IN WHICH PHIL VAINLY SEARCHES FOR THE GRACEWOODS.
"Of course you know whether the man we are looking for is in this room
or not, Glynn," said the officer, when he found that the door was
locked.
"'Pon my word I do not," protested the assistant.
"Did you let the room to any other person?"
"I did; but Lynch may occupy it with him, for aught I know. These
fellows all run together, and I don't know who are in the rooms. We let
them for a dollar a night, and don't care who sleeps in them."
The officer knocked at the door, and was promptly answered by a person
whose voice did not sound at all like Lynch's. My hopes were failing,
and I would have taken half my money, and given a receipt in full for
the whole, if I could have made such a trade.
"Open the door," said the officer.
Even this request was promptly complied with, and we found the bed
occupied by only one person. Glynn protested that he had not seen
Lynch since he gave him the key and the light early in the evening;
and, whether we believed him or not, we were forced to accept his
explanation. We saw Redwood afterwards, and he appeared to be as
innocent as his immaculate assistant. Both of them apologized to me for
the rude treatment to which I had been subjected, and declared that
they had made a bad mistake in taking me for a house-breaker, since I
was now vouched for by no excellent a person as Captain Davis, of the
steamer Fawn. If they ever saw Lynch again, they would hand him over to
the officers of the law. It was for their interest to do so, because
the reputation of the house was greatly injured by having a person
robbed within it. They would do what they could to recover my money;
and if they succeeded, where should they send it?
Captain Davis could not help laughing at this speech, and told me I
need not trouble myself to leave any address. Both protested that they
were in earnest; and certainty their logic was correct, whether they
were sincere or not. If the local newspaper stated that a person had
been robbed of a hundred dollars at Redwood's lodging-house, the fact
would deter others from going there, for even gamblers and other fast
men would object to having their money stolen. We left the house, and
I gave up my money as lost; but I was willing to believe that I had
purchased a hundred dollars' worth of wisdom and experience with it,
and so I had a fair equivalent.
In the street I found the officer was not disposed to abandon the
case. He had a reputation to make in that new land; and perhaps it was
worth more to him than to me to find the money. I was entirely willing
that he should increase his credit as a thief-taker by restoring
my property, and I warmly seconded his endeavors. We watched the
lodging-house till dinner time, but without seeing any one who looked
like Lynch. In short, the officer made no progress in establishing a
title to the position of chief of police when the office should be
created in the new and growing city.
I returned to the steamer at the landing, and of course my first
inquiries were for Mr. Gracewood and his family. To my astonishment and
grief, not a word had been heard of them. Captain Davis had caused a
thorough search to be made in the town, without obtaining the slightest
clew to them. I was amazed, and so were others who were interested in
the fate of the absent ones. It was incredible that any calamity had
overtaken them by which the whole party had been lost. If the boat had
been upset, the deck hands at least could have saved themselves.
I forgot all about my money in my anxiety for my friends. I could not
believe that they had been lost; it was too sad and too improbable to
be considered, and I rejected the supposition. But the mystery weighed
heavily upon me. The steamer was ready to proceed on her voyage, and
the passengers were grumbling at the delay; but Captain Davis was
unwilling to proceed without the absentees. In the middle of the
afternoon he cast off his fasts, when a portion of his passengers, who
had not paid their fare, threatened to leave the boat, and take another
which was in sight above the town. But, instead of continuing on his
way down the river, he headed her up the stream, in order to examine
the shores for any signs of the lost family.
I was deeply interested in the fate of Mr. Gracewood, his wife and
daughter, for they were really the only friends I had in the world. I
had been saved from a burning steamer by old Matt Rockwood, and was
brought up by him in his cabin. I knew nothing of my parents, but old
Matt had been a father to me, and the coming of Mr. Gracewood furnished
me with a competent instructor in manners, morals, and the various
branches of learning. After the death of old Matt, my good friend had
been strangely joined by his wife and daughter, and I had lived one
season with the family. As the winter approached, we had left our home
in the wilds of the far west, and were now on our way to St. Louis.
These events all passed in review through my mind, as I thought of the
Gracewoods who had so strangely disappeared.
Old Matt Rockwood had left a considerable sum of money in his chest,
which, with the profits of our farm and wood-yard, amounted to over
sixteen hundred dollars, when the accounts were finally settled.
Fifteen hundred of this sum was in the keeping of Mr. Gracewood,
though I held his note for it, and was in no danger of losing it,
though he should never appear again. But I had no selfish thoughts.
I was interested only in the safety of my friend and his family. The
daughter, pretty Ella Gracewood, had been my constant friend and
companion at the settlement. I had rescued her from the Indians who
had captured her, and it would have broken my heart to know that any
calamity had overtaken her.
The Fawn went up the river in spite of the grumbling of the passengers.
We passed the steamer coming down the stream; but Captain Davis
declared that he should be on his way to St. Louis before the other
boat could get away from Leavenworth. Like all other western steamboat
masters, he said and did all he could to get and keep his passengers.
Extending from the mouth of the stream, where our steamer had passed
the night, there was a cut-off, through which the boat, with Mr.
Gracewood, had come. The water rushed through it like a sluice, and
probably by this time it is the main channel of the river.
"Stop her!" shouted Captain Davis to the pilot, as the boat was passing
the outlet of this cut-off.
"What is it, captain?" I asked, startled by the order, and fearful that
he had discovered some evidence of a disaster.
"There is an oar," said he, pointing to the shore.
I saw the oar, which had washed up on the bank of the river. The boat
was run up to the point, and it was identified as one belonging to the
missing boat.
"That is something towards it," said the captain, as the oar was
examined on board. "If they didn't lose the other one they could get
along well enough."
"Perhaps they did lose the other," suggested the mate.
"It is not very likely they lost both oars," added Captain Davis.
"Do you suppose the boat upset?" I asked, with my heart in my mouth.
"Certainly not. If it did we should have found the boat, or heard from
the men. The whole party could not have been drowned in a narrow place
like that," replied the captain, confidently.
"What do you think has become of them?" I continued.
"Nothing worse than being carried down the river could have happened to
them. I'm sure of that. It's absurd to think that three men should be
lost in a stream not a hundred feet wide. Go ahead, pilot!" shouted the
captain.
"Down stream?" asked the man at the wheel.
"Yes; we shall pick up the party somewhere below."
The Fawn came about, and to the great satisfaction of the growling
portion of her passengers, resumed her voyage down the river. I did
the best I could to convince myself that no catastrophe had overtaken
my friends. When we came to Leavenworth, we found that the steamer we
had passed--whose name was the Daylight--was not there. If she had
stopped at all, she had not remained there more than a few minutes.
Captain Davis was annoyed at this circumstance, for she would take
the passengers and freight that were waiting at the various points on
the river below, which would otherwise have been taken by the Fawn. I
saw him go down to the main deck, where the furnaces and boilers were
located, and in a short time I was conscious that they were crowding
the boat up to her highest speed. A race had commenced, not so much
to ascertain which of the two boats was the fastest, as to obtain the
freight and passengers that were awaiting transportation at the towns
below us. I felt no interest in the trial of speed, which at another
time might have afforded me a pleasant excitement. From the hurricane
deck I watched the shores, to obtain any tidings of the missing boat or
her passengers.
At Delaware City the Daylight made a landing; but the Fawn, to my
surprise and chagrin, did not stop. It was possible that the Gracewoods
had been carried down to this point in their unmanageable boat, and had
landed here.
"Why don't you make a landing here? Captain Davis?" I inquired.
"Because the Daylight has gone in ahead of me, and I shall get no
freight or passengers if I don't keep ahead of her."
"But Mr. Gracewood and his family may be here."
"It is not improbable. I feel that I have done all I could for them."
"You might stop."
"I can't sacrifice the interest of my owners, Phil. If the Gracewoods
are there, they can take passage in the Daylight. They will not suffer
any great hardship, while my boat may lose hundreds of dollars by the
delay."
"I shall be in misery till I hear from them."
"You need not be. I am sure no serious accident has happened to them. I
want the two men I sent in the boat, but I couldn't stop to get them,
even if I knew they were at Delaware City. But we shall hear from your
friends before long. The Daylight will drive her wheels hard to keep
up with us. I see she hasn't much freight, and she will stop at every
place of any size."
"But if you keep ahead of her all the time, how shall we get any news
from her?"
"The Fawn is faster than the Daylight, and I can afford to let her pass
me at any place where I can obtain freight enough to make it an object.
If the Gracewoods are on board of her, they will make themselves known
as she goes by. There will be a good deal of freight at Kansas City,
where we shall arrive to-night. You will probably find the Daylight
there in the morning."
I was satisfied with the captain's explanation, and I hoped the morning
would justify his expectations. We made no landings till we reached
Kansas City, about eight o'clock in the evening. There was a crowd of
passengers there, who rushed on board as soon as the plank was laid
down. The freight was immediately taken on board. I was very tired
after the exertions and excitement of the day and of the preceding
evening, and I went to bed, hoping and expecting to see the Daylight at
the landing when I awoke in the morning. I slept very soundly, in spite
of the grief and anxiety that weighed upon me; and it is fortunate that
Nature will assert her claim, or we might sometimes wear ourselves out
with fruitless repinings.
When I came to my consciousness in the morning, I discovered that the
boat was in motion. The monotonous puff of the steam-escape pipes
saluted my ears. Half dressed, I went out upon the gallery of the boat,
but I could see nothing that looked like Kansas City, or the Daylight.
The deck hands had been taking in freight when I went to sleep; but how
long the boat had been in motion I could not tell.