Castlemon Harry
George at the Wheel

CHAPTER VII
A STORMY INTERVIEW

"This is the room," said George, seating himself on the lounge, while Mr. Lowry and Joe took possession of the easy chairs that were pointed out to them. "I was in here when you came to the rancho, and heard you say, as you passed through the hall, that you thought there was a regular nest of horse-thieves at Ackerman's; and that you would like to get your hands on that rascally boy who had sent you so far out of your course. While you were waiting for supper, I slipped out, mounted my horse, which in company with my pack-mule had made straight for this place, when my cattle were stampeded, and put out for home."

"It was a pretty sharp trick," said Joe, "and you deserve credit for the way in which you carried it out."

"Now, George," said Mr. Gilbert, "we are ready to hear your story. Where have you been? and what have you been doing, since I last saw you?"

George settled himself into an easy position on the lounge, and beginning with the night on which he had left Mr. Gilbert in so unceremonious a manner, he gave a glowing description of his adventures and exploits among the guerrillas. The only thing he omitted from his narrative, was the conversation he had had with Springer and Fletcher in regard to his uncle's plans. The visitors would have been glad to hear that, for Jake had told them just enough to excite their curiosity; but it was something that George reserved for Mr. Gilbert's private ear.

"Silk Stocking is in the hands of his lawful owner at last," said the boy, in conclusion, "and as soon as Mr. Cook has been paid for the cattle that Ned and Gus shot, all these difficulties will be happily ended."

"Then they are ended already," said Mr. Gilbert. "Cook has been paid, and says he is entirely satisfied."

"Of course he doesn't blame me for anything that happened," said George.

"Well, yes, he did," answered Mr. Gilbert, "and so did all the rest of the settlers. They found fault with you for assisting those boys to escape. They said you had no business to do it."

"Humph!" exclaimed George. "What do they take me for, I'd like to know? Would any of them stand by and see a relative of theirs get into trouble and never lift a finger to help him? I guess not."

Mr. Gilbert shrugged his shoulders by way of reply, and Mr. Lowry, after a few minutes silence, remarked that he thought he and Joe had better be moving toward home. Wouldn't they wait until after dinner, which would be ready within an hour? No; he guessed they had better not. They had been gone a long time, and unless they "showed up," pretty soon, their folks would begin to worry about them. So, in accordance with their request, their horses were brought to the door, and the ranchemen, after taking leave of Mr. Gilbert and George, mounted and rode away.

"That business was settled in a way I did not expect," said the former, as he and his young companion went back into the library. "You have made a friend of every body in the settlement by the course you have pursued, although I must say, that the neighbors were very angry at you at first; but Uncle John and Ned – Well, what are you going to do in regard to them?"

George replied to this question by completing the story of his captivity among the guerrillas, which he did by describing his interview with Springer, and repeating the conversation he had had with the boss cattle-thief. Mr. Gilbert listened in silence, and when the boy ceased speaking, he got up and began pacing the floor.

"Well, George," said he, at length, "you know what I think of this difficulty. There is only one way out of it. Your uncle will not willingly give up his position, and you must call upon the law to throw him out, neck and heels."

"But if I should tell him, in so many words, that I know all about his plans, don't you think he would be more careful in future?" asked George.

"Beyond a doubt he would," replied Mr. Gilbert; and to himself he added: "He would be so very careful that nobody would detect him in his villainy again."

"That is what I thought," said George. "I don't want to turn him loose in the world and send him back to his bookkeeping again, for he is getting to be an old man. I can remove one temptation from his path by keeping out of his way, and that I have decided to do. If I am ever going to see anything of life outside of Texas, I must see it now, for when I come into possession of the ranche and the stock that belong to it, I shall be kept busy."

Mr. Gilbert rubbed his chin, and looked up at the picture that hung on the wall over the lounge.

"I don't know whether you will be kept so very busy or not," said he, to himself. "It is my opinion that if you give your rascally relatives full swing, you will have very little stock to take care of."

But Mr. Gilbert did not give utterance to this opinion. He saw very plainly that the boy was opposed to taking any legal action against his uncle, and he was determined that he would not try to influence him in the matter. He had given his advice simply because George had asked him for it, and the boy was quite at liberty to do as he pleased about following it.

"What course have you marked out for yourself?" added Mr. Gilbert, aloud.

"I thought I would leave Texas for a year or two (you know you told me that I would be safer anywhere in the world than I am here) and go into business," replied George.

"Have you any idea what it will be?"

"No, sir; I have not."

"Neither have I. A boy who has spent most of his life in the saddle, or in camp taking care of cattle, wouldn't make a very good clerk – at least I shouldn't want such a one, if I were a merchant – and your schooling hasn't fitted you for anything else."

"I can keep a set of books," said George, with some dignity.

"But you couldn't stand the confinement. You are not accustomed to it. You will want some active, out-of-door occupation."

"And what is the reason I can't find it? There must be plenty of such work to do."

This was but the beginning of a long conversation that George held with Mr. Gilbert that day, and after he had told his friend all his plans, and listened to some good advice, he mounted his horse and rode away to find Zeke, who was pasturing his herd on Mr. Gilbert's grounds, about three miles from the rancho. The honest old fellow was delighted to see his employer once more, and was almost overwhelmed with grief when George told him that he was going away to be gone a year, and perhaps a good deal longer. The boy gave him some very emphatic instructions in regard to the management of his herd, and then took a hurried leave of him and galloped away; for the longer he remained in Zeke's company, the more firmly he became convinced that he was about to abandon the only life for which he was suited, and the stronger became his desire to give up his "northern scheme," as Mr. Gilbert called it, and settle down again to the business of herding cattle.

Having already said good-bye to Mr. Gilbert and his family, George did not return to that gentleman's rancho, but held straight for home, and sought an interview with Jake and Bob. To these faithful men he also gave some very positive orders, and having entered into a sort of alliance with them, both offensive and defensive, and spent an hour or two in looking over some books he found in his uncle's safe, he packed his valise, mounted his horse and set out for Brownsville, accompanied by a young herdsman who was to bring back his nag, as well as those on which his relatives and Gus Robbins had made the same journey a few days before.

His first hard work, after reaching his destination, was to find Uncle John and Ned, and there was but one way to do it. He visited all the principal hotels and examined the registers. On one he found the name of Edward Ackerman.

"I don't know who he is or where he is," said the clerk, when his attention was drawn to the signature. "I judged by his appearance that he was a cow-boy. He stopped with us about an hour and then dug out, taking the key of his room with him and leaving his grip-sack behind. I was under the impression that he had been doing something crooked, for I never saw him after two men came here making inquiries about him. Did he get in on you for any amount?"

"O, no," answered George. "He is square with the world – so far as I know," he added, to himself, as he turned and walked out of the office. "The men who came here looking for him were Mr. Lowry and Joe. I saw their signatures on the register. It is probable that Ned saw and recognised them, and that that was the reason he 'dug out' so suddenly."

At the next hotel at which he called, George met with better success. His uncle was registered as one of the guests of the house, and the clerk said he had seen him go up to his room an hour or so before, taking a strange young gentleman with him. The bell-boy was summoned, and George followed him up the stairs.

"A gentleman to see you, sir," announced the boy; after which he closed the door and went back to the office, leaving George standing face to face with his relatives, who hoped they had seen him for the last time. The explosion of a bomb-shell in their room would hardly have caused them greater astonishment and alarm. There was an expression on his face that they did not like to see there. They stared, but could not speak to him.

"Well, how do you do?" exclaimed George, as he deposited his valise beside the door and seated himself on the bed, both the chairs being occupied. "You seem surprised."

"We are indeed surprised, most agreeably so," said Uncle John, recovering his power of speech by an effort.

He got up and extended his hand to his nephew, who took it, but did not grasp it with any cordiality. Ned also came forward to greet him, but anybody could see that it was something he did not like to do.

"Your cousin told me that you were captured by the Mexicans, and I never expected to see you again," said Uncle John, as he went back to his chair. "Did you escape from them, or did they release you; or how did you get away? I am anxious to know all the particulars."

"It is a long story," replied George, looking carelessly about the room, "and I have more important matters to talk about just now."

"Have you any idea why they didn't take Ned and Gus, too?" said Uncle John, who knew very well what those "important matters" were to which George referred. "Your cousin has had one or two very narrow escapes from the men who were hunting for that stolen horse. Do you know what they would have done with him if they had caught him? I wonder where Silk Stocking is now?"

Uncle John thought, that by rattling on in this way, he could divert his nephew's mind; turn the conversation into channels selected by himself; and so, indefinitely postpone the discussion of a very disagreeable subject. When George first entered the room, Uncle John told himself, that he had come there "on purpose to raise a row;" and he thought so now, as he noticed the hard lines about the boy's mouth.

There was something coming – the guilty man was sure of that – and he wanted to put it off as long as he could; but George didn't. He was waiting patiently for an opening, and it was presented the very next minute.

"I never heard of those cattle thieves taking a prisoner before," faltered Ned, who knew that he ought to say something.

"Neither did I; and they never would have made a prisoner of me, if they hadn't been hired to do it."

As George said this, his eyes ceased to rove about the room, and rested first upon Uncle John and then upon Ned. The latter grew as pale as a sheet under his gaze, while Uncle John's face turned very red. George had dealt them a stunning blow, and Uncle John was the first to rally from it.

"Why do you look at me in that way?" he demanded sharply. "And what do you mean to insinuate, when you say, that those men were hired to make a prisoner of you?"

"Yes," said Ned, in a very faint voice. "What do you mean to insinuate?"

"I insinuate nothing!" replied George, in a tone that alarmed his uncle, for it told him very plainly that the boy was sure of his ground. "I mean to tell you, in language you can easily understand, that I know all about it."

"About it! About what?"

"Uncle John, it is useless for you to feign ignorance. You are to blame for my capture, and I know it as well as you do. Jake knows it, and he knocked Philip down in your presence to pay him for putting those cattle thieves on my trail. Fletcher knows it, and I had a long talk with him on the subject. If I hadn't escaped from him, my ranche would have been stripped clean. His plan was to hold fast to me, so that he could make a demand on you for stock whenever he felt like it. If you refused to comply with those demands, he would have blown the whole thing among the settlers. If he had ever done that, Uncle John, you would have been in more danger than Ned and Gus were on the night I took them out of the rancho. He may do it yet, for he has got as good a hold on you as he wants. By the way, I don't see Gus anywhere. Has he gone home?"

"George!" exclaimed Uncle John, as soon as he could speak, "I don't understand you at all. What are you trying to get at? There is only one thing plain to me, and that is that somebody has been slandering me."

There was nothing "sharp" in the tone in which these words were uttered. It was evident that Uncle John was very badly frightened, although he was doing his best to keep up a bold front.

"Did Springer slander you when he told me that you were to pay Fletcher and his gang twenty thousand dollars in stock for capturing me?" asked George.

Uncle John settled back in his chair, with an air which said that he had no patience with anybody who could put faith in so outrageous a statement, while Ned, who began to tremble all over, got up and walked to the window. He could not bear to meet his cousin's eye.

"Of course he slandered me if he told you that, and you insult me by believing it," replied Uncle John. "I don't know Springer, and neither did I ever hear of him before."

"You have heard of Fletcher, haven't you?"

Uncle John replied most emphatically that he never had.

"Did Philip slander you, when he told you to your face that you might as well tell one of the men to bring in a thousand head of cattle and pasture them between the rancho and the river, so that they could be easily captured?" inquired George.

"He never used any such language to me."

"He wasn't knocked down in your presence, either, was he?"

"He never was. If such a thing had happened, I should promptly have discharged the man who did it, for I will not allow any fighting among my own servants."

"You had better not say that much to Jake or Bob when you go home, for if you do, they will certainly knock you down."

"George!" Uncle John almost shouted, "have you been setting the servants against me? If you have, you are guilty of a most contemptible proceeding."

"That's the way to talk to him!" exclaimed Ned, whose courage seemed to be coming back to him, now that he had placed himself out of reach of his cousin's searching gaze. "You had better go out of the room, or leave off insulting us."

"I am not insulting you. I am telling you the truth in plain language, and if I stay in here, I shall continue to do so until I have convinced you that your rascality has been most thoroughly exposed."

"Leave the room!" roared Ned.

"Very good," replied George, rising to his feet, and putting on his hat; "I will leave the room very willingly, but I give you fair warning, Uncle John, that if I do it, I shall go straight home and begin proceedings against you. I have been advised to have a new guardian appointed, and I begin to think it is the best thing I can do."

"Sit down! sit down!" cried Uncle John, when he saw the boy moving toward his valise. "Let us see if we can't straighten things out to the satisfaction of all of us."

"I think myself that you had better straighten them out now, instead of waiting until you are obliged to do so before a court of law," said George, significantly.

"Who advised you to have a new guardian appointed?" inquired Uncle John.

"Mr. Gilbert did."

"Of course," sneered Ned. "He is down on us because we are so far above him. Who is he, any how, but a low, ignorant herdsman, whose money entitles him to the position he holds? What would he be up North?"

"What were you up North?" asked George, in reply.

"I was a gentleman, and I am one now."

"And Mr. Gilbert would be known as an honest man, no matter where he went."

"I suppose you think I am not honest," said Uncle John, who, during this side sparring had been allowed a little time in which to collect his scattered wits. "You can carry out your silly threat about that court of law just as soon as you please."

"If I do, you will have to account for every cent that has passed through your hands since you have been my guardian," returned George.

"I can do it. The books show where it has gone."

"What entry did you make in reference to the money that Ned sent to Gus Robbins to pay his way down here?"

"I charged it to myself," answered Uncle John, who was not a little astonished by this question. He supposed that that was a matter that George knew nothing about.

"What did you do with the ten thousand dollars you received for the herd of cattle that Mose drove to Palos when he met Gus Robbins there?"

"I entered it upon the cash account in the proper way. The books show it."

"They don't show it!" said George, bluntly. "They don't show more than half the money you have received since you have been on that ranche."

"How do you know?" demanded Uncle John, starting up in his chair. "Look here, young man! Have you been prying into my private affairs?"

"I have been examining the books you thought you left locked up in the safe, if that is what you mean," replied George, boldly. "And as I know something about bookkeeping, and all about the money you have received since you took charge of my affairs, I was able to see that your accounts are frauds of the first water. Now, Uncle John, I have dwelt longer on these matters than I intended to when I came up here, and I am coming down to business. If you will promise faithfully that you will deal honestly and fairly by me from this time forward, you can hold your present position for five years longer; otherwise you shall not hold it five days. In the first place, there must not be a single steer sold from that ranche while I am gone. There is no need of it, for you have, or ought to have, fifty thousand dollars in the bank to draw on. Do you promise that?"

"I shall make no promises or concessions whatever," replied Uncle John, whose terror had given away to rage intense and bitter. "I shall manage that estate in future as I have in the past, according to my own judgment."

"Then you shall not manage it any longer. Your account is twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars short already, and I can't stand such a leak as that," said George, as he put on his hat again and picked up his valise. "I don't want to disgrace you, but I don't see how I can help it; for you can bet your bottom dollar that I am not going to stand still and see myself robbed."

George walked out of the room, banging the door behind him, while Ned threw himself into his chair and looked at his father who mopped his face vigorously with his handkerchief, while his hands trembled so violently that he could scarcely control them. They had passed through a very trying interview.

CHAPTER VIII
LIFE IN THE PILOT-HOUSE

"Now, I just want to know if anybody ever heard of such miserable luck as I have," exclaimed Ned, who was the first to break the silence. "Here I was, pluming myself on being the owner of the finest cattle ranche in Texas, when, as if to mock me and show me how all my bright hopes are destined to end, in walks George, as cool as a cucumber, and looking as though he had never seen a Greaser. Why in the world couldn't they hold fast to him after they got him? My forty thousand a year are up a hollow stump, and George knows everything. Did you hire those men to capture him?"

"Didn't you hear me say that every word of his story was false?" demanded his father, fiercely. "Would I be likely to put my nephew's life in jeopardy?"

"If there is no truth in it, I don't see how he came to hear it from so many different sources."

"And neither do I see how he found out that you sent that money to Gus Robbins," said Uncle John. "Have you any idea how that got to his ears?"

"Not the slightest," answered Ned. He saw that his father was almost ready to boil over with fury, and he did not think it would be quite safe to acknowledge that it was through his own admissions that George had become acquainted with that little circumstance. "Gus must have told him; or it may be that I have enemies as well as you. But what are we going to do? That's the question."

And it was one that aroused Uncle John from the stupor into which he had fallen, and showed him the necessity of prompt and decisive action. He jumped from his chair and began walking up and down the room.

"Can George turn you out of your position and have somebody appointed in your place?" continued Ned.

"Of course he can. I hoped to keep him in ignorance concerning that fact, but Gilbert, or some other busy-body, has been posting him."

"Then you had better make things straight with him and be quick about it," said Ned, growing frightened again. "If you don't, he'll oust you sure, and then what will become of me – of both of us? You'll have to go back to your desk again, and I'll have to pick up my yard-stick. Father, I never could endure that sort of life again. You must make it up with him?"

Uncle John wrung his hands and groaned. He was terribly agitated, and it was not to be wondered at. He could not have told which he stood the more in fear of – punishment at the hands of the angry settlers, who would be sure, sooner or later, to learn all about his dealings with his nephew, or the loss of the management of his brother's property. He could not bear to think of either.

"Where are you going?" inquired Ned, as his father suddenly turned toward the door and laid his hand upon the knob.

"I am going to see George," was the reply. "It would never do to let him go back home feeling as he does now, for you and I would never dare to show our faces there again. I am going to try to reason with him first, and if that has no effect, I shall use my authority."

"That's the way to talk," exclaimed Ned, gleefully. "Pound him within an inch of his life, and if you want any help, call for me. I will leave the door open so that I can hear you."

Ned had been on the very point of volunteering to go with his father, in order to back him up during the coming interview, and holding himself in readiness to assist him as circumstances might require; but the fear that the interview might end in a fight, checked the words that arose to his lips. George's fists were pretty large and heavy, and a good fair blow from one of them would have played sad havoc with the little sense that Ned Ackerman possessed.

"I hardly think that extreme measures will be called for," said Uncle John, "but if they are, I shall use them. Stay here until I return."

"I declare, I didn't know that George could be so insolent," thought Ned, as his father closed the door behind him. "The idea of a little snipe like him sitting there and talking to a gray-headed man as he would talk to a boy of his own age! I wonder that he wasn't kicked out of the room for his impudence. But I believe that father is afraid of him; he certainly acted like it; and if he is, it proves that he has been up to something. I hope he will lay his plans with a little more skill next time."

Ned kept his ear at the open door, but no sounds came up from below to indicate that his father had found it necessary to use his authority in order to bring the refractory George to his senses. He passed a long and gloomy hour alone in his room, and sometimes his impatience and suspense increased to such a degree that it was all he could do to keep from going out in search of Uncle John. When the latter at last made his appearance, Ned saw at a glance that he had passed through another exciting and stormy interview. The perspiration stood on his forehead in great beads, and his face was as flushed as it would have been if he had just finished a hotly-contested foot-race with somebody. He dropped into his chair, and drew his handkerchief from his pocket.

"Now, I tell you what's a fact," said Ned, to himself; "if he has been trying to use 'extreme measures,' he has got worsted at it; he has come back whipped. Well, why don't you speak?"

"Let me recover my breath, won't you?" exclaimed Uncle John, impatiently.

"Is everything all right, or not?" demanded Ned, paying no attention to this request. "I want to know the best or the worst, at once."

"I am to retain my position as his guardian," said Uncle John, "but he imposes some hard conditions."

"You didn't agree to them, of course?"

"Of course, I did. I couldn't do otherwise."

"Why didn't you use the authority you talk so much about?"

"I didn't think it was best. I can do as I please about keeping my promises."

"So you can; I didn't think of that."

"If I find that George's interests require me to exercise my own judgment, as I have done in the past, I shall not hesitate to do it," continued Uncle John, who could not bear that his own son should see him in his true character. "He cannot possibly foresee every emergency that may arise."

"George told you that not a steer was to be sold off the place while he was gone," said Ned. "What did he mean by that?"

"He meant just what he said. Zeke is the only one who has authority from George to sell any cattle."

"Well, if that isn't a pretty state of affairs, I wouldn't say so," exclaimed Ned, in great disgust. "So Zeke is put over you, is he?"

"Oh, no; he is left in charge of George's herd, and when he wants money, he is at liberty to sell cattle to get it. George himself is going North to find something to do."

"Well, there!" cried Ned, bringing his hands together with a loud slap. "I have heard some good news at last. That will leave us monarchs of all we survey, won't it? I will get rid of that Zeke the first thing I do."

"How will you go to work? If I told him that his services were no longer required he would pay no attention to me. George said so."

"Very well; let him stay; but when he comes after supplies, just see that he doesn't get any."

"But he'll not come to us; he'll go to Gilbert. George arranged all that before he left. Then he ordered Jake and Bob to visit every one of our herds and find out just how many cattle there were in each of them. They are to send a report to him through Gilbert, and George says that when he comes home the number of cattle he finds on the ranche must correspond with that report, or there'll be trouble between us."

"Why, father, he has tied your hands hard and fast," exclaimed Ned, springing from his chair, and walking about the room in a state of great excitement.

"He thinks he has," said Uncle John, quietly.

"I don't see why in the world you agreed to any such degrading terms," continued Ned.

"I did it because it was that or the desk for me, and the yard-stick for you," answered Uncle John. "But there are one or two contingencies that George did not provide for. Some of the cattle will probably be stolen."

This was said in so significant a tone of voice that Ned would have been dull indeed if he had failed to catch his father's meaning.

"Then, again, there are herdsmen in the country who will suit us much better than those we now employ, and as fast as they turn up I shall hire them, without consulting anybody's wishes except my own."

"So you can," exclaimed Ned, joyfully. "That boy has somehow got the idea into his head that he is just a trifle smarter than anybody else, but he will find that there are others in the world who are just as smart as he is. Did he have any more to say in regard to those ridiculous stories that somebody has been circulating about you?"

"He did, and he believes them to be true. I assured him that they were not, that I was perfectly willing that my conduct should be investigated at any time, and finally we shook hands, and agreed to let by-gones be by-gones."

"I should think you would have felt more like knocking him down," said Ned; "I know I should."

"His perverseness was certainly very trying to my patience; but, after all, my way of settling the difficulty was the best. We shall leave Brownsville for St. Louis to-night; and as we are to travel in his company, I want you to be very guarded in your words and actions. Everything is satisfactorily settled, and we must be careful to treat him as kindly and considerately as we did before he insulted us."

A stranger would have supposed, from this, that Ned and his father were the injured parties, and that George had no reason to complain of their treatment of him.

Uncle John did not tell all that happened during his second interview with George. While he was in the presence of his son his pride had enabled him to keep up some show of courage; but when he was alone with his nephew, he had nothing to sustain him, and it was all he could do to keep from breaking down entirely. He loudly denied every accusation that George brought against him, but the boy gave him to understand that he knew just what he was talking about, and that there was but one way in which Uncle John could ever regain his confidence. That was by dealing fairly with him in the future. This the old man eagerly, almost abjectly, promised to do; but we have already seen how sincere he was when he made those promises.

"I don't want to see him again," said Ned, "and neither can I bear the thought of travelling in his company as far as St. Louis. I don't see why you consented to any such arrangement. Why didn't you let him go alone, if he is so very anxious to leave to-night? We could have waited until to-morrow."