Alger Horatio Jr.
Cast Upon the Breakers
CHAPTER XXXIV
RODNEY’S DISCOVERY
There was a good reason for Rodney’s excitement. The walls of the subterranean passage revealed distinct and rich indications of gold. There was a time, and that not long before, when they would have revealed nothing to Rodney, but since his residence at Oreville he had more than once visited the mines and made himself familiar with surface indications of mineral deposit.
He stopped short and scanned attentively the walls of the passage.
“If I am not mistaken,” he said to himself, “this will make one of the richest mines in Montana. But after all what good will it do me? Here am I a prisoner, unable to leave the cave, or communicate with my friends. If Mr. Pettigrew knew what I do he would feel justified in paying the ransom these men want.”
Rodney wondered how these rich deposits had failed to attract the attention of his captors, but he soon settled upon the conclusion that they had no knowledge of mines or mining, and were ignorant of the riches that were almost in their grasp.
“Shall I enlighten them?” he asked himself.
It was a question which he could not immediately answer. He resolved to be guided by circumstances.
In order not to excite suspicion he retraced his steps to the apartment used by his captors as a common sitting room—carefully fixing in his mind the location of the gold ore.
We must now follow the messenger who had gone to Oreville with a letter from Rodney’s captors.
As instructed, he left his horse, or rather Rodney’s, tethered at some distance from the settlement and proceeded on foot to the Miners’ Rest. His strange appearance excited attention and curiosity. Both these feelings would have been magnified had it been known on what errand he came.
“Where can I find Mr. Jefferson Pettigrew?” he asked of a man whom he saw on the veranda.
“At the Griffin Mine,” answered the other, removing the pipe from his mouth.
“Where is that?”
“Over yonder. Are you a miner?”
“No. I know nothing about mines.”
“Then why do you want to see Jefferson? I thought you might want a chance to work in the mine.”
“No; I have other business with him—business of importance,” added the black dwarf emphatically.
“If that is the case I’ll take you to him. I am always glad to be of service to Jefferson.”
“Thank you. He will thank you, too.”
The man walked along with a long, swinging gait which made it difficult for Caesar to keep up with him.
“So you have business with Jefferson?” said the man with the pipe, whose curiosity had been excited.
“Yes.”
“Of what sort?”
“I will tell him,” answered Caesar shortly.
“So its private, is it?”
“Yes. If he wants to tell you he will.”
“That’s fair. Well, come along! Am I walking too fast for you?”
“Your legs are much longer than mine.”
“That’s so. You are a little shrimp. I declare.”
A walk of twenty minutes brought them to the Griffin Mine. Jefferson Pettigrew was standing near, giving directions to a party of miners.
“Jefferson,” said the man with the pipe, “here’s a chap that wants to see you on business of importance. That is, he says it is.”
Jefferson Pettigrew wheeled round and looked at Caesar.
“Well,” he said, “what is it?”
“I have a letter for you, massa.”
“Give it to me.”
Jefferson took the letter and cast his eye over it. As he read it his countenance changed and became stern and severe.
“Do you know what is in this letter?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Come with me.”
He led Caesar to a place out of earshot.
“What fiend’s game is this?” he demanded sternly.
“I can’t tell you, massa; I’m not in it.”
“Who are those men that have written to me?”
“I don’t know their right names. I calls ‘em Massa John and Massa Dick.”
“It seems they have trapped a boy friend of mine, Rodney Ropes. Did you see him?”
“Yes; I gave him a good dinner.”
“That is well. If they should harm a hair of his head I wouldn’t rest till I had called them to account. Where have they got the boy concealed?”
“I couldn’t tell you, massa.”
“You mean, you won’t tell me.”
“Yes. It would be as much as my life is worth.”
“Humph, well! I suppose you must be faithful to your employer. Do you know that these men want me to pay five thousand dollars for the return of the boy?”
“Yes, I heard them talking about it.”
“That is a new kind of rascality. Do they expect you to bring back an answer?”
“Yes, massa.”
“I must think. What will they do to the boy if I don’t give them the money?”
“They might kill him.”
“If they do—but I must have time to think the matter over. Are you expected to go back this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“Can you get back? It must be a good distance.”
“I can get back.”
“Stay here. I will consult some of my friends and see if I can raise the money.”
“Very well, massa.” One of those whom Jefferson called into consultation was the person who had guided Caesar to the Griffin Mine.
Quickly the proprietor of the Miners’ Rest unfolded the situation.
“Now,” he said, “I want two of you to follow this misshapen dwarf, and find out where he comes from. I want to get hold of the scoundrels who sent him to me.”
“I will be one,” said the man with the pipe.
“Very well, Fred.”
“And I will go with Fred,” said a long limbed fellow who had been a Kansas cowboy.
“I accept you, Otto. Go armed, and don’t lose sight of him.”
“Shall you send the money?”
“Not I. I will send a letter that will encourage them to hope for it. I want to gain time.”
“Any instructions, Jefferson?”
“Only this, if you see these men, capture or kill them.”
“All right.”
CHAPTER XXXV
A BLOODY CONFLICT
This was the letter that was handed to Caesar:
I have received your note. I must have time to think, and time perhaps to get hold of the gold. Don’t harm a hair of the boy’s head. If so, I will hunt you to death.
JEFFERSON PETTIGREW.
P.S.—Meet me tomorrow morning at the rocky gorge at the foot of Black Mountain. Ten o’clock.
Caesar took the letter, and bent his steps in the direction of the place where he had tethered his horse. He did not observe that he was followed by two men, who carefully kept him in sight, without attracting attention to themselves.
When Caesar reached the place where he had tethered the horse, he was grievously disappointed at not finding him. One of the miners in roaming about had come upon the animal, and knowing him to be Jefferson Pettigrew’s property, untied him and rode him back to Oreville.
The dwarf threw up his hands in dismay.
“The horse is gone!” he said in his deep bass voice, “and now I must walk back, ten long miles, and get a flogging at the end for losing time. It’s hard luck,” he groaned.
The loss was fortunate for Fred and Otto who would otherwise have found it hard to keep up with the dwarf.
Caesar breathed a deep sigh, and then started on his wearisome journey. Had the ground been even it would have troubled him less, but there was a steep upward grade, and his short legs were soon weary. Not so with his pursuers, both of whom were long limbed and athletic.
We will go back now to the cave and the captors of Rodney. They waited long and impatiently for the return of their messenger. Having no knowledge of the loss of the horse, they could not understand what detained Caesar.
“Do you think the rascal has played us false?” said Roderick.
“He would be afraid to.”
“This man Pettigrew might try to bribe him. It would be cheaper than to pay five thousand dollars.”
“He wouldn’t dare. He knows what would happen to him,” said John grimly.
“Then why should he be so long?”
“That I can’t tell.”
“Suppose we go out to meet him. I begin to feel anxious lest we have trusted him too far.”
“I am with you!”
The two outlaws took the path which led to Oreville, and walked two miles before they discovered Caesar coming towards them at a slow and melancholy gait.
“There he is, and on foot! What does it mean?”
“He will tell us.”
“Here now, you black imp! where is the horse?” demanded Roderick.
“I done lost him, massa.”
“Lost him? You’ll get a flogging for this, unless you bring good news. Did you see Jefferson Pettigrew?”
“Yes, massa.”
“Did he give you any money?”
“No; he gave me this letter.”
Roderick snatched it from his hand, and showed it to John.
“It seems satisfactory,” he said. “Now how did you lose the horse?”
Caesar told him.
“You didn’t fasten him tight.”
“Beg your pardon, massa, but I took good care of that.”
“Well, he’s gone; was probably stolen. That is unfortunate; however you may not have been to blame.”
Luckily for Caesar the letter which he brought was considered satisfactory, and this palliated his fault in losing the horse.
The country was so uneven that the two outlaws did not observe that they were followed, until they came to the entrance of the cave. Then, before opening the door, John looked round and caught sight of Fred and Otto eying them from a little distance.
He instantly took alarm.
“Look,” he said, “we are followed. Look behind you!”
His brother turned and came to the same conclusion.
“Caesar,” said Roderick, “did you ever see those men before?”
“No, massa.”
“They must have followed you from Oreville. Hello, you two!” he added striding towards the miners. “What do you want here?”
Fred and Otto had accomplished their object in ascertaining the place where Rodney was confined, and no longer cared for concealment.
“None of your business!” retorted Fred independently. “The place is as free to us as to you.”
“Are you spies?”
“I don’t intend to answer any of your questions.”
“Clear out of here!” commanded Roderick in a tone of authority.
“Suppose we don’t?”
Roderick was a man of quick temper, and had never been in the habit of curbing it. He was provoked by the independent tone of the speaker, and without pausing to think of the imprudence of his actions, he raised his rifle and pointing at Fred shot him in the left arm.
The two miners were both armed, and were not slow in accepting the challenge. Simultaneously they raised their rifles and fired at the two men. The result was that both fell seriously wounded and Caesar set up a howl of dismay, not so much for his masters as from alarm for himself.
Fred and Otto came forward, and stood looking down upon the outlaws, who were in the agonies of death.
“It was our lives or theirs,” said Fred coolly, for he had been long enough in Montana to become used to scenes of bloodshed.
“Yes,” answered Otto. “I think these two men are the notorious Dixon brothers who are credited with a large number of murders. The country will be well rid of them.”
Roderick turned his glazing eyes upon the tall miner. “I wish I had killed you,” he muttered.
“No doubt you do. It wouldn’t have been your first murder.”
“Don’t kill me, massa!” pleaded Caesar in tones of piteous entreaty.
“I don’t know,” answered Fred. “That depends on yourself. If you obey us strictly we will spare you.”
“Try me, massa!”
“You black hound!” said Roderick hoarsely. “If I were not disabled I’d kill you myself.”
Here was a new danger for poor Caesar, for he knew Roderick’s fierce temper.
“Don’t let him kill me!” he exclaimed, affrighted.
“He shall do you no harm. Will you obey me?”
“Tell me what you want, massa.”
“Is the boy these men captured inside?”
“Yes, massa.”
“Open the cave, then. We want him.”
“Don’t do it,” said Roderick, but Caesar saw at a glance that his old master, of whom he stood in wholesome fear, was unable to harm him, and he proceeded to unlock the door.
“Go and call the boy!” said Fred.
Caesar disappeared within the cavern, and soon emerged with Rodney following him.
“Are you unhurt?” asked Fred anxiously.
“Yes, and overjoyed to see you. How came you here?”
“We followed the nigger from Oreville.”
What happened afterwards Rodney did not need to inquire, for the two outstretched figures, stiffening in death, revealed it to him.
“They are the Dixon brothers, are they not?” asked Fred, turning to Caesar.
“Yes, massa.”
“Then we are entitled to a thousand dollars each for their capture. I have never before shed blood, but I don’t regret ending the career of these scoundrels.”
Half an hour later the two outlaws were dead and Rodney and his friends were on their way back to Oreville.
CHAPTER XXXVI
THE RODNEY MINE
Rodney was received by Jefferson Pettigrew with open arms.
“Welcome home, boy!” he said. “I was very much worried about you.”
“I was rather uneasy about myself,” returned Rodney.
“Well, it’s all over, and all’s well that ends well. You are free and there has been no money paid out. Fred and Otto have done a good thing in ridding the world of the notorious Dixon brothers. They will be well paid, for I understand there is a standing reward of one thousand dollars for each of them dead or alive. I don’t know but you ought to have a share of this, for it was through you that the outlaws were trapped.”
“No, Mr. Pettigrew, they are welcome to the reward. If I am not mistaken I shall make a good deal more out of it than they.”
“What do you mean?”
Upon this Rodney told the story of what he had seen in the cavern.
“When I said I, I meant we, Mr. Pettigrew. I think if the gold there is as plentiful as I think it is we shall do well to commence working it.”
“It is yours, Rodney, by right of first discovery.”
“I prefer that you should share it with me.”
“We will go over tomorrow and make an examination. Was there any one else who seemed to have a claim to the cave except the Dixons?”
“No. The negro, Caesar, will still be there, perhaps.”
“We can easily get rid of him.”
The next day the two friends went over to the cavern. Caesar was still there, but he had an unsettled, restless look, and seemed undecided what to do.
“What are you going to do, Caesar?” asked Pettigrew. “Are you going to stay here?”
“I don’t know, massa. I don’t want to lib here. I’m afraid I’ll see the ghostes of my old massas. But I haven’t got no money.”
“If you had money where would you go?”
“I’d go to Chicago. I used to be a whitewasher, and I reckon I’d get work at my old trade.”
“That’s where you are sensible, Caesar. This is no place for you. Now I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a hundred dollars, and you can go where you like. But I shall want you to go away at once.”
“I’ll go right off, massa,” said Caesar, overjoyed. “I don’t want to come here no more.”
“Have you got anything belonging to you in the cave?”
“No, massa, only a little kit of clothes.”
“Take them and go.”
In fifteen minutes Caesar had bidden farewell to his home, and Rodney and Jefferson were left in sole possession of the cavern.
“Now, Mr. Pettigrew, come and let me show you what I saw. I hope I have made no mistake.”
Rodney led the way to the narrow passage already described. By the light of a lantern Mr. Pettigrew examined the walls. For five minutes not a word was said.
“Well, what do you think of it?” asked Rodney anxiously.
“Only this: that you have hit upon the richest gold deposits in Montana. Here is a mining prospect that will make us both rich.”
“I am glad I was not mistaken,” said Rodney simply.
“Your capture by the Dixon brothers will prove to have been the luckiest event in your life. I shall lose no time in taking possession in our joint name.”
There was great excitement when the discovery of the gold deposit was made known. In connection with the killing of the outlaws, it was noised far and wide. The consequence was that there was an influx of mining men, and within a week Rodney and Jefferson were offered a hundred thousand dollars for a half interest in the mine by a Chicago syndicate.
“Say a hundred and fifty thousand, and we accept the offer,” said Jefferson Pettigrew.
After a little haggling this offer was accepted, and Rodney found himself the possessor of seventy five thousand dollars in cash.
“It was fortunate for me when I fell in with you, Mr. Pettigrew,” he said.
“And no less fortunate for me, Rodney. This mine will bring us in a rich sum for our share, besides the cash we already have in hand.”
“If you don’t object, Mr. Pettigrew, I should like to go to New York and continue my education. You can look after my interest here, and I shall be willing to pay you anything you like for doing so.”
“There won’t be any trouble about that, Rodney. I don’t blame you for wanting to obtain an education. It isn’t in my line. You can come out once a year, and see what progress we are making. The mine will be called the Rodney Mine after you.”
The Miners’ Rest was sold to the steward, as Mr. Pettigrew was too busy to attend to it, and in a week Rodney was on his way to New York.
CHAPTER XXXVII
CONCLUSION
Otis Goodnow arrived at his place of business a little earlier than usual, and set himself to looking over his mail. Among other letters was one written on paper bearing the name of the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He came to this after a time and read it.
It ran thus:
DEAR SIR:
I was once in your employ, though you may not remember my name. I was inthe department of Mr. Redwood, and there I became acquainted with JasperRedwood, his nephew. I was discharged, it is needless to recall why. Ihad saved nothing, and of course I was greatly embarrassed. I could notreadily obtain another place, and in order to secure money to pay livingexpenses I entered into an arrangement with Jasper Redwood to sell mearticles, putting in more than I paid for. These I was enabled to sellat a profit to smaller stores. This was not as profitable as it mighthave been to me, as I was obliged to pay Jasper a commission forhis agency. Well, after a time it was ascertained that articles weremissing, and search was made for the thief. Through a cunningly devisedscheme of Jasper’s the theft was ascribed to Rodney Ropes, a youngerclerk, and he was discharged. Ropes was a fine young fellow, and I havealways been sorry that he got into trouble through our agency, but thereseemed no help for it. It must rest on him or us. He protestedhis innocence, but was not believed. I wish to say now that he wasabsolutely innocent, and only Jasper and myself were to blame. If youdoubt my statement I will call today, and you may confront me withJasper. I desire that justice should be done.
PHILIP CARTON.
“Call Mr. Redwood,” said the merchant, summoning a boy.
In five minutes Mr. Redwood entered the office of his employer.
“You sent for me, sir?”
“Yes, Mr. Redwood; cast your eye over this letter.”
James Redwood read the letter, and his face showed the agitation he felt.
“I don’t know anything about this, Mr. Goodnow,” he said at last.
“It ought to be inquired into.”
“I agree with you. If my nephew is guilty I want to know it.”
“We will wait till the writer of this letter calls. Do you remember him?”
“Yes, sir; he was discharged for intemperance.”
At twelve o’clock Philip Carton made his appearance, and asked to be conducted to Mr. Goodnow’s private office.
“You are the writer of this letter?” asked the merchant.
“Yes sir.”
“And you stand by the statement it contains?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why, at this late day, have you made a confession?”
“Because I wish to do justice to Rodney Ropes, who has been unjustly accused, and also because I have been meanly treated by Jasper Redwood, who has thrown me over now that he has no further use for me.”
“Are you willing to repeat your statement before him?”
“I wish to do so.”
“Call Jasper Redwood, Sherman,” said the merchant, addressing himself to Sherman White, a boy recently taken into his employ.
Jasper entered the office, rather surprised at the summons. When he saw his accomplice, he changed color, and looked confused.
“Jasper,” said the merchant, “read this letter and tell me what you have to say in reply.”
Jasper ran his eye over the letter, while his color came and went.
“Well?”
“It’s a lie,” said Jasper hoarsely.
“Do you still insist that the articles taken from my stock were taken by Rodney Ropes?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What do you say, Mr. Carton?”
“Not one was taken by Rodney Ropes. Jasper and I are responsible for them all.”
“What proof can you bring?”
“Mr. James Redwood will recall the purchase I made at the time of the thefts. He will recall that I always purchased of Jasper.”
“That is true,” said Mr. Redwood in a troubled voice.
“Do you confess, Jasper Redwood?”
“No, sir.”
“If you will tell the truth, I will see that no harm comes to you. I want to clear this matter up.”
Jasper thought the matter over. He saw that the game was up—and decided rapidly that confession was the best policy.
“Very well, sir, if I must I will do so, but that man put me up to it.”
“You did not need any putting up to it. I wish young Ropes were here, that I might clear him.”
As if in answer to the wish a bronzed and manly figure appeared at the office door. It was Rodney, but taller and more robust than when he left the store nearly a year before.
“Rodney Ropes!” ejaculated Jasper in great surprise.
“Yes, Jasper, I came here to see you, and beg you to free me from the false charge which was brought against me when I was discharged from this store. I didn’t find you in your usual places, and was directed here.”
“Ropes,” said Mr. Goodnow, “your innocence has been established. This man,” indicating Philip Carton, “has confessed that it was he and Jasper who stole the missing articles.”
“I am thankful that my character has been cleared.”
“I am ready to take you back into my employ.”
“Thank you, sir, but I have now no need of a position. I shall be glad if you will retain Jasper.”
“You are very generous to one who has done so much to injure you.”
“Indirectly he put me in the way of making a fortune. If you will retain him, Mr. Goodnow, I will guarantee to make up any losses you may incur from him.”
“How is this? Are you able to make this guarantee?”
“I am worth seventy five thousand dollars in money, besides being owner of a large mining property in Montana.”
“This is truly wonderful! And you have accumulated all this since you left my store?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Rodney,” said Jasper, going up to his old rival, and offering his hand. “I am sorry I tried to injure you. It was to save myself, but I see now how meanly I acted.”
“That speech has saved you,” said the merchant. “Go back to your work. I will give you another chance.”
“Will you take me back also, Mr. Goodnow?” asked Philip Carton.
The merchant hesitated.
“No, Mr. Carton,” said Rodney. “I will look out for you. I will send you to Montana with a letter to my partner. You can do better there than here.”
Tears came into the eyes of the ex-clerk.
“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I should prefer it. I will promise to turn over a new leaf; and justify your recommendation.”
“Come to see me this evening at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and I will arrange matters.”
“Shall you stay in the city long, Ropes?” asked the merchant.
“About a week.”
“Come and dine with me on Tuesday evening.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Later in the day Rodney sought out his old room mate Mike Flynn. He found Mike in a bad case. He had a bad cold, but did not dare to give up work, because he wouldn’t be able to meet his bills. He was still in the employ of the District Telegraph Company.
“Give the company notice, Mike,” said Rodney. “Henceforth I will take care of you. You can look upon me as your rich uncle,” he added with a smile.
“I will be your servant, Rodney.”
“Not a bit of it. You will be my friend. But you must obey me implicitly. I am going to send you to school, and give you a chance to learn something. Next week I shall return to Dr. Sampson’s boarding school and you will go with me as my friend and room mate.”
“But, Rodney, you will be ashamed of me. I am awfully shabby.”
“You won’t be long. You shall be as well dressed as I am.”
A week later the two boys reached the school. It would have been hard for any of Mike’s old friends to recognize him in the handsomely dressed boy who accompanied Rodney.
“Really, Mike, you are quite good looking, now that you are well dressed,” said Rodney.
“Oh, go away with you, Rodney? It’s fooling me you are!”
“Not a bit of it. Now I want you to improve your time and learn as fast as you can.”
“I will, Rodney.”
A year later Rodney left school, but he kept Mike there two years longer. There had been a great change in the telegraph boy, who was quick to learn. He expects, when he leaves school, to join Rodney in Montana.
I will not attempt to estimate Rodney’s present wealth, but he is already prominent in financial circles in his adopted State. Philip Carton is prospering, and is respected by his new friends, who know nothing of his earlier life.
As I write, Rodney has received a letter from his old guardian, Benjamin Fielding. The letter came from Montreal.
“My dear Rodney,” he wrote. “I have worked hard to redeem the past, and restore to you your fortune. I have just succeeded, and send you the amount with interest. It leaves me little or nothing, but my mind is relieved. I hope you have not had to suffer severely from my criminal carelessness, and that you will live long to enjoy what rightfully belongs to you.”
In reply Rodney wrote: “Please draw on me for fifty thousand dollars. I do not need it, and you do. Five years from now, if you can spare the money you may send it to me. Till then use it without interest. I am worth much more than the sum my father intrusted to you for me.”
This offer was gratefully accepted, and Mr. Fielding is now in New York, where he is likely to experience a return of his former prosperity.
As for Rodney, his trials are over. They made a man of him, and proved a blessing in disguise.
