Alger Horatio Jr.
Cast Upon the Breakers
CHAPTER XXII
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP
In his new position Rodney could easily hear the conversation which took place between the Western man and his old railroad acquaintance.
“I am quite a man of leisure,” said Wheeler, “and it will give me great pleasure to go about with you and show you our city.”
“You are very obliging.”
“Oh, don’t mention it. I shall really be glad to have my time occupied. You see I am a man of means—my father left me a fortune—and so I am not engaged in any business.”
“You are in luck. I was brought up on a farm in Vermont, and had to borrow money to take me to Montana four years ago.”
“I hope you prospered in your new home?”
“I did. I picked up twenty five thousand dollars at the mines, and doubled it by investment in lots in Helena.”
“Very neat, indeed. I inherited a fortune from my father—a hundred and twenty five thousand dollars—but I never made a cent myself. I don’t know whether I am smart enough.”
“Come out to Montana and I’ll put you in a way of making some money.”
“Really, now, that suggestion strikes me favorably. I believe I will follow your advice. When shall you return to your Western home?”
“In about a fortnight I think.”
“You must go to the theater tonight. There is a good play on at the Madison Square.”
“I don’t mind. When can I get ticket?”
“I’ll go and secure some. It is only a few blocks away.”
“Do so. How much are the tickets?”
“A dollar and a half or two dollars each.”
“Here are five dollars, if it won’t trouble you too much.”
“My dear friend, I meant to pay for the tickets. However, I will pay next time. If you will remain here I will be back in twenty minutes.”
Louis Wheeler left the hotel with the five dollars tucked away in his vest pocket.
He had no sooner disappeared than Rodney went forward and occupied his seat.
“Excuse me, sir,” he said to the miner, “but do you know much of the man who has just left you?”
“I only met him here. He seems a good natured fellow. What of him?”
“He said he was a man of independent means.”
“Isn’t he?”
“He is a thief and an adventurer.”
The miner was instantly on the alert.
“How do you know this?” he asked.
“Because he stole a box of jewelry from me in the cars some months ago.”
“Did you get it again?”
“Yes; he left the train, but I followed him up and reclaimed the jewelry.”
“Was it of much value?”
“They were family jewels, and were worth over a thousand dollars.”
“Do you think he wants to bunco me?”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“I have given him money to buy theater tickets. Do you think he will come back?”
“Yes. He wouldn’t be satisfied with that small sum.”
“Tell me about your adventure with him.”
“I will do it later. The theater is so near that he might come back and surprise us together. I think he would recognize me.”
“Do you advise me to go to the theater?”
“Yes, but be on your guard.”
“Where can I see you again?”
“Are you staying at this hotel?”
“Yes. Here is my card.”
Rodney read this name on the card:
JEFFERSON PETTRIGREW.
“I wish you were going to the theater with us.”
“It wouldn’t do. Mr. Wheeler would remember me.”
“Then come round and breakfast with me tomorrow—at eight o’clock, sharp.”
“I will, sir. Now I will take a back seat, and leave you to receive your friend.”
“Don’t call him my friend. He seems to be a mean scoundrel.”
“Don’t let him suspect anything from your manner.”
“I won’t. I want to see him expose his plans.” Five minutes afterwards Louis Wheeler entered the hotel.
“I’ve got the tickets,” he said, “but I had to buy them of a speculator, and they cost me more than I expected.”
“How much?”
“Two and a half apiece. So there is no change coming back to you.”
“Never mind! As long as you had enough money to pay for them it is all right.”
As a matter of fact Wheeler bought the tickets at the box office at one dollar and fifty cent each, which left him a profit of two dollars. When he saw how easily the Western man took it he regretted not having represented that the tickets cost three dollars each.
However, he decided that there would be other ways of plundering his new acquaintance. He took his seat again next to the miner.
“It is not very late,” he said. “Would you like a run out to Central Park or to Grant’s Tomb?”
“Not today. I feel rather tired. By the way, you did not mention your name.”
“I haven’t a card with me, but my name is Louis Wheeler.”
“Where do you live, Mr. Wheeler?”
“I am staying with an aunt on Fifth Avenue, but I think of taking board at the Windsor Hotel. It is a very high toned house, and quite a number of my friends board there.”
“Is it an expensive hotel?”
“Oh, yes, but my income is large and–”
“I understand. Now, Mr. Wheeler, I must excuse myself, as I feel tired. Come at half past seven and we can start for the theater together.”
“Very well.”
Wheeler rose reluctantly, for he had intended to secure a dinner from his new acquaintance, but he was wise enough to take the hint.
After he left the room Rodney again joined Mr. Pettigrew.
“He didn’t give me back any change,” said the Western man. “He said he bought the tickets of a speculator at two dollars and a half each.”
“Then he made two dollars out of you.”
“I suppose that is the beginning. Well, that doesn’t worry me. But I should like to know how he expects to get more money out of me. I don’t understand the ways of this gentry.”
“Nor I very well. If you are on your guard I think you won’t be in any danger.”
“I will remember what you say. You seem young to act as adviser to a man like me. Are you in business?”
“At present I am out of work, but I have money enough to last me three months.”
“Are you, like my new acquaintance, possessed of independent means?”
“Not now, but I was six months ago.”
“How did you lose your money?”
“I did not lose it. My guardian lost it for me.”
“What is your name?”
“Rodney Ropes.”
“You’ve had some pretty bad luck. Come up to my room and tell me about it.”
“I shall be glad to do so, sir.”
Mr. Pettigrew called for his key and led the way up to a plain room on the third floor.
“Come in,” he said. “The room is small, but I guess it will hold us both. Now go ahead with your story.”
In a short time Rodney had told his story in full to his new acquaintance, encouraged to do so by his sympathetic manner. Mr. Pettigrew was quite indignant, when told of Jasper’s mean and treacherous conduct.
“That boy Jasper is a snake in the grass,” he said. “I’d like to give him a good thrashing.”
“There isn’t any love lost between us, Mr. Pettigrew, but I think it will turn out right in the end. Still I find it hard to get a place in New York with him circulating stories about me.”
“Then why do you stay in New York?”
“I have thought it might be better to go to Philadelphia or Boston.”
“I can tell you of a better place than either.”
“What is that?”
“Montana.”
“Do you really think it would be wise for me to go there?”
“Think? I haven’t a doubt about it.”
“I have money enough to get there, but not much more. I should soon have to find work, or I might get stranded.”
“Come back with me, and I’ll see you through. I’ll make a bargain with you. Go round with me here, and I’ll pay your fare out to Montana.”
“If you are really in earnest I will do so, and thank you for the offer.”
“Jefferson Pettigrew means what he says. I’ll see you through, Rodney.”
“But I may be interfering with your other friend, Louis Wheeler.”
“I shall soon be through with him. You needn’t worry yourself about that.”
Mr. Pettigrew insisted upon Rodney’s taking supper with him. Fifteen minutes after Rodney left him Mr. Wheeler made his appearance.
CHAPTER XXIII
MR. WHEELER HAS A SET BACK
Louis Wheeler had not seen Rodney in the hotel office, and probably would not have recognized him if he had, as Rodney was quite differently dressed from the time of their first meeting. He had no reason to suppose, therefore, that Mr. Pettigrew had been enlightened as to his real character.
It was therefore with his usual confidence that he accosted his acquaintance from Montana after supper.
“It is time to go to the theater, Mr. Pettigrew,” he said.
Jefferson Pettigrew scanned his new acquaintance with interest. He had never before met a man of his type and he looked upon him as a curiosity.
He was shrewd, however, and did not propose to let Wheeler know that he understood his character. He resolved for the present to play the part of the bluff and unsuspecting country visitor.
“You are very kind, Mr. Wheeler,” he said, “to take so much trouble for a stranger.”
“My dear sir,” said Wheeler effusively, “I wouldn’t do it for many persons, but I have taken a fancy to you.”
“You don’t mean so?” said Pettigrew, appearing pleased?
“Yes, I do, on my honor.”
“But I don’t see why you should. You are a polished city gentleman and I am an ignorant miner from Montana.”
Louis Wheeler looked complacent when he was referred to as a polished city gentleman.
“You do yourself injustice, my dear Pettigrew,” he said in a patronizing manner. “You do indeed. You may not be polished, but you are certainly smart, as you have shown by accumulating a fortune.”
“But I am not as rich as you.”
“Perhaps not, but if I should lose my money, I could not make another fortune, while I am sure you could. Don’t you think it would be a good plan for us to start a business together in New York?”
“Would you really be willing to go into business with me?”
Jefferson Pettigrew asked this question with so much apparent sincerity that Wheeler was completely deceived.
“I’ve got him dead!” he soliloquized complacently.
He hooked his arm affectionately in the Montana miner’s and said, “My dear friend, I have never met a man with whom I would rather be associated in business than with you. How much capital could you contribute?”
“I will think it over, Mr. Wheeler. By the way what business do you propose that we shall go into?”
“I will think it over and report to you.”
By this time they had reached the theater. The play soon commenced. Mr. Pettigrew enjoyed it highly, for he had not had much opportunity at the West of attending a high class theatrical performance.
When the play ended, Louis Wheeler said, “Suppose we go to Delmonico’s and have a little refreshment.”
“Very well.”
They adjourned to the well known restaurant, and Mr. Pettigrew ordered an ice and some cakes, but his companion made a hearty supper. When the bill came, Louis Wheeler let it lie on the table, but Mr. Pettigrew did not appear to see it.
“I wonder if he expects me to pay for it,” Wheeler asked himself anxiously.
“Thank you for this pleasant little supper,” said Pettigrew mischievously. “Delmonico’s is certainly a fine place.”
Wheeler changed color. He glanced at the check. It was for two dollars and seventy five cents, and this represented a larger sum than he possessed.
He took the check and led the way to the cashier’s desk. Then he examined his pockets.
“By Jove,” he said, “I left my wallet in my other coat. May I borrow five dollars till tomorrow?”
Jefferson Pettigrew eyed him shrewdly. “Never mind,” he said, “I will pay the check.”
“I am very much ashamed of having put you to this expense.”
“If that is all you have to be ashamed of Mr. Wheeler,” said the miner pointedly, “you can rest easy.”
“What do you mean?” stammered Wheeler.
“Wait till we get into the street, and I will tell you.”
They went out at the Broadway entrance, and then Mr. Pettigrew turned to his new acquaintance.
“I think I will bid you good night and good by at the same time, Mr. Wheeler,” he said.
“My dear sir, I hoped you won’t misjudge me on account of my unfortunately leaving my money at home.”
“I only wish to tell you that I have not been taken in by your plausible statement, Mr. Wheeler, if that is really your name. Before we started for the theater I had gauged you and taken your measure.”
“Sir, I hope you don’t mean to insult me!” blustered Wheeler.
“Not at all. You have been mistaken in me, but I am not mistaken in you. I judge you to be a gentlemanly adventurer, ready to take advantage of any who have money and are foolish enough to be gulled by your tricks. You are welcome to the profit you made out of the theater tickets, also to the little supper to which you have done so much justice. I must request you, now, however, to devote yourself to some one else, as I do not care to meet you again.”
Louis Wheeler slunk away, deciding that he had made a great mistake in setting down his Montana acquaintance as an easy victim.
“I didn’t think he’d get on to my little game so quick,” he reflected. “He’s sharper than he looks.”
Rodney took breakfast with Mr. Pettigrew the next morning. When breakfast was over, the Montana man said:
“I’m going to make a proposal to you, Rodney. How much pay did you get at your last place?”
“Seven dollars a week.”
“I’ll pay you that and give you your meals. In return I want you to keep me company and go about with me.”
“I shall not be apt to refuse such an offer as that, Mr. Pettigrew, but are you sure you prefer me to Mr. Wheeler?” laughed Rodney.
“Wheeler be—blessed!” returned the miner.
“How long are you going to stay in New York?”
“About two weeks. Then I shall go back to Montana and take you with me.”
“Thank you. There is nothing I should like better.”
Two days later, as the two were walking along Broadway, they met Mr. Wheeler. The latter instantly recognized his friend from Montana, and scrutinized closely his young companion.
Rodney’s face looked strangely familiar to him, but somehow he could not recollect when or under what circumstances he had met him. He did not, however, like to give up his intended victim, but had the effrontery to address the man from Montana.
“I hope you are well, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Thank you, I am very well.”
“I hope you are enjoying yourself. I should be glad to show you the sights. Have you been to Grants Tomb?”
“Not yet.”
“I should like to take you there.”
“Thank you, but I have a competent guide.”
“Won’t you introduce me to the young gentleman?”
“I don’t require any introduction to you, Mr. Wheeler,” said Rodney.
“Where have I met you before?” asked Wheeler abruptly.
“In the cars. I had a box of jewelry with me,” answered Rodney significantly.
Louis Wheeler changed color. Now he remembered Rodney, and he was satisfied that he owed to him the coolness with which the Western man had treated him.
“I remember you had,” he said spitefully, “but I don’t know how you came by it.”
“It isn’t necessary that you should know. I remember I had considerable difficulty in getting it out of your hands.”
“Mr. Pettigrew,” said Wheeler angrily, “I feel interested in you, and I want to warn you against the boy who is with you. He is a dangerous companion.”
“I dare say you are right,” said Pettigrew in a quizzical tone. “I shall look after him sharply, and I thank you for your kind and considerate warning. I don’t care to take up any more of your valuable time. Rodney, let us be going.”
“It must have been the kid that exposed me,” muttered Wheeler, as he watched the two go down the street. “I will get even with him some time. That man would have been good for a thousand dollars to me if I had not been interfered with.”
“You have been warned against me, Mr. Pettigrew,” said Rodney, laughing. “Mr. Wheeler has really been very unkind in interfering with my plans.”
“I shan’t borrow any trouble, or lie awake nights thinking about it, Rodney. I don’t care to see or think of that rascal again.”
The week passed, and the arrangement between Mr. Pettigrew and Rodney continued to their mutual satisfaction. One morning, when Rodney came to the Continental as usual, his new friend said: “I received a letter last evening from my old home in Vermont.”
“I hope it contained good news.”
“On the contrary it contained bad news. My parents are dead, but I have an old uncle and aunt living. When I left Burton he was comfortably fixed, with a small farm of his own, and two thousand dollars in bank. Now I hear that he is in trouble. He has lost money, and a knavish neighbor has threatened to foreclose a mortgage on the farm and turn out the old people to die or go to the poorhouse.”
“Is the mortgage a large one?”
“It is much less than the value of the farm, but ready money is scarce in the town, and that old Sheldon calculates upon. Now I think of going to Burton to look up the matter.”
“You must save your uncle, if you can, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“I can and I will. I shall start for Boston this afternoon by the Fall River boat and I want you to go with me.”
“I should enjoy the journey, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Then it is settled. Go home and pack your gripsack. You may be gone three or four days.”
CHAPTER XXIV
A CHANGE OF SCENE
“Now,” said Mr. Pettigrew, when they were sitting side by side on the upper deck of the Puritan, the magnificent steamer on the Fall River line. “I want you to consent to a little plan that will mystify my old friends and neighbors.”
“What is it, Mr. Pettigrew?”
“I have never written home about my good fortune; so far as they know I am no better off than when I went away.”
“I don’t think I could have concealed my success.”
“It may seem strange, but I’ll explain—I want to learn who are my friends and who are not. I am afraid I wasn’t very highly thought of when I left Burton. I was considered rather shiftless.
“I was always in for a good time, and never saved a cent. Everybody predicted that I would fail, and I expect most wanted me to fail. There were two or three, including my uncle, aunt and the friend who lent me money, who wished me well.
“I mustn’t forget to mention the old minister who baptized me when I was an infant. The good old man has been preaching thirty or forty years on a salary of four hundred dollars, and has had to run a small farm to make both ends meet. He believed in me and gave me good advice. Outside of these I don’t remember any one who felt an interest in Jefferson Pettigrew.”
“You will have the satisfaction of letting them see that they did not do you justice.”
“Yes, but I may not tell them—that is none except my true friends. If I did, they would hover round me and want to borrow money, or get me to take them out West with me. So I have hit upon a plan. I shall want to use money, but I will pretend it is yours.”
Rodney opened his eyes in surprise.
“I will pass you off as a rich friend from New York, who feels an interest in me and is willing to help me.”
Rodney smiled.
“I don’t know if I can look the character,” he said.
“Oh yes you can. You are nicely dressed, while I am hardly any better dressed than when I left Burton.”
“I have wondered why you didn’t buy some new clothes when you were able to afford it.”
“You see we Western miners don’t care much for style, perhaps not enough. Still I probably shall buy a suit or two, but not till I have made my visit home. I want to see how people will receive me, when they think I haven’t got much money. I shall own up to about five hundred dollars, but that isn’t enough to dazzle people even in a small country village.”
“I am wiling to help you in any way you wish, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Then I think we shall get some amusement out of it. I shall represent you as worth about a hundred thousand dollars.”
“I wish I were.”
“Very likely you will be some time if you go out to Montana with me.”
“How large a place is Burton?”
“It has not quite a thousand inhabitants. It is set among the hills, and has but one rich man, Lemuel Sheldon, who is worth perhaps fifty thousand dollars, but put on the airs of a millionaire.”
“You are as rich as he, then.”
“Yes, and shall soon be richer. However, I don’t want him to know it. It is he who holds the mortgage on my uncle’s farm.”
“Do you know how large the mortgage is?”
“It is twelve hundred dollars. I shall borrow the money of you to pay it.”
“I understand,” said Rodney, smiling.
“I shall enjoy the way the old man will look down upon me very much as a millionaire looks down upon a town pauper.”
“How will he look upon me?”
“He will be very polite to you, for he will think you richer than himself.”
“On the whole, we are going to act a comedy, Mr. Pettigrew. What is the name of the man who lent you money to go to Montana?”
“A young carpenter, Frank Dobson. He lent me a hundred dollars, which was about all the money he had saved up.”
“He was a true friend.”
“You are right. He was. Everybody told Frank that he would never see his money again, but he did. As soon as I could get together enough to repay him I sent it on, though I remember it left me with less than ten dollars in my pocket.
“I couldn’t bear to think that Frank would lose anything by me. You see we were chums at school and always stood by each other. He is married and has two children.”
“While you are an old bachelor.”
“Yes; I ain’t in a hurry to travel in double harness. I’ll wait till I am ready to leave Montana, with money enough to live handsomely at home.”
“You have got enough now.”
“But I may as well get more. I am only thirty years old, and I can afford to work a few years longer.”
“I wish I could be sure of being worth fifty thousand dollars when I am your age.”
“You have been worth that, you tell me.”
“Yes, but I should value more money that I had made myself.”
Above five o’clock on Monday afternoon Mr. Pettigrew and Rodney reached Burton. It was a small village about four miles from the nearest railway station. An old fashioned Concord stage connected Burton with the railway. The driver was on the platform looking out for passengers when Jefferson Pettigrew stepped out of the car.
“How are you, Hector?” said the miner, in an off hand way.
“Why, bless my soul if it isn’t Jeff!” exclaimed the driver, who had been an old schoolmate of Mr. Pettigrew’s.
“I reckon it is,” said the miner, his face lighting up with the satisfaction he felt at seeing a home face.
“Why, you ain’t changed a mite, Jeff. You look just as you did when you went away. How long have you been gone?”
“Four years!”
“Made a fortune? But you don’t look like it. That’s the same suit you wore when you went away, isn’t it?”
Mr. Pettigrew laughed.
“Well no, it isn’t the same, but it’s one of the same kind.”
“I thought maybe you’d come home in a dress suit.”
“It isn’t so easy to make a fortune, Hector.”
“But you have made something, ain’t you?”
“Oh, yes, when I went away I hadn’t a cent except what I borrowed. Now I’ve got five hundred dollars.”
“That ain’t much.”
“No, but it’s better than nothing. How much more have you got, Hector?”
“Well, you see I married last year. I haven’t had a chance to lay by.”
“So you see I did as well as if I had stayed at home.”
“Are you going to stay home now?”
“For a little while. I may go back to Montana after a bit.”
“Is it a good place to make money?”
“I made five hundred dollars.”
“Thats only a little more than a hundred dollars a year. Frank Dobson has saved as much as that and he’s stayed right here in Burton.”
“I’m glad of that,” said Pettigrew heartily. “Frank is a rousing good fellow. If it hadn’t been for him I couldn’t have gone to Montana.”
“It doesn’t seem to have done you much good, as I can see.”
“Oh, well, I am satisfied. Let me introduce my friend, Mr. Rodney Ropes of New York.”
“Glad to meet you,” said Hector with a jerk of the head.
“Rodney, won’t you sit inside? I want to sit outide with Hector.”
“All right, Mr. Pettigrew.”
“Who is that boy?” asked Hector with characteristic Yankee curiosity, as he seized the lines and started the horses.
“A rich young fellow from New York. I got acquainted with him there.”
“Rich is he?” Jefferson Pettigrew nodded.
“How rich do you think?”
“Shouldn’t wonder if he might be worth a hundred thousand.”
“You don’t say! Why, he beat Squire Sheldon.”
“Oh, yes, Squire Sheldon wouldn’t be considered rich in New York.”
“How did he get his money?”
“His father left him a fortune.”
“Is that so? I wish my father had left me a fortune.”
“He did, didn’t he?”
“Yes, he did! When his estate was settled I got seventy five dollars, if you call that a fortune. But I say, what brings the boy to Burton?”
“His friendship for me, I expect. Besides he may invest in a place.”
“There’s the old Morse place for sale. Do you think he’d buy that?”
“It wouldn’t be nice enough for him. I don’t know any place that would be good enough except the squire’s.”
“The squire wouldn’t sell.”
“Oh, well, I don’t know as Rodney would care to locate in Burton.”
“You’re in luck to get such a friend. Say, do you think he would lend you a hundred dollars if you were hard up?”
“I know he would. By the way, Hector, is there any news? How is my uncle?”
“I think the old man is worrying on account of his mortgage.”
“Who holds it?”
“The squire. They do say he is goin’ to foreclose. That’ll be bad for the old man. It’ll nigh about break his heart I expect.”
“Can’t uncle raise the money to pay him?”
“Who is there round here who has got any money except the squire?”
“That’s so.”
“Where are you goin’ to stop, Jeff?”
“I guess I’ll stop at the tavern tonight, but I’ll go over and call on uncle this evening.”
