CLAUDE VISITS THE POOL-ROOM.
“You treated me just as you treat everybody else who came to your
ranch, and no better,” said Claude, hurrying down the street, away from
his cousin. “You couldn’t treat me any better than you could anybody
else just because I was a relation of yours, could you? Well, you gave
me one piece of advice that I will remember. I will put this money in
bank, so that the fellows can’t draw on me for it.”
Claude was so mad when he took leave of his cousin that he tore
along the street, paying no attention to anybody, bumping against the
pedestrians he chanced to meet, and then hurried on without apologizing
and presently reached the bank where his father had kept a small amount
deposited during his lifetime. Here he left fourteen hundred dollars of
his money, and with the balance tucked safely away in his vest pocket
he came out and took his way toward a pool-room which he had often
been in the habit of visiting. He had been away from St. Louis a long
time, and he was not certain that he could find anyone there with whom
he was acquainted. The length of time he had been away, gaining health
and strength by his outdoor exercise, had doubtless scattered the old
frequenters of the place far and wide, and he would not know where to
go to look for them.
“It all depends upon finding two men here who will just ache to handle
that—I believe I’ll put it twenty thousand while I am about it,” said
Claude, as he turned and made his way up stairs to the pool-room. “Ten
thousand might not tempt them to run any risk, so I guess I will just
double it. The first thing I do must be to keep myself out of Carl’s
way. I will show the fellows where the boat lies, and they must do the
rest.”
Claude threw open a door as he spoke, and there was the pool-room
in full blast. There were four tables in the room, and each of them
was surrounded by men and boys who were eagerly watching the game. No
one noticed him when he went in. There was a new barkeeper behind the
counter, and a hasty glance at the men about the tables satisfied him
that the ones he wanted to see were not there, or, if they were, the
hours they had passed at the pool-room had changed them materially.
“Is Tony Waller here yet?” said he, addressing the barkeeper.
“Well, I guess not,” said the man, with a laugh. “Tony’s gone up.”
“Is he dead?” asked Claude.
“No, he ain’t; but he might as well be. Tony couldn’t make money by
playing for it honest, and so he had to go to work and hold up one of
our customers. He got five years for it.”
“Well, is Bud Kelly here?” said Claude, who was surprised to hear this
about Tony.
“Do you see that man over there on the last table—he is just going to
shoot,” said the barkeeper. “That’s Kelly.”
“My goodness! How he has changed,” exclaimed Claude, hardly willing
to believe his eyes. “He used to be a fancy duck, and now he looks as
though he didn’t have enough to eat.”
“I haven’t seen you around here of late,” said the man.
“No; I have just come from the West. Kelly used to have a nice position
in an insurance office.”
“He lost that, and he has lost every position he has had since then. He
makes his living out of pool.”
“Well, I believe I must go and see him,” said Claude to himself, as he
walked toward the last table where Kelly was playing. “So Tony has gone
up. I wonder if I have not got something else under way that will send
Kelly up, too, if he is caught at it? He will have to run that risk.”
Claude caught Kelly’s eyes fastened upon him as he walked up to a
chair and seated himself where he could watch the game, but no sign
of recognition came forth. Claude was wondering if he had changed,
too, but he could not have altered his appearance so much as the other
man. His clothes were neat and whole, and that was more than could be
said of Kelly. Every once in a while the player looked toward him, and
when the game was finished he put up his cue and came and took a chair
beside Claude.
“Look here,” he said with an attempt at familiarity, “I think I have
seen you once before.”
“Don’t you know me, after all the long months I have spent out West?”
said Claude.
“Claude Preston!” exclaimed Kelly. “I knew I had seen you, but I could
not place you.”
The two shook hands as though they were overjoyed to meet each other
once more, and then Kelly settled down and pulled Claude’s face over
toward him.
“How did the old man pan out?” said he in a lower tone. “Did you make
anything out of him?”
“No,” said Claude in disgust. “He was the meanest man I ever saw; but
he has paid for it all. He is dead.”
“But he left you something in his will?” said Kelly.
“No, he didn’t; not a thing. But I know where there are twenty thousand
dollars that one could have for himself if he only had a little pluck.
You used to be pretty good at such things; have you turned over a new
leaf?”
“Waller has gone up for trying that very thing,” said Kelly, as if his
heart was not in the matter.
“But there is no such danger in this,” answered Claude. “Now wait until
I tell you how I have left things.”
With this introduction, Claude went on and told Kelly everything that
had happened to him while coming down with his cousin—how they went to
the bank and drew out twenty thousand dollars which Thompson stowed
away in his shirt, and that they were going back on the Talisman, the
same boat that had brought them down from Fort Scully.
“I don’t believe Thompson will keep the money around him all the
while,” said Claude in conclusion. “When they get back to their boat
they are going to put it in their valise. If they do that, you can
easily get it. Twenty thousand dollars! That will be a little over six
thousand dollars apiece, and you can go to California on that.”
“How will I know them if I see them?” asked Kelly. The tone in which
he spoke the words made Claude more than half inclined to believe that
Kelly had a mind to try it.
“They are dressed in regular Western style—long hair, broad sombreros,
and boots as fine as money can buy. They will be aboard the boat now,
and this is the time to capture them.”
Some more talk followed this conversation, and Kelly got up and went
out. Claude waited an hour for him to come back, and all the while he
was harassed by the fear that the man Kelly had gone after might not
see it as plainly as he did.
“There is not a thing to do but to wait until after dark, and then
pitch in and grab the money,” said Claude to himself. “They can throw
Carl overboard to keep him from using his revolvers, and I know that
both of them can manage Thompson. I do hope that man will agree to it.
It is the best chance in the world they will ever have to make money.”
By the time Claude had got through communicating with himself in this
way the door opened and Kelly came in, followed by a man who was
evidently hard up and had been for some time, judging by the looks of
his clothes. This man was introduced as Sam Hayward; and, in accordance
with his request, Claude was obliged to begin his story all over again.
One thing that surprised Claude was the fact that the man took a deep
interest in it, and seemed determined to get at it as soon as possible.
He listened to Claude all through, and when he ceased he said:
“I say we can do it, Bud.”
“There is nothing in the world to hinder it, if you only go at it with
a determination to succeed,” said Claude. “But there is one thing you
must bear in mind: Don’t let that Thompson put his hands behind him. He
is a little quicker than a flash of lightning, and he will shoot before
you know it.”
“We will look out for that,” said Hayward. “If he shoots, it shall not
cost him anything.”
There was another thing that Claude wanted to get at, and that was
some better clothes than those two men had on. They must go aboard the
steamer as though they were going up to Fort Scully, and they must have
a valise or two, to take the appearance of travellers. Kelly must have
known what he was thinking about, for he looked them over from top to
bottom, and he hastened to remark:
“If you say we can do it, why we will go and try it on. We will go home
and get on some other clothes, and then you must go with us to show us
where the Talisman lies. But see here, Claude—haven’t you got a little
money with you? We’re strapped, and that’s a fact. If we are going as
travellers, of course we have got to pay our fare, and where is the
money coming from to do it?”
Claude had been expecting this, and he was not in any hurry to advance
the men money, but he did not see how he could get out of it. He was
afraid he might never see it again; but if they got the eight thousand
dollars——
“I have got just a hundred dollars in money that I saved from my work
at herding cattle,” said he. “Will ten dollars apiece do you?”
“You had better give us twenty while you are about it,” said Kelly, as
Claude drew his money out of his vest pocket. “If we get the twenty
thousand dollars——”
“You must get it,” said Claude earnestly. “In fact, don’t undertake to
steal that money unless you _can_ get it. And then you want to watch
out for the police. When will you attempt it?”
“To-night, if we get the chance,” said Hayward. “But we may have to go
up to Fort Scully with them. You go up with Kelly and he will show you
where his room is, and you can go there and wait until we come back.”
All the way to the corner, where Hayward took leave of them, they
talked about the robbery, and Claude again impressed upon Hayward the
dire calamity that would happen to him if they allowed Thompson to put
his hands behind him. Hayward grinned and kept on to his own room,
while Kelly and Claude kept on to Kelly’s room, and by the time they
reached it Kelly had thought up another method of raising money out of
Carl.
“I have several checks in my pocket on different banks, and I will make
one of them out for a hundred dollars or so,” said he, “and perhaps I
can borrow——”
“You had better let that out,” said Claude hastily. “Whenever you begin
to talk money to him, he’ll shut up and go away from you.”
“Of course I want to try it merely to see if he has the funds,” said
Kelly. “I don’t care anything about a hundred dollars while he has so
much more.”
“And there is another thing that you must look out for,” said Claude.
“I had almost forgotten to mention it. Mr. Morphy told him this morning
not to make friends with anybody. If you behave at all friendly with
him, and act as though you had seen him before, the fat will all be in
the fire.”
“That old Morphy posted him on a good many scrapes, didn’t he?” said
Kelly, with a wink that spoke volumes. “I can tell how to manage him
when I see him.”
Kelly’s room was about what Claude had made up his mind to see after
his meeting with him. It was in a tumble-down tenement-house at the
head of two flights of stairs, and when Kelly produced the key from
his pocket and opened the door, Claude found himself in a small
seven-by-nine apartment which was almost destitute of furniture. Some
dishes from which Kelly had eaten his supper were on the table, still
unwashed; and the bed, from which he had arisen that morning, did not
look as though it had been made up for a week. There was only one chair
in the room, and Kelly gave it a shove with his foot, at the same time
turning toward his trunk to get out some clothing.
“Sit down there,” said he. “I can remember when I did not have such a
room as this; but that was before I got to travelling on my own hook. I
suppose you had a better room than this out West?”
“Well, I had more furniture in it, but it was not such a room as I
would have put a stranger in,” said Claude, who did not want to let
Kelly see how little he thought of his quarters.
He then changed the subject by referring to Carl and Thompson. It was
a matter of some moment to him, for what should he do in case these men
made the attempt and failed? He did not like to think of it.