Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

CHAPTER XXXV. MELVILLE IN PERIL

Col. Warner and his companion enjoyed the effect of their presence upon their intended victim, and smiled in a manner that boded little good to Melville, as they dismounted from their steeds and advanced to the door of the cabin.

“How are you, Melville?” said Warner, ironically. “I see you have not forgotten me.”

“No, I have not forgotten you,” answered Melville, regarding his visitor uneasily.

“This is my friend, Mr. Brown. Perhaps you remember him?”

“I do remember him, and the circumstances under which I last saw him,” replied Melville, rather imprudently.

Brown frowned, but he did not speak. He generally left his companion to do the talking.

“Being in the neighborhood, we thought we’d call upon you,” continued Col. Warner.

“Walk in, gentlemen, if you see fit,” said Melville. “I suppose it would be only polite to say that I am glad to see you, but I have some regard for truth, and cannot say it.”

“I admire your candor, Mr. Melville. Walk in, Brown. Ha! upon my word, you have a nice home here. Didn’t expect to see anything of the kind in this wilderness. Books and pictures! Really, now, Brown, I am quite tempted to ask our friend, Melville, to entertain us for a few days.”

“I don’t think it would suit you,” said Melville, dryly. “You are probably more fond of exciting adventure than of books.”

“Does the boy live with you?” asked Warner, dropping his bantering tone, and looking about his searchingly.

“Yes, he is still with me.”

“I don’t see him.”

“Because he has gone to Deer Creek on business.”

When Melville saw the rapid glance of satisfaction interchanged by the two visitors he realized that he had made an imprudent admission. He suspected that their design was to rob him, and he had voluntarily assured them that he was alone, and that they could proceed without interruption.

“Sorry not to see him,” said Warner. “I’d like to renew our pleasant acquaintance.”

Melville was about to reply that Herbert would be back directly, when it occurred to him that this would be a fresh piece of imprudence. It would doubtless lead them to proceed at once to the object of their visit, while if he could only keep them till his boy companion did actually return, they would at least be two to two. Even then they would be by no means equally matched, but something might occur to help them.

“I suppose Herbert will return by evening,” he replied. “You can see him if you remain till then.”

Another expression of satisfaction appeared upon the faces of his two visitors, but for this he was prepared.

“Sorry we can’t stay till then,” said Warner, “but business of importance will limit our stay. Eh, Brown?”

“I don’t see the use of delaying at all!” growled Brown, who was not as partial as his companion to the feline amusement of playing with his intended victim. With him, on the contrary, it was a word, and a blow, and sometimes the blow came first.

“Come to business!” continued Brown, impatiently, addressing his associate.

“That is my purpose, friend Brown.”

“Mr. Melville, it is not solely the pleasure of seeing you that has led my friend and myself to call this afternoon.”

Melville nodded.

“So I supposed,” he said.

“There is a little unfinished business between us, as you will remember. I owe you a return for the manner in which you saw fit to throw suspicion upon me some time since, when we were traveling together.”

“I shall be very glad to have you convince me that I did you an injustice,” said Melville. “I was led to believe that you and your friend now present were leagued together to rob us of our money and valuables. If it was not so—”

“You were not very far from right, Mr. Melville. Still it was not polite to express your suspicions so rudely. Besides, you were instrumental in defeating our plan.”

“I can’t express any regret for that, Col. Warner, or Jerry Lane, as I suppose that is your real name.”

“I am Jerry Lane!” said Warner, proudly. “I may as well confess it, since it is well that you should know with whom you have to deal. When I say that I am Jerry Lane, you will understand that I mean business.”

“I do,” answered Melville, quietly.

“You know me by reputation?” said the outlaw, with a curious pride in his unenviable notoriety.

“I do.”

“What do men say of me?”

“That you are at the head of a gang of reckless assassins and outlaws, and that you have been implicated in scores of robberies and atrocities.”

This was not so satisfactory.

“Young man,” said Lane—to drop his false name—“I advise you to be careful how you talk. It may be the worse for you. Now, to come to business, how much money have you in the house?”

“Why do you ask, and by what right?”

“We propose to take it. Now answer my question.”

“Gentlemen, you will be very poorly paid for the trouble you have taken in visiting me. I have very little money.”

“Of course, you say so. We want an answer.”

“As well as I can remember I have between forty and fifty dollars in my pocketbook.”

Brown uttered an oath under his breath, and Lane looked uneasy.

“That’s a lie!” said Brown, speaking first. “We were told you had five thousand dollars here.”

“Your informant was badly mistaken, then. I am not very wise, perhaps, in worldly matters, but I certainly am not such a fool as to keep so large a sum of money in a lonely cabin like this.”

“Perhaps not so much as that,” returned Lane. “I don’t pretend to say how much you have. That is for you to tell us.”

George Melville drew from his pocket a wallet, and passed it to the outlaw.

“Count the money for yourself, if you wish,” he said. “You can verify my statement.”

Lane opened the wallet with avidity, and drew out the contents. It was apparent at the first glance that the sum it contained was small. It was counted, however, and proved to amount to forty-seven dollars and a few silver coins.

The two robbers looked at each other in dismay. Was it possible that this was all? If so, they would certainly be very poorly paid for their trouble.

“Do you expect us to believe, Mr. Melville,” said Jerry Lane, sternly, “that this is all the money you have?”

“In this cabin—yes.”

“We are not so easily fooled. It is probably all you carry about with you; but you have more concealed somewhere about the premises. It will be best for you to produce at once, unless you are ready to pass in your checks.”

“That means,” said Melville, growing pale in spite of himself, for he knew from report the desperate character of his guests, “that means, I suppose, that you will kill me unless I satisfy your rapacity.”

“It does,” said Lane, curtly. “Now for your answer!”

“Gentlemen, I cannot accomplish impossibilities. It is as I say. The money in your hands is all that I have by me.”

“Do you mean to deny that you are rich?” asked Lane.

“No, I do not deny it. That is not the point in question. You ask me to produce all the money I have with me. I have done so.”

“Do you believe this, Brown?” asked the captain, turning to his subordinate.

“No, I don’t.”

“It is strictly true.”

“Then,” said Brown, “you deserve to die for having no more money for us.”

“True,” chimed in Lane. “Once more, will you produce your secret hoard?”

“I have none.”

“Then you must be dealt with in the usual way. Brown, have you a rope?”

“Yes.”

“Is there a convenient tree near by.”

“We’ll find one.”

The two seized Melville, and, despite his resistance, dragged him violently from the cabin, and adjusted a rope about his neck. The young man was pale, and gave himself up for lost.

CHAPTER XXXVI. THE MINE IS SOLD

While his friend was in peril, where was Herbert?

For him, too, it had been an exciting day—Deer Creek had been excited by the arrival of a capitalist from New York, whose avowed errand it was to buy a mine. Reports from Deer Creek had turned his steps thither, and all the mine owners were on the qui vive to attract the attention of the monied man. It was understood that he intended to capitalize the mine, when purchased, start a company, and work it by the new and improved methods, which had replaced the older and ruder appliances at first employed.

Mr. Compton, though not a mining expert, was a shrewd man, who weighed carefully the representations that were made to him, and reserved his opinion. It was clear that he was not a man who would readily be taken in, though there were not wanting men at Deer Creek who were ready to palm off upon him poor or worthless mines. About the only mine owners who did not seek him were the owners of the Blazing Star, both of whom were on the ground. The mine was looking up. The most recent developments were the most favorable, and the prospects were excellent. They might, indeed, “peter out” as the expression is, but it did not seem likely.

“Jack,” said Herbert, “shall we invite Mr. Compton to visit our mine?”

“No,” answered Jack Holden; “I am willing to keep it.”

“Wouldn’t you sell?”

“Yes, if I could get my price.”

“What is your price?”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars for the whole mine!”

“That is twelve thousand five hundred for mine,” said Herbert, his cheek flushing with the excitement he felt.

“You’ve figured it out right, my lad,” said his partner.

“That would leave me twelve thousand after I have paid up Mr. Melville for the sum I paid in the beginning.”

“Right again, my lad.”

“Why, Jack!” exclaimed Herbert. “Do you know what that means? It means that I should be rich—that my mother could move into a nicer house, that we could live at ease for the rest of our lives.”

“Would twelve thousand dollars do all that?”

“No; but it would give me a fund that would establish me in business, and relieve me of all anxiety. Jack, it’s too bright to be real.”

“We may not be able to sell the mine at that figure, Herbert. Don’t let us count our chickens before they are hatched, or we may be disappointed. I’m as willin’ to keep the mine as to sell it.”

“Jack, here is Mr. Compton coming,” said Herbert.

The capitalist paused, and addressing Herbert, said:

“Have you anything to do with the mine, my lad?”

“I am half owner,” answered Herbert, promptly, and not without pride.

“Who is the other half owner?”

“Mr. Holden,” answered Herbert, pointing out Jack.

“May I examine the mine?”

“You are quite welcome to, sir.”

Possibly the fact that this mine alone had not been pressed upon him for purchase, predisposed Mr. Compton to regard it with favor. Every facility was offered him, and Jack Holden, who thoroughly understood his business, gave him the necessary explanations.

After an hour spent in the examination, Mr. Compton came to business.

“Is the mine for sale?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“What is your price?”

“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“Is that your lowest price?”

“It is.”

Jack Holden wasted no words in praising the mine, and this produced a favorable impression on the capitalist with whom he was dealing.

“I’ll take it,” he answered.

“Then it’s a bargain.”

Herbert found it difficult to realize that these few words had made him a rich boy. He remained silent, but in his heart he was deeply thankful, not so much for himself, as because he knew that he was now able to rejoice his mother’s heart, and relieve her from all pecuniary cares or anxieties.

“You’ve made a good bargain, sir, if I do say it,” said Jack Holden. “For my own part, I wasn’t so particular about selling the mine, but my young partner here is differently placed, and the money will come handy to him.”

“You are rather young for a mine owner,” said Mr. Compton, regarding Herbert with some curiosity.

“Yes, sir; I believe I am the youngest mine owner here.”

“Are you a resident of this State?”

“Only temporarily, sir. I came here with a friend whose lungs are weak.”

“You expect to return to the East soon?”

“Yes, sir.”

“When you do, come to see me. I am a commission merchant in Boston. If it is your intention to follow a business life, I may be able to find you a place.”

“Thank you, sir; I should like nothing better.”

“To-morrow,” said Mr. Compton, “I will come here and complete the purchase.”

“Jack,” said Herbert, when the new purchaser of the mine had left them, “there is no work for us here. Come with me, and let us together tell Mr. Melville the good news.”

“A good thought, my lad!”

So the two mounted their horses, and left Deer Creek behind them. They little suspected how sorely they were needed.

CHAPTER XXXVII. TO THE RESCUE

Herbert and his companion drew near the forest cabin, which had been the home of the former, without a suspicion that George Melville was in such dire peril. The boy was, indeed, thinking of him, but it was rather of the satisfaction his employer would feel at his good fortune.

“Somehow I feel in a great hurry to get there, Jack,” said Herbert. “I shall enjoy telling Mr. Melville of my good luck.”

“He’s a fine chap, that Melville,” said Jack Holden, meaning no disrespect by this unceremonious fashion of speech.

“That he is! He’s the best friend I ever had, Jack,” returned Herbert, warmly.

“It’s a pity he’s ailing.”

“Oh, he’s much stronger than he was when he came out here. All the unfavorable symptoms have disappeared.”

“Maybe he’ll outgrow it. I had an uncle that was given up to die of consumption, when he was about Melville’s age, and he died only last year at the age of seventy-five.”

“That must have been slow consumption, Jack,” said Herbert, smiling. “If Mr. Melville can live as long as that, I think neither he nor his friends will have reason to complain.”

“Is he so rich, lad?”

“I don’t know how rich, but I know he has plenty of money. How much power a rich man has,” said Herbert, musingly. “Now, Mr. Melville has changed my whole life for me. When I first met him I was working for three dollars a week. Now I am worth twelve thousand dollars!”

Herbert repeated this with a beaming face. The good news had not lost the freshness of novelty. There was so much that he could do now that he was comparatively rich. To do Herbert justice, it was not of himself principally that he thought. It was sweet to reflect that he could bring peace, and joy, and independence to his mother. After all, it is the happiness we confer that brings us the truest enjoyment. The selfish man who eats and drinks and lodges like a prince, but is unwilling to share his abundance with others, knows not what he loses. Even boys and girls may try the experiment for themselves, for one does not need to be rich to give pleasure to others.

“Come, Jack, let us ride faster; I am in a hurry,” said Herbert, when they were perhaps a quarter of a mile distant from the cabin.

They emerged from the forest, and could now see the cottage and its surroundings. They saw something that almost paralyzed them.

George Melville, with a rope round his neck, stood beneath a tree. Col. Warner was up in the tree swinging the rope over a branch, while Brown, big, burly and brutal, pinioned the helpless young man in his strong arms.

“Good heavens! Do you see that?” exclaimed Herbert. “It is the road agents. Quick, or we shall be too late!”

Jack had seen. He had not only seen, but he had already acted. Quick as thought he raised his weapon, and covered Brown. There was a sharp report, and the burly ruffian fell, his heart pierced by the unerring bullet.

Herbert dashed forward, and, seizing the rope, released his friend.

“Thank Heaven, Herbert! You have saved my life!” murmured Melville, in tones of heartfelt gratitude.

“There’s another of them!” exclaimed Jack Holden, looking up into the tree, and he raised his gun once more.

“Don’t shoot!” exclaimed the man, whom we know best as Col. Warner; “I’ll come down.”

So he did, but not in the manner he expected. In his flurry, for he was not a brave man, outlaw though he was, he lost his hold and fell at the feet of Holden.

“What shall we do with him, Mr. Melville?” asked Jack. “He deserves to die.”

“Don’t kill him! Bind him, and give him up to the authorities.”

“I hate to let him off so easy,” said Jack, but he did as Melville wished. But the colonel had a short reprieve. On his way to jail, a bullet from some unknown assailant pierced his temple, and Jerry Lane, the notorious road agent, died, as he had lived, by violence.

CHAPTER XXXVIII. CONCLUSION

It had been the intention of George Melville to remain in Colorado all winter, but his improved health, and the tragic event which I have just narrated, conspired to change his determination.

“Herbert,” he said, when the business connected with the sale of the mine had been completed, “how would you like to go home?”

“With you?”

“Yes, you don’t suppose I would remain here alone?”

“If you feel well enough, Mr. Melville, there is nothing I should like better.”

“I do feel well enough. If I find any unfavorable symptoms coming back, I can travel again, but I am anxious to get away from this place, where I have come so near losing my life at the hands of the outlaws.”

There was little need of delay. Their preparations were soon made. There was an embarrassment about the cottage, but that was soon removed.

“I’ll buy it of you, Mr. Melville,” said Jack Holden.

“I can’t sell it to you, Mr. Holden.”

“I will give you a fair price.”

“You don’t understand me,” said George Melville, smiling. “I will not sell it, because I prefer to give it.”

“Thank you, Mr Melville, but you know I am not exactly a poor man. The sale of the mine—-”

“Jack,” said Melville, with emotion, “would you have me forget that it is to you and Herbert that I owe my rescue from a violent and ignominious death?”

“I want no pay for that, Mr. Melville.”

“No, I am sure you don’t. But you will accept the cabin, not as pay, but as a mark of my esteem.”

Upon that ground Jack accepted the cottage with pleasure. Herbert tried to tempt him to make a visit to the East, but he was already in treaty for another mine, and would not go.

The two stayed a day in Chicago on their way to Boston.

“I wonder if Eben is still here?” thought Herbert.

He soon had his question answered. In passing through a suburban portion of the great city, he saw a young man sawing wood in front of a mean dwelling, while a stout negro was standing near, with his hands in his pockets, surveying the job. He was the proprietor of a colored restaurant, and Eben was working for him.

Alas, for Eben! The once spruce dry-goods clerk was now a miserable-looking tramp, so far as outward appearances went. His clothes were not only ragged, but soiled, and the spruce city acquaintances whom he once knew would have passed him without recognition.

“Eben!”

Eben turned swiftly as he heard his name called, and a flush of shame overspread his face.

“Is it you, Herbert?” he asked, faintly.

“Yes, Eben. You don’t seem very prosperous.”

“I never thought I should sink so low,” answered Eben, mournfully, “as to saw wood for a colored man.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” interrupted his boss, angrily. “Ain’t I as good as a worfless white man that begged a meal of vittles of me, coz he was starvin’? You jest shut up your mouf, and go to work.”

Eben sadly resumed his labor. Herbert pitied him, in spite of his folly and wickedness.

“Eben, do you owe this man anything?” he added.

“Yes, he does. He owes me for his dinner. Don’t you go to interfere!” returned the colored man.

“How much was your dinner worth?” asked Herbert, putting his hand into his pocket.

“It was wuf a quarter.”

“There is your money! Now, Eben, come with me.”

“I’ve been very unfortunate,” wailed Eben.

“Would you like to go back to Wayneboro?” asked Herbert.

“Yes, anywhere,” answered Eben, eagerly. “I can’t make a livin’ here. I have almost starved sometimes.”

“Eben, I’ll make a bargain with you. If I will take you home, will you turn over a new leaf, and try to lead a regular and industrious life?”

“Yes, I’ll do it,” answered Eben.

“Then I’ll take you with me to-morrow.”

“I shouldn’t like my old friends to see me in these rags,” said Eben, glancing with shame at his tattered clothes.

“They shall not. Come with me, and I will rig you out anew.”

“You’re a good fellow, Herbert,” said Eben, gratefully. “I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”

“Then it’s all right,” said Herbert. Herbert kept his promise. He took Eben to a barber shop, where there were also baths, having previously purchased him a complete outfit, and Eben emerged looking once more like the spruce dry-goods salesman of yore.

One day not long afterwards Mrs. Carr was sitting in her little sitting room, sewing. She had plenty of leisure for this work now, for Mr. Graham had undertaken to attend to the post-office duties himself. It was natural that she should think of her absent boy, from whom she had not heard for a long time.

“When shall I see him again?” she thought, wearily.

There was a knock at the outer door.

She rose to open it, but, before she could reach it, it flew open, and her boy, taller and handsomer than ever, was in her arms.

“Oh, Herbert!”

It was all she could say, but the tone was full of joy.

“How I have missed you!”

“We will be together now, mother.”

“I hope so, Herbert. Perhaps you can find something to do in Wayneboro, and even if it doesn’t pay as well—”

“Mother,” interrupted Herbert, laughing, “is that the way to speak to a rich boy like me?”

“Rich?”

“Yes, mother, I bring home twelve thousand dollars.”

Mrs. Carr could not believe it at first, but Herbert told his story, and she gave joyful credence at last.

Eben did not receive as warm a welcome, but finally his father was propitiated, and agreed to give his son employment in his own store. He’s there yet. His hard experience in the West has subdued his pride, and he has really “turned over a new leaf,” as he promised Herbert. His father will probably next year give him a quarter interest in the firm, and the firm’s name will be

“EBENEZER GRAHAM & SON.”

Herbert and his mother have moved to Boston. Our hero is learning business in the counting room of Mr. Compton. They live in a pleasant house at the South End, and Mr. Melville, restored to a very fair measure of health, is boarding, or, rather, has his home with them. He is devoting his time to literary pursuits, and I am told that he is the author of a brilliant paper in a recent number of the North American Review. Herbert finds some time for study, and, under the guidance of his friend and former employer, he has already become a very creditable scholar in French, German and English literature. He enjoys his present prosperity all the better for the hardships through which he passed before reaching it.

THE END