THE FAIR THING.
Leopold immediately began to realize that he had no talent for
concealment; that he was a sad bungler in the management of any business
which was not open and above-board. This impertinent, disagreeable
little coxcomb of a New Yorker, without a warning sound to announce his
coming, had suddenly stepped between him and Stumpy, who held the hidden
treasure in his hand. If there was any person in or about Rockhaven from
whom he would have particularly desired to keep his secret, it was Mr.
Charles Redmond, or any other person like him.
Both Leopold and Stumpy supposed the little New Yorker with the
eye-glass was making himself as agreeable as he could to the young
ladies on the cliffs above. It is true there was an angle in the cliffs
which concealed his approach from the eye, and the soft sand deadened
the sound of footsteps to the ear; but both the money-digger and the
clam-digger would have deemed it impossible for any one to come into
their presence without being heard. But then both of them were absorbed
in the unearthing of the treasure, and Leopold made so much noise with
his shovel that the sound of Charley Redmond's approach, if there were
any, could not be heard.
Leopold looked at Stumpy, and Stumpy looked at Leopold. The money-digger
and the clam-digger realized that they were in a bad scrape. This little
dandy in eye-glasses had certainly upset all Leopold's plans for the
disposition of the gold.
"Halveses!" shouted Charley a second time, as he adjusted his
eye-glasses, and fixed his gaze upon the wet shot-bag which contained
the hidden treasure.
"I think not," added Leopold.
"No? When a fellow finds any money, the rule is to divy with all
present," added Charley.
"And for that reason you modestly ask for one half?"
"Well that's a conventional phrase, you see. Of course I meant
_shareses_. I shall be quite satisfied with one-third; and that's the
way to do the thing."
"Where did you come from? I thought you were on the cliff with the young
ladies," asked Leopold.
"I was there; but it seems that I came down just in the nick of time,"
replied the little fop. "The fact is, I drank too much wine last night,
and it makes me thirsty to-day. I was almost choked, and the ladies had
seated themselves on a rock, to enjoy a view of the boundless ocean, you
see; and it looked to me just as though they intended to stay there all
day, you see. In the mean time I was suffering with thirst; but it
wasn't polite, you see, for me to leave them. It isn't the way to do the
thing, you see. I knew they wouldn't want me to leave them."
Leopold looked at Stumpy, and smiled significantly.
[Illustration: STUMPY WITH THE BAG OF GOLD. Page 253.]
"My throat was as parched as though I had spent a month in the Desert of
What-you-call-it, you see," continued Mr. Redmond. "I desired very much
to come down to the boat and obtain a draught of cold water. I didn't
expect to obtain a draft on a gold bank then--ha, ha! you see? Not
bad--eh? Even a gentleman can't help making a pun sometimes, you see."
"Making a what?" asked Leopold.
"A pun--you see," laughed Mr. Redmond.
"Which was the pun?"
"Don't you see it? Why, a draught of water, and a draft on a gold bank.
Ha, ha!"
"O, that was it--was it? I'm much obliged to you for telling me."
Of course Mr. Redmond hardly expected a "countryman" to appreciate his
wit.
"_I_ was suffering with thirst, you see," continued the fop.
"I think you said so before."
"I wanted to introduce the matter so as not to be abrupt; not to tear
myself rudely away from the ladies, you see. We were gazing out upon the
vast ocean, you see; and a quotation from the poet--ah--a doosed odd
sort of a thing, written by the poet--what's his name? you know--about
an old salt that killed a wild goose, or some sort of a thing, and then
had nothing to drink. I repeated the quotation, and both of the girls
laughed: 'Water, water, all around, but not a drop of whiskey to
drink.'"
"I don't wonder the girls laughed," replied Leopold.
"Why so?" asked Mr. Redmond, blankly.
"You didn't quote it just as the poet 'What-you-call-him' wrote it,
Stumpy can give it to you correctly."
"'Water, water everywhere;
Not any drop to drink,'"
added Stumpy; "and Coleridge was the fellow that wrote it."
"Not correct," protested Mr. Redmond, emphatically. "Do you mean to tell
me that an old salt thought of drinking water? It isn't the way old
salts do that sort of thing, you see."
The coxcomb felt that he had the best of the argument, however
astonished he was to find that these countrymen knew something about the
poets.
"I told the ladies that I felt just as that old salt did, only I would
rather have water just then than whiskey, however good whiskey may be in
its place, you see. From this it was quite easy to say that I was very
thirsty; and I said so. Though Miss Hamilton did not wish me to leave
her, you see, she was kind enough to tell me that I should find a spring
of nice cold water under the cliff. I apologized for leaving the ladies,
you see; but they were so self-sacrificing as to say that I needn't
climb up the rocks to join them again; they would soon meet me on the
beach. Isn't it strange how these girls will sometimes give up all their
joys for a feller?"
"The girls must be miserable up there without you," added Leopold.
"The water was clear and cold, and it suited me better than the whiskey
that old salt wanted in the poem. I found a tin cup at the spring, and I
drank half a gallon. I was very thirsty, you see. While I was drinking,
I heard you talking about the bag of gold; and then I stepped in here
under this rock, just in the nick of time. Come, Stumpy, cut the string
of the bag, and let us divy before the ladies join us."
"Why should you want a share of it Mr. Redmond?" asked Leopold very much
embarrassed by the situation. "You are the son of a rich man, and seem
to have all the money you want."
"No, not at all. That isn't the way my governor does that sort of thing,
you see. A year ago he used to do the handsome thing, and then I could
give a champagne supper to my friends at Delmonico's. But one night, you
see, I came home just a little elevated, you see; and when I went up to
my bed, I had the misfortune to tumble down--it was quite accidental,
you see--near the door of my governor's chamber. The patriarch came out.
I was rather bewildered, you see, by my fall; and he had the
impertinence to tell me I was intoxicated. After that he reduced my
allowance of pocket money about one half, so that I have been short ever
since, you see. Cruel--wasn't it? What would you say, Leopold, if your
governor should tell you you were intoxicated?"
"If I had been drinking champagne, or any other kind of wine, I should
believe he spoke the truth."
"Nonsense! You see, I'm a two-bottle man, and I was only just a little
heavy, you see. But we are wasting time. Let us proceed to business. I
have told you just how this sort of thing ought to be done; and I ask
only the fair thing, you see. How much is there in the bag?" added Mr.
Redmond, extending his hand to Stumpy to take the treasure.
Stumpy did not respond to this application for the money. On the
contrary, he handed it to Leopold.
"How much is there? Do you know?" repeated the fop.
"I do know: the bag contains twelve hundred dollars in gold," replied
Leopold, as he dropped the four-pound bag into his trousers pocket,
where it weighed heavily upon his starboard suspender.
"Bully for you, my countryman;" exclaimed Mr. Redmond. "Twelve hundred
dollars in gold! that's four hundred apiece, you see; and I don't ask
for more than my third. Four hundred in gold! And that's over eight
hundred dollars in greenbacks at the present time! I can give a dozen
champagne suppers on that, you see; and when you fellows come to New
York, I shall invite you to one of them, and tell my friends the
romantic incident of the finding of the bag of gold."
"I don't believe that any of this money will be spent for champagne
suppers--at least, not yet a while," replied Leopold.
"Aren't you going to divy?" demanded Mr. Redmond, looking as though he
had regarded such a disposition of the treasure as a foregone
conclusion.
"I am not going to divy."
"No? But that's mean you see."
"I don't see it."
"But it's the thing to do, when you find any money, you see."
"Do you think you had any share in finding it, Mr. Redmond?" asked
Leopold, quietly, as he began to move towards the boat.
"I was looking on when you found it, Leopold; and it's the rule, you
see, in such cases, to divy. I was here when you unearthed the thing."
"No, you were not," answered Leopold, decidedly. "I dug it before you
came to Rockhaven."
"I don't claim any share of it," Stumpy put in. "Le didn't find it by
accident. No part of it belongs to me, and I don't ask for a dollar of
the money."
"O, you don't!" exclaimed Mr. Redmond; "then Leopold and I will divy
even, you see; half to each."
"We shall not divide at all," added the skipper of the Rosabel, who had
by this time reached the flat rock where the sloop was made fast.
"See here, Leopold; do I understand you to say that you are going to
keep the whole?" asked Charley Redmond, very seriously. "That would be
mean, you see. It would be the way a swine would do that sort of thing."
"I don't intend to divide at all, or to keep it myself. It don't belong
to me any more than it does to you," protested Leopold.
"Didn't you find it?"
"Of course I did."
"Then it belongs to you."
"Not at all. If you pick up a pocket-book in the street of New York,
does it belong to you, or to the one that lost it?"
"That's another sort of a thing, you see. This is money buried on the
sea-shore by Captain Kidd, or some of those swells of pirates. It don't
belong to anybody, you see."
"This gold was not buried by pirates."
"Who did bury it, then? That's the conundrum."
"His name was Wallbridge."
"Did you know him?" asked Mr. Redmond.
"No; I never saw him."
"Well, where is he now?"
"He is dead; he was lost on the brig Waldo, which went down by those
rocks you see off there," replied Leopold, pointing to the reefs.
"Then he is dead!" exclaimed the fop, with a new gleam of hope. "Then he
has gone to the happy hunting-ground, where gold isn't a hundred and
twenty above par; and he won't have any use for it there, you see. The
right thing to do is to divy."
"I think not. If your father had lost twelve hundred dollars in gold on
this beach, and went to the happy hunting-ground before he found it, you
would not say that the money belonged to me, if I happened to dig it
up," added Leopold, earnestly, for he had some hope of convincing the
New Yorker of the correctness of the position he had taken, and of
inducing him to keep the secret of the hidden treasure until its
ownership had been fully investigated.
"That's another sort of a thing, you see," replied Mr. Redmond. "In that
case, the money would belong to me, as his nearest heir, and I should
have the pleasure of spending the whole amount, thus unexpectedly
reclaimed from the sands of the sea, in champagne suppers at Delmonico's
up-town house. That would be the fair thing, you see."
"I think so myself; and I purpose to act on precisely the principle you
suggest. Mr. Wallbridge, to whom the money belonged, has gone to the
happy hunting-ground, where I don't want to trouble him to hunt for this
bag of gold. For aught I know, Mr. Wallbridge had had a handsome,
refined accomplished son, familiar with the poets, to whom this money
now belongs just as much as though he were here to claim it; though I
hope, when he gets it, that he will not spend the whole or any part of
it in champagne suppers. I see that we are perfectly agreed in this
matter, and that you think the way I mention is the right way to do this
sort of thing."
Mr. Redmond felt that he had been whipped in the argument; and he was
very much dissatisfied with himself for the admission he had made in the
supposed case, and very much dissatisfied with Leopold for the advantage
he had taken of the admission.
"Who was the feller that buried the money?" he demanded, feeling his way
to another argument in favor of a division.
"Mr. Wallbridge."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know."
"You haven't been introduced to him?"
"No."
"What do you know about him?"
"Nothing."
"Then how did you know he had a good-looking son, familiar with the
poets?"
"I don't."
"That was what you said."
"I only supposed a case. So far as we know now, no one was acquainted
with Mr. Wallbridge. No one knows anything at all about him."
"All right, then. All we have to do is to divy."
"Not yet. I am going to see the owners of the Waldo, in which Mr.
Wallbridge was a passenger. They know nothing about him, I am aware; but
I am going to ask them to write to their agents in Havana, and ascertain
who he was."
"That's taking a good deal of trouble for nothing, you see," added Mr.
Raymond, with a look of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
"That is just what I am going to do, any how," replied Leopold, firmly.
"The money don't belong to me, and I intend to keep it safely till the
heirs of Wallbridge appear to claim it; or at least, till I am satisfied
there are no heirs. When that time comes, I shall be willing to
_consider_ the question of dividing it with Stumpy and you."
"I don't think any of it belongs to me," added Stumpy.
"I think a share of it belongs to me; but I am willing to discount my
claim, you see."
"Discount it?" queried Leopold.
"I can't wait a year or two till you find out whether or not the man
that buried the gold has any heirs or not."
"I am very sorry you are so impatient."
"I want the money now, when my governor is cruel to me. Besides, in two
years gold may be down to par, and it won't bring anything more than its
face, you see. I want to do the fair thing. Give me two hundred dollars
in gold, and I will relinquish my claim: discount it, you see."
"No, Mr. Redmond; I cannot sell or discount what don't belong to me.
They may do it in New York, but some of us countrymen haven't yet
learned how to do that thing, you see," laughed Leopold.
"Say one hundred, then."
"Not a single dollar. The best I can do is to promise that I will
_consider_ the question of a division when I feel that the money belongs
to the finder."
Mr. Redmond argued the point in all its bearings, but with no different
result.
"But how long will it be before you find out whether this man had any
heirs?" asked he.
"I may ascertain in a month or two. It don't take but a week or ten days
for a letter to go to Havana."
"Then I must wait, I suppose," mused the fop.
"You must, indeed."
"But I am sure you will find no heirs."
"I may not."
"Leopold, I'll tell you what I will do. I want to be fair, you see."
"I see."
"Give me two hundred in gold now, and then, if you find any heirs, I
will agree to pay the money back to you. That's fair, you see."
"Perhaps it is," laughed Leopold, amused at the desperation of the
coxcomb; "but one so busy as you are, and will always be, in a great
city like New York, might forget to send me the money."
"I will give you my note for it."
"Your note would not be worth any more than mine, for neither of us is
of age. If you will give me your father's note I will think about it."
"My father's note! I don't want my governor to know anything about this
business, you see. I want this money for my private purse, so that I can
give a champagne supper when I please."
"I am afraid we shall not be able to manage the business, Mr. Redmond.
You know I was to _consider_ your claim, when I found there were no
heirs."
"O, you mean to cheat me out of it."
"I promised to _consider_ your claim. But in the mean time I don't want
anything said about this money in Rockhaven. It would make too much
talk."
"O, you want me to keep the secret--do you?" demanded Mr. Redmond, with
a new gleam of hope.
"I do." And Leopold explained some of the reasons which induced him to
desire that the hidden treasure should still remain a secret.
"If you mean to do the fair thing, of course I shall keep still, you
know. Give me my share, and I will keep as still as the man that has
gone to the happy hunting-ground."
"I can't promise anything."
"Neither can I," said the fop, angrily; for by this time he had come to
the conclusion that Leopold did not intend to do "the fair thing."
The money-digger was appalled to think of having the story of the buried
treasure told all over Rockhaven, and perhaps being compelled to hand it
over to his father before he had made any effort to find the heirs of
the lost passenger. On the other hand, he could neither divide the money
at the present time, nor promise to do so in the future, with the
troublesome visitor; and the former was the less of the two evils. The
appearance of the young ladies on the beach, as they emerged from the
Hole in the Wall, put an end to the argument; but Leopold hoped yet that
he should be able to prevail upon Mr. Redmond to be silent in regard to
the treasure.
"I am very glad to see you again, ladies," said the fop, running toward
them as they approached. "I hope you will pardon me for leaving you, and
for not returning, for a matter of some little importance prevented me
from joining you again."
"You are very excusable, Mr. Redmond," replied Rosabel. "We contrived to
pass away the time in your absence."
"Thank you for your kind consideration."
"We didn't suffer much for the want of you, Charley Redmond," added
Belle.
The party immediately embarked in the Rosabel, which was soon under way
on the return to Rockhaven. But the wind was dead ahead, and even
fresher than when they had come down to High Rock. Leopold stood
directly out to sea, making only one tack in reaching the river. It was
very rough, and Mr. Redmond soon lost all his elasticity of spirit, and
forgot all about the hidden treasure of High Rock, in his fears for his
own safety. But, in spite of the gale, the Rosabel went into the river
without accident, under the skillful management of the skipper, though
the entire party were thoroughly drenched by the spray.
As soon as Leopold had landed his passengers, and securely moored the
sloop, he hastened, before going to the hotel, to the shop of his uncle.
Without any explanation, he dropped upon the watch-maker's counter the
shot-bag, in which the gold chinked as it fell, to the intense
astonishment of Herr Schlager.
[Illustration: "DONNER UND BLITZ." Page 273.]