CHAPTER XVIII
HARRY'S COMMISSION
It may be well imagined that Harry was in a thrill of excitement as hewalked home. He had just witnessed what was undoubtedly an attempt toconceal the proceeds of a burglary. He, and he alone, outside of theguilty parties, knew where the booty was deposited, and he asked himselfwhat was his duty under the circumstances.
Of course he had no sympathy with Temple and Vernon. They had madethemselves the enemies of society, and he was in duty bound to defeattheir criminal plans, if possible, and restore the property to its legalowner or owners.
Here a difficulty stared him in the face. He didn't know to whom the tinbox and its contents belonged, for not a word had been dropped by thetwo thieves which could inform him. They had made up their minds, however, to wait till a reward should be offered, and then come forwardand claim it, or, at any rate, open negotiations through others lookingto that result.
Why could not Harry learn, in like manner, who had been robbed, andcommunicate with them? This seemed to him the most sensible course.
Here, again, there was another difficulty. In the little country villagehe was not in a position to see any such notice, for they took no dailypaper, and, though Mr. Mead did, his inquiry for it would excitecuriosity and lead to questionings. It seemed necessary for him to go toNew York.
"Shall I tell mother, or not?" he asked himself.
On the whole, he thought it better not to do so. So far as he wasconcerned, his mother was timid, and she would be anxious lest he shouldincur the hostility of the two lawless men of whose crime he had comeinto the knowledge. Yet he wanted to consult somebody, for he felt thatthe matter was one of no little importance, and that he needed a man'scounsel.
"I'll speak to Uncle Obed about it," he said to himself. "He isn't usedto cities, to be sure, but he has had a long life, and must haveconsiderable experience. At any rate, he will be better qualified than Ito know what ought to be done."
He had scarcely come to this conclusion before he reached the cottage.
His mother, with a troubled expression of countenance, was sitting atthe table, not sewing or mending, as usual, but with her hands claspedin her lap, while near her sat Uncle Obed, also looking sober.
"I am sure something has happened to Harry," she had just been saying.
"I never knew him to stay out so long without telling me."
"Boys will be boys," answered the old man, not knowing what else to say.
"He's gone off on some lark with some of his playmates."
"But he never does that without telling me, Mr. Wilkins. He's always soconsiderate."
"He'll be coming home safe and sound, depend upon it," said Uncle Obed, with a confidence greater than he actually felt.
"Perhaps he has fallen from a tree – he was always fond of climbing – andbroken his leg," suggested Mrs. Gilbert, dolefully.
"He's too smart for that," said Uncle Obed.
"What should I do if he never came home?" exclaimed the poor woman, witha shudder.
Mr. Wilkins was hardly prepared to answer this question, and, luckily, it was not necessary, for just then the latch was lifted and Harrywalked in.
"Didn't I tell you so?" said Uncle Obed, triumphantly.
"Oh, Harry, I'm so glad to see you! Where have you been so long?"
"It's lucky you came just as you did," said Mr. Wilkins. "Your motherhad made up her mind that you had met with an accident."
"I wanted to come home, but I couldn't," answered Harry. "I was in thewoods."
"Lost your way?" asked Uncle Obed.
"Not exactly. Two boys played a trick upon me."
Of course Harry had to explain what sort of a trick it was. Mrs. Gilbertwas very indignant, and denounced Philip and his confederate in nosparing terms.
"You ought to go and complain to Colonel Ross," she said. "Philip oughtnot to be allowed to do such things."
Harry smiled. He had no idea of following this advice. It would havebeen an acknowledgment of weakness, and he felt able to defend himselfagainst Philip Ross and his machinations.
"Mother," he said, "I've got very particular reasons for not doing this, and for not even mentioning that I was in the wood. Now, I want you topromise me not to say a word about it, for a week at least."
"But if I see Philip," said his mother, "I can't keep silent."
"You must, for my sake, mother. You don't know how much depends uponit."
"I don't understand," said Mrs. Gilbert, thoroughly bewildered.
"No, I suppose not; but I have a strong reason that I can't mention justyet."
"I hope there's nothing wrong going on," said his mother, alarmed.
"If there is, it isn't anything that I'm to blame for. Only there's asecret that I can't tell just yet. You'll know it in good time. I wantto consult Uncle Obed to-night about it, and you won't mind if I don'ttell you just yet?"
"Give the boy his way, ma'am," said Mr. Wilkins. "If there is anythingvery bad about it he wouldn't tell me."
His mother was somewhat reassured, and left the two to themselves. ThenHarry began and told his story. Mr. Wilkins listened with attention, andnot without surprise.
"Really, Harry, it's quite an adventure, I call it," he said. "Do youknow this man Temple?"
"I know that he's a sort of tramp. I didn't suppose he was a thiefbefore."
"You never saw this other man before?"
"No; never heard of him."
"They're a pair of rascals, I reckon. Now, what have you thought ofdoing?"
"Of going to New York to-morrow to find out what I can about theburglary, or whatever else it was. If I can find out who has beenrobbed, I'll go and tell them about it, and where the bonds are hid."
Uncle Obed nodded approvingly.
"That's a good idea," he said.
"What puzzles me," continued Harry, "is how to explain to mother why Igo to the city. I can't tell her, and she'll feel nervous."
"I can manage that," said Mr. Wilkins. "I'll tell her you have gone onbusiness for me."
"But will it be true?" asked Harry.
"Yes; I've got some cowpons" – that's the way the old man pronounced theword – "that you can get the money for."
"Shall I have any difficulty about it, Uncle Obed?"
"No; you can go to a broker, and he'll give you the money for it, takingout his commission. How much does it cost to go to New York?"
"The price of an excursion ticket is a dollar."
The old man took from his pocket a two-dollar bill.
"There," said he; "that'll pay your ticket and get you some dinner."
"But, Uncle Obed, you ought not to pay my expenses."
"Why not? Ain't you going on my business?"
"I'm going principally on my own," said Harry.
"Well," replied the old man, smiling, "then you must take it because Iam your uncle."
"I know I call you so."
"You seem a good deal more kin to me than Philip. He's ashamed of hisold uncle, and so is his mother; but you are not.
"No, no, Harry; it's all right. I ain't exactly poor, but I'd rather myniece would think so. So don't you say anything to them about thecowpons."
"I'm not likely to, Uncle Obed."
The old man went up to his room and brought down ninety dollars' worthof government coupons, which, as gold was then ruling at a dollar andtwenty, would bring about a hundred and eight dollars in currency.
Mrs. Gilbert was much surprised when Harry told her that he intended togo to New York the next day on business for Uncle Obed; but, of course, had no idea that he had still more important business of his own.
CHAPTER XIX
SECOND VISIT TO THE WOOD
There was an early train from the neighboring village of Crampton to NewYork. Harry got up early, and walked the first part of the way throughthe fields to a point where the footpath struck the main road, three-quarters of a mile from the village.
In this way it happened that he was not seen by any of his companions, and his day's expedition was kept a secret.
Just after breakfast James Congreve received a call at the hotel from
Philip.
"Our friend in the wood must be hungry by this time," said James.
"Ho, ho!" laughed Philip, in evident enjoyment. "It's a splendid joke."
"I fancy he doesn't think so," said Congreve, shrugging his shoulders.
"Of course he doesn't. He must have been fully scared, staying there allnight."
"He doesn't strike me as a boy who would easily be frightened,"
"At any rate, he must be hungry," said Philip, in a tone ofsatisfaction. "I guess he'll find it doesn't pay to insult me."
"Well, he's had enough of it; we'll go and release him."
"What for?"
"You don't want him to stay there all day, do you?" demanded Congreve.
"It wouldn't do him any harm," muttered Philip.
"What a mean fellow you are, Philip! You ought to be satisfied withkeeping him there all night."
"I wish you wouldn't call me names," said Philip, pettishly.
"Don't deserve them, then. Well, are you coming with me?'
"I don't know; it's a good ways," said Philip, hesitating.
"Just as you like. I am going. I told the boy I would, and I mean tokeep my promise."
And James Congreve stepped off the piazza and started.
"Oh, well, I'll go, too. I want to see how he looks," said Philip, andbegan to laugh.
"Take care how you laugh at him there, Phil, or he may pitch into you."
"You won't let him, will you, James?" said Philip, apprehensively.
"I thought you were a match for him," said Congreve, with an amusedsmile.
"So I am, but he might take me unawares. He'll be so mad, you know."
"I'll protect you," said Congreve. "Come along."
Both boys would have liked to learn whether Harry had been missed athome, and what was thought of his disappearance; but there seemed to beno one to ask, and, for obvious reasons, they did not care to show anycuriosity on the subject.
"I'd like to meet Mr. Wilkins," said Philip. "He boards there, you know, and he might say something about it."
"Mr. Wilkins is your uncle, isn't he?"
"He's a distant relation of ma's," said Philip, reluctantly. "We don'tknow much about him."
"I suppose he's poor?" suggested Congreve, drily.
"Oh, dear, yes! He was a farmer or something out in Illinois. He probablypays a dollar or two a week board at Gilberts'. They're dreadfully poor, you know. I shouldn't be surprised if all hands were in the poorhousebefore the year is out."
"Your uncle and all?"
"He isn't my uncle!" said Philip, snappishly.
"Relative, then. You wouldn't want a relative in the poorhouse?"
"Pa offered to pay his expenses back to Illinois, but the old fellow wasobstinate and wouldn't go. I expect he's hanging round here in hopes ofgetting something out of pa and ma; but it's no use, as he'll find outsooner or later."
"Strange he went to board with the Gilberts, isn't it?"
"Oh, it's a good enough place for a rusty old chap like him. He ain'tused to living in any style. Ma says he's half crazy."
By this time they had reached the borders of the wood, and soon theycame to the place where Harry had been left bound.
"Why, he isn't here!" exclaimed Philip, in surprise and disappointment.
"So it appears."
"How could he have got away?"
James Congreve, bending over, searched carefully, and at length got somelight on the subject.
"Somebody cut the cords," he said. "Look here – and here!" and he pointedout fragments of the strong cord with which the captive had been bound.
"That's so. Do you think he did it himself?" asked Philip, disappointed.
"No; he was too securely tied. I took care of that. Somebody came alongand released him."
"I hope he had to stay all night, at any rate," said Philip.
"That we cannot discover at present. One thing is certain – he's free."
"I'm sorry I came," muttered Philip. "I have had this long walk fornothing."
"You haven't had the satisfaction of releasing him, I suppose, youmean?"
"No, I don't. I wanted to see how he looked. It's too bad he got away."
"There's nothing for it but to go back," said Congreve. "You'd betterlook out for him. He may want to pay you off."
"He'd better not try it," said Philip, but he seemed uneasy at thethought.
On their way back they passed, unconsciously, near the place where thetin box was concealed.
Hovering near the spot was Ralph Temple, uneasy for the safety of theburied treasure.
He eyed the two young fellows with suspicion. They had no guns in theirhands, and he could not understand what object they had in coming tothis out-of-the-way place so early in the morning.
"What are you about here?" he demanded, roughly.
Philip was frightened and turned pale; but James Congreve only surveyedthe man curiously, and said:
"Is that any business of yours, my friend?"
"You'll find out whether it's any business of mine," returned Temple, angrily.
"That's precisely what I would like to find out," said Congreve, coolly. "You accost us as if you were the owner of the wood, which, I take it, you are not."
"Do you want me to wring your neck, young man?" said Temple, with agrowl.
"Oh, don't make him angry, James!" begged Philip, nervously, laying hishand on Congreve's arm.
James – who certainly was not a coward – surveyed his companioncontemptuously.
"Much obliged to you for your kind offer," said he, addressing Temple, "but I must decline it."
"You've got too long a tongue, young man!" said Temple, provoked by theother's coolness. "I've a mind to teach you a lesson."
"When I want one I will let you know," said Congreve, changing his toneand manner and regarding the other scornfully.
"Meanwhile, my man, I advise you not to drink so early in the morning.
It doesn't improve your naturally bad manners."
With a muttered exclamation Ralph Temple sprang forward, prepared tohandle Congreve roughly, as he was quite able to do, being much hissuperior in size and strength, but, with his hand nearly touching theshoulder of the young man, recoiled, as Congreve drew out a revolver andpointed it at him.
"One step further and I fire!" he said, in a calm, collected tone, while
Philip stood by, as pale as a sheet.
"Confusion!" exclaimed the ruffian, in mingled amazement and dismay.
"Who are you, anyway?"
"My name is James Congreve, at your service," said the owner of thatname, bowing. "I regret that I haven't a card about me."
"You're a cool customer!" muttered Temple, surveying Congrevecuriously.
"So people tell me. You'll find me at the hotel in the village, if youhave any further business with me."
Congreve nodded carelessly and left the spot – Phil, in a very nervouscondition, keeping himself somewhat in advance.
"He's a cool chap," muttered the ruffian. "But it's clear he knowsnothing of our affair. I was a fool to make a fuss. It might lead tosuspicion."
"What a dreadful man!" said Philip, as the two were walking away.
"Do you know him?"
"His name is Ralph Temple. He's a kind of tramp."
"He's an impertinent fellow, at any rate. It's well I had my revolverwith me."
They walked back to the village, momentarily expecting to see or hearsomething of Harry Gilbert; but neither then nor later in the day wastheir curiosity gratified.
CHAPTER XX
ON THE WAY TO NEW YORK
Harry stepped on board the train without seeing any one whom he knew, and took a seat on the right-hand side. Just in front of him was anelderly farmer, with a face well browned by exposure to the sun andwind. He had a kindly face, and looked sociable. It was not long beforehe addressed our young hero.
"Going to New York?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Are you acquainted there?"
"No, sir; not much."
"Nor I. I was thinking you might be able to direct me to a place where Icould get money for some cowpons."
"Government coupons?" inquired Harry, becoming interested.
"Yes. You see, my wife's uncle died not long ago, and left Sarah agovernment bond of a thousand dollars, drawing six per cent interest. There's thirty dollars due the first of this month, and I told Sarahthat I'd go and collect it for her."
"I've got some business of that same kind," said Harry. "I was toldthere were brokers' offices in Wall Street, where I could collect themoney without any trouble."
"I'll go with you," said the farmer, in a tone of satisfaction. "Ifhe'll buy yours, he'll buy mine."
"I shall be glad to have your company," said Harry, politely.
It flattered his vanity that a man old enough to be his grandfather wasdisposed to be guided by him in a matter of such importance.
Just then a smooth voice was heard from the seat behind.
"Gentlemen," said a young man, showily dressed and with a profusion ofrings on his fingers, "excuse my interrupting you, but I may be able tosave you some trouble."
They naturally waited for an explanation of these words.
"I overheard you saying that you had some coupons to dispose of."
"Yes," replied the farmer, eagerly.
"I am myself a banker and broker, and deal in government securities. Ifthe amount is not too large, I will buy your coupons and pay for them atonce."
"That will be handy," said the farmer. "I've got thirty dollars incowpons."
"And you, my young friend?" said the so-called broker, addressing
Harry.
"I have rather more than that," said Harry, in a reserved tone.
Somehow, he was suspicious of the plausible stranger.
"I will pay you a higher price than most houses, besides saving you allthe trouble," said the broker, insinuatingly, as he drew out a capaciouswallet, and, opening it, exhibited a pile of bills.
The farmer immediately drew out his coupon.
"Let me see," said the broker; "thirty dollars, gold at the presentpremium comes to thirty-six dollars."
"Thirty-six dollars!" repeated the farmer, complacently. "Sarah'll feelrich when she gets that money."
"Here's your money," said the broker, producing three ten-dollar bills, a five and a one. "The bills are new, you perceive."
The farmer put away the bills in his old wallet, and the strangerslipped the coupon carelessly into his vest pocket.
"Now, my young friend, I am ready to attend to your matter," he said, turning to Harry.
"I won't trouble you," said Harry, coldly; "I prefer to dispose of thecoupons in the city."
"Just as you like; but you would do better to deal with me."
"Why?" asked Harry.
"In the city they will allow you but a hundred and nineteen for gold."
"How is it you can afford to do better by me?" asked Harry, shrewdly.
"Our house makes a point of dealing liberally with their customers," said the broker.
"What is the name of your firm?"
"Chase & Atkins," answered the other glibly. "I am a relative of Salmon
Chase, ex-secretary of the treasury, and, since, chief justice of the
Supreme Court."
"You don't say!" ejaculated the farmer. "Salmon Chase is a great man."
"So he is. Thank you, sir, for your appreciation of my distinguishedrelative. Of course, it doesn't make me any better to be related to thatgreat man, but I am naturally proud of it."
"Hadn't you better sell your coupons to him?" asked the farmer, who wasquite prepossessed in