A VICTIM OF INJUSTICE.
THE man who stood before Gerald was dressed like a mechanic in a
working suit somewhat the worse for wear, but he had an honest,
intelligent face that inspired confidence. He had an anxious look,
however, as if he were in some mental trouble.
“Good morning,” said Gerald courteously. “Won’t you come in and share
our breakfast?”
On hearing this invitation the boy’s face brightened up.
“You are very kind, and I accept thankfully,” said the father. “Oscar
and myself are both hungry, for we have eaten nothing since one o’clock
yesterday.”
“Come in then,” said Gerald hospitably.
“I ought perhaps first to explain how I happen to be here in such a
plight.”
“I shall be glad to hear your story, and so will my friend, Mr.
Brooke, but you must breakfast first. Then you will feel probably in
much better condition for talking.”
Though Gerald and his guest had eaten heartily there was enough left
for the two new arrivals, and it was very evident that both thoroughly
enjoyed their meal.
“I hope I haven’t taken up your time,” said the visitor as he pushed
back his chair from the table. “And now, as in duty bound, I will tell
you my story.”
“Don’t think we require it,” said Gerald courteously. “The slight favor
we have done you gives us no right to ask your confidence.”
“Still you look friendly and I am glad to tell you about myself. I am,
as you will judge from my appearance, a working-man, and have ever
since I attained my majority been employed in woolen mills. The last
place where I was employed was at Seneca, in the factory of——”
“Bradley Wentworth?” asked Gerald quickly.
“Yes. Do you know him?” inquired the stranger in surprise.
“Yes; he has been making me a visit here. If you had come here
twenty-four hours earlier you would have seen him.”
“Then I am glad I was delayed.”
“Why? Has he wronged you?”
“I don’t know whether I can rightly say that, but he has treated
me without mercy. Let me explain. Fifteen years ago I was employed
in an Eastern factory. Among my fellow-workmen was one I thought
my friend. We were so intimate that we occupied the same room at a
factory boarding-house. All went well. I received excellent wages,
and had money laid by. My companion, as I soon found, was given to
extravagance, and frequently indulged in drink, so that he found it
hard work to make both ends meet. Then he began to borrow money of me,
but after a time I refused to accommodate him any further. He earned
the same wages as myself, and I felt that he ought to maintain himself
without help as I did.
“The result of my refusal was to make him my enemy. He said little but
looked ugly. Though I did not expect it he schemed a revenge. One day a
pocketbook containing money was missing from an adjoining room. A fuss
was made, and a search instituted, which resulted to my utter dismay
in the pocketbook being found in my trunk. It contained no money, but
a couple of papers which attested the ownership. Of course I asserted
my innocence, but no one believed me. The proof was held to be too
convincing. I was brought to trial, and sentenced to three months’
imprisonment. That imprisonment,” he continued bitterly, “has shadowed
all my life since. Of course I could not get back to the factory where
I had been employed, and I went to another State. I was left in peace
for ten months when one of my fellow-workmen made his appearance and
told the superintendent that I had served a sentence of imprisonment
for theft. I was summoned to the office, informed of the charge, and
had to admit it. I was instantly discharged. To assert my innocence was
of no avail. ‘You were found guilty. That is enough for us,’ said the
superintendent.
“I had to leave the factory. I found employment elsewhere, but was
hounded down again, and by the same man. But before denouncing me, he
came to me, and offered to keep silent if I would pay him a hundred
and fifty dollars. I raised the money, but the treacherous scoundrel
did not keep faith with me. He went to the superintendent, and told
him all, exacting that the source of the information should not be
divulged. So I was sent adrift again, knowing very well, though I
couldn’t prove it, that Clifton Haynes had betrayed me.”
“Why didn’t you thrash the scoundrel?” asked Noel Brooke indignantly.
“It would only have increased the prejudice against me,” answered the
visitor wearily.
“Well,” he continued, “I needn’t prolong the story, for it is always
the same. I went from one factory to another, but this man followed
me. When we met he had the assurance to demand another sum of money
in payment for his silence. I had no money to give him, nor would I
have done so if I had, knowing his treachery. The result was that
again I was discharged. A year ago I went to Seneca, and obtained
employment from Mr. Wentworth. Month after month passed and I began
to congratulate myself, when one unlucky day Haynes again made his
appearance. He tried to extort money from me, but though I had some, I
refused to bribe him. He went to Mr. Wentworth and denounced me. I was
discharged unceremoniously, though I told him my story and appealed to
his humanity. Then at last, in my despair and anger, I lay in wait for
Haynes, and gave him an unmerciful beating until he roared for mercy.”
“Good! good!” exclaimed the Englishman, clapping his hands, “you served
the scoundrel right.”
“I always think of it with pleasure, though I am not a revengeful man.”
“Were you arrested?” asked Gerald.
“Yes, but I escaped with a fine which I paid gladly. I am glad to say
when it got out that Haynes had dogged me so persistently none of the
men would associate with him, and he was obliged to leave the factory.”
“I wish I had been Mr. Wentworth,” said Brooke. “I would have retained
you in my employ even if you had been guilty in the first place. I
don’t believe in condemning a man utterly for one offense.”
“I wish more men were as charitable as yourself,” said John Carter, for
this, as he afterward informed Gerald, was his name.
“But how did you happen to come to Colorado?” asked Noel Brooke.
“I was tired of persecution. In fact I had been employed in so many
factories, all of which were now closed against me, that I decided to
earn a living some other way. I had a little money left, and I traveled
westward. I came to Colorado because it was a new country, and there
must be something here for an industrious man to do. It has been rather
hard on poor Oscar,” he added with an affectionate glance at his son.
“For latterly my money gave out, and we have more than once gone
hungry, as we would have done to-day but for your kindness.”
He was about to rise and leave the cabin but Gerald stopped him.
“Wait a minute, Mr. Carter,” he said. “I have an arrangement to
propose.”
Carter regarded him with a glance of inquiry.
“I have made an engagement to travel with my friend, Mr. Brooke,”
Gerald went on, “and this cabin will be untenanted. If you are willing
to occupy it you are welcome to do so. You will be sure to find some
employment, and if not you can hunt and fish. What do you say?”
“What can I say except that I am grateful? I am not afraid but that
I can make a living for myself and Oscar, and I shall not live in
constant fear that Clifton Haynes will find me out and expose me.”
“I wish he would happen along about this time,” said Noel Brooke. “I
should like nothing better than to get a chance at the fellow. One
thrashing isn’t enough for him.”
“I think you would make thorough work with him, Mr. Brooke,” said
Gerald laughing.
“I would try to at all events,” rejoined the Englishman.
“If you want any certificate attesting your prowess you have only to
refer to Jake Amsden.”
“Jake Amsden,” exclaimed John Carter in surprise. “Why, he is the man
for whose crime I suffered. He was the man who stole the wallet and put
it in my trunk to incriminate me.”