TWELVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
One day, about six weeks before the commencement of our story, Frank and
Archie were sent to San Diego on business for Uncle James. When they
returned, they found a new face among the Rancheros--that of Pierre
Costello, a man for whom Frank at once conceived a violent dislike.
Pierre was a full-blooded Mexican, dark-browed, morose, and
sinister-looking, and he had a pair of small, black eyes that were never
still, but constantly roving about, as if on the lookout for something.
His appearance was certainly forbidding; but that was not the reason why
Frank disliked him. It was because Marmion regarded him with suspicion,
and seemed to think he had no business on the rancho. When the Ranchero
came about the house, Marmion would follow him wherever he went, as if
he feared that the man was about to attempt some mischief; and, when
Pierre returned to his quarters, the dog always seemed to be immensely
relieved. Frank invariably made common cause with his favorites, whether
they belonged to the human or brute creation, and without taking the
trouble to inquire into the merits of the case; and, when he found how
matters stood between Pierre and Marmion, he at once espoused the cause
of his dog, and hated the Ranchero as cordially as though the latter had
done him some terrible injury, although the man had never spoken to him,
except to salute him very respectfully every time they met.
That Pierre hated and feared the dog, quite as much as the animal
disliked him, was evident. He would scowl, and say "_Carrajo_," every
time Marmion came near him, and lay his hand on his knife, as if it
would have afforded him infinite pleasure could he have found an
opportunity, to draw it across the dog's throat. Frank had often noticed
this, and consequently, when he one day came suddenly upon the dog,
which was looking wistfully at a piece of meat Pierre was holding out
to him, he was astonished, and not a little alarmed. The Mexican
scowled, as he always did when Frank came near him, and walked away,
hiding the meat under his coat.
"Give it to me, Pierre," said Frank; "Marmion don't like to be fed by
strangers."
The Ranchero kept on as if he were not aware that he had been spoken to;
and his conduct went a long way in confirming the new suspicions that
had suddenly sprung up in Frank's mind.
"Uncle," said he, that evening, after supper, as he joined Mr. Winters
and Archie, who had seated themselves on the porch to enjoy the cool
breeze of evening, "how long do you intend to keep that new Ranchero?"
"As long as he will stay," replied Mr. Winters. "He is one of the most
faithful men I ever had, and he is quite as skillful in his business as
either Carlos or Dick."
"He is a mean man for all that," said Frank; "he tried to poison
Marmion, to-day."
"I don't blame him," said Archie; "a meaner, uglier dog I never saw"--
"Now, Archie," interrupted Frank, "I like the dog; and even if I didn't,
I would keep him because he is a present."
"How do you know that Pierre tried to poison him?" asked Mr. Winters.
"Why, he was holding a piece of meat out to the dog, and when I came up
he walked off in a great hurry," replied Frank, who, when he came to
state the case, found that it was not quite so strong against the
Ranchero as he had at first supposed.
"He may have done all that, and still be innocent of any desire to
injure your favorite. Marmion doesn't like him, and, no doubt, Pierre is
trying his best to make friends with him. I'll insure your dog's life
for a quarter."
Frank was far from being satisfied. Somehow, he did not like the scowl
he had often seen on Pierre's face. He was certain that the Ranchero had
intended to harm Marmion; but why? Not simply because he hated the dog,
but for the reason that the animal was in his way. This was the view
Frank took of the case; and, believing that Pierre was there for no
good, he resolved to keep a close watch on all his movements.
A day or two after that, Mr. Winters and Archie set out on horseback for
San Diego, the former to collect the money for a drove of horses he had
sold there, before his departure for the East, and Archie to explore the
city. Frank, hourly expecting his two friends, Johnny Harris and Dick
Thomas, who had promised to spend a week with him, remained at home,
with the housekeeper and two of the Rancheros, one of whom was Pierre,
for company. Dick and Bob, and the rest of the herdsmen, were off
somewhere, attending to the stock.
Frank, being left to himself, tried various plans for his amusement. He
read a few pages in half a dozen different books, took a short gallop
over the prairie, shot a brace of quails for his dinner; all the while
keeping a bright lookout for his expected visitors, who, however, did
not make their appearance. About noon, he was gratified by hearing the
sound of a horse's hoofs in the court. He ran out, expecting to welcome
Johnny and Dick, but, to his disappointment, encountered a stranger,
who reined up his horse at the door, and inquired:
"Is this Mr. Winters's rancho, young man?"
Frank replied that it was.
"He is at home, I suppose?" continued the visitor.
"No, sir; he started for the city early this morning."
The gentleman said that was very unfortunate, and began to make
inquiries concerning the road Mr. Winters generally traveled when he
went to San Diego--whether he took the upper or lower trail--and then he
wondered what he should do.
"My name is Brown," said he; and Frank knew he was the very man his
uncle expected to meet in San Diego. "I owe Mr. Winters some money for a
drove of horses I bought of him before he went to the States, and I have
come up to pay it. I have here twelve thousand dollars in gold," he
added, laying his hand on his saddle-bags, which seemed to be heavy and
well filled.
"Couldn't you remain until day after to-morrow?" asked Frank. "Uncle
James will be at home then."
"I can't spare the time. I am on my way to Fort Yuma, where I have some
business to transact that may detain me three or four days. I don't like
to carry this money there and back, for it is heavy, and there is no
knowing what sort of travelers one may meet on the road. Wouldn't it be
all right if I should leave it here with you?"
"Yes, sir," replied Frank, eager to accept the responsibility; "I can
take care of it. But I thought you might want a receipt."
"I am not particular about that. Mr. Winters has trusted me for about
six months, and I think I can afford to trust him for as many days. I'll
call and get the receipt when I come back."
As Mr. Brown said this, he dismounted, and Pierre, who, ever since his
employer's departure, had seemed to have nothing to do but to loiter
about the house, and who had stood at the opposite side of the court,
listening to every word of the conversation, came up to hold his horse.
The visitor shouldered his saddle-bags, and followed Frank into a room
which went by the name of "the office," where Mr. Winters transacted all
his business. The room was furnished with a high desk, a three-legged
stool, and a small safe, which, like those in banks, was set into the
wall, so that nothing but the door could be seen.
"That is just the place for it," said Mr. Brown; "it will be secure
there."
"But I haven't got the key," replied Frank; "uncle always carries it in
his pocket."
"Well, I don't suppose there would be any danger if you were to leave
the money on the porch. Of course, your hired people can be depended on,
or your uncle wouldn't keep them."
Frank thought there was at least one person on the rancho who could not
be trusted to any great extent; but, of course, he said nothing about
it. He glanced around the room, wondering what he should do with the
money, when he discovered that his uncle had left the key of the desk in
the lock. For want of a better place, Frank decided to put the gold in
there. Mr. Brown took it out of his saddle-bags, and packed it away in
the drawer--six bags in all, each containing two thousand dollars, in
bright, new "yellow-boys." Then, declining Frank's invitation to stay to
dinner, the gentleman bade him good-by, mounted his horse, and resumed
his journey.
"Twelve thousand dollars!" said Frank, to himself, as he locked the desk
and put the key into his pocket. "Why, that's a fortune! Now that I
think of it, I almost wish Mr. Brown hadn't left it here. What would
Uncle James say if somebody should break into the house and steal it?"
As Frank asked himself this question, he turned suddenly, and saw Pierre
standing on the porch, in front of one of the windows, watching him with
eager eyes. He must have moved very quietly to have approached so near
without attracting the boy's attention, and that, to Frank, whose
suspicions had already been thoroughly aroused, was good evidence that
the Ranchero was not just what he ought to be. If he was an honest man,
he would not try to slip around without making any noise.
Finding that he was discovered, Pierre removed his sombrero and said,
without the least embarrassment:
"Is it your pleasure to ride? If so, I will saddle your horse."
"You need not trouble yourself," replied Frank, rather gruffly. "I shall
remain at home."
Pierre bowed and walked away.
"Now, that rascal thinks he is sharp," said Frank, gazing after the
Ranchero. "He never offered to saddle my horse before, and he wouldn't
have done it then if I hadn't caught him looking in at the window. I
wonder if he thinks I am foolish enough to ride for pleasure at this
time of day, with the thermometer standing a hundred degrees in the
shade? That fellow is a scoundrel, and he is up to something. Perhaps he
is after this gold. If he is, he may have the satisfaction of knowing
that he won't get it."
So saying, Frank began to close and fasten the shutters which protected
the windows, and while thus engaged, he caught a glimpse of the
Ranchero's dark face peering at him around the corner of the house.
"If I owned this ranch," said Frank, to himself, "that fellow shouldn't
stay here five minutes longer. I'd pay him off, and tell him to leave as
fast as his horse could carry him."
Having satisfied himself that the windows were so well secured that no
one could effect an entrance through them, Frank opened the drawer and
took another good look at the money, as if he were afraid that it might
have been spirited away even while he was in the room; after which he
locked the desk, and hid the key under the edge of the carpet. Then
glancing about the office, to make sure that every thing was safe, he
closed the door, and hurrying into his own room, he threw the key under
his writing-desk, next to the wall. Then he breathed easier. The money
was as safe as it would have been in the bank at San Diego.