TOM PRESTON.
“Tom,” said Oscar, as soon as he could speak, “you are the last person
on earth I expected to meet in this wilderness.”
“I may say the same in regard to yourself,” answered Tom sullenly. “What
brought you here?”
“I came on purpose to hunt.”
“You _did_?”
Tom was greatly amazed when he heard this. He ran his eye over Oscar
from head to foot, critically examining his neat, warm outfit, and
noting, with no little bitterness of heart, the air of comfort and
contentment which those who are prosperous in the world seem to carry
with them wherever they go, and then he looked down at himself.
Oscar, following the direction of his gaze, saw that his suit of
broadcloth was very seedy and threadbare, and that in some places it was
almost worn through.
What would Tom do when winter fairly set in, and the ravines were piled
full of snow, and the keen winds came roaring down from the mountains?
If that was the warmest suit he had, he would certainly freeze to death.
“Where is your overcoat?” asked Oscar, looking about the camp.
“Overcoat?” repeated Tom, with a sneering laugh. “Do you imagine that I
am able to own such a thing? My uncle’s got it.”
“Your uncle?”
“Yes—Uncle Solomon, who lives in Denver. I had to shove it.”
Oscar looked down at the ground, and turned these words over in his
mind. He did not quite understand them, and yet he was almost afraid to
ask Tom to explain.
He wanted to know all about his brother’s circumstances and plans for
the future, for he was as ready to assist him as he had been to assist
Leon Parker; but still he did not like to ask too many questions, for
Tom spoke very gruffly, and in a tone of voice which showed that he was
in no mood to say much about himself.
Finally, Oscar came to the conclusion that Tom, having become pressed
for money, had been obliged to pawn his overcoat, and the latter’s next
words proved that this conclusion was the right one.
“The old skinflint took advantage of my necessities, as people of that
class always do,” said he. “He gave me only fifteen dollars for it, and
it cost me forty. But those fifteen dollars came in very handy, I tell
you, for with them I was able to purchase three flannel shirts and these
boots, which are a mile too big for me. Now, let me tell you what’s a
fact, Oscar. You had better take the advice of one who has been through
the mill, and dig out for the States while you have the chance. I was as
spruce as you are when I first came out here, and now look at me. Just
look at that!” he went on, thrusting out a foot which, up to the time he
left home had always been encased in boots made of nothing heavier then
French calf-skin or patent leather. “If I had been compelled to wear
such stogas while I was in Eaton, I should have thought I was very badly
abused, but now I have to wear them, or go without any. I’ll tell you
another thing—if you stay here you needn’t look to me for help. It is as
much as I can do to take care of myself.”
Here Tom got upon his feet and walked back and forth in front of his
brother, shaking his fists in the air and swearing audibly.
“Those three thousand dollars didn’t do you much good, did they?” said
Oscar, after a moment’s pause.
“Where did I get three thousand dollars?” demanded Tom, suddenly
stopping in his walk and looking down at his brother.
“I am sure I don’t know; but an examination of your accounts showed a
deficit to that amount.”
“Ah! That may be; but I didn’t have any such sum when I came out here. I
spent a good deal before I left Eaton.”
“What did you do with the money you brought with you?” inquired Oscar,
who hardly expected that Tom would reply to the question.
“Oh, I dropped it!”
“Did you lose it?”
Tom nodded his head, and resumed his walk.
“How did it happen?”
“Why, I was fool enough to buck the tiger down in Denver, if you must
know,” answered Tom snappishly. “I wanted to increase my capital, and
the consequence was I lost it all.”
“You don’t mean to say that you gambled it away?” Oscar almost gasped.
“Well, that’s about the plain English of it,” was the careless reply.
“O Tom!” exclaimed Oscar. “What do you suppose mother would say if she
knew it?”
“I don’t intend that she shall know it, and she never will unless you
get to swinging that long tongue of yours. It was my intention to shut
myself out so completely from the world that nobody in Eaton would ever
hear of me again; and I should have succeeded if some evil genius had
not sent you prowling through this ravine. What brought you here,
anyway? I tell you again that I can’t take care of you, and I won’t,
either! By the way, for how much did you get into old Smith?”
It was plain enough to be seen that Tom, in his endeavors to account for
his brother’s unexpected presence in that country, was shooting wide of
the mark. He readily believed that Oscar, like himself, had stolen money
from his employers and fled from Eaton in order to escape punishment at
the hands of the law.
He could not think of anything else that would be likely to bring Oscar
so far away from home.
“There’s just one thing about it,” said Tom to himself, after he had
looked at the matter from all points and arrived at what he considered
to be a perfectly satisfactory conclusion, “his money will soon be
wasted—if it hasn’t been wasted already—and now that he has found me, he
will naturally expect me to help him; but I can’t do it, and I won’t,
and he might as well know it first as last. How much money did you bring
away from Eaton with you?” he asked aloud.
“About eleven hundred dollars,” replied Oscar, who knew that his brother
was very far from suspecting the real facts of the case. “And I left
five hundred behind me.”
“Good for you!” exclaimed Tom. “You made a bigger haul than I did. You
kept that five hundred to fall back on, I suppose. I wish I had been
sharp enough to do the same. What did you do with the rest?”
“I saved every cent of it, except what I was obliged to spend.”
This answer almost took Tom’s breath away, and caused him to make a
radical change in the programme he had marked out for himself.
Oscar did not fail to see it all, for Tom’s thoughts could be easily
interpreted by the expression of his face.
“I don’t gamble, you know, and neither am I given to drink,” continued
Oscar.
“Do you mean to say that I am?” demanded Tom, once more pausing in his
walk.
“I do, for your face says so. No one ever saw a total abstainer with
such eyes and such cheeks as you are carrying about with you to-day.
Now, Tom, it may be to your interest to tell me all about yourself. I
arrived at the fort no longer ago than yesterday morning, but I have
already started one disgusted runaway on the road toward home, and I am
able to help you.”
These words removed a heavy load of anxiety from Tom’s mind. His brother
was willing to help him.
He was very impatient to know how much help—in other words, how much
money—Oscar would be likely to give him; but, for the moment, his
curiosity overcame his greediness. He wanted to hear all about that
runaway.