CHAPTER XXVIII.
JONES CHECKMATES ORTON CAMPBELL
"Who are you?" inquired Richard Dewey, not favorably impressed by the appearance of the man who addressed him.
"You wouldn't know if I should tell you," said Jones; "so I may as well say that I came out to San Francisco with Orton Campbell."
"Orton Campbell in the city?" exclaimed Dewey, apprehensively. "Had he anything to do with the disappearance of Miss Douglas?"
"Everything, sir; but I can't tell you about it in the street. I will go with you to your hotel."
"Tell me on the way," said Richard Dewey. "First, has any harm befallen Florence—Miss Douglas?"
"None as yet."
"Is any threatened?"
"The loss of her liberty; but I will help you to thwart Orton Campbell."
Jones told the story, which need not be repeated here, as it is already known to the reader. He had difficulty in restraining Mr. Dewey from starting out instantly to the rescue of the young lady, but on his representing that she was safe, and that it would be soon enough to go out in the morning, Richard Dewey yielded.
A little before eight o'clock, Jones, driving the same carriage in which he had conveyed Florence to her place of captivity, halted in front of Mrs. Bradshaw's dwelling.
"Remain in the carriage, Mr. Dewey," he said, "and I will see if I can't secure the young lady without any fuss."
"Won't it be better for me to accompany you?"
"I think not, sir. Mrs. Bradshaw knows I am the one who brought Miss Douglas here, and she will think it is all right. Stay!" he continued, with a sudden thought. "I have an idea. Mr. Campbell told Mrs. Bradshaw that the young lady was insane. I will make her think that you are the doctor from the asylum come to take Miss Douglas back with you."
"Did Orton Campbell really intend such an outrage?" asked Richard Dewey, in a tone of horror.
"Yes, if Miss Douglas wouldn't consent to marry him."
"Go, then, and lose no time."
Jones knocked at the door, which was opened by Mrs. Bradshaw in person. She naturally regarded Jones with surprise, not anticipating so early a call.
"How is Miss Douglas?" he asked.
"Very contrary," answered the landlady. "I can't get her to eat. It's my belief she means to starve herself."
"It's a crazy freak," said Jones, shrugging his shoulders. "Well, I've come to take her away."
"To take her away—so soon?" asked Mrs. Bradshaw, in surprise.
"Yes, Mr. Orton thought it best."
"Is he with you?"
"No."
"I think I see some one in the carriage."
"To be sure. It's the mad doctor from the asylum. Don't let Miss Douglas know it," continued Jones, lowering his voice, "or she wouldn't consent to go with us."
"I see," answered the landlady, nodding. "Do you want to go up now?"
"Yes; let me see her alone, so that I can tell her a story which will quiet her suspicions."
"Mr. Campbell hasn't paid me all he promised yet," said Mrs. Bradshaw, rather uneasily.
"Oh, that's all right," said Jones. "He never forgets his promise—and seldom keeps it," he said to himself.
Florence was sitting on the lounge in her room in rather a despondent state of mind when the door opened, and she looked up, expecting to see Orton Campbell.
Jones closed the door behind him, and then, putting his hand over his lips, said, "Miss Douglas, I bring you good news."
"Are you not the man who brought me out here yesterday?"
"The same one."
"Then how have you the face to show yourself in my presence?"
"Because I am come to free you from your imprisonment."
Florence started to her feet in some excitement. "If this were true!" she exclaimed. "But no; you are an agent of Orton Campbell, and this is some new trick of his."
"I was an agent of Orton Campbell, but he deceived me, and I am his enemy."
"Is he with you?" asked Florence, suspiciously.
"No; but in the carriage outside is one whom you will be glad to meet."
"Who is it?"
"Richard Dewey."
"You brought me a note from him which he never wrote. How do you expect me to believe you now?"
"If he is not there, don't get into the carriage. Not a word to Mrs. Bradshaw. She is in the employ of Mr. Campbell, who represented you as insane, and I told her that Mr. Dewey, whom I did not dare to bring in, was a doctor from the insane asylum."
"Are you sure you are not deceiving me?" said Florence, earnestly.
"I am on the square, miss, but you can easily convince yourself by coming down stairs. If you prefer to remain here till nine o'clock, when Orton Campbell will be here, you can do so."
"No, no! anything better than that!"
Mrs. Bradshaw watched the exit of her guest with a peculiar look. "She little knows where she's going," thought the woman. "Well, if she's crazy, it's the best place for her."
As may easily be imagined, there was scant leave-taking. Florence was eager to leave this shabby cabin, where she had passed a night of anxious solicitude.
She approached the carriage, and Jones opened the door. She looked in, and saw Dewey, who said in a low voice, "Get in at once, Florence, but keep silent till we are on our way."
An expression of joy came over her face as she saw this most convincing proof of her driver's good faith. He mounted the box and drove rapidly off.
On their way back to San Francisco the two who had been so long separated had ample time to compare notes and form plans for the future.
"Florence," said Richard Dewey, "after this treachery of Orton Campbell there is but one way of safety for you."
"And what is that?"
"Let me become your legal protector, and at once. When we are married your guardian will be powerless. He will have me to deal with then, not a defenceless girl."
"But, Richard, this seems so sudden!"
"It ought not to, Florence. Have we not waited for each other long enough? Have we not been separated long enough? I am not much richer than when I left you—not so rich," he added, smiling, "as your other suitor, Orton Campbell."
"I will marry you if only to get rid of him, Richard," said Florence, impetuously.
"I won't quarrel with your motives, since you consent."
So it happened that on their arrival in San Francisco they directed Jones to drive to the house of a clergyman, and were speedily united in marriage, the clergyman's wife and daughter being witnesses. Circumstances compelled them to dispense with the usual "cards and cake."
At nine o'clock, Orton Campbell, secure of his prey, drove up to Mrs. Bradshaw's door and leisurely descended.
"Well, and how is Miss Douglas this morning?" he asked of the astonished landlady.
"How is she? She's gone."
"What!" ejaculated Orton, furiously; "you have dared to let her escape?"
"You sent for her yourself. She went away with the mad doctor."
"'The mad doctor'? I don't know anything about any mad doctor. Woman, you are deceiving me."
"Don't call me
woman
!" said Mrs. Bradshaw, offensively, putting her arms akimbo. "I'm no more a woman than you are."
"Then you'd better dress differently," sneered Campbell. "Tell me what all this means."
"The man that drove the lady out here yesterday came here more than an hour ago and said you had sent for her. He said there was a doctor in the carriage who would take her to the asylum. That corresponded with what you told me, and I let her go."
"That scoundrel Jones!" exclaimed Orton Campbell. "So this is his revenge? I must go back to the city at once and circumvent him if I can."
He was about to go when Mrs. Bradshaw said, "Before you go you'd better pay me what you promised."
"I won't pay you a cent," said Campbell, angrily.
"Jack!"
The word spoken by the woman brought a rough-looking man to the carriage-door.
"This man says he won't pay me a cent, Jack," said Mrs. Bradshaw.
"You'd better reconsider that, stranger," said Jack, pulling out a revolver and fingering it significantly.
"I owe her nothing," said Orton Campbell, surveying the revolver uneasily. "If she had kept the young lady here, it would have been different."
"If there's a trick been played on you, my wife ain't goin' to suffer by it. She's earned the money, stranger, and I'll give you just two minutes to pay it over."
Orton Campbell read something in the man's face that convinced him he was not to be trifled with. With many an inward groan he drew out one hundred dollars from his purse and handed it over.
"That's all right, stranger," said Jack, coolly. "I thought you'd be reasonable. Short reckonings make long friends."
With a muttered imprecation Orton Campbell sharply ordered his driver to turn the horses' heads toward San Francisco and make his way there as quickly as possible. His thoughts were by no means pleasant company. He had just been forced to pay out a considerable sum without value received, and was beginning to think the sum paid to Jones also money thrown away.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A WEDDING RECEPTION
Orton Campbell cursed his folly in arousing the hostility of Jones. He concluded that the latter had released Florence in order to obtain a hold upon him, and would be ready to assist him again if satisfactorily paid. In that event all was not lost. It was necessary to see Jones as early as possible and make matters right with him.
He was not quite clear as to where Jones could be found, but concluded that he had carried Florence back to her boarding-house. He therefore ordered his driver to proceed at once to the house of Mrs. Armstrong.
He hastily descended from the carriage and rang the bell.
It was answered by Mrs. Armstrong in person, who regarded him with no very friendly eye.
Orton Campbell, knowing his own treachery, and conscious that it was also known to the lady before him, asked, in some embarrassment, "Is Miss Douglas here?"
"No, sir."
Orton Campbell looked surprised. "I—I thought she might be here," he stammered.
"Were you the person who lured her from my house yesterday by a false letter?" demanded Mrs. Armstrong, sternly.
"No," answered Campbell, unblushingly; "it was an agent of mine, who has deceived and betrayed me."
"Then, you had nothing to do with the disappearance of the young lady?"
"Certainly not," answered Orton Campbell, boldly. "I assure you it has given me great concern, and I have been riding hither and thither this morning in search of her."
"Won't you come in, sir? Perhaps we may be able to throw some light on this mystery."
"She believes me," thought Orton Campbell, congratulating himself on the effect of his duplicity.—"Certainly," he answered; "I shall be most happy to do so."
He was ushered into the parlor, into which, five minutes later, entered Florence, Richard Dewey, and a gentleman of clerical appearance.
"Miss Douglas!" exclaimed Orton Campbell, in astonishment.—"I thought you said," turning to Mrs. Armstrong, "that Miss Douglas was not here?"
"I am not Miss Douglas," said Florence, quietly.
"I don't understand you."
"Perhaps I can explain the mystery," said Richard Dewey, coming forward.
"I wish you would, if you can," said Orton Campbell, with a sneer.
"This young lady is my wife."
"Your wife? And who are you?"
"Richard Dewey, at your service."
Orton Campbell had never known Dewey well, and his life at the mines had so changed his appearance that it was not surprising he did not recognize him.
"Is this true?" he asked, in visible dismay. "When were you married?"
"Half an hour since, by this gentleman;" and Richard Dewey waved his hand in the direction of the clerical gentleman already referred to.
"You have done a good stroke of business, sir," said Campbell, with a sneer and a look of baffled hatred. "The lady's fortune makes her a good match."
"So you evidently thought, sir," answered Dewey. "Your unscrupulous methods have not succeeded, and I beg to warn you that the lady now has a protector who will punish any such persecution as that with which you have recently visited her."
"You are quite mistaken. My agent—"
"Only followed your instructions," said an unexpected voice, as Jones, who was within hearing, now entered from the adjoining room. "Mr. Orton, I have confessed all, so you needn't try to humbug this gentleman."
"You are a scoundrel," said Campbell, wrathfully, excited by the appearance of the man who, in return for being cheated, had betrayed him.
"Then there's a pair of us, Mr. Campbell," said he, coolly. "I admit that I behaved like a rascal, but I've tried to set matters right."
"You can find your way back to New York as you can; I have done with you," said Campbell, hardly conscious that this very remark betrayed him.
"Mr. Dewey has kindly offered to take me back with him," said Jones, not at all disturbed by this notice.
"If you are going back by the next steamer, Mr. Campbell," said Richard Dewey, "I will thank you to apprise your father of his ward's marriage, and ask him to arrange for the surrender of her property at the proper time."
"You may attend to your own messages, sir," said Orton, irritably. "I will have nothing to do with them."
Without any further words he hurried out of the house, and drove at once to the office of the steamship company, where he secured passage by the earliest vessel eastward bound.
That same evening Mr. and Mrs. Richard Dewey held an informal reception at their boarding-house.
It was not largely attended, for Florence had made but few acquaintances during her stay in the city. Uncertain as her prospects were, she had thought it best to keep aloof from her friends, who might possibly make known her residence to her guardian. Among those present, however, were Richard Dewey's tried friends, Bradley and Ben Stanton.
Bradley tried to excuse himself, on the ground that he was only a rough miner and not accustomed to society, but his objection was overruled both by Florence and her husband.
"You are a true friend, Mr. Bradley," said Florence, gratefully, "and I should miss you more than any one else except my young friend and cousin, Ben."
"Ben's different from what I am," said Bradley. "He ain't such a rough specimen."
"I'm only a miner, like you," said Ben. "I am a country boy and not used to society, but I don't believe Cousin Ida will care for that."
"Cousin Ida" was the name by which Ben had been instructed to call Florence when she came out to California under his escort.
The upshot of it all was that both Bradley and Ben were present at the bride's reception, and were made so thoroughly at home by Mrs. Richard Dewey that neither felt in the least awkward.
Two weeks later Richard Dewey and his wife sailed for New York, but Ben and Bradley remained behind.
"Come with us, Ben," said Florence. "I don't like to leave you behind."
"Thank you, Miss Florence—I mean Mrs. Dewey," said the boy—"but I am not ready to go yet."
"Don't let the thought of money keep you here, Ben. I am rich, or I shall be in a few months, when my guardian surrenders his trust, and I will take care that you are well provided for."
"Thank you again," said Ben; "but I've promised to go back to the mines. I've got a claim reserved for me, and so has Bradley. We'll go back now and try to gather a little more gold-dust."
"But you'll let us see you in New York before long?"
"Yes, I shall go home in a few months, even if I come back again later. I want to see Uncle Job and Cousin Jennie, and all my old friends, not forgetting Sam Sturgis," added Ben, smiling.
"We must be content with that, I suppose," said the young lady. "I hope you will have good luck, but even if you don't, remember that you have two friends who will only be too glad to be of service to you.—Please consider, Mr. Bradley, that this is said to you also."
"Thank you, ma'am," said Jake Bradley, awkwardly, for with all his good traits he was not quite at ease in the society of ladies.
Ben and Bradley saw the young couple off on the steamer, and then prepared to go back to the mines.
"It's made me feel kind of lonesome to part with Dick Dewey," said Bradley, thoughtfully. "He's a whole-souled feller, and he's 'struck it rich' in a wife."
"That's so, Jake."
CHAPTER XXX.
THE NUGGET
Ben and Bradley made their way back to Golden Gulch by easy stages. They reached the Gulch about sunset, and were welcomed in such noisy style by the miners that it might almost be called an ovation.
"We reckoned you'd come," said one of the leaders. "You look like you'd keep your promise."
"I hope there ain't any hosses been stole since we went away," said Bradley, jocosely. "Ben and I ain't quite ready to hand in our checks."
"We wouldn't hold you responsible if there had been," was the reply.
"That makes me feel a little easier in mind," said Bradley. "It may be pleasant to hang from a branch with a noose round your neck, but I don't want to try it."
The miners were just preparing to take their evening meal, and Ben and his friend were invited to share their hospitality. After supper pipes were produced, and Bradley was called upon to bring forth his budget of news. In the little mining-settlement, far from the great world, a man who could give the latest news from the city or produce a late paper from any of the Eastern cities was hailed as a public benefactor.
So it was at an unusually late hour that our friends and the miners retired to rest.
The next morning the two new-comers were shown the claims which had been set aside for them. They were eligibly located, and already had a commercial value, but were bestowed out of good-will, without a cent of compensation.
Bradley and Ben got to work at once. They had had their vacation, and were ready to settle down to business. They were stimulated to effort by the success of some of their fellow miners. Ben's next neighbor had already gathered nearly three thousand dollars' worth of gold-dust, and it was quite within the limits of probability that our young hero might be as successful.
"If I fail it won't be for lack of trying," thought Ben.
Three thousand dollars, in addition to the thousand he already had, would make him feel rich. Some of my readers, who have been luxuriously reared, will be surprised to hear this. But Ben had always been used to small things. He had been brought up in a small country town, where a dollar counts for a good deal more than it does in the city, and where a man possessing ten thousand dollars is thought to be independently rich. His uncle Job, who was thrifty and industrious, and generally, through careful economy, had a little money in the savings bank, was probably worth, at the outside, fifteen hundred dollars.
No wonder, then, that the prospect of being worth four thousand dollars dazzled our young hero and stimulated him to unwonted effort.
Neither of our two friends got on fast. They averaged perhaps fifty dollars a week each, but out of this their expenses had to be paid, and these, on account of the high price of all articles of necessity, were rather heavy. Still, the end of each week found both richer, and they were contented.
It was the aim of every miner to "strike it rich." Each had a dream of some day cutting a rich vein or finding a nugget of extraordinary size which should compress into one day the profits of a year or two of ordinary success. But such lucky finds were not numerous. As in ordinary life, the large prizes are rare, and average success is the rule. But the general hope was kept up by occasional lucky strokes.
"Ben," said Bradley, one day in excitement, returning from a visit to the claims half a mile distant on the other side of a hilly ridge, "I've got great news."
"What is it, Jake?"
"Perkins has just found a nugget that must contain five hundred dollars' worth of gold."
"You don't say so, Jake?"
"Fact; I just saw it."
"I hope there's more of them 'round here."
"So do I. That's a find worth having."
The discovery made a sensation at Golden Gulch. It excited the hope of all, and stimulated labor. What had fallen to Perkins might chance to any one of his comrades.
So, as the miners sat round their roaring fire—for it was getting chilly in the evening—one and another discussed the interesting question, "What would I do if I could find a nugget?" Various, of course, were the answers. One would go home and start a dry-goods store (he had been a dry-goods clerk in Philadelphia); another would buy the old Stuart place and get married; another would pay off a mortgage on the old homestead, and so on.
"What would you do, Ben?" asked Bradley.
"I would go home by the next steamer, and buy Uncle Job the three-acre lot he has been wanting so long, and buy new dresses for aunt and Jennie. But it isn't much use forming plans till the nugget is found."
"That's so, Ben; but you are as likely to find it as the next man."
"I will hope for it, at any rate."
Though Ben's prospects were excellent, and he had met with unusual success, his thoughts often wandered back to the quiet village where the years of his boyhood had been chiefly passed. From time to time he was disturbed by the thought that something might have happened to his uncle's family, of whom he had heard little or nothing since he went away. He afterward learned that letters had been sent which he had not received. He was not exactly homesick, but he felt keenly the lack of news from home.
In spite of this, however, he worked on with energy and industry. He felt that every dollar he earned brought nearer the day when he would feel justified in turning his back upon the gold-fields of California and wending his homeward way to Hampton.
Meanwhile, Ben did not neglect to do what he could for the general entertainment. It has already been mentioned that he could sing very creditably, and his talent was very often called into requisition in the evening. Ben was obliging, and, finding he could give pleasure, he generally complied with the request of the miners and rehearsed such songs as he knew, so that he was considered a decided acquisition by the little company, and his popularity was unbounded.
"I've been thinkin', Ben," said Bradley, one Sunday when they were taking a walk together, "that if there was any offices to be filled you'd stand a good show of bein' elected."
"What makes you think so, Jake?"
"You're the most popular man in the camp—leastways, boy."
"I can easily believe that, Jake, as I am the only boy."
"Well, there's no one ahead of you, man or boy."
"I am glad if that is so," said Ben, modestly. "It is chiefly because I am a boy."
"Boys are not always popular. It depends a good deal on the kind of boy."
So the reader will get some idea of Ben's life at the mines and the estimation in which he was held by his comrades. It was not very exciting nor very eventful, but there was to be a change.
One day his pick struck something hard. It might be a rock which would need to be removed. He dug round it patiently, but when he wished to lift it after it was loosened, he found it necessary to summon Bradley to his assistance.
"Why, Ben!" exclaimed Bradley, in excitement, "this isn't a rock; it is a nug