SENDING IN A FALSE REPORT.
At sight of Cabot, Thorpe Walling's instinct had been to leave the car
and follow him; but the thought of his luggage, which he knew he could
not get off in time, caused him to hesitate, and then it was too late,
for the train was again in motion.
"The young man did not seem particularly anxious to meet his old
classmate," remarked Mr. Gregg. "In fact, it rather looked as though
he wished to avoid recognition."
Thorpe pretended to be too busy with his cards to make reply to this
suggestion; but an ugly expression came into his face, and, from that
moment, he hated Cabot Grant. When, on the following day, he reached
St. Johns and learned of the loss of the "Lavinia," with all on board,
except those saved in the mate's boat, he was more perplexed than ever.
Cabot's name was published as one of those who had gone down with the
ill-fated steamer, and yet he had certainly seen him alive and well
only the day before. What could it mean?
"Do you suppose Hepburn knows of his escape?" asked Mr. Gregg, who was
stopping at the same hotel, and to whom Thorpe confided this mystery.
"I haven't an idea."
"What do you say to wiring and finding out? It can't do us any harm,
and might gain us an insight into the old man's plans up here."
"I should say it was a good idea."
As a result of this desire for information the following telegram was
sent to the president of the Gotham Trust and Investment Company:
"St. Johns, N'f'l'd.--Here all right. What shall I do next?----C. G."
And the answer came promptly:
"Congratulations. Send B. I. report. If in need of funds, draw.----H."
"That settles it!" exclaimed Mr. Gregg, exultingly. "Hepburn is after
Bell Island, and your friend was sent here to report upon its value.
Now, it will be a pity if the old man doesn't get his information,
which he isn't likely to do for some time with that young chap over on
the west coast. Some one ought to send him a report."
"I have a mind to do it myself," said Thorpe, reflectively.
"It would be an awfully decent thing for you to do. Be a good joke on
your friend, too, and make him fed ashamed of himself for cutting you
so dead yesterday, when he finds it out. He is bound to get into
trouble if some sort of a report isn't sent in, now that he is known to
have escaped from the wreck."
"Confound him!" exclaimed Thorpe. "I don't care how soon he gets into
trouble; nor how much."
"Oh, come. That isn't a nice way to speak of an old friend and
classmate," remarked Mr. Gregg, reprovingly. "Now, I always feel sorry
when I see a decent young chap like that throwing away a good chance,
and want to help him if I can. So in the present case, I think we
really ought to send in a report that will satisfy old Hepburn, and
keep the boy solid with his employers. I shouldn't know how to word it
myself, but if you, with your expert knowledge of the subject, will
make it out, of course after taking a look at the mine, I'll see that
you don't lose anything by your kindness."
"All right," replied Thorpe, who was quite sharp enough to comprehend
the other's meaning. "I'll do it."
So the two conspirators drove to the picturesque fishing village of
Portugal Cove, where they hired a boat to carry them across to Bell
Island. There they paid a hasty visit to the mine, which Mr. Gregg
plausibly belittled and undervalued, until Thorpe really began to
consider it a greatly overestimated piece of property, and this idea he
embodied in a report that he wrote out that very evening.
"I'm glad to see that you think as I do concerning the real
worthlessness of Bell Island," remarked Mr. Gregg, gravely, as he
glanced over the paper, "and the man who would have anything to do with
it after reading this must be a greater fool than I take old Hepburn to
be."
On the following day a type-written copy of Thorpe's report was made,
signed "C. G.," and forwarded by mail to the president of the Gotham
Trust and Investment Company. As a result, a telegram was received a
week later at the Bank of Nova Scotia in St. Johns addressed to Cabot
Grant, and desiring him to return at once to New York. As the bank
people wired back that they had no knowledge of any such person, Mr.
Hepburn in reply requested them to keep a sharp lookout for a young man
of that name, who would shortly present a letter of credit to them, and
provide him with a ticket to New York on account of it, but nothing
more. Mr. Hepburn also explained that, as Cabot Grant's guardian, he
had the right to thus limit his ward's expenditures.
Thus our lad fell into disgrace with his employer, who knew, as well as
any man living, the exact status of the Bell Island iron mine, and had
only requested Cabot to report on it in order to test his fitness for
other work.
While the correspondence with the bank was being carried on, Messrs.
Walling and Gregg watched for the arrival of the young engineer, whom
they expected by every train. They also anxiously awaited the news
that the Hepburn syndicate had withdrawn its offer for the Bell Island
property, in which event it would fall, at a greatly reduced price, to
the company represented by Mr. Gregg.
Totally unconscious of all this, Cabot Grant was at that very time in a
remote corner of the west coast, happily engaged in aiding certain of
its inhabitants to discomfit the combined naval forces of two of the
most powerful governments of the world. Moreover, he had become so
interested in this exciting occupation, as well as in certain
discoveries that he was making, as to have very nearly lost sight of
his intention to visit the capital of the island.
When he reëmbarked on the "Sea Bee" at St. George's Bay, he fully
intended to catch the train of two days later at the station to which
White had promised to convey him. He was glad of a chance to view some
more of that magnificent west coast scenery, and when the little
schooner finally rounded South Head, and was pointed towards the
massive front of Blomidon, which David Gidge called "Blow-me-down," he
felt well repaid for his delay by the enchanting beauty of the Bay of
Islands that lay outspread before them.
Soon after passing South Head, the "Sea Bee," with flags flying from
both masts, slipped through a narrow passage into the land-locked basin
of Pretty Harbour. On its further shore stood a handful of white
houses, and a larger building that fronted the water.
"That's our factory!" cried White, "and there is our house, on the
hillside, just beyond. See, the one with the dormer windows. There's
Cola waving from one of them now. Bless her! She must have been
watching, to sight us so quickly. Oh, I can't wait. Dave, you take
the 'Bee' up to the wharf. Mr. Grant will help you, I know, as well as
excuse me if I go ashore first."
"Of course, I will," replied Cabot; and in another minute the young
skipper was sculling ashore in the dinghy, while the schooner drifted
more slowly in the same direction.
When they finally reached the factory wharf White was on hand to meet
them, and beside him stood the slender, merry-eyed girl for whom the
schooner had been named. She unaffectedly held out a hand to Cabot
when they were introduced, and at once invited him to the house to meet
her mother.
"Yes," said White, "you two go along, and don't wait for me. You see,"
he added, apologetically, to Cabot, "there's been a great catch of
lobsters, and if I can only get them packed before we are interfered
with, we'll make a pretty good season of it, after all."
So the new-comer walked with Cola up the straggling village street,
past a score of fisher cottages, each with a tiny porch, pots of
flowers in the front windows, and a bit of a garden fenced with
wattles, to keep out the children, goats, dogs, and pigs, that swarmed
on all sides. At length they came to the neatly kept and
comfortable-looking house, overlooking the whole, that White Baldwin
called home. Here Cabot was presented to the sweet-faced invalid
mother, who sat beside a window of the living-room, from which she
could look out on the little harbour, and who was eager to learn the
details of his recent experiences that White had only found time to
outline to her.
Both mother and daughter listened with deepest interest while Cabot
told of the loss of the "Lavinia," and when he had finished Mrs.
Baldwin said:
"You certainly made a wonderful escape, and I am grateful that my boy
was granted the privilege of rescuing you from that dreadful raft. I
am confident, also, that you have been brought to this place for some
wise purpose, and trust that you are planning to remain with us as long
as your engagements will permit."
"Thank you, madam," replied Cabot. "I wish I might accept your
hospitality for a week, at least. For I am certain I should find much
to enjoy in this delightful region. I feel, however, that I ought to
catch to-morrow's train, as it is rather necessary for me to reach St.
Johns without further delay."
"It seems queer," remarked Cola, "that this stupid place can strike
even a stranger as being delightful, since there is no one to see but
fisherfolk, who can talk of nothing but fish, and there isn't a thing
to do but watch the boats go and come. For my part, I am so tired of
it all that I wish something would happen to send us away from here
forever."
"My dear!" said Mrs. Baldwin to Cola, reprovingly.
"Some one seems to have found an occupation here in collecting a
cabinet of specimens," suggested Cabot, indicating, as he spoke, some
shelves covered with bits of rock, that had attracted his attention.
"Yes," admitted Cola, "I have found some amusement in gathering those
things; but I don't know what half of them are, and there is no one
here to tell me."
"Possibly I might help you to name some of them," said Cabot, "as I
have a bowing acquaintance with geology."
"Oh! can you?" cried the girl. "Then I wish you would, right away, for
I am almost certain that several of them contain minerals, and I want
awfully to know if they are gold."
The next moment the two young people were standing before the cabinet,
deep in the mysteries of periods, ages, formations, series, and other
profound geologic terms. All at once Cabot paused, and, holding a bit
of serpentine in his hand, asked:
"Did this come from about here?"
[Illustration: "Did this come from about here?"]
"Yes; ail of them did."
"Could you show me the place, or somewhere near where you found it?"
"I think I could, if we had time; but not if you are going away in the
morning, for it would take at least half a day."
"Well," said Cabot, "I believe I might wait over long enough for that,
and guess I won't start for St. Johns to-morrow, after all."