WHERE IS BIM?
Billy Brackett was in a particularly contented frame of mind, and
whistled softly to himself as he tramped through the muddy streets of
one of the muddiest cities in the United States, towards the telegraph
office. He was well satisfied with the results of his expedition thus
far, and with its prospects of a successful termination. He did not
notice the curious looks with which several persons regarded him as the
bright light from a store window fell on his face, nor would he have
cared if he had. His conscience was clear, and he had nothing to fear
from observation, curious or otherwise.
As he entered the telegraph office, the operator glanced up with a nod
of recognition. A few seconds later, having finished sending the
despatch with which he had been busy, he turned his key over to an
assistant and said,
"Will you step this way a moment, sir? I wish to speak to you in
private." With this he led the way into a room behind the office,
where, after the other had entered, he closed the door.
"What's up?" asked the young engineer, wondering at these proceedings.
"Have you or any of your companions any counterfeit money in your
possession?" asked the operator, abruptly.
"No--that is, yes. One of my friends has quite a lot of it that was
passed on him for genuine this morning, and I have a few samples for
purposes of comparison."
"But you haven't passed, or tried to pass, any of it in this place?"
"Certainly not! Why do you ask such a question?"
"Because I have taken a liking to you. Have not you in your possession
a note of identification from a certain Iowa Sheriff?"
"Yes; I have such a note from a Sheriff named Riley, of Dubuque; but
how did you know anything about it?" asked Billy Brackett, greatly
surprised.
"In a very simple way. Sheriff Riley happens to be my brother, and he
wrote to me all about your little affair up the river. So I know you
to be an honest man, and want to give you a warning. You may be very
sure, however, that I should not do so were I not confident of your
innocence."
"Innocence of what?"
"Passing counterfeit money. A good bit of it has suddenly appeared in
circulation here, and your raft has been identified by some men from
up-river as one on which suspicion has already fallen in connection
with a similar state of affairs elsewhere. You have made a good many
purchases to-day, and at least one bad bill has been traced directly to
you. Of course you may have received it in change, and passed it again
unknowingly. I believe that is how it happened. If I did not, I
should hold my tongue and let you suffer the consequences. In addition
to this, all sorts of queer stories regarding you have been circulated
about town to-day, and such a feeling has been aroused against you that
a number of the worst characters in the place have determined to pay
your raft a visit to-night. I don't know what they intend doing, nor
do I think they know themselves, but I am certain if they find you the
result will be most unpleasant. They are to be led by a couple of
strangers, who have been secretly watching you all day. These men
claim to be 'river-traders,' who have suffered serious losses through
you, including that of the raft now in your possession, which, they
say, was stolen from them. I can't tell you how I gained all this
information, but it is at your disposal. If I were in your place, I
would take advantage of the darkness to drop down the river, and I
wouldn't lose any time about it either."
"You advise me to run away like a coward, instead of remaining to
defend myself against these abominable and absolutely unfounded
charges!" exclaimed Billy Brackett, indignantly. "I shall do nothing
of the kind."
"Not 'run away;' simply continue your voyage before it is unpleasantly
interrupted," returned the other, with a smile. "If you remain until
morning, your raft, with its contents, will certainly be destroyed by
an unreasoning mob, at whose hands you and your companions may suffer
bodily injury. In this case action would come first and inquiry
afterwards. I am convinced you could easily prove your innocence, but
doubt if you could obtain any redress for the losses you would have
suffered in the mean time. Now I must get back to my desk. You will
of course act as you think best, but I sincerely hope that you will
accept my advice, and decide that an honorable retreat is better than a
lost battle."
"But there is Solon, the man whom I telegraphed to join us here. I
don't expect him before morning."
"Why, he is here already! Haven't you met him! He arrived on the
evening train, and came in here to inquire where you could be found. I
gave him directions, and started him off not fifteen minutes ago."
"I don't see how he managed it," said Billy Brackett, who had been
thinking rapidly while the other spoke; "but if he is already on board
there is no reason why our departure should be delayed. Therefore I am
almost inclined to accept your advice, for which, as well as for your
timely warning, I am sincerely grateful. I will, at any rate, get back
to the raft at once."
With this the young man shook hands with the operator, and left the
office.
"There!" exclaimed the other, looking after him with a relieved sigh;
"I believe I have done that young fellow a good turn. At the same time
I have given myself a chance to capture the thousand-dollar reward that
Ned wrote about, and which I was afraid this chap was after for
himself."
As for Billy Brackett, the more he reflected upon the situation, as he
hastened towards the place where the raft was moored, the more puzzled
he became as to what course he ought to pursue. He now had not only
Winn, the raft, and himself to consider, but Glen and Binney, and the
valuable instruments belonging to General Elting. Certainly it would
not do to allow these to fall into the hands of an excited and
irresponsible mob. Still, the thought of running away was hateful.
As he neared the raft an undefined apprehension caused him to quicken
his steps; and at the sound of Binney Gibbs's shout of warning, he
broke into a run. Then he heard another shout of "Hol' on, Marse Winn!
I comin'!" and the noise of a struggle, in another moment he was in the
thick of it.
Solon had reached the raft just in time to save Binney, who he thought
was Winn, from being dropped overboard by Plater, the "river-trader."
The old negro attacked the big man so furiously with tooth and nail
that the latter gave the lad in his arms a fling to one side, sending
him crashing with stunning force against the "shanty," and devoted his
entire attention to this new assailant. He had just stretched Solon on
the deck with a vicious blow of his powerful fist, when Billy Brackett
appeared and sprang eagerly into the fray. Even Plater's brute
strength was no match for the young engineer's science, and the latter
would have gained a speedy victory, had not Grimshaw, who had been
engaged in casting off the lines that held the raft to the bank, come
to his partner's assistance.
Now, with such odds against him, Billy Brackett was slowly but surely
forced backward towards the edge of the raft. In another moment he
would have been in the river, when all at once two dripping figures
emerged from it, scrambled aboard, and with a yell like a war-whoop,
ranged themselves on the weaker side. A few well-planted blows, a
determined rush, and the struggle for the possession of the raft was
ended. The fighting ardor of Messrs. Plater and Grimshaw was being
rapidly cooled in the icy waters through which they found themselves
swimming towards the shore. At the same time the _Venture_ was gaining
speed with each moment, as, borne on by the resistless current, it
drifted out over the mingling floods of the Ohio and Mississippi.
Billy Brackett, still panting from his exertions, was bending over
Binney Gibbs, who was struggling back to consciousness. Solon was
sitting up, tenderly feeling of his swollen features, and declaring,
"Dat ar man hab a fis' lak de hin laig ob a mewel."
Glen and Winn had manned one of the sweeps, and were trying to get the
raft properly headed with the current. Thus the voyage was really
begun, and the young engineer, who hated to run away, was spared the
necessity of making a decision. It was a start, too, with all hands on
board. To be sure, two of them were battered and bruised, while two
more were soaked to the skin; but all were there, and none was greatly
the worse for the recent exciting experience.
Suddenly Billy Brackett spoke up and asked:
"But where is Bim? Is it possible that we have left him behind?"
For a moment no one answered. Then Winn said: "That's what Glen and I
were ashore for. We are afraid he is lost."
"Lost! Bim wouldn't get lost! He has too much sense."
"I expect he is this time, though," said Glen, "and we don't believe he
will ever be found again, either." Then he told of Bim's rushing
ashore, the smothered yelp, the loud splash that followed, and of their
unsuccessful search for him in the darkness. "So it looks as though
the poor dog were done for," concluded Glen, "and I expect it was by a
trick of those same fellows who tried to capture the raft."
Billy Brackett listened closely, without a word, and when he had heard
all there was to tell, he turned abruptly away and walked into the
"shanty," muttering through his clinched teeth, "The scoundrels."
It certainly would have gone hard with the "river-traders" could the
stalwart young engineer have laid hands on them at that moment.