Alger Horatio Jr.
Struggling Upward, or Luke Larkin's Luck
CHAPTER XXXIII
TWO UNEXPECTED CHAMPIONS
It may well be imagined that there was a commotion among the passengers when this stern summons was heard. The highwaymen were but two in number, but each was armed with a revolver, ready for instant use.
One by one the passengers descended from the stage, and stood trembling and panic-stricken in the presence of the masked robbers. There seems to be something in a mask which inspires added terror, though it makes the wearers neither stronger nor more effective.
Luke certainly felt startled and uncomfortable, for he felt that he must surrender the money he had with him, and this would be inconvenient, though the loss would not be his, but his employer's.
But, singularly enough, the passenger who seemed most nervous and terrified was the stalwart Colonel Braddon, who had boasted most noisily of what he would do in case the stage were attacked. He nervously felt in his pockets for his money, his face pale and ashen, and said, imploringly: "Spare my life, gentlemen; I will give you all I have."
"All right, old man," said one of the stage robbers, as he took the proffered pocketbook. "Haven't you any more money?"
"No; on my honor, gentlemen. It will leave me penniless."
"Hand over your watch."
With a groan, Colonel Braddon handed over a gold stem-winder, of Waltham make.
"Couldn't you leave me the watch, gentlemen?" he said, imploringly.
"It was a present to me last Christmas."
"Can't spare it. Make your friends give you another."
Next came the turn of Mortimer Sprague, the young dude.
"Hand over your spondulics, young feller," said the second gentleman of the road.
"Weally, I'm afraid I can't, without a good deal of twouble."
"Oh, curse the trouble; do as I bid, or I'll break your silly head."
"You see, gentlemen, I keep my money in my boots, don't you know."
"Take off your boots, then, and be quick about it."
"I can't; that is, without help. They're awfully tight, don't you know."
"Which boot is your money in?" asked the road agent, impatiently.
"The right boot."
"Hold it up, then, and I'll help you."
The road agent stooped over, not suspecting any danger, and in doing so laid down his revolver.
In a flash Mortimer Sprague electrified not only his assailants, but all the stage passengers, by producing a couple of revolvers, which he pointed at the two road agents, and in a stern voice, wholly unlike the affected tones in which he had hitherto spoken, said: "Get out of here, you ruffians, or I'll fire!"
The startled road agent tried to pick up his revolver, but Sprague instantly put his foot on it, and repeated the command.
The other road agent, who was occupied with the minister, turned to assist his comrade, when he, too, received a check from an unexpected source.
The minister, who was an old man, had a stout staff, which he used to guide him in his steps. He raised it and brought it down with emphasis on the arm which held the revolver, exclaiming. "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon! I smite thee, thou bold, bad man, not in anger, but as an instrument of retribution."
"Well done, reverend doctor!" exclaimed Mortimer Sprague. "Between us we will lay the rascals out!"
Luke, who was close at hand, secured the fallen revolver be fore the road agent's arm had got over tingling with the paralyzing blow dealt by the minister, who, in spite of his advanced age, possessed a muscular arm.
"Now git, you two!" exclaimed Mortimer Sprague. "Git, if you want to escape with whole bones!"
Never, perhaps, did two road agents look more foolish than these who had suffered such a sudden and humiliating discomfiture from those among the passengers whom they had feared least.
The young dude and the old missionary had done battle for the entire stage-load of passengers, and vanquished the masked robbers, before whom the rest trembled.
"Stop!" said Colonel Braddon, with a sudden thought. "One of the rascals has got my pocketbook!"
"Which one?" asked Mortimer.
The colonel pointed him out.
Instantly the dude fired, and a bullet whistled within a few inches of the road agent's head.
"Drop that pocketbook!" he exclaimed, "or I'll send another messenger for it; that was only a warning!"
With an execration the thoroughly terrified robber threw down the pocketbook, and the relieved owner hastened forward to pick it up.
"I thought I'd fetch him, don't you know," said the dude, relapsing into his soft drawl.
By this time both the road agents were at a safe distance, and the rescued passengers breathed more freely.
"Really, Mr. Sprague," said Colonel Braddon, pompously, "you are entitled to a great deal of credit for your gallant behavior; you did what I proposed to do. Of course, I had to submit to losing my pocketbook, but I was just preparing to draw my revolver when you got the start of me."
"If I'd only known it, colonel," drawled Mr. Sprague, "I'd have left the job for you. Weally, it would have saved me a good deal of trouble. But I think the reverend doctor here is entitled to the thanks of the company. I never knew exactly what the sword of the Lord and of Gideon was before, but I see it means a good, stout stick."
"I was speaking figuratively, my young friend," said the missionary "I am not sure but I have acted unprofessionally, but when I saw those men of violence despoiling us, I felt the natural man rise within me, and I smote him hip and thigh."
"I thought you hit him on the arm, doctor," said Mr. Sprague.
"Again I spoke figuratively, my young friend. I cannot say I regret yielding to the impulse that moved me. I feel that I have helped to foil the plans of the wicked."
"Doctor," said one of the miners, "you've true grit. When you preach at the Black Hills, count me and my friends among the listeners. We're all willing to help along your new church, for you're one of the right sort."
"My friends, I will gladly accept your kind proposal, but I trust it will not be solely because I have used this arm of flesh in your defense. Mr. Sprague and I have but acted as humble instruments in the hands of a Higher Power."
"Well, gentlemen," said Colonel Braddon, "I think we may as well get into the stage again and resume our journey."
"What shall I do with this revolver?" asked Luke, indicating the one he had picked up.
"Keep it," said the colonel. "You'll make better use of it than the rascal who lost it."
"I've got an extra one here," said Mortimer Sprague, raising the one on which he had put his foot. "I don't need it myself, so I will offer it to the reverend doctor."
The missionary shook his head.
"I should not know how to use it," he said, "nor indeed am I sure that I should feel justified in doing so."
"May I have it, sir?" asked one of the miners.
"Certainly, if you want it," said Mr. Sprague.
"I couldn't afford to buy one; but I see that I shall need one out here."
In five minutes the stage was again on its way, and no further adventures were met with. About the middle of the next day the party arrived at Deadwood.
CHAPTER XXXIV
FENTON'S GULCH
Deadwood, at the time of Luke's arrival, looked more like a mining camp than a town. The first settlers had neither the time nor the money to build elaborate dwellings. Anything, however rough, that would provide a shelter, was deemed sufficient. Luxury was not dreamed of, and even ordinary comforts were only partially supplied. Luke put up at a rude hotel, and the next morning began to make inquiries for Mr. Harding. He ascertained that the person of whom he was in search had arrived not many weeks previous, accompanied by his sister. The latter, however, soon concluded that Deadwood was no suitable residence for ladies, and had returned to her former home, or some place near by. Mr. Harding remained, with a view of trying his luck at the mines.
The next point to be ascertained was to what mines he had directed his steps. This information was hard to obtain. Finally, a man who had just returned to Deadwood, hearing Luke making inquiries of the hotel clerk, said:
"I say, young chap, is the man you are after an old party over fifty, with gray hair and a long nose?"
"I think that is the right description," said Luke, eagerly. "Can you tell me anything about him?"
"The party I mean, he may be Harding, or may be somebody else, is lying sick at Fenton's Gulch, about a day's journey from here—say twenty miles."
"Sick? What is the matter with him?"
"He took a bad cold, and being an old man, couldn't stand it as well as if he were twenty years younger. I left him in an old cabin lying on a blanket, looking about as miserable as you would want to see. Are you a friend of his?"
"I am not acquainted with him," answered Luke, "but I am sent out by a friend of his in the East. I am quite anxious to find him. Can you give me directions?"
"I can do better. I can guide you there. I only came to Deadwood for some supplies, and I go back to-morrow morning."
"If you will let me accompany you I will be very much obliged."
"You can come with me and welcome. I shall be glad of your company.
Are you alone?"
"Yes."
"Seems to me you're rather a young chap to come out here alone."
"I suppose I am," returned Luke, smiling, "but there was no one else to come with me. If I find Mr. Harding, I shall be all right."
"I can promise you that. It ain't likely he has got up from his sick-bed and left the mines. I reckon you'll find him flat on his back, as I left him."
Luke learned that his mining friend was known as Jack Baxter. He seemed a sociable and agreeable man, though rather rough in his outward appearance and manners. The next morning they started in company, and were compelled to travel all day. Toward sunset they reached the place known as Fenton's Gulch. It was a wild and dreary-looking place, but had a good reputation for its yield of gold dust.
"That's where you'll find the man you're after," said Baxter, pointing to a dilapidated cabin, somewhat to the left of the mines.
Luke went up to the cabin, the door of which was open, and looked in.
On a pallet in the corner lay a tall man, pale and emaciated. He heard the slight noise at the door, and without turning his head, said: "Come in, friend, whoever you are."
Upon this, Luke advanced into the cabin.
"Is this Mr. James Harding?" he asked.
The sick man turned his head, and his glance rested with surprise upon the boy of sixteen who addressed him.
"Have I seen you before?" he asked.
"No, sir. I have only just arrived at the Gulch. You are Mr.
Harding?"
"Yes, that is my name; but how did you know it?"
"I am here in search of you, Mr. Harding."
"How is that?" asked the sick man, quickly. "Is my sister sick?"
"Not that I know of. I come from Mr. Armstrong, in New York."
"You come from Mr. Armstrong?" repeated the sick man, in evident surprise. "Have you any message for me from him?"
"Yes, but that can wait. I am sorry to find you sick. I hope that it is nothing serious."
"It would not be serious if I were in a settlement where I could obtain a good doctor and proper medicines. Everything is serious here. I have no care or attention, and no medicines."
"Do you feel able to get away from here? It would be better for you to be at Deadwood than here."
"If I had anyone to go with me, I might venture to start for Deadwood."
"I am at your service, Mr. Harding."
The sick man looked at Luke with a puzzled expression.
"You are very kind," he said, after a pause. "What is your name?"
"Luke Larkin."
"And you know Mr. Armstrong?"
"Yes. I am his messenger."
"But how came he to send a boy so far? It is not like him."
Luke laughed.
"No doubt you think him unwise," he said. "The fact was, he took me for lack of a better. Besides, the mission was a confidential one, and he thought he could trust me, young as I am."
"You say you have a message for me?" queried Harding.
"Yes!"
"What is it?"
"First, can I do something for your comfort? Can't I get you some breakfast?"
"The message first."
"I will give it at once. Do you remember purchasing some government bonds for Mr. Armstrong a short time before you left his employment?"
"Yes. What of them?"
"Have you preserved the numbers of the bonds?" Luke inquired, anxiously.
"Why do you ask?"
"Because Mr. Armstrong has lost his list, and they have been stolen. Till he learns the numbers, he will stand no chance of identifying or recovering them."
"I am sure I have the numbers. Feel in the pocket of my coat yonder, and you will find a wallet. Take it out and bring it to me."
Luke obeyed directions.
The sick man opened the wallet and began to examine the contents.
Finally he drew out a paper, which he unfolded.
"Here is the list. I was sure I had them."
Luke's eyes lighted up with exultation.
It was clear that he had succeeded in his mission. He felt that he had justified the confidence which Mr. Armstrong had reposed in him, and that the outlay would prove not to have been wasted.
"May I copy them?" he asked.
"Certainly, since you are the agent of Mr. Armstrong—or you may have the original paper."
"I will copy them, so that if that paper is lost, I may still have the numbers. And now, what can I do for you?"
The resources of Fenton's Gulch were limited, but Luke succeeded in getting together materials for a breakfast for the sick man. The latter brightened up when he had eaten a sparing meal. It cheered him, also, to find that there was someone to whom he could look for friendly services.
To make my story short, on the second day he felt able to start with Luke for Deadwood, which he reached without any serious effect, except a considerable degree of fatigue.
Arrived at Deadwood, where there were postal facilities, Luke lost no time in writing a letter to Mr. Armstrong, enclosing a list of the stolen bonds. He gave a brief account of the circumstances under which he had found Mr. Harding, and promised to return as soon as he could get the sick man back to his farm in Minnesota.
When this letter was received, Roland Reed was in the merchant's office.
"Look at that, Mr. Reed," said Armstrong, triumphantly. "That boy is as smart as lightning. Some people might have thought me a fool for trusting so young a boy, but the result has justified me. Now my course is clear. With the help of these numbers I shall soon be able to trace the theft and convict the guilty party."
CHAPTER XXXV
BACK IN GROVETON
Meanwhile, some things occurred in Groveton which require to be chronicled. Since the visit of Tony Denton, and the knowledge that his secret was known, Prince Duncan had changed in manner and appearance. There was an anxious look upon his face, and a haggard look, which led some of his friends to think that his health was affected. Indeed, this was true, for any mental disturbance is likely to affect the body. By way of diverting attention from the cause of this altered appearance, Mr. Duncan began to complain of overwork, and to hint that he might have to travel for his health. It occurred to him privately that circumstances might arise which would make it necessary for him to go to Canada for a lengthened period.
With his secret in the possession of such a man as Tony Denton, he could not feel safe. Besides, he suspected the keeper of the billiard-room would not feel satisfied with the thousand-dollar bond he had extorted from him, but would, after awhile, call for more.
In this he was right.
Scarcely a week had elapsed since his first visit, when the servant announced one morning that a man wished to see him.
"Do you know who it is, Mary?" asked the squire.
"Yes, sir. It's Tony Denton."
Prince Duncan's face contracted, and his heart sank within him. He would gladly have refused to see his visitor, but knowing the hold that Tony had upon him, he did not dare offend him.
"You may tell him to come in," he said, with a troubled look.
"What can the master have to do with a man like that?" thought Mary, wondering. "I wouldn't let him into the house if I was a squire."
Tony Denton entered the room with an assumption of ease which was very disagreeable to Mr. Duncan.
"I thought I'd call to see you, squire," he said.
"Take a seat, Mr. Denton," said the squire coldly.
Tony did not seem at all put out by the coldness of his reception.
"I s'pose you remember what passed at our last meeting, Mr. Duncan," he said, in a jaunty way.
"Well, sir," responded Prince Duncan, in a forbidding tone.
"We came to a little friendly arrangement, if you remember," continued Denton.
"Well, sir, there is no need to refer to the matter now."
"Pardon me, squire, but I am obliged to keep to it."
"Why?"
"Because I've been unlucky??"
"I suppose, Mr. Denton," said the squire haughtily, "you are capable of managing your own business. If you don't manage it well, and meet with losses, I certainly am not responsible, and I cannot understand why you bring the matter to me."
"You see, squire," said Tony, with a grin, "I look upon you as a friend, and so it is natural that I should come to you for advice."
"I wish I dared kick the fellow out of the house," thought Prince Duncan. "He is a low scamp, and I don't like the reputation of having such visitors."
Under ordinary circumstances, and but for the secret which Tony possessed, he would not have been suffered to remain in the squire's study five minutes, but conscience makes cowards of us all, and Mr. Duncan felt that he was no longer his own master.
"I'll tell you about the bad luck, squire," Tony resumed. "You know the bond you gave me the last time I called?"
Mr. Duncan winced, and he did not reply.
"I see you remember it. Well, I thought I might have the luck to double it, so I went up to New York, and went to see one of them Wall Street brokers. I asked his advice, and he told me I'd better buy two hundred shares of some kind of stock, leaving the bond with him as margin. He said I was pretty sure to make a good deal of money, and I thought so myself. But the stock went down, and yesterday I got a letter from him, saying that the margin was all exhausted, and I must give him another, Or he would sell out the stock."
"Mr. Denton, you have been a fool!" exclaimed Mr. Duncan irritably.
"You might have known that would be the result of your insane folly.
You've lost your thousand dollars, and what have you got to show for it?"
"You may be right, squire, but I don't want to let the matter end so. I want you to give me another bond."
"You do, eh?" said Duncan indignantly. "So you want to throw away another thousand dollars, do you?"
"If I make good the margin, the stock'll go up likely, and I won't lose anything."
"You can do as you please, of course, but you will have to go elsewhere for your money."
"Will I?" asked Tony coolly. "There is no one else who would let me have the money."
"I won't let you have another cent, you may rely upon that!" exclaimed Prince Duncan furiously.
"I guess you'll think better of that, squire," said Tony, fixing his keen black eyes on the bank president.
"Why should I?" retorted Duncan, but his heart sank within him, for he understood very well what the answer would be.
"Because you know what the consequences of refusal would be," Denton answered coolly.
"I don't understand you," stammered the squire, but it was evident from his startled look that he did.
"I thought you would," returned Tony Denton quietly. "You know very well that my evidence would convict you, as the person who robbed the bank."
"Hush!" ejaculated Prince Duncan, in nervous alarm.
Tony Denton smiled with a consciousness of power.
"I have no wish to expose you," he said, "if you will stand my friend."
In that moment Prince Duncan bitterly regretted the false step he had taken. To be in the power of such a man was, indeed, a terrible form of retribution.
"Explain your meaning," he said reluctantly.
"I want another government bond for a thousand dollars."
"But when I gave you the first, you promised to preserve silence, and trouble me no more."
"I have been unfortunate, as I already explained to you."
"I don't see how that alters matters. You took the risk voluntarily.
Why should I suffer because you were imprudent and lost your money?"
"I can't argue with you, squire," said Tony, with an insolent smile. "You are too smart for me. All I have to say is, that I must have another bond."
"Suppose I should give it to you—what assurance have I that you will not make another demand?"
"I will give you the promise in writing, if you like."
"Knowing that I could not make use of any such paper with out betraying myself."
"Well, there is that objection, certainly, but I can't do anything better."
"What do you propose to do with the bond?"
"Deposit it with my broker, as I have already told you."
"I advise you not to do so. Make up your mind to lose the first, and keep the second in your own hands."
"I will consider your advice, squire."
But it was very clear that Tony Denton would not follow it.
All at once Prince Duncan brightened up. He had a happy thought. Should it be discovered that the bonds used by Tony Denton belonged to the contents of the stolen box, might he not succeed in throwing the whole blame on the billiard-saloon keeper, and have him arrested as the thief? The possession and use of the bonds would be very damaging, and Tony's reputation was not such as to protect him. Here seemed to be a rift in the clouds—and it was with comparative cheerfulness that Mr. Duncan placed the second bond in the hands of the visitor.
"Of course," he said, "it will be for your interest not to let any one know from whom you obtained this."
"All right. I understand. Well, good morning, squire; I'm glad things are satisfactory."
"Good morning, Mr. Denton."
When Tony had left the room, Prince Duncan threw himself back in his chair and reflected. His thoughts were busy with the man who had just left him, and he tried to arrange some method of throwing the guilt upon Denton. Yet, perhaps, even that would not be necessary. So far as Mr. Duncan knew, there was no record in Mr. Armstrong's possession of the numbers of the bonds, and in that case they would not be identified.
"If I only knew positively that the numbers would not turn up, I should feel perfectly secure, and could realize on the bonds at any time," he thought. "I will wait awhile, and I may see my way clear."
