CHAPTER XXVI.
BOUGHT OFF
Bolton's reply did not quite suit Mr. Ray, but he felt that if he said too much about the will it would give it an exaggerated importance in the eyes of the man before him. So he answered carelessly, "Oh, very well! The document is of no value, and though I should prefer to have it, I won't insist. I will give you the hundred dollars, but I wish it understood that it is all I can give you at any time. Don't apply to me again, for it will be of no use."
"I understand," said Bolton, non-committally.
"Shall I give you a check?"
"I could do better with the money. My name is not known now at any bank."
"Well, I think I can accommodate you. I believe I have that sum in my desk."
He opened a drawer in his secretary, and produced a hundred dollars in crisp new bills. They had been taken from the bank the day before for a different purpose.
Bolton took them joyfully. It was long since he had had so much money in his possession. He had been his own worst enemy. Once a prosperous lawyer, he had succumbed to the love of drink, and gradually lost his clients and his position. But he had decided to turn over a new leaf, and he saw in this money the chance to reinstate himself, and in time recover his lost position.
"Thank you," he said; but while there was relief there was no gratitude in his tone.
"And now," said Stephen Ray, "I must ask you to leave me. I have important business to attend to. You will excuse me if I suggest it would be better to go away–to a distance–and try to build yourself up somewhere where you are not known."
"I might go to Savannah."
"Yes, to Savannah, if you think it will be to your advantage," said Ray with equanimity.
The other noticed his manner, and he said to himself, "He is willing to have me visit Savannah. It is clear that Ernest did not die there."
Benjamin Bolton left the house in a pleasant frame of mind. It was not the sum which he had received that exhilarated him. He looked upon it only as the first instalment. It was clear that Stephen Ray feared him, for he was not an open-handed man, and would not have parted with his money unnecessarily.
Bolton had not arranged his campaign, but he was determined to raise himself in the world by playing on the fears of the man he had just visited.
"I wonder," he said to himself, "whether Dudley Ray's son is really dead. He was a strong and healthy boy, and he may still be living."
This was a point not easy to ascertain.
He went to a restaurant and obtained a substantial meal, of which he stood very much in need. Then he went out for a stroll. He did not propose to leave the place yet.
As he was walking along he met Clarence Ray again, but not now on his bicycle. The boy recognized him.
"Are you going to stay in town?" asked Clarence, curiously.
"Not long."
"Did you get through your business with pa?"
"Yes, for the present. By the way, I suppose you know that you have a cousin about your own age. I used to know him and his father."
"Did you? His father is dead."
"So I have understood. Do you happen to know where the son is?"
"Somewhere out West, I think."
Bolton pricked up his ears. So it seemed that Stephen Ray had deceived him.
"I would give five dollars to know where he is," he said slowly.
"Have you got five dollars?" Clarence asked, doubtfully.
By way of answer Bolton took a roll of bills from his pocket. They were those which Stephen Ray had given him.
"Do you mean it?" asked Clarence, in a more respectful tone. Since Bolton had money, he regarded him differently.
"Yes, I mean it."
"Why didn't you ask pa?"
"He never liked the boy nor his father, and I don't think he would tell me."
"That is true. He didn't like either of them."
"I suppose you couldn't find out for me?" said Bolton, tentatively.
"I don't know but I could," answered Clarence, briskly.
He had a special use for five dollars, and it struck him that he might just as well earn the money offered by the stranger.
"If you could, I would cheerfully pay you the five dollars. You see I used to know Ernest Ray and his father, and I would be pleased to meet Ernest again."
"Just so," said Clarence, complaisantly. "How long are you going to remain in town?"
"I did think of going to Elmira to-night, but I think on the whole I will stay at the hotel here till to-morrow morning."
"That will give me time to find out," said Clarence.
"All right! You had better not ask your father, for he is so prejudiced I don't think he would tell you."
"That's so. He will be going out this evening, and then I will search in his desk. I saw a letter there once in which the boy's name was mentioned. But I say, if you've got money why don't you buy some new clothes? You look awfully shabby."
"Your suggestion is a good one," said Bolton, smiling. "Come to look at myself I do appear shabby. But then I'm no dude. I dare say when you rode into me this morning you took me for a tramp."
"Well, you did look like one."
"That's so. I can't blame you."
"Shall I find you at the hotel this evening?"
"Yes."
"Then I'll see what I can do."
About seven o'clock Squire Ray went out to attend to a business meeting, and Clarence was left in possession of the study. He locked the door and began to ransack his father's desk. At length he succeeded in his quest.
Benjamin Bolton was sitting in the public room of the hotel an hour later smoking a cigar, and from time to time looking towards the door. Presently Clarence entered, and went up to him.
"Have you got it?" asked Bolton, eagerly.
"Yes," nodded Clarence.
He took a piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Bolton.
It read thus: "Ernest Ray, Oak Forks, Iowa."
"How did you get it?" asked Bolton.
"I found a letter in pa's desk from an old man named Peter Brant, asking pa for some money for the boy, who was living with him."
"When was that letter written?"
"About two years ago."
"Thank you. This gives me a clue. Come out of doors and I will give you what I promised. It isn't best that any one should think we had dealings together."
Five minutes later Clarence started for home, happy in the possession of a five-dollar bill.
"I never paid any money more cheerfully in my life," mused Bolton. "Now I must find the boy!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE TOWN OF OREVILLE
When Ernest and Luke Robbins started for California they had no very definite plans as to the future. But they found among their fellow-passengers a man who was just returning from the East, where he had been to visit his family. He was a practical and successful miner, and was by no means reluctant to speak of his success.
"When I landed in Frisco," he said, "two years ago, I had just forty dollars left after paying the expenses of my trip. I couldn't find anything to do in the city, so I set out for the mines."
"Where did you go?" asked Luke, becoming interested.
"To Oreville. At least, that's what they call it now. Then it didn't have a name."
"I hope you prospered," said Ernest.
"Well, not just at first, but luck came after a while. When I reached the mines I was dead broke, and went to work for somebody else. After a while I staked out a claim for myself. Well, I won't go into particulars, but I've got six thousand dollars salted down with a trust company in Frisco, and I've got a few hundred dollars about my clothes besides."
"That's the place for us, Ernest," said Luke.
"So I think," answered Ernest.
"Do you want to go to the mines?" asked the miner.
"Yes; we have our fortunes to make, and are willing to work."
"Then go out to Oreville with me. Have you got any money?"
"We have enough to get there, and perhaps a little over."
"That will do. I'll set you to work on one of my claims. We will share and share alike. How will that suit you?"
"It seems fair. Do you think we can make enough to live upon?"
"That depends partly on yourselves and partly upon luck. Luck has something to do with it."
"At any rate, we are willing to work," said Ernest.
"Then I'm your friend, and will help you," said the miner heartily. "Tom Ashton never goes back on his friends."
This was very encouraging. Luke and Ernest were not dead broke, but were near it. They had less than forty dollars between them, and they had already found out that living was high in California. They remained but a day in San Francisco, and then started for Oreville with Mr. Ashton.
The two friends knew nothing of mining, but as practised in those early days it took very little time to learn. They found that their new friend was a man of consideration at Oreville. He owned several claims, and had no difficulty in finding them employment. They set to work at once, for they were almost penniless.
It may be easily supposed that the miners were not fastidious about living. The cabins or huts which they occupied were primitive to the last degree. Generally they did their own cooking, such as it was. Three of these cabins Tom Ashton owned, and one was assigned to the use of Ernest and his friend.
For years, Ernest, with his old friend and supposed uncle, Peter Brant, had lived in a cabin at Oak Forks, but it was superior to their new residence. Yet his former experience enabled him the better to accommodate himself to the way of living at Oreville.
For a month the two friends worked steadily at their claim, which Ashton had finally given them. They made something, but not much. In fact, it was with difficulty that they made expenses.
"It will be a long time before we make our pile, Ernest," said Luke one evening, as he sat in front of his cabin smoking.
"Yes, Luke, things don't look very promising," replied Ernest, gravely.
"If it weren't for my pipe I should feel blue. Smoking cheers me up."
"That is where you have the advantage of me, Luke."
"You have the same chance that I have. I have an extra pipe. Won't you take a smoke?"
Ernest shook his head.
"I think I'm better off without it."
"Perhaps you're right, lad. I remember my poor father warned me against smoking. The question is, how long we'd better keep at it."
"Is there anything else, Luke?"
"Well, no; not here."
"And we haven't money enough to get away."
Just then a tall man with reddish hair strode across the field to their cabin.
"Good evening, neighbors," he said. "How are you making out?"
"Not over-well," answered Luke.
"There's a difference in claims. You've got a poor one."
"Probably you are right."
"There's been considerable gold dust gathered in Oreville within six months. I have been one of the lucky ones."
"Indeed! I am glad of it."
"Yes; I found a nugget two months since that I sold for two thousand dollars. I have made five thousand within a year."
"You've been in luck. I wish the boy and I could be as successful."
"The claim is not good enough to support two. Why not let the boy find something else?"
"You wouldn't have me freeze him out?" said Luke, in a tone of displeasure.
"No, but suppose I find something for him to do? What then?"
"That's a different matter. Have you an extra claim?"
"Yes; but that isn't what I offer him. I have a plan in which he can help me."
"What is it?"
"All our supplies come from Sacramento. What we need is a retail store in Oreville–a general store for the sale of almost everything that miners need."
"It would be a good plan to open one," said Luke, approvingly.
"Now, you must know that I am an old storekeeper. I had for years a store about twenty miles from Boston. I succeeded fairly with it, but my health gave out. The doctor told me I must not be so confined–that I needed out-of-door exercise. So I came out here and got it. Well, the advice proved good. I am strong and robust, and I feel enterprising. Now, what I propose is this: I will open a store, and put the boy in charge under me."
"I should like it," said Ernest, eagerly.
"You know what we pay for supplies. There's at least a hundred per cent, made, and no one objects to the prices. Why shouldn't we make it as well as the Sacramento storekeepers?"
"True!" said Luke.
"I don't ask you to work for me, my friend, for I don't think it would suit you."
"It wouldn't. At home–that's in Oak Forks, Iowa–I was a hunter. I was always in the open air. The sort of life we live here suits me, though I haven't made much money as yet."
"The boy, I think, would do. He looks like a hustler. I need only look at his face to know that he'd be honest and faithful. What is your name, boy?"
"Ernest Ray."
"That's a good name. You'll only have to live up to it–to the first part of it, I mean. Then you accept my offer?"
"You haven't made any," said Ernest, smiling.
"Oh, you mean about wages. Well, I don't offer any stated wages. I will give you one-third profits, and then your pay will depend on your success. The fact is, you are to keep the store."
Ernest looked an inquiry.
"One person can attend to it by day. I will come in the evening, and take a general look after things. Just at first I'll stay with you till you've got the hang of things. But during the day I shall be looking after my claims. Do you know how to keep books?"
"I understand single entry bookkeeping."
"That will be all you will require."
"How soon shall you start?" asked Ernest, who began to feel very much interested.
"I will go to Sacramento to-morrow, now that we have come to terms. You know that frame building near Ashton's cabin?"
"Yes."
"I don't know what it was originally used for, but it is empty and I can secure it for our store. It isn't large, but it will hold all we need. I can get new supplies as we need them."
"Yes, that will do."
"You haven't said how you like my offer."
"Of one-third profits? I like it better than if you paid me wages. I will make it amount to a good deal."
"That will suit me. I don't care how much you make out of it, for I shall make twice as much."
"How did you happen to think of me?"
"I've watched you ever since you came. I can judge of any one, boy or man, if I have time enough to take stock of him. I saw that you were just the man for me."
"Boy," suggested Ernest, smiling.
"Oh, well, I'll make a man of you. By the way, an idea has just occurred to me. You'd better go to Sacramento with me to-morrow."
"I should like to do it," said Ernest, brightening up.
"Then you can notice where I buy my supplies. You may need to go alone sometimes."
"At what time will we start?"
"The stage leaves at seven o'clock."
"I will be ready."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP
The journey to Sacramento was made, the goods selected, and in less than a week the new store was stocked. In the arrangement of goods Ernest took a zealous part. He had never served in a store, yet it seemed to come natural to him, and he felt more interest in it than in the work of mining.
After the store was in full working order Horace Ames left Ernest as sole manager, coming in only in the evening to look at the books, for Ernest, as far as possible, kept a record of every sale.
Storekeeping in those days and in that country was unusually profitable. Ernest made a little comparison between the cost of goods and the selling price, and arrived at the conclusion that the average profits were a hundred per cent. And still the miners were able to buy goods cheaper than when they sent to Sacramento for them.
At the end of the first week Ernest figured up the sales and found they aggregated two hundred dollars. His share of the profits amounted to a little over thirty dollars.
This was encouraging, being three times as much as he had ever realized in the same length of time from mining.
There was one embarrassment. There was no bank in the place where money could be deposited, and of course the chance of loss by robbery was much increased. However, his partner purchased a small safe, and this afforded some security.
One day a man entered the store, and purchased a pipe and tobacco. He was a stranger to Ernest, but there was something familiar in his look, yet he could not place him.
The newcomer looked about with considerable curiosity.
"You have quite a snug store here," he remarked.
"Yes."
"Does it belong to you?"
"I have an interest in it, but it belongs to Mr. Ames."
"Is he here much?"
"He usually comes in evenings, but he is interested in mining."
"You seem to have a good trade."
"What makes you think so?"
"You have a good stock. You would not keep so many goods unless you had a call for them."
"Have I ever seen you before?" asked Ernest abruptly, for the idea grew upon him that he and his new customer had met somewhere under peculiar circumstances.
"I don't know. I don't remember you," answered the customer, shrugging his shoulders. "I haven't been in California long. I suppose you were born here."
"No; very few of those now living in California were born here. I once lived in Iowa. Were you ever there?"
"Never," answered the customer. "I've been in Missouri, but never in Iowa."
"I have never been in that State. Are you going to stay here?"
"I don't know. It depends on whether I can make any money. I suppose you don't want to hire a clerk?"
"No."
Ernest said to himself that this man, with his shifty looks and suspicious appearance, would be about the last man he would think of engaging.
"Perhaps Mr. Ames would give you a chance to work some of his claims," he suggested.
"I will look about me a little before I apply to him," replied the customer.
"Did you come here alone?" he asked after a pause.
"No. A friend came with me–Luke Robbins."
The stranger started a little when Ernest pronounced this name, so that young Ray was led to inquire, "Do you know Luke?"
"How should I know him? Is he a young man?"
"No; he is probably about your age."
"I suppose he came with you from Nebraska?"
"Iowa."
"Oh, yes, Iowa. He isn't in the store, is he?"
"He is working for Mr. Ashton on one of his claims."
At this point a new customer came in, and the visitor, after a brief delay, left the store.
When Ernest had waited upon the new customer he look for the first visitor, but missed him.
"I wonder who he was," he reflected, puzzled. "I am sure that I have seen him before."
But think as he might, he could not trace him.
Yet with this man he had had a very exciting experience in Oak Forks, for it was no other than Tom Burns, the tramp who had entered his cabin during the night and robbed him, and later had attacked him when digging for Peter's hidden treasure. It had been only a few months since they had met, but Tom Burns, during that time, had grown a thick beard, which had help to disguise him.
It is hardly necessary to explain how Burns had found his way out to Oreville. It was his business to tramp about the country, and it had struck him that in the land of gold he would have a chance to line his pockets with treasure which did not belong to him. So fortune had directed his steps to Oreville.
When he entered the store in which Ernest was employed, he immediately, and in some surprise, recognized the boy of Oak Forks. He was glad to find that Ernest did not recognize him, and he immediately began to consider in what way he could turn the circumstance to his own advantage.
"I wonder if the boy sleeps there," he said to himself. "If so, I will make him a visit to night. Probably the money he has taken in during the day will be in some drawer where I can get hold of it."
As he was leaving the store in the stealthy way habitual to him he met a man walking towards the place with a long and careless stride.
He started nervously, for this man was one whom he dreaded, and had reason to fear.
It was Luke Robbins, who, tired with working the claim, was going to the store to replenish his stock of tobacco.
Tom Burns pulled his soft hat down over his eyes and pushed swiftly on.
Luke Robbins halted a moment and looked at him. As in Ernest's case, he seemed to see something familiar in the appearance of the tramp. He realized, at all events, that he was a stranger in Oreville, for he knew every one in the mining settlement.
"Who are you, stranger? Have I seen you before?" asked Luke, hailing him.
Tom Burns did not dare to reply, for he feared that Luke might prove to have a better memory than Ernest. So he was passing on without a response, when Luke, who considered his conduct suspicious, demanded, in a peremptory tone, "Who are you? Do you live here?"
Tom Burns shrugged his shoulders, and said, disguising his voice, "Me no understand English, boss."
"What countryman are you?" asked Luke, suspiciously.
"Italian," answered Tom.
"Humph! You are the first Italian I have seen in Oreville."
"Si, signor," answered Tom, and this comprised all the Italian he knew.
"Well, I don't think you will find any inducement to stay."
"Si, signor," replied Burns, meekly.
Without another word Luke entered the store.
"Ernest," he said, "I am out of tobacco and must have a smoke. Give me half a pound."
"All right, Luke."
"I ran across an Italian just outside. He seemed to be leaving the store."
"An Italian?" queried Ernest, his tone betraying surprise.
"Yes. Wasn't he in here?"
"There was a man in here–a stranger, but I don't think he was an Italian."
"This man answered me in some Italian gibberish. He said he couldn't understand English."
"What was his appearance?"
Luke described him.
"It's the same man that was in here just now, but he could speak English as well as you or I."
"Did you have some conversation with him?"
"Yes. He looked familiar to me and I asked him who he was. He said he had come from Missouri. He was in search of work."
"You say he understood and spoke English?"
"Yes."
"Then I wonder what could be his game."
"Don't he look familiar to you?"
"Yes; there was something familiar about his appearance, but I couldn't place him."
"He asked me if I couldn't employ him in the store. I told him Mr. Ames might give him a chance at mining."
"Well?"
"He said he would look round a little before deciding."
"Did he buy anything?"
"Yes, tobacco."
"Did you mention my name?"
"Yes, and he looked uneasy."
"Ernest," said Luke Robbins, with a sudden inspiration, "I know the man."
"Who is it?"
"Don't you recall any man at Oak Forks with whom you had trouble?"
"Tom Burns?"
"Yes. That's the man."
"Why didn't we recognize him then?"
"Because he has grown a full beard."
"That's so, Luke. I understand now why he looked so familiar. I am sorry to see him here."
"He'd better not undertake any of his rascalities or he will find himself in hot water."