A TIGHT PLACE.
The lower part of the cabin was divided into two rooms, over which
was a loft. There was no staircase; but there was a short ladder by
which the ascent was made.
"You're to sleep up there," said Jack, pointing to the loft. "Me and
the old woman sleep below."
"All right," said Bradley, gaping. "I can sleep anywhere to-night.
I'm powerful sleepy."
He ascended the ladder first, and Ben followed. There was no
bedstead, but a straw pallet was stretched in one corner, with a
blanket in place of a quilt.
"I sha'n't undress, Ben," said Bradley, throwing himself down on the
rude bed. "I can't keep my eyes open long enough. I think I never
felt so sleepy in the whole course of my life."
"I am tired, but not sleepy," returned Ben.
"I won't undress, either. I can sleep just as well in my clothes."
Scarcely a minute had passed when Bradley was breathing in the
unconsciousness of slumber.
As Ben lay down beside him, he could not help feeling surprised at
his companion's yielding so suddenly to the power of sleep. That he
should be tired was not surprising; but when seated outside he had
not seemed unusually drowsy, that is, up to the time of his drinking
the wine. A quick suspicion flashed upon Ben's mind. Had the wine
anything to do with this sudden drowsiness?
Ben had not much experience of life; but he had heard of liquors
being drugged, and it seemed possible that the wine which had been
offered to Bradley might have been tampered with. If so, it was only
too evident what was the object of their host. It was natural to
suppose that the two travelers were provided with money, and it was
undoubtedly the intention of Jack Carter to rob them in their sleep.
This was not a pleasant thought, nor one calculated to soothe Ben to
sleep. He was only a boy, and to find himself in a robber's den was
certainly rather a startling discovery. If he had been able to
consult with his companion, it would have been a relief; but Bradley
was in a profound sleep.
Ben nudged him, but without the slightest effect. He was insensible
as a log. Finding more vigorous measures necessary, the boy shook
him, but succeeded only in eliciting a few muttered words.
"I can't wake him," thought Ben, more and more disturbed in mind. "I
am sure it must be the wine which makes him sleep so heavily. What
can I do?"
This question was more easily asked than answered. Ben was quite
aware that single-handed he could not cope with a powerful man like
Carter. With Bradley's help he would have felt secure; but no
assistance could now be expected from his companion. So far as he
could see, he must submit to be robbed, and to see his companion
robbed. Of course, there was a chance that he might be mistaken. It
was possible that Bradley's might be a natural sleep, induced by
excessive fatigue, and there might be nothing sinister in the
intentions of their host.
Ben, however, found it difficult to convince himself of this, much
as he desired to do so. The existence of a gang of robbers in the
vicinity, referred to by Bradley, was not calculated to reassure
him. If Carter did not belong to this gang, his personal appearance
was certainly calculated to foster the suspicion of his connection
with them, and the suspicion was strengthened by the fact of his
living in this lonely place without any apparent inducement.
For the first time, perhaps, since he had left the East, he wished
himself in the security of home. As Deacon Pitkin's hired boy,
living on frugal diet, he would have been better off than here at
the mercy of a mountain bandit.
But Ben was a boy of spirit, and not inclined to submit in a
cowardly manner without first considering if in any possible manner
he could guard against the danger which menaced him. Fatigued as he
was by the day's ride, he would, under ordinary circumstances, have
fallen asleep quickly; but now anxiety and apprehension kept him
broad awake.
"If I could only rouse Bradley," he said to himself, "I should feel
more comfortable. I don't like the responsibility of deciding what
is best to be done."
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of low voices below.
Evidently Carter and his wife were conversing, and probably about
them. Anxious to hear what was said, as this might give him a clue
to their plans, Ben rose softly from his low couch, and drew near
the edge of the opening through which he had mounted into the loft.
In this position he was able to hear what was said.
"They must have money," said Carter. "They would need it to get them
out to the mines. Whatever it is, I am bound to have it."
"The man seems strong," replied the wife. "You may not find it an
easy task to master him."
"What can he do?" returned Carter contemptuously. "He is in a dead
sleep. I put enough stuff into his wine to keep him in a stupor for
twelve good hours. If I'm not a match for a sleeping man, I'll go
and hang myself."
"But the boy-he took no wine."
"No; he's one of them temperance sneaks. But he's only a baby. I
could lay him out with one hand."
"Don't harm him, Jack!" said the woman. "I can't help feeling kindly
to him. Our boy, had he lived, would have been about his age. I
can't help thinking of that."
"Don't be silly! Because we had a boy once, mustn't interfere with
business."
"But you won't hurt him, Jack?" pleaded the woman, who, hard as she
seemed, appeared to have a soft side to her nature.
"No; I won't hurt the brat if he behaves himself and doesn't get
bumptious. Likely enough he'll be fast asleep. Boys at his age
generally sleep well."
"In the morning they will discover that they have been robbed. What
will you say to them?"
"Tell them it's none of my business; that I know nothing about it."
"But if the boy is awake, and sees you at work, Jack?"
"Then it will be different. It would have been better for him to
have taken the wine."
"Do you think he suspected anything?"
"No; how could he suspect that the wine was drugged? He is one of
them temperance sneaks, I tell you."
"How soon are you going up, Jack?"
"In half an hour. I want to give the boy time enough to get asleep.
That will make matters easy."
"Don't you think I had better go up, Jack?"
"Why should you? Why should I let a woman do my work?"
"Then I should know the boy would receive no harm."
"Oh, that's it, is it? You make a great fuss about the boy."
"Yes; I can't help thinking about my own boy."
"Oh, drop that! It makes me sick. Wasn't he my boy as well as yours?
I'm sorry he's gone. I could have brought him up to be a help to us
in our business."
"Never, Jack, never!" exclaimed his wife fervently.
"Hello! what's that?"
"I mean that I should have been unwilling to have our son grow up no
better than we are. He, at any rate, should have been a good man."
"What's up now, old woman? You haven't been attending Sunday-school
lately, have you?" demanded Jack, with a sneer.
"I did once, Jack, and I haven't quite forgotten what I learned
there, though it don't look like it now."
"Are you going back on me?" demanded Jack fiercely.
"No, Jack, it's too late for that. I have helped you, and I mean to
help you, but to-night the sight of that boy, and the thought of our
son, who died so long ago, have given me a turn. If it was a man, it
would be different. But you have promised you won't harm him, and no
more need be said."
"Too much has been said already, to my thinkin'," growled Jack.
"However, that's over, and I expect you to help me if I need help."
Ben heard every word that was said, and it confirmed his suspicions.
There was no doubt that an attempt would be made to rob him and his
companion before morning, and the prospect was not pleasant. By
submitting quietly he would come to no harm, and the loss of the
money would not be irreparable. He and Bradley had each started with
a hundred dollars, supplied by Miss Doughlas, and thus far but
little of this sum had been spent. Their employer would doubtless
send them a further supply if they were robbed, but they would be
reluctant to apply to her, since the loss would be partly the result
of their imprudence.
Ben felt that he was in a tight place, and he was not quite certain
what he should or could do.