A SURPRISE.
When they got ashore they found themselves surrounded by the sights
and sounds of the city, and they were so taken up with them that they
could not say much to each other. Thompson kept close at Carl’s side
all the way, for he was afraid that if he became separated from him he
would get lost among the drays and pedestrians. Carl knew right where
he was going, and in process of time reached the bank. He entered
as though he had a perfect right there, and once on the inside he
found himself confronted by a long line of men who had come there on
business—brokers’ clerks who had come there to get their boxes, and
others to get their checks cashed—and, standing his friends up against
a desk, fell into the rear and patiently waited until his turn came.
Then he handed out the letter he had found in his father’s will and
inquired if Mr. Morphy was anywhere about.
“Yes, sir,” said the cashier. “He is in his private office.”
“Will you be kind enough to send that letter in to him?” said Carl; and
then he left the line and took his stand beside his companions. “When
he comes out and asks me in I want you to go with me,” he said to them
in a low tone.
Carl saw the clerk who had the letter in his possession vanish through
a rear door, and while he was thinking about it Mr. Morphy came out. He
glanced hastily at the men, and then advanced and took Carl by the hand.
“I am glad to see you, Mr. Preston,” said he, with a touch of sadness
in his tones. “I am sorry that your father is not here with you. Come
into the office.”
“I shall have to ask these men to go also,” said Carl.
“Certainly. Bring them right along.”
When he got into the office he put out chairs for them, but every
thing was so neat and elegant that Thompson did not want to sit down;
but he kept a close watch of Carl, and seeing that the latter promptly
seated himself, he finally followed his example.
“I have not read your father’s letter yet,” said the president, “and if
you will excuse me I will do it now. I have only read that he is dead,
but I can hardly realize it. Did he die suddenly?”
“It was sudden enough when it came, but I suppose he lingered along as
all men do who are suffering from that disease,” answered Carl. “It
seems he thought that the letter would tell who I was.”
“Oh, I would have known you anyway. If I see a man’s face once, I can
always remember him.”
The president then went on reading the letter, and when he got through
he was ready for business.
“I suppose you want some money,” he said briskly. “Make out a check for
what you want and you can have it.”
Carl took the paper and the pen that were passed over to him and
speedily made out his check for ten thousand dollars. The president
looked at it to make sure that it was all right, and went into the room
where the cashier was. When he came out he had a big roll of bills in
his hands.
“I suppose you want to pay the terms of the will with this, and so I
have got it in small bills,” said he.
“That is all right,” said Carl. “Thank you, I don’t want to go over it.
I wish you would count out fifteen hundred dollars and give it to my
cousin here, Claude Preston. He comes in for one share.”
The president complied, and when Claude had taken the money (he never
said “Thank you!” for it, either) Carl turned to Thompson.
“I want you to make room about your clothes to stow this money in,”
said he. “Then I shall feel safe.”
Thompson, without saying a word, got upon his feet, and thrusting his
hands one after the other into the inside pockets of his coat, brought
out two big navy revolvers, which he laid upon the desk. Mr. Morphy
looked on with surprise and remarked that Carl intended to have his
money defended, at any rate.
“Yes; the people here in St. Louis are all strangers to me, and I
shall feel a good deal safer when I get back to my ranch,” said Carl,
rising to his feet. “One does not know when he is safe.”
“That is a fact,” said Mr. Morphy; “and let me tell you one thing right
here: Don’t make any friends at all. If a man comes to you and appears
cordial and inquires after your health, go away from him and let him
entirely alone. He is friendly to your money, but he is not at all
friendly to you.”
“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Carl, for he was not very well posted
in regard to all the tricks that sharpers make use of to trap innocent
victims. “We thank you for your kindness.”
Mr. Morphy bowed, accompanied them to the front door, and saw them
start toward their boat. Claude said nothing at all, for he was almost
overwhelmed by the sight of the eight thousand dollars that Thompson
had in his bosom. He saw that his shirt stuck out until a person would
think he was wonderfully developed about the chest. He imagined how he
would feel if that money was his own.
“I wish I had some place to carry these revolvers,” said the foreman
anxiously. “I have got to carry them in my hip pockets, and every one
who comes up behind me can see them.”
“That shows that you are ready to defend what you have in your shirt,”
said Carl with a laugh. “But that is all in your favor. There is a law
against carrying concealed weapons, but yours are not concealed. Every
one who looks at you knows that you have them.”
At this moment, as if to show that Carl was right in his surmises,
a policeman came along, and after taking a look at Thompson, turned
and gave him another look as he passed. He saw the butts of the navy
revolvers sticking out of his pockets, and then smiled at Carl and
passed on as if he thought it was all right.
“There, Thompson, that cop saw your pistols and never said a word to
you,” said he.
“What cop?” asked Thompson in surprise.
“Why, that policeman. Your revolvers are not concealed, and so he took
no notice of it.”
“Then I am all right,” said the foreman, immensely relieved. “I
supposed that he would arrest me for having those weapons about me. Oh,
yes, I am all right.”
“Well, boys, here is your boat, and I presume you will go aboard of
her,” said Claude, as they arrived upon the levee. “I believe I will
take leave of you right here.”
“What are you going to do with that money you have in your pocket?”
asked Carl. “You ought to put it in the bank, where it will be safe.”
“I will attend to that the first thing I do. I will bet you that nobody
will get it out of me. Good-by.”
Thompson drew a long breath of relief, while Carl held out his hand
to his cousin. He did not say that he was sorry to have him go away
where he might never see him again, because he wasn’t. He hoped that,
Claude having got away from the ranch, things would go on as smoothly
as they had done before he came there. But Claude, although he shook
his cousin’s hand heartily, was not yet done with him by any means. He
had his eye on that wad of money that Thompson carried in his shirt,
and he did not intend to see the last of Carl until he had the handling
of some of it.
“If you are going away before I have time to show you some of the
sights of the city, I don’t know but I might as well bid you good-by
now as some other time,” said Claude, drawing his left hand hastily
across his eyes. “You have been mighty good to me since I have been out
there on the ranch with you——”
“Oh, that is all right,” said Carl, who did not care to listen to any
words which he knew Claude did not mean. “We treated you as we would
anybody else who came there, and no better. Good-by, and good luck to
you.”
When Claude had taken leave of his cousin he turned to say a word to
Thompson, but that fellow had put his hands behind him. He was not
going to take leave of him as Carl had done. Claude saw in a moment
that he could not say anything to the foreman, so he turned on his heel
and walked away.
“I am surprised at you,” said Carl, when Claude had passed on out of
hearing. “Were you not sorry to see him go?”
“No, I was not,” said Thompson emphatically. “I have been in constant
hot water ever since he has been on the ranch. I told you at the start
that I did not think you would like Claude, and I hit it, did I not?”
“You put your hands behind you because you did not want to bid me
good-by, did you?” said Claude, turning about in his walk to grit his
teeth at the foreman. “Well, I will bet you that before night you
cannot shake hands with anybody. I will get a couple of men after you
who will leave you in the river.”
Carl did not intend to go on board his old vessel until he had been
the length of the levee and had satisfied himself that there was no
boat getting ready to sail before she did. It was not necessary that he
should go on every one he saw to make inquiries. Some of them had their
destinations printed on canvas and hung up on their hurricane-deck
railings—for example, “For Vicksburg,” “For Cairo,” and for “New
Orleans”—but he had yet to see one that was to sail up the river.
“I guess we had better go aboard our old boat and take our chances,”
said Carl, after he had grown weary of examining the steamers. “Those
officers are like old friends to us, and somehow I feel safer in their
presence than I would anywhere else.”
“That is what I say,” answered Thompson. “If I was back at the ranch I
tell you you would have to get somebody else to come with you.”
Carl laughed and led the way aboard their own boat, where they secured
a couple of chairs and sat down to wait until the steamer was ready
to sail. They had already left their luggage (each one of them had a
valise) in the hands of the porter, and when they saw the clerk go into
his office Carl thought he would pay his passage and get a better room
than they had in coming down. Thompson kept close at his side wherever
he went. The presence of so large an amount of money made him terribly
uneasy, and he did not want to let Carl out of his sight.
“You are going back with us,” said the clerk, after Carl had told him
the object of his visit. “We will go up to-morrow, and she will be the
first one out. We are to take on some army rations for those fellows at
Fort Scully, and it won’t be any trouble at all for you to wait three
or four days until that little boat comes down. Five dollars, please.”
“But you see we don’t want to wait,” said Carl, pulling out his
ten dollars. “We are impatient to get back to our ranch as soon as
possible.”
“I thought you were ranchmen the first time I saw you,” said the clerk.
“You have lively times out there with the bears and mountain lions and
all the other things. Do you live far from the river?”
“Well, it is a good piece. You see we are not used to the ways of the
city, and when we get out there we are at home.”
Their passage was soon paid, their valises secured from the porter and
placed in their new room, and the two went back to their chairs on the
boiler deck. When the bell rang for dinner they went in, and scarcely
had they seated themselves in their chairs again when they discovered
two men coming up the stairs. They were both well dressed and were
evidently going somewhere on business, for they had valises in their
hands. They looked all around as if searching for somebody, and then
one of them ventured to address Carl.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but can you tell me when this boat sails?”
said he, politely.
Remembering what Mr. Morphy had said to him in regard to making
friends with strangers, Carl did not act as he usually did when he was
approached by persons with whom he was not acquainted. He looked up and
simply said.
“You will find the clerk in his office.”
“So he is,” said the man. “So he is. Come on, Bob, and we’ll soon see
how much it is going to cost us to go up to Fort Scully.”
“There are a couple of men that we want to keep out of the way of,”
said Carl, gazing after the passengers as they walked into the cabin.
“They are going up our way, but we will not make friends with them, or
with anybody else.”
“Why, I took that man for a gentleman,” said Thompson. “He begged your
pardon before he spoke to you.”
“That may be; but some of the biggest rascals there are agoing can be
gentlemen when they please.”
Thompson believed the boy to be mistaken, although he tried to be
governed by him in all his movements. He saw the men pay their fare,
and then one walked off toward the farther end of the cabin, while the
other came out and took a chair on the boiler deck. He cast a quick
searching glance at both of them (Thompson thought he knew what he had
in his bosom to make his shirt stick out that way), and then drew back
and placed his feet on the railing.
“Thank goodness I have my fare paid to my journey’s end,” said the man.
“Have you been up the river lately?”
“Only a few days ago,” said Carl shortly.
“Is there much water up there?”
“Not much.”
“The reason I am so anxious in inquiring is that I have wasted a week
in my trip up here, and am impatient to get to Fort Scully to see about
some property I have there. Are you acquainted in Fort Scully?”
“I don’t know that I am,” replied Carl, and then he arose to his feet
and went into the cabin, closing the door after him; but he was not
in time to shut out Thompson, who stuck close to him. The cabin was
entirely deserted, and the two men were in no danger of being overheard.
“Did you notice what that man said about his property?” asked Carl. “If
I had inquired into it, I should have found that he had a check on some
bank to a large amount, and he would want to borrow some money on it. I
declare that man is coming in. Let us go to our own room.”
If the man was going to follow them up, he opened the cabin just in
time to see the door of their state-room close behind them; but when
they got there, Carl, who was leading the way, suddenly stopped. They
had taken particular notice of the way they left their valises when
they brought them there. They had put them under the lower bunk, out
of the way; but here they were in the middle of the room, and the
contents of each were scattered all over the floor. In addition to
this, the outside door, which opened onto the guards, was closed but
not fastened. In two jumps Carl reached the door, pulled it open, and
looked up and down the guards; but there was no one in sight.