Alger Horatio Jr.
The Young Bank Messenger
CHAPTER XXIX.
TOM BURNS MAKES A CALL
When Burns left the store he walked to the outskirts of the mining settlement, not wishing to attract attention. He wished especially to avoid encountering Luke Robbins, with the strength of whose arm he was disagreeably familiar.
He proposed to keep out of sight until night, and then make a visit to the store. It would go hard with him if he did not make a raise there either in the shape of money or articles of value.
He came to a cabin standing by itself, at a considerable distance from the homes of the other miners. Sitting in front of it was a man with grizzled beard whose appearance indicated advanced age. There were lines upon his face that betrayed ill health.
"I wonder if anything can be got out of him," thought Tom Burns. "I'll see."
"Good day, sir," he said affably.
The old man looked up.
"Good day," he replied. "Who are you?"
"I'm an unfortunate man, in search of employment."
"When people are unfortunate there is generally a reason for it. Are you intemperate?"
"No, sir," answered Burns, as if horror-stricken. "I hate the taste of liquor."
"I'm glad to hear it."
"I belong to three temperance societies," continued Tom, by way of deepening the favorable impression he thought he had made.
"And still you are poor?"
"Yes," answered Burns. "Once I was prosperous, but I was ruined by signing notes for an unprincipled man who took advantage of my friendship. Do you think I can find work here?"
"I don't know. Probably you can get a chance to work on one of Mr. Ames claims."
"Is it Mr. Ames who owns the store?"
"Yes."
"I called there to buy some tobacco. Is the boy there his son?"
"No; he is a recent arrival in Oreville. He is a very smart boy."
"Is he? Mr. Ames trusts him, I suppose?"
"Yes. Why shouldn't he?"
"I–I would rather not answer that question."
"Have you ever met the boy before? Do you know him?"
"Yes; I met him at the East," answered Burns.
"Since you have said so much, you must say more. I am a cousin of Mr. Ames, and if you know anything unfavorable of the boy it is your duty to tell me."
"I have nothing against the boy, and would prefer not to speak."
"I insist upon your doing it."
"It is only this. When I knew him he was employed in a store. He was trusted, as he appears to be here. One night the store was robbed, that is some money disappeared, and the boy claimed it was broken into by thieves, who took the money, whereas he took it himself."
"That seems bad. Was it proved that he took the money?"
"Yes. That's why he was compelled to leave the place. That is why he is now in Oreville."
"Did you come here to expose him?"
"No; I didn't know he was here. I was very much taken by surprise when I saw him in the store."
"This is important, if true. Mr. Ames ought to be informed."
"Don't tell him while I am here. The boy is very revengeful, and he might try to do me an injury."
"Are you afraid of a boy?"
"I am a man of peace. I don't want to get into any difficulty."
"I suppose you wonder that I am sitting here while others are at work."
"Well, it did cross my mind."
"My spine is affected. I look well, but I cannot walk. I hope to be better after a while, but at present I am comparatively helpless."
"Can't I help you?"
"You may go into the cabin, and bring me a bottle of medicine which you will find in the cupboard."
Burns entered the cabin gladly. He thought that he might find something worth taking.
On the wall, hanging from a nail, was a gold watch. It was too good a chance to be lost. It might or it might not be valuable, but at any rate it was worth something.
So, while securing the bottle, Burns slyly possessed himself of the watch, which he slipped into his inside breast pocket.
"Here is the bottle, sir," he said, meekly.
"Thank you. Now bring a spoon, which you will find on the table."
Burns did so.
"Now pour out a teaspoonful, which I will take."
"I am glad to be of service to you. Don't you want a kind attendant, while you are sick, to take care of you?"
"There would not be enough for you to do. I have a son at work in the mines who is here morning and night, and he gives me all the care I require."
"I am sorry to hear that," thought Burns. "The son may be dangerous."
"Then, sir, I will bid you good-by. I will pray for your recovery."
"Thank you. The prayers of the righteous avail much. Are you righteous?"
"It isn't for me to say, sir. I don't want to boast."
"That is creditable to you. By the way, are you hungry?"
"I haven't broken my fast since morning."
"You will find some cold meat and a loaf of bread in the cupboard. It is plain, but if you are hungry you will enjoy it."
"Thank you, sir. I will accept your kind invitation."
Tom Burns was really hungry, and he did justice to the food offered him.
When his lunch was over he came outside.
"Thank you," he said, "for your kindness. I am sure you will be rewarded."
"I don't want any reward. Out here we are always glad to give a meal of victuals to a stranger who needs it. Are you going to stay long in Oreville?"
"If I can get anything to do I may. You see I am a poor man, and stand in pressing need of employment."
"Keep up your courage! Something will turn up for you. I will ask my son if he cannot find something for you to do."
"Thank you, sir. I will bid you good-by, with thanks for your kindness."
"If you are not pressed for time, I will send you on an errand."
"All right, sir. I shall be glad to be of service to you."
"Here is a Mexican dollar. You may go to the store and bring me a dozen eggs. If there is any change you may keep it."
"Thank you, sir."
"A dollar in!" thought Burns, as he turned away from the cabin. "I think I can turn it to a better use than spending it in eggs. That was a profitable call. I made a gold watch and a dollar by it. The old man can't pursue me, that's one comfort, thanks to his spinal complaint."
"That is a very clever fellow," reflected the old man when Burns had started on his errand. "A bit too religious to suit my taste. Still he seemed grateful for the little I did for him. If he had a little more push and get-up-and-get about him he would succeed better. Why, he isn't more than forty, and he confesses himself a failure. Why, at forty I considered myself a young man, and was full of dash and enterprise. Now I am sixty and tied to my seat by this spinal trouble. However, I've got something laid by, and, old as I am, I feel independent, as far as money goes."
Half an hour–an hour–passed, and still the old man found himself alone. His messenger had not come back.
But there came up the path a tall, muscular figure, who greeted the old man in a bluff, off hand way.
"How are you, Luke?" said the old man. "I was feeling lonely. I am glad to see you."
"Have you been alone since morning?"
"Not quite all the time. I had quite a long call from a stranger."
"A stranger!" repeated Luke, suspiciously.
"What was his appearance?"
The old man described Burns, and Luke knew him at once.
"What did he say to you?"
"That reminds me–he said he knew the boy whom Horace has put in the store–young Ray."
"Did he?"
"Yes, and he doesn't speak well of him."
"What does he say about him?"
"I don't like to tell you, Luke, for I believe he is a protege of yours."
"Don't mind that. If there is anything to be said unfavorable of Ernest I ought to know it."
"He says the boy robbed a store in which he was employed, and then pretended it was entered by thieves. It was on that account, he says, that the boy was compelled to leave the town where he lived and come to California."
"Really, that is very interesting. To my own personal knowledge the boy was never before employed in a store, and he came out to California with me."
"Then what could the man mean?"
"I can't say. I can only tell you that he is a professional thief."
"Look quick, Luke, and see if my gold watch is hanging on a nail near the cupboard."
"No, it is not there."
"Then the rascal must have stolen it. I gave him, besides, a Mexican dollar to buy some eggs at the store."
"I don't think you will ever see it again, unless I catch the thief, as I may to-night."
CHAPTER XXX.
A BURGLAR'S FAILURE
If Tom Burns had been more prudent he would have made good his escape with the money and gold watch he had already secured. But he was too greedy for gain.
He pictured to himself the store with its goodly stock of money taken in during the day, and he felt an irresistible craving for it. There might be one or two hundred dollars, and no one in charge but a boy whom he could easily overpower.
Apart from the pecuniary gain he felt that he should enjoy getting the best of Ernest, who had already foiled him at Oak Forks.
"This time he will come out second best," chuckled Burns to himself.
Then he laughed when he remembered how his appearance had puzzled Ernest.
"It was a good idea, growin' a beard," he said to himself. "Seems to have disguised me pretty well. The boy thought he had seen me before, but he couldn't make out where. The next time he'll know me, I reckon.
"I must keep out of the way till night," he said to himself. "It won't do for me to be seen prowlin' round the settlement."
He retired a mile or two among the hills, and waited impatiently for night to come.
"It is lucky that the old man gave me a meal," he reflected, "otherwise I should be about starved. I wonder if that watch is worth much."
He examined the watch, and decided that its value was probably not far from a hundred dollars. In fact the old man had bought it in St. Louis, and had selected a high-priced article.
It did occur to Burns that perhaps he had better remain satisfied with what he had got, for the watch would probably bring him fifty dollars at a sacrifice sale; but the temptation to stay was too strong.
"It would be a sin to give up such a fine chance," he reflected. "There's next to no risk, and I may get two hundred dollars."
Then he began to consider what he would do in that case. He decided that he would go to San Francisco, and see what pickings he could find there.
He had already found out that mining men and others in the far West were more careless about their money than those in the East, probably because money came easier.
"I did well when I came out here," he said to himself in a tone of congratulation. "I'll make hay while the sun shines."
Meanwhile, though he did not know it, his visit was expected, and preparations were being made to receive him.
After supper Luke Robbins came to the store, and held a conference with Ernest.
"I am going to pass the night with you, lad," he said.
"I wish you would, Luke."
"I want to help you do the honors to my old friend Burns."
"Perhaps he won't call."
"If he knows what's best for himself he won't, but he will be like the foolish moth, and won't be contented till he has singed his wings. I will look about me and see where to bestow myself for the night."
Ernest occupied a bed in the rear of the store, just behind one of the counters. It was near a window in the rear of the building.
"I'll take that bed, Ernest, and you can find another place."
"Shall I fasten the window?"
"No. I am going to make it easy for my friend Burns to get in. Whether he will find it as easy to get out will be another matter."
Nothing was said to the miners about the presence of a thief in the settlement. At that time there was no toleration for thieves. The punishment visited upon them was short, sharp, and decisive. The judge most in favor was Judge Lynch, and woe be to the offender who ventured to interfere with the rights of property.
Had Luke breathed a word about Burns, half a dozen miners would have volunteered to stand guard, and would thus have interfered with Tom Burns' visit.
"I want to keep all the fun to myself, Ernest," said Luke. "We'll give him a lesson he won't soon forget. If I told the boys, they'd hang him up in short order. I don't want to take the fellow's life, but I'll give him a first-class scare."
It was about ten minutes of twelve when Tom Burns, leaving his place of concealment, walked with eager steps towards the mining settlement. The one street was not illuminated, for Oreville had not got along as far as that. The moon gave an indistinct light, relieving the night of a part of its gloom.
Burns looked from one cabin to another with a wistful glance.
"I suppose some of these miners have got a lot of gold dust hidden away in their shanties," he said to himself. "I wish I knew where I could light on some of their treasure. If I only knew which cabin to choose!"
But then it occurred to him that every miner was probably armed, and would make it dangerous to any intruder.
So Tom Burns kept on his way. He was troubled by no conscientious scruples. He had got beyond that long ago. Sometimes it did occur to him to wonder how it would seem to settle down as a man of respectability and influence, taking a prominent part in the affairs of town and church.
"It might have been," he muttered. "My father was a man of that sort. Why not I? If I hadn't gone wrong in my early days, if I had not been tempted of the devil to rob the storekeeper for whom I worked, and so made myself an outcast and a pariah, who knows but I might have been at this moment Thomas Burns, Esq., of some municipality, instead of Tom Burns the tramp. However, it is foolish to speculate about this. I am what I am, and there is little chance of my being anything else."
So he dismissed the past, and recalled the work he had set for himself. Everything was still. In the mining village probably there was not a person awake. It was like a dead town. Everything seemed favorable to his designs.
There was the store. He could see it already. And now there was nothing to do but to get in and take the money, which he had no doubt was waiting ready to his hand.
Perhaps he might be fortunate enough to secure it without waking the boy. He hoped so, at any rate, for he was not a desperate or cruel man. He did not wish to injure Ernest unless it should be absolutely necessary. If he could get along without it, so much the better.
Arriving at his destination, he paused to reconsider.
He did not expect to enter by the front door. He did not as yet know whether there was any other. But at any rate there must be a window somewhere, and he preferred to get in that way.
He walked around to the rear of the store, and there he discovered the window. He had been afraid it might be blockaded with shelves, which would make entrance difficult, but fortunately this did not appear to be the case. He stood at the window and looked in.
The faint moonlight did not enable him to penetrate the interior very far, but he could make out something. There were goods of various kinds scattered about, and he could just see a recumbent figure on a bed near the counter.
"That's the boy," he said to himself. "I wonder if he is asleep."
There did not seem to be any doubt on this point.
But for the indistinct light, Tom Burns might have thought the outstretched figure rather large for a boy. But he only glanced at it furtively.
The next thing to consider was whether the window was fastened. In that case he would have some difficulty, though for this he was prepared, having an instrument with which he could cut a pane of glass, and, thrusting in his hand, unfasten the catch.
But through some strange inadvertence, apparently, the window was not locked, and much to his relief he had no difficulty in lifting it. In this way he made his entrance into the store.
He was as careful as possible, fearing lest he might stumble over some article, and by the noise betray his presence.
What if there was a dog inside? This thought brought alarm to the burglar. In that case his visit would probably be a failure. He remembered, however, with a feeling of relief, that he had seen no dog about during his visit to the store.
Now that he had passed through the window, and was fairly in the store, he looked round for the money-drawer. He had not seen the safe, or probably he might not have entered the store at all, for he was not expert in breaking open safes, and at any rate it would be a matter of time and difficulty. So he was looking about, when, as he passed by the bed, he felt himself seized by the leg. Evidently the sleeper had awakened and discovered his presence.
Burns got down on his knees and grasped the recumbent by the throat.
"Lie still, or I'll choke you!" he said, fiercely.
But as he spoke he felt the rough beard of a man, and with dismay he realized that he had tackled a more formidable foe than the boy for whom he was prepared.
He then felt himself seized with an iron grasp.
"I've got you, you rascally burglar!" were the words he heard, and gave himself up for lost.
"Who are you?" he asked faintly.
"I am Luke Robbins, and I know you of old. You are Tom Burns!"
CHAPTER XXXI.
THE ADVERTISEMENT
If there was any one of whom Tom Burns stood in fear it was Luke Robbins. When he found himself in the grasp of his dreaded enemy he grew weak with terror.
It was no longer a question of successful robbery. It was a matter of personal safety.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" demanded Luke, tightening his grasp.
"Have mercy on me, Mr. Robbins! Don't kill me!" ejaculated Burns, half choked.
"What did you come here for?"
"I–I had no money, and–"
"You thought you could get some here. That is the explanation."
"Ye-es," faltered Burns.
"You thought you would be more than a match for the boy. Well, you have no boy to deal with."
"I know that very well," confessed Burns.
"How long have you been in Oreville?"
"I only came this morning."
"You have improved your time," said Luke, dryly. "You have stolen a gold watch, besides making this attempt at robbery."
Tom Burns could not deny it, though he was surprised at Luke's knowledge. He did not reply.
"Hand over that watch!" said Luke, in a tone of authority.
"Will you let me go if I do?"
"I will make no conditions with you. Hand over that watch!"
Burns drew it from his inside pocket and handed it over.
"Humph! So far so good. Now how about that dollar you took to buy eggs?"
"It is the only money I have, except a few pennies. Please let me keep it."
"If I tell the miners what you have done you won't need any more money," said Luke, grimly.
"Why not?" asked Burns, trembling.
"Why not?" repeated Luke. "Because they will hang you to the nearest tree. You won't need to trouble about money matters after that."
"You won't give me up, Mr. Robbins," pleaded Burns in an agony of terror. "I–I am not fit to die. Besides, I am a young man. I am not yet forty. I will turn over a new leaf. I will, truly."
"It's high time you did. It is a long time since you earned an honest living."
"I know it, Mr. Robbins. I have been a bad man, but it is not too late to reform. If you'll let me go I will leave Oreville to-night, and I will never trouble you again."
"It isn't me you have troubled. It is the boy. You robbed him, or tried to do it, at Oak Forks, and now you have turned up here."
"I didn't know he was here. Truly I didn't."
"You didn't know I was here, or I think you would have given the place a wide berth."
"I am very sorry for what I did, and if you'll only spare my life I'll promise to reform."
"I haven't much faith in your promises, but I'll leave it to the boy. Ernest, what shall I do with this man?"
Ernest had come forward, and was standing but a few feet from Luke and his captive.
"If he promises to reform," said Ernest, "you'd better give him another chance, Luke."
"I am not sure that I ought to, but it is you to whom he has done the most harm. If you give him over to the miners we shall never be troubled by him again."
Tom Burns turned pale, for he knew that life and death were in the balance, and that those two–Luke and the boy–were to decide his fate.
Ernest could not help pitying the trembling wretch. He was naturally kind hearted, and at that moment he felt that he could forgive Burns all that he had done.
"Since you have left it to me, Luke," he said, "let him go."
"It shall be as you say, Ernest."
As he spoke he released his hold, and Tom Burns stood erect. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.
"May I go?" he asked submissively.
"Yes."
Before leaving he turned to Ernest.
"You are a good-hearted boy," he said, "and I shall not forget that you have saved my life. If I am ever able to do anything for you, I will do it. You will find that Tom Burns, bad as he has been, knows how to be grateful."
"I think you mean what you say," returned Ernest. "I hope you will keep your promise and will turn over a new leaf. Is it true that you are penniless?"
"Not quite. This is all I have."
Burns drew from his pocket a handful of small change–less than a dollar in all–and held it out for inspection.
"Then I will help you along."
Ernest took from his pocket a five-dollar gold piece, and offered it to the tramp.
"That is more than I would do for him," said Luke.
"It is more than I deserve," replied Burns, "but you won't be sorry for your kindness. If ever you see me again, I shall be a different man."
He passed out of the window, and they saw him no more.
Luke and Ernest said very little of their night's adventure, but the gold watch and the Mexican dollar were returned to the man from whom they had been taken.
Six months passed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines had yielded a large sum in gold dust, and the store presided over by Ernest was considerably enlarged.
His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time was taken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one half.
At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses, Ernest found himself possessed of a thousand dollars.
"Luke, I feel rich," said he, when his faithful friend came round for a chat.
"You've done better than I have," rejoined Luke. "The most I have been able to scrape together is four hundred dollars."
"I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even."
"No, you won t, Ernest. What do you take me for? I should be ashamed to touch any of your hard earnings."
"They are not hard earnings, Luke. Mr. Ames has been very liberal, and that is why I have got so much. I don't feel that I ought to have so much more than you."
"Don't bother about me, lad; I feel rich with four hundred dollars. I never was worth so much before, though I'm almost three times your age. And I wouldn't have that but for you."
"How do you make that out, Luke?"
"Because I never had any ambition till I met you. I never thought of saving money; as long as I got enough to eat I cared for nothing else. I should have died without enough to bury me if you had not set me the example of putting something by for a rainy day."
"I am glad if I have done you any good, Luke, for you have been a kind friend to me."
A. week later Luke came into the store holding a letter in his hand.
"Here is a letter for you, Ernest," he said. "I was passing the post-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked me if I would take the letter to you. I didn't know that you had any correspondents."
"Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom can it be from?"
"From some one who knows you are here. It is postmarked St. Louis."
"Well, I can easily discover who wrote it," said Ernest, as he cut open the envelope with his penknife.
He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, "Why, it's from Tom Burns."
"The man who tried to rob the store?"
"Yes."
"He has probably written to ask you for some money."
"No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you."
The letter started thus:
ERNEST RAY:
You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by saying that I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr. Robbins when you let me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and have been strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be.
I won't trouble you with an account of my struggles to get along. I will only say that I am employed at present as a waiter at the Planters Hotel, and though I can't save up much money, I am able to live comfortable. But you will wonder why I am writing to you. It is because I have seen your name mentioned in an advertisement in one of the St. Louis daily papers. I inclose the advertisement, and hope it is something to your advantage. I have taken the liberty to write to Mr. Bolton, telling him where you were six months since, and now I write to you so that you may communicate with him also.
Yours respectfully, TOM BURNS.
The advertisement appended ran thus:
INFORMATION WANTED.–Should this meet the eye of Ernest Ray, some time residing at Oak Forks, Iowa, he is requested to communicate with Benjamin Bolton, Attorney-at-Law, 182 Nassau Street, New York City.
