WHAT ARCHIE KNEW ABOUT MONEY.
The gray-headed man before spoken of, whom the boys had put down as
the father of one of the two stalwart young men who were driving the
wagons, was riding Archie’s old horse, which Eugene had offered him,
and was talking earnestly with Fred and his companion. It was plain
that the subject of their conversation was either an exciting or an
alarming one, for the old man’s face was as white as a sheet, and his
voice trembled when he addressed Archie.
“Do you think those men were wilfully misleading us, or that they were
lost like ourselves?” he asked.
“They certainly were not lost,” answered Archie. “Men of their stamp
don’t get lost on the prairies.”
“What object could they have had in view in taking us so far out of our
way?”
“I am sure I do not know, unless they had reason to believe that there
is something of value in your wagons.”
“Did they mean to rob us?” cried the old man, in great alarm.
“Their actions were suspicious, to say the least,” returned Archie, who
did not care to say anything that would add to the old man’s terror.
“But you are safe from them now. If they come about your camp again,
all you have to do is to order them away.”
“I certainly have something of value with me,” continued the emigrant,
after a moment’s pause, “and I am not afraid to trust you with the
secret, for you look honest. There’s a million dollars and more in that
first wagon.”
“Whew!” whistled Archie. “And did they know it?”
“They did, for I told them.”
“Well, I wish you hadn’t done it.”
That was what Archie said aloud; but to himself he added: “You ought to
have a guardian appointed for you, old as you are.”
The emigrant said nothing after this. The knowledge that he had harbored
robbers in his camp for the last three days made a deep impression on
him, and he gradually fell back beside the wagons, where he seemed
resolved to remain. He wanted to keep a sharp eye on his treasure.
“That is the most simple thing that a grown person was ever guilty of,”
said Archie, as soon as the old man was out of hearing. “Why couldn’t
he keep still? I’ll tell you what’s a fact, fellows,” he added, after
thinking a moment, “if there are any more men like Zack and Sile loose
in this neighborhood, I’d rather be alone on the prairie than to stay
with these wagons.”
“Do you think we shall see them again?” inquired Eugene.
“Do you suppose that men like those will let so much money slip through
their fingers if they can help it?” asked Archie, in reply.
“More than a million dollars,” exclaimed Featherweight. “What shape is
it in, I wonder?”
“If I had that amount of money, I’d travel in a little better style than
he does,” said Eugene. “He and his family are all in rags, and his mules
and oxen look like the breaking up of a hard winter. He’s an old miser.”
“He may have an object in it,” said Featherweight. “Perhaps he doesn’t
want any one to suspect that he is worth so much.”
“Then why does he go and tell it?” demanded Eugene. “I wonder if it is
in gold or silver!”
“Neither,” said Archie.
“How do you know?”
“I just guess at it.”
“But you must have something to go by in your guessing. I wonder how
much a million dollars in gold would weigh!”
“If it was in eagles, it wouldn’t fall very far short of thirty-five
hundred pound, avoirdupois,” said Archie.
“How much?” cried both the boys, opening their eyes wide with amazement.
Archie repeated his statement, adding:
“You know that such articles as gold, silver and precious stones are
weighed by Troy weight. If you could put a hundred thousand gold eagles
(that would be just a million dollars) on one side of a jeweller’s
scales, it would take a four thousand pound weight on the other to
balance them.”[A]
“Well, there’s no such weight in that rickety old wagon,” said Eugene,
as soon as he had recovered from his surprise. “It wouldn’t hold it up.
It must be in greenbacks.”
“How large an amount in greenbacks do you suppose you could carry?” asked
Archie. “I mean in small bills, ranging from ones up to twenties.”
“O, I could carry all you could pile on me,” said Fred, confidently,
“two or three million, probably.”
“Yes, and five or six million,” said Eugene.
“That’s much better than I can do,” said Archie, with a laugh, “and
while I was in the Fleet Paymaster’s office during the war, I had more
than one opportunity to try my hand at it. We used to get drafts from
Washington on the sub-treasury in St. Louis, calling for two hundred
thousand dollars. When the chief went up to draw the money I generally
went with him, taking with me two large carpet-bags to bring the
greenbacks home in. The money was put up in square packages of such
size that two of them were all I could get into each carpet-bag. It was
my business, after the money was drawn, to look out for it until we
reached Cairo. In carrying it from the sub-treasury to the Planter’s
House, where we always stopped—I forget just how many blocks I had to
walk—I was always obliged to rest at least once on the way, and to
put the carpet-bags down for a minute or two on the steps of the hotel
before going up to my room.”
“And only two hundred thousand dollars in them?” cried Fred.
“Are greenbacks as heavy as that?” exclaimed Eugene.
“They made my arms ache, I assure you,” replied Archie, “and I was glad
when they were safe in the strong box at Cairo. Now, judging by that,
how much do you think a million in small bills would weigh?”
“O, I’ll not make a guess,” said Featherweight. “I don’t want to show
how ignorant I am.”
“Do you suppose you could lift it?”
“Well—no; could I?”
“Hardly; and to prove it to you, I will tell you a little circumstance.
You perhaps remember that during the war the steamer Ruth was burned,
having on board about four and a half millions of dollars, intended for
the payment of the troops stationed along the river. She was supposed
to have been set on fire by some members of the rebel secret service;
but when it got abroad that the money was all lost, people began to
accuse the paymasters who had charge of it with being in some way mixed
up with its disappearance. Everybody knows that when a Mississippi
river steamer gets on fire she burns like so much paper; but still
there were those who thought that the money might have been brought
off. Why didn’t the paymasters—there were four of them, and that
would have been just about a million apiece—save it while they were
saving themselves? There were plenty of soldiers to guard it, and why
didn’t some of them catch it up and swim ashore with it? It could have
been easily done, so people said, and the fact that it was not done
started the story that the money was not on board the Ruth at all—the
paymasters had pocketed it, and burned the boat to cover its loss.
“About this time it so happened that our chief went to St. Louis alone
after money; but having forgotten the draft, he telegraphed to me to
bring it up to him. I left Cairo on Sunday afternoon, and not being
able to make connections at Odin, was obliged to stop over until the
next morning. The only hotel in the town being full, the proprietor
put me into a room with a gentleman in citizen’s clothes, who had in
his possession a cigar box which he handled as carefully as if it had
been a torpedo. Having so valuable a piece of paper about me, I was, of
course, somewhat particular as to the company I kept. I was naturally
anxious to know something about my room-mate, and a reference to the
hotel register showed me that he was an army paymaster. Of course, I
felt perfectly safe in his presence after I found that out. I scraped
an acquaintance with him, and he turned out to be one of the paymasters
who was on board the Ruth when she was burned. Before we retired he
showed me the contents of his box. It was the charred remains of a
package of greenbacks which he had recovered from the wreck, and which
he was taking to Washington to prove to the authorities there that the
money had really been destroyed.”
“Did he tell you why it was not saved?” asked Eugene.
“He did, and the reason was this: The money was packed away in four
iron-bound boxes, each of which was so large and heavy that it took
eight men to carry it from the forecastle up the stairs to the boiler
deck where the money was kept under guard. Wouldn’t a paymaster have
looked nice swimming ashore with one of those boxes under his arm?”
The two boys gazed at Archie a moment in mute surprise, and then faced
about with a common impulse and looked at the wagon behind them in
which the emigrant said his treasure was stowed away. Whatever it was,
it must have been something that did not weigh much, for the mules
walked along easily and rapidly, and their traces were slack more than
half of the time. The boys had learned something. Their curiosity had
been aroused too, and they were impatient for the camping hour to
arrive in order that they might, if possible, obtain a glimpse of the
box containing the emigrant’s wealth. What could it be? And with this
inquiry arose another. Since the emigrant had been so very imprudent as
to tell Zack and Silas that he had something with him worth a million
dollars, was not the vicinity of that wagon-train a dangerous place for
them? The boys began to think so, and to wish most heartily that they
had never seen it.
[Footnote A: There may be those who will be as surprised to read this
as Fred and Eugene were to hear it. If they doubt the accuracy of
Archie’s statement, and will go to the trouble to make a calculation,
taking as a basis the weight of a gold eagle, which is about 11 pwts.
and 6 grs., and bearing in mind that a pound Troy contains 5760 grains
and a pound avoirdupois 7000 grains, they will find that he spoke
within bounds.]