatio Jr.
Cast Upon the Breakers
CHAPTER XXVIII
A MINISTER’S GOOD FORTUNE
“I have another call to make, Rodney,” said Mr. Pettigrew, as they were on their way back to the hotel, “and I want you to go with me.”
“I shall be glad to accompany you anywhere, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“You remember I told you of the old minister whose church I attended as a boy. He has never received but four hundred dollars a year, yet he has managed to rear a family, but has been obliged to use the strictest economy.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I am going to call on him, and I shall take the opportunity to make him a handsome present. It will surprise him, and I think it will be the first present of any size that he has received in his pastorate of over forty years.
“There he lives!” continued Jefferson, pointing out a very modest cottage on the left hand side of the road.
It needed painting badly, but it looked quite as well as the minister who came to the door in a ragged dressing gown. He was venerable looking, for his hair was quite white, though he was only sixty five years old. But worldly cares which had come upon him from the difficulty of getting along on his scanty salary had whitened his hair and deepened the wrinkles on his kindly face.
“I am glad to see you, Jefferson,” he said, his face lighting up with pleasure. “I heard you were in town and I hoped you wouldn’t fail to call upon me.”
“I was sure to call, for you were always a good friend to me as well as many others.”
“I always looked upon you as one of my boys, Jefferson. I hear that you have been doing well.”
“Yes, Mr. Canfield. I have done better than I have let people know.”
“Have you been to see your uncle? Poor man, he is in trouble.”
“He is no longer in trouble. The mortgage is paid off, and as far as Squire Sheldon is concerned he is independent.”
“Indeed, that is good news,” said the old minister with beaming face. “You must surely have done well if you could furnish money enough to clear the farm. It was over a thousand dollars, wasn’t it?”
“Yes, thirteen hundred. My young friend, Rodney Ropes, and myself managed it between us.”
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Ropes. Come in both of you. Mrs. Canfield will be glad to welcome you.”
They followed him into the sitting room, the floor of which was covered by an old and faded carpet. The furniture was of the plainest description. But it looked pleasant and homelike, and the papers and books that were scattered about made it more attractive to a visitor than many showy city drawing rooms.
“And how are all your children, Mr. Canfield?” asked Jefferson.
“Maria is married to a worthy young man in the next town. Benjamin is employed in a book store, and Austin wants to go to college, but I don’t see any way to send him, poor boy!” and the minister sighed softly.
“Does it cost much to keep a boy in college?”
“Not so much as might be supposed. There are beneficiary funds for deserving students, and then there is teaching to eke out a poor young man’s income, so that I don’t think it would cost over a hundred and fifty dollars a year.”
“That isn’t a large sum.”
“Not in itelf, but you know, Jefferson, my salary is only four hundred dollars a year. It would take nearly half my income, so I think Austin will have to give up his hopes of going to college and follow in his brother’s steps.”
“How old is Austin now?”
“He is eighteen.”
“Is he ready for college?”
“Yes, he could enter at the next commencement but for the financial problem.”
“I never had any taste for college, or study, as you know, Mr. Canfield. It is different with my friend Rodney, who is a Latin and Greek scholar.”
The minister regarded Rodney with new interest.
“Do you think of going to college, Mr. Ropes?” he asked.
“Not at present. I am going back to Montana with Mr. Pettigrew. Perhaps he and I will both go to college next year.”
“Excuse me,” said Jefferson Pettigrew. “Latin and Greek ain’t in my line. I should make a good deal better miner than minister.”
“It is not desirable that all should become ministers or go to college,” said Mr. Canfield. “I suspect from what I know of you, Jefferson, that you judge yourself correctly. How long shall you stay in Burton?”
“I expect to go away tomorrow.”
“Your visit is a brief one.”
“Yes, I intended to stay longer, but I begin to be homesick after the West.”
“Do you expect to make your permanent home there?”
“I can’t tell as to that. For the present I can do better there than here.”
The conversation lasted for some time. Then Jefferson Pettigrew rose to go.
“Won’t you call again, Jefferson?” asked the minister hospitably.
“I shall not have time, but before I go I want to make you a small present,” and he put into the hands of the astonished minister four fifty dollar bills.
“Two hundred dollars!” ejaculated the minister. “Why, I heard you only brought home a few hundred.”
“I prefer to leave that impression. To you I will say that I am worth a great deal more than that.”
“But you mustn’t give me so much. I am sure you are too generous for your own interest. Why, it’s munificent, princely.”
“Don’t be troubled about me. I can spare it. Send your boy to college, and next year I will send you another sum equally large.”
“How can I thank you, Jefferson?” said Mr. Canfield, the tears coming into his eyes. “Never in forty years have I had such a gift.”
“Not even from Squire Sheldon?”
“The squire is not in the habit of bestowing gifts, but he pays a large parish tax. May I—am I at liberty to say from whom I received this liberal donation?”
“Please don’t! You can say that you have had a gift from a friend.”
“You have made me very happy, Jefferson. Your own conscience will reward you.”
Jefferson Pettigrew changed the subject, for it embarrassed him to be thanked.
“That pays me for hard work and privation,” he said to Rodney as they walked back to the tavern. “After all there is a great pleasure in making others happy.”
“Squire Sheldon hadn’t found that out.”
“And he never will.”
On the way they met the gentleman of whom they had been speaking. He bowed stiffly, for he could not feel cordial to those whom had snatched from him the house for which he had been scheming so long.
“Squire Sheldon,” said Jefferson, “you were kind enough to invite Rodney and myself to supper some evening. I am sorry to say that we must decline, as we leave Burton tomorrow.”
“Use your own pleasure, Mr. Pettigrew,” said the squire coldly.
“It doesn’t seem to disappoint the squire very much,” remarked Jefferson, laughing, when the great man of the village had passed on.
“It certainly is no disappointment to me.”
“Nor to me. The little time I have left I can use more pleasantly than in going to see the squire. I have promised to supper at my uncle’s tonight—that is, I have promised for both of us.”
Returning to New York, Jefferson and Rodney set about getting ready for their Western journey. Rodney gave some of his wardrobe to Mike Flynn, and bought some plain suits suitable for his new home.
While walking on Broadway the day before the one fixed for his departure he fell in with Jasper Redwood.
“Have you got a place yet Ropes?” asked Jasper.
“I am not looking for any.”
“How is that?” asked Jasper in some surprise.
“I am going to leave the city.”
“That is a good idea. All cannot succeed in the city. You may find a chance to work on a farm in the country.”
“I didn’t say I was going to the country.”
“Where are you going, then?”
“To Montana.”
“Isn’t that a good way off?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do there?”
“I may go to mining.”
“But how can you afford to go so far?”
“Really, Jasper, you show considerable curiosity about my affairs. I have money enough to buy my ticket, and I think I can find work when I get out there.”
“It seems to me a crazy idea.”
“It might be—for you.”
“And why for me?” asked Jasper suspiciously.
“Because you might not be willing to rough it as I am prepared to do.”
“I guess you are right. I have always been used to living like a gentleman.”
“I hope you will always be able to do so. Now I must bid you good by, as I am busy getting ready for my journey.”
Jasper looked after Rodney, not without perplexity.
“I can’t make out that boy,” he said. “So he is going to be a common miner! Well, that may suit him, but it wouldn’t suit me. There is no chance now of his interfering with me, so I am glad he is going to leave the city.”
CHAPTER XXIX
A MINING TOWN IN MONTANA
The scene changes.
Three weeks later among the miners who were sitting on the narrow veranda of the “Miners’ Rest” in Oreville in Montana we recognize two familiar faces and figures—those of Jefferson Pettigrew and Rodney Ropes. Both were roughly clad, and if Jasper could have seen Rodney he would have turned up his nose in scorn, for Rodney had all the look of a common miner.
It was in Oreville that Mr. Pettigrew had a valuable mining property, on which he employed quite a number of men who preferred certain wages to a compensation depending on the fluctuations of fortune. Rodney was among those employed, but although he was well paid he could not get to like the work. Of this, however, he said nothing to Mr. Pettigrew whose company he enjoyed, and whom he held in high esteem.
On the evening in question Jefferson rose from his seat and signed to Rodney to follow him.
“Well, Rodney, how do you like Montana?” he asked.
“Well enough to be glad I came here,” answered Rodney.
“Still you are not partial to the work of a miner!”
“I can think of other things I would prefer to do.”
“How would you like keeping a hotel?”
“Is there any hotel in search of a manager?” asked Rodney smiling.
“I will explain. Yesterday I bought the ‘Miners’ Rest.’”
“What—the hotel where we board?”
“Exactly. I found that Mr. Bailey, who has made a comfortable sum of money, wants to leave Montana and go East and I bought the hotel.”
“So that hereafter I shall board with you?”
“Not exactly. I propose to put you in charge, and pay you a salary. I can oversee, and give you instructions. How will that suit you?”
“So you think I am competent, Mr. Pettigrew?”
“Yes, I think so. There is a good man cook, and two waiters. The cook will also order supplies and act as steward under you.”
“What then will be my duties?”
“You will act as clerk and cashier, and pay the bills. You will have to look after all the details of management. If there is anything you don’t understand you will have me to back you up, and advise you. What do you say?”
“That I shall like it much better than mining. My only doubt is as to whether I shall suit you.”
“It is true that it takes a smart man to run a hotel, but I think we can do it between us. Now what will you consider a fair salary?”
“I leave that to you, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Then we will call it a hundred and fifty dollars a month and board.”
“But, Mr. Pettigrew,” said Rodney in surprise, “how can I possibly earn that much?”
“You know we charge big prices, and have about fifty steady boarders. I expect to make considerable money after deducting all the expenses of management.”
“My friend Jasper would be very much surprised if he could know the salary I am to receive. In the store I was only paid seven dollars a week.”
“The duties were different. Almost any boy could discharge the duties of an entry clerk while it takes peculiar qualities to run a hotel.”
“I was certainly very fortunate to fall in with you, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“I expect it will turn out fortunate for me too, Rodney.”
“When do you want me to start in?”
“Next Monday morning. It is now Thursday evening. Mr. Bailey will turn over the hotel to me on Saturday night. You needn’t go to the mines tomorrow, but may remain in the hotel, and he will instruct you in the details of management.”
“That will be quite a help to me, and I am at present quite ignorant on the subject.”
Rodney looked forward with pleasure to his new employment. He had good executive talent, though thus far he had had no occasion to exercise it. It was with unusual interest that he set about qualifying himself for his new position.
“Young man,” said the veteran landlord, “I think you’ll do. I thought at first that Jefferson was foolish to put a young boy in my place, but you’ve got a head on your shoulders, you have! I guess you’ll fill the bill.”
“I hope to do so, Mr. Bailey.”
“Jefferson tells me that you understand Latin and Greek?”
“I know something of them.”
“Thats what prejudiced me against you. I hired a college boy once as a clerk and he was the worst failure I ever came across. He seemed to have all kinds of sense except common sense. I reckon he was a smart scholar, and he could have made out the bills for the boarders in Latin or Greek if it had been necessary, but he was that soft that any one could cheat him. Things got so mixed up in the department that I had to turn him adrift in a couple of weeks. I surmised you might be the same sort of a chap. If you were it would be a bad lookout for Jefferson.”
In Oreville Mr. Pettigrew was so well known that nearly everyone called him by his first name. Mr. Pettigrew did not care about this as he had no false pride or artificial dignity.
“Do you consider this hotel a good property, Mr. Bailey?”
“I’ll tell you this much. I started here four years ago, and I’ve made fifty thousand dollars which I shall take back with me to New Hampshire.”
“That certainly is satisfactory.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if you could improve upon it.”
“How does it happen that you sell out such a valuable property, Mr. Bailey? Are you tired of making money?”
“No, but I must tell you that there’s a girl waiting for me at home, an old schoolmate, who will become Mrs. Bailey as soon as possible after I get back. If she would come out here I wouldn’t sell, but she has a mother that she wouldn’t leave, and so I must go to her.”
“That is a good reason, Mr. Bailey.”
“Besides with fifty thousand dollars I can live as well as I want to in New Hampshire, and hold up my head with the best. You will follow my example some day.”
“It will be a long day first, Mr. Bailey, for I am only sixteen.”
On Monday morning the old landlord started for his Eastern home and Rodney took his place. It took him some little time to become familiar with all the details of hotel management, but he spared no pains to insure success. He had some trouble at first with the cook who presumed upon his position and Rodney’s supposed ignorance to run things as he chose.
Rodney complained to Mr. Pettigrew.
“I think I can fix things, Rodney,” he said. “There’s a man working for me who used to be cook in a restaurant in New York. I found out about him quietly, for I wanted to be prepared for emergencies. The next time Gordon act contrary and threatens to leave, tell him he can do as he pleases. Then report to me.”
The next day there came another conflict of authority.
“If you don’t like the way I manage you can get somebody else,” said the cook triumphantly. “Perhaps you’d like to cook the dinner yourself. You’re nothing but a boy, and I don’t see what Jefferson was thinking of to put you in charge.”
“That is his business, Mr. Gordon.”
“I advise you not to interfere with me, for I won’t stand it.”
“Why didn’t you talk in this way to Mr. Bailey?”
“That’s neither here nor there. He wasn’t a boy for one thing.”
“Then you propose to have your own way, Mr. Gordon?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Very well, then you can leave me at the end of this week.”
“What!” exclaimed the cook in profound astonishment. “Are you going crazy?”
“No, I know what I am about.”
“Perhaps you intend to cook yourself.”
“No, I don’t. That would close up the hotel.”
“Look here, young feller, you’re gettin’ too independent! I’ve a great mind to leave you tonight.”
“You can do so if you want to,” said Rodney indifferently.
“Then I will!” retorted Gordon angrily, bringing down his fist upon the table in vigorous emphasis.
Oreville was fifty miles from Helena, and that was the nearest point, as he supposed, where a new cook could be obtained.
After supper Rodney told Jefferson Pettigrew what had happened.
“Have I done right?” he asked.
“Yes; we can’t have any insubordination here. There can’t be two heads of one establishment. Send Gordon to me.”
The cook with a defiant look answered the summons.
“I understand you want to leave, Gordon,” said Jefferson Pettigrew.
“That depends. I ain’t goin’ to have no boy dictatin’ to me.”
“Then you insist upon having your own way without interference.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Very well, I accept your resignation. Do you wish to wait till the end of the week, or to leave tonight?”
“I want to give it up tonight.”
“Very well, go to Rodney and he will pay you what is due you.”
“Are you goin’ to get along without a cook?” inquired Gordon in surprise.
“No.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“I shall employ Parker in your place.”
“What does he know about cookin’?”
“He ran a restaurant in New York for five years, the first part of the time having charge of the cooking. We shan’t suffer even if you do leave us.”
“I think I will stay,” said Gordon in a submissive tone.
“It is too late. You have discharged yourself. You can’t stay here on any terms.”
Gordon left Oreville the next day a sorely disappointed man, for he had received more liberal pay than he was likely to command elsewhere. The young landlord had triumphed.
CHAPTER XXX
THE MYSTERIOUS ROBBERY
At the end of a month Jefferson Pettigrew said: “I’ve been looking over the books, Rodney, and I find the business is better than I expected. How much did I agree to pay you?”
“A hundred and fifty dollars a month, but if you think that it is too much–”
“Too much? Why I am going to advance you to two hundred and fifty.”
“You can’t be in earnest, Mr. Pettigrew?”
“I am entirely so.”
“That is at the rate of three thousand dollars a year!”
“Yes, but you are earning it.”
“You know I am only a boy.”
“That doesn’t make any difference as long as you understand your business.”
“I am very grateful to you, Mr. Pettigrew. My, I can save two hundred dollars a month.”
“Do so, and I will find you a paying investment for the money.”
“What would Jasper say to my luck?” thought Rodney.
Three months passed without any incident worth recording. One afternoon a tall man wearing a high hat and a Prince Albert coat with a paste diamond of large size in his shirt bosom entered the public room of the Miners’ Rest and walking up to the bar prepared to register his name. As he stood with his pen in his hand Rodney recognized him not without amazement.
It was Louis Wheeler—the railroad thief, whom he had last seen in New York.
As for Wheeler he had not taken any notice of the young clerk, not suspecting that it was an old acquaintance who was familiar with his real character.
“Have you just arrived in Montana, Mr. Wheeler?” asked Rodney quietly.
As Rodney had not had an opportunity to examine his signature in the register Wheeler looked up in quiet surprise.
“Do you know me?” he asked.
“Yes; don’t you know me?”
“I’ll be blowed if it isn’t the kid,” ejaculated Wheeler.
“As I run this hotel, I don’t care to be called a kid.”
“All right Mr.–”
“Ropes.”
“Mr. Ropes, you are the most extraordinary boy I ever met.”
“Am I?”
“Who would have thought of your turning up as a Montana landlord.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of it myself four months ago. But what brings you out here?”
“Business,” answered Wheeler in an important tone.
“Are you going to become a miner?”
“I may buy a mine if I find one to suit me.”
“I am glad you seem to be prospering.”
“Can you give me a good room?”
“Yes, but I must ask a week’s advance payment.”
“How much?”
“Twenty five dollars.”
“All right. Here’s the money.”
Louis Wheeler pulled out a well filled wallet and handed over two ten dollar bills and a five.
“Is that satisfactory?” he asked.
“Quite so. You seem better provided with money than when I saw you last.”
“True. I was then in temporary difficulty. But I made a good turn in stocks and I am on my feet again.”
Rodney did not believe a word of this, but as long as Wheeler was able to pay his board he had no good excuse for refusing him accommodation.
“That rascal here!” exclaimed Jefferson, when Rodney informed him of Wheeler’s arrival. “Well, thats beat all! What has brought him out here?”
“Business, he says.”
“It may be the same kind of business that he had with me. He will bear watching.”
“I agree with you, Mr. Pettigrew.”
Louis Wheeler laid himself out to be social and agreeable, and made himself quite popular with the other boarders at the hotel. As Jefferson and Rodney said nothing about him, he was taken at his own valuation, and it was reported that he was a heavy capitalist from Chicago who had come to Montana to buy a mine. This theory received confirmation both from his speech and actions.
On the following day he went about in Oreville and examined the mines. He expressed his opinion freely in regard to what he saw, and priced one that was for sale at fifty thousand dollars.
“I like this mine,” he said, “but I don’t know enough about it to make an offer. If it comes up to my expectations I will try it.”
“He must have been robbing a bank,” observed Jefferson Pettigrew.
Nothing could exceed the cool assurance with which Wheeler greeted Jefferson and recalled their meeting in New York.
“You misjudged me then, Mr. Pettigrew,” he said. “I believe upon my soul you looked upon me as an adventurer—a confidence man.”
“You are not far from the truth, Mr. Wheeler,” answered Jefferson bluntly.
“Well, I forgive you. Our acquaintance was brief and you judged from superficial impressions.”
“Perhaps so, Mr. Wheeler. Have you ever been West before?”
“No.”
“When you came to Oreville had you any idea that I was here?”
“No; if I had probably I should not have struck the town, as I knew that you didn’t have a favorable opinion of me.”
“I can’t make out much of that fellow, Rodney,” said Jefferson. “I can’t understand his object in coming here.”
“He says he wants to buy a mine.”
“That’s all a pretext. He hasn’t money enough to buy a mine or a tenth part of it.”
“He seems to have money.”
“Yes; he may have a few hundred dollars, but mark my words, he hasn’t the slightest intention of buying a mine.”
“He has some object in view.”
“No doubt! What it is is what I want to find out.”
There was another way in which Louis Wheeler made himself popular among the miners of Oreville. He had a violin with him, and in the evening he seated himself on the veranda and played popular tunes.
He had only a smattering in the way of musical training, but the airs he played took better than classical music would have done. Even Jefferson Pettigrew enjoyed listening to “Home, Sweet Home” and “The Last Rose of Summer,” while the miners were captivated by merry dance tunes, which served to enliven them after a long day’s work at the mines.
One day there was a sensation. A man named John O’Donnell came down stairs from his room looking pale and agitated.
“Boys,” he said, “I have been robbed.”
Instantly all eyes were turned upon him.
“Of what have you been robbed, O’Donnell?” asked Jefferson.
“Of two hundred dollars in gold. I was going to send it home to my wife in Connecticut next week.”
“When did you miss it?”
“Just now.”
“Where did you keep it?”
“In a box under my bed.”
“When do you think it was taken?”
“Last night.”
“What makes you think so?”
“I am a sound sleeper, and last night you know was very dark. I awoke with a start, and seemed to hear footsteps. I looked towards the door, and saw a form gliding from the room.”
“Why didn’t you jump out of bed and seize the intruder whoever he was?”
“Because I was not sure but it was all a dream. I think now it was some thief who had just robbed me.”
“I think so too. Could you make out anything of his appearance?”
“I could only see the outlines of his figure. He was a tall man. He must have taken the money from under my bed.”
“Did any one know that you had money concealed there?”
“I don’t think I ever mentioned it.”
“It seems we have a thief among us,” said Jefferson, and almost unconsciously his glance rested on Louis Wheeler who was seated near John O’Donnell, “what do you think, Mr. Wheeler?”
“I think you are right, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Have you any suggestion to make?” asked Jefferson. “Have you by chance lost anything?”
“Not that I am aware of.”
“Is there any one else here who has been robbed?”
No one spoke.
“You asked me if I had any suggestions to make, Mr. Pettigrew,” said Louis Wheeler after a pause. “I have.
“Our worthy friend Mr. O’Donnell has met with a serious loss. I move that we who are his friends make it up to him. Here is my contribution,” and he laid a five dollar bill on the table.
It was a happy suggestion and proved popular. Every one present came forward, and tendered his contributions including Jefferson, who put down twenty five dollars.
Mr. Wheeler gathered up the notes and gold and sweeping them to his hat went forward and tendered them to John O’Donnell.
“Take this money, Mr. O’Donnell,” he said. “It is the free will offering of your friends. I am sure I may say for them, as for myself, that it gives us all pleasure to help a comrade in trouble.”
Louis Wheeler could have done nothing that would have so lifted him in the estimation of the miners.
“And now,” he said, “as our friend is out of his trouble I will play you a few tunes on my violin, and will end the day happily.”
“I can’t make out that fellow, Rodney,” said Jefferson when they were alone. “I believe he is the thief, but he has an immense amount of nerve.”
