SAM IN A TIGHT PLACE.
Many a man who had come unexpectedly into a fortune of a hundred
thousand dollars would not have felt so rich as Sam with his silver
dollar. It must be remembered that he had never before had so much money
at one time in his life. The prospect of spending it opened up dazzling
possibilities. There were so many things that he wanted, that it was
hard to decide which to select.
Among other things, Sam wanted a fishing-pole. There was a supply at a
variety store in the village. He had never inquired the price, because
he had no money. Now that he was wealthy he determined to inquire.
So he went into the store and, pointing to the coveted article, asked
the price.
"Seventy-five cents," answered the old man, Gordon Locke, who kept the
store.
"Seventy-five cents!" repeated Sam, thoughtfully.
This would only leave him twenty-five cents, and there were so many
other things he wanted.
"Was you calc'latin' to buy, Sam?" asked Mr. Locke, pushing up his
iron-bound spectacles.
"I don't know," said Sam, slowly; "I didn't think I'd have to pay so
much."
"It's cheap, for the quality," said the store keeper. "This ain't no
common fishing-pole. It comes all the way from York."
"Yes, it seems a nice one," Sam admitted.
"Hev you got the money about you?" asked the old man.
"Yes," answered Sam, unguardedly.
"Then you'd better take the pole. You won't find no better within fifty
mile."
"I'll think about it," said Sam.
He could not make up his mind to part with his precious dollar so soon.
As long as he had it, he felt like a man of property. When it was once
changed, he would once more be a poor boy.
In spite of the storekeeper's persuasions, he walked out with his money
intact, leaving the coveted fishing-pole behind.
Now it so happened that his uncle, who never allowed anything to pass
unnoticed, saw from the window Sam come out of the store, which was
nearly opposite.
"What business has he there, I wonder?" he said to himself.
Five minutes later he made an errand to visit the store himself.
"Good-day, Mr. Wolverton," said Gordon Locke, deferentially.
"Good-day, Locke! Didn't I see my nephew, Sam, come out of here just
now?"
"Like as not you did. He was here."
"What business had he here?"
"He was looking at them fishin'-rods."
"He was, hey?" said Wolverton, pricking up his ears.
"Yes; he reckoned he'd buy one soon."
"What's the price?"
"Seventy-five cents."
"He reckoned he'd pay seventy-five cents for a fishin'-rod," said
Wolverton, slowly. "Did he show you the money?"
"No; but he said he had it."
"Oho, he had the money," repeated Aaron Wolverton, shaking his head
ominously. "Where'd he get it? That's what I'd like to know."
"I reckon you gave it to him; he's your nephew."
"I don't pamper him in any such way as that. So he's got money. I'll
have to look into that."
Wolverton, who was of a suspicious disposition, was led to think that
Sam had stolen the money from him. He could think of no other way in
which the boy could get possession of it.
He went home, and sought his sister Sally.
"Sally, where is Sam?"
"I don't know." Then, noticing the frown upon her brother's brow, she
inquired, "Is anything the matter?"
"I think there is. Sam has money."
"What do you mean? Where'd he get it, Aaron?"
"That's what I want to find out," and he told her of Sam's visit to the
store.
"Have you missed any money, Aaron?"
"Not that I know of. You haven't left any round?"
"No."
"It stands to reason the boy has taken money from one of us. Even if he
hasn't, whatever he has belongs to me by right, as I am takin' care of
him."
"Half of it ought to go to me," said Sally, who was quite as fond of
money as her brother.
"I don't know about that. But where's the boy?"
"I don't know. He may have gone over to see the Burtons. He's there most
of the time."
"I'll foller him."
Aaron Wolverton went into the shed, and came out with a horse-whip. He
did not keep a horse, but still he kept a whip. For what purpose Sam
could have told if he had been asked.
"If the boy's become a thief, I want to know it," said Wolverton to
himself.
Sam had really started on the way to the Burtons. His uncle struck his
trail, so to speak, and followed him. He caught up with his nephew about
half a mile away. Sam had thrown himself down on the ground under a
cotton-wood tree, and gave himself up to pleasant dreams of the
independence which manhood would bring. In his reverie he unconsciously
spoke aloud. "When I'm a man, Uncle Aaron won't dare to boss me around
as he does now."
The old man, creeping stealthily near, overheard the words, and a
malicious smile lighted up his wrinkled face.
"Oho, that's what he's thinkin' of already," he muttered. "What more?"
"I wish I could live with the Burtons," proceeded the unconscious Sam.
"They would treat a boy decently."
"So I don't treat him decently," repeated Wolverton, his small eyes
snapping.
He had by this time crawled behind the trunk of the tree under which Sam
was reclining.
"I sometimes think I'd like to run away and never come back," continued
Sam.
"You do, hey?" snarled Wolverton, as he stepped out from behind the
tree.
Sam jumped to his feet in dire dismay, and gazed at his uncle
panic-stricken.
"Did you just come?" he stammered. "I didn't hear you."
"No, I reckon not," laughed his uncle, with a queer smile. "So you want
to get quit of your aunt and me, do you?"
"I don't reckon to live with you always," faltered Sam.
"No; but you ain't a-goin' to leave us just yet. There's a little matter
I've got to inquire into."
Sam looked up inquiringly.
"What is it?"
"What did you go into Locke's store for?" demanded his uncle,
searchingly.
"I just went in to look round," answered Sam, evasively.
"You went to look at a fishing-pole," said Aaron Wolverton, sternly.
"What if I did?" asked Sam, plucking up a little courage.
"Did you have the money to buy it?"
"Ye--es," answered Sam, panic stricken.
"How much money have you got?"
"A dollar."
"Which you stole from me!" asserted Wolverton, with the air of a judge
about to sentence a criminal to execution.
"No, I didn't. It didn't come from your house."
"Where did it come from?"
"Mrs. Burton gave it to me--for my birthday."
"I don't believe it. It's one of your lies. Give it to me this instant."
Poor Sam became desperate. What! was he to lose the only money of any
account which he ever possessed? He was not brave, but he made a stand
here.
"You have no right to it," he said, passionately. "It's mine. Mrs.
Burton gave it to me."
"I tell you it's a lie. Even if she had done so I should have the right,
as your uncle, to take it from you. Give it to me!"
"I won't!" said Sam, desperately.
"Won't, hey?" repeated Wolverton, grimly. "Well, we'll see about that."
He raised the horse-whip, and in an instant Sam's legs--he was standing
now--felt the cruel lash.
"Won't, hey?" repeated his uncle. "We'll see."
"Help!" screamed Sam. "Will no one help me?"
"I reckon not," answered his uncle, mockingly, and he raised his whip
once more.
But before the lash could descend, it was snatched from him, and,
turning angrily, he confronted Bob Burton, fierce and indignant, and saw
Clip standing just behind him.