_A Keepsake._
Caleb stood and thought about it. He could not go to the fence corner
where the old man was while Nat was in plain sight, and he must think
up some way of getting him away from there. It is true that he might
have waited until darkness came to conceal his movements, but Caleb
was a boy who did not believe in doing business that way. He wanted to
find out what was in that fence corner, and he must find it out now. He
could not afford to wait until night came.
“You must come away from there, Mister Nat,” said he, as he crouched
down behind the bushes and made his way toward the house. “You must
come away in five minutes, for I am not going to run any risk of your
slipping up and hiding that thing, whatever it is, that the old man
has found.”
In a few minutes he reached the house and went directly to the
water-pail in order to quench his thirst; but there was no water there.
“Mother, send Nat down to the branch after some water,” said he.
“Suppose you go yourself,” was the reply. “Nat is busy digging
potatoes.”
“I can’t go. I am busy getting that corn ready for pap to take to mill
tomorrow. I am so thirsty I can’t speak the truth. Nat can go as well
as not.”
“Bessie, go out and call Nat to get some water,” said Mrs. Keeler. “I
suppose he will have to go.”
Bessie went, and as soon as she was clear of the house Caleb bent his
steps toward the barn and from the barn to the bushes, where he arrived
just in time to see Mr. Nickerson come out of the fence corner, biting
a plug of tobacco as he came.
“That’s all the tobacco you will get out of that pile,” chuckled
Caleb, as he rubbed his hands together. “I will take it all and give it
to pap.”
Presently Bessie was heard calling Nat. The latter threw his hoe
spitefully down and went to obey the order, and as soon as he was out
of sight Caleb arose from the bushes and ran for the fence corner. He
had taken particular pains to mark the corner, and in fact there was
little need of it, for the old man’s marks were plainly visible there.
He found the leaves raked to one side, a little hollow exposed but
there was nothing in it. Caleb threw himself on his knees and made the
cavity larger, but there was not a thing that rewarded his search.
“There was just one plug of tobacco left and he got it,” said Caleb,
who was very much disappointed. “And there’s no money in it either. Now
had I better tell pap or not? There is a heap of skirmishing going on
here, the first thing you know, and if I keep watch perhaps I can find
some money. I guess I’ll think about that for awhile.”
Being anxious to reach the cover of the bushes before Nat should
return, Caleb did not stop long in the fence corner, but made all haste
to get out of sight. And he was none too soon. The bushes had hardly
closed up behind him before Nat came into view.
When darkness came the boys began to do their chores and Jonas returned
from town. One could always tell Jonas when he was half a mile away
because he shouted at his horses as though they were hard of hearing.
Mr. Nickerson heard him coming and went down to the barn to meet him.
“Did you get any tobacco for me, Jonas?” said he, in a whining voice
which had of late years become habitual with him.
“No, I did not,” roared Jonas. “You won’t tell me where your money is,
and you can go without tobacco. I wish there was something else you
liked as well as you do that weed, and I would shut down on that too.”
“I shall not be with you long,” began Mr. Nickerson. “I feel that I am
going--”
“Aw! Get along with, that,” interrupted Jonas, who hung one of his
harnesses on its peg and then turned savagely upon the speaker. “You
have always got something the matter with you when you don’t get any
tobacco.”
“I have a keepsake for you up at the house,” continued the old man. “If
you will come up there when you get through I will give it to you.”
Jonas began to prick up his ears at this. He wished now that he had
brought the old gentleman some tobacco; but as he had not done it, he
made all haste to smooth matters over as well as he could.
“I didn’t mean anything, Mr. Nickerson,” said he, coming forward to
shake him by the hand. “But I met with a heap of bother while I was
down town to-day, and I absolutely forgot all about your tobacco. Never
mind; I will send Nat down after it.”
“Thank you. Thank you,” said the old man. “It will be a heap of comfort
to me. You don’t know how long the time seems without it.”
“Yes, I know. I like a smoke pretty well, and I would not give it up
to please anybody. Now you run along to the house and in a few minutes
I will be there. A keepsake,” he muttered to himself. “It is money, I
know. I believe I took the right course when I shut down on that man’s
weed.”
It was astonishing what that word “keepsake” made in Jonas’s feelings.
He had but two expressions which came to his face--the smile and the
frown. No one to have seen him as he finished putting out his team,
would have thought that a frown ever came on his countenance. He was
all smiles, and once or twice he forgot himself so as to try to strike
up a whistle. This attracted the attention of Caleb who was amazed at
it.
“What’s the matter with you, pap?” said he.
“There is nothing the matter with me,” replied Jonas, cheerfully. “When
a man does right he always feels happy. That’s the kind of opinion
you want to grow up with. If you make everybody around you jovial, of
course you are jovial yourself.”
“Are you happy because you didn’t get the old man what he wanted?”
continued Caleb, who would have given everything he had to know what
had brought about that wonderful change in his father’s appearance.
Caleb knew that he could bring the frown back to his face in short
order. He had but to mention that the old man had a plug of tobacco in
his pocket, and that he had seen him dig it out of the fence corner;
but something told him that he had better keep quiet. He was going to
keep close watch of Nat and Mr. Nickerson now--he did not know how
he was going to do it, for he kept close watch of them already--and
perhaps they would lead him to the place where they had concealed some
money.
“Yes, sir, that is a point that I want you to remember all your life,”
Jonas went on. “I forgot all about Mr. Nickerson’s tobacco, and that
was the reason I didn’t bring it. But I will make up for it after
supper. Have you milked, Caleb? Then pick up your pail and let’s go up
to the house. A keepsake,” Jonas kept saying to himself, as he walked
along. “He knows that I want money worse than anything else, and that
was what he meant. The idea that he should keep money in that house so
long, and I was looking everywhere for it!”
Jonas was in a hurry, anybody could have seen that and he kept Caleb
in a trot to keep pace with him. When he opened the door he greeted
his wife with a cheerful “hello!” and picked up his youngest child and
kissed him. Mrs. Keeler was as much amazed at his actions as Caleb was.
She stood in the middle of the floor with her arms down by her side and
her mouth open, seemingly at a loss to comprehend his movements.
“Now, then, where is Mr. Nickerson?” said Jonas, pulling an empty chair
toward him.
“Mr. Nickerson,” said Caleb to himself. “There is something in the wind
there. He never called him Mr. Nickerson before unless he had something
to make out of him. He was always ‘that old man’ or ‘that inspired
idiot’ when he wanted him to do errands for him. What’s up, I wonder?”
“I forgot all about his tobacco,” said Jonas, seating himself and
repeating what he had said to Caleb. “I had a heap of trouble down
town, but I will send Nat down after it as soon as we get a bite to
eat. Ah, Mr. Nickerson, you are on hand, I see. What’s this?”
The old man had in his hand the “keepsake” which he intended to give to
Jonas. It was a book bound in cloth. It had been well-read evidently,
for some of the leaves were loose and one cover was nearly off. But the
leaves were all there, and there was _something_ in it that Jonas did
not know anything about; if he had known it he would have received it
very differently.
“What is that?” asked Jonas.
“It is the keepsake I promised you,” said Mr. Nickerson. “Take it,
read every word of it and you will find something in it before you get
through that will make you open your eyes and bless your lucky stars
that you have been so good to me.”
Jonas took the book and ran his thumb over the leaves. He turned the
back of the book toward him and read the name “Baxter’s Saints’ Rest”
on it in gilt type. The expression of intense disgust that came upon
his face when he looked at the book set Caleb to snickering, and even
Nat, who was leaning against the door post a little distance away,
smiled in spite of himself.
“And is this the only keepsake you have got to give me?” shouted Jonas.
“It is the only one,” said Mr. Nickerson. “Read it carefully, every
word of it, and you will thank me for giving it to you.”
“Where’s the money?” exclaimed Jonas, who could not get that thing out
of his mind.
“You have got all the money I have to give you. I gave you a thousand
dollars--”
Jonas became furious all on a sudden. With a muttered exclamation under
his breath, he drew back the book with the intention of throwing at
the old man’s head; but he stayed his hand in time. Then he turned it
upon Caleb; but the boy had rushed out of the door and was safe. But
Nat stood there, he had not moved at all, and instantly the book left
Jonas’s hand and flew with terrific force at the boy’s head. It struck
the door post and bounded out of doors, and Nat slowly straightened up
and went after it. It was a work of some difficulty to pick it up, for
the leaves were scattered in every direction, but Nat got it done at
last and went away with it.
“Jonas, Jonas, you will be sorry for that,” said Mr. Nickerson, who
covered his face with his hands.
“Get out of here! Get out, you inspired idiot!” roared Jonas, striding
up and down the cabin as if he were demented. “Don’t you dare come into
this house again.”
“Oh, father!” exclaimed Mrs. Keeler.
“Shut up your yawp, old woman,” said Jonas, turning upon her. “That
was the keepsake he had to give to me, was it? I thought it was money,
dog-gone it, and here he comes and presents me with a _book_! He shan’t
stay in my house no longer.”
Mr. Nickerson went out and tottered to the barn, and when Nat found him
there a few minutes later he was doubled up with his elbows on his
knees, but his jaws were working vigorously. If there was nothing else
which could comfort him, he found it in his tobacco.
“Here’s your book, Mr. Nickerson,” said Nat, who, if he had been big
enough, would have resented the way the old man had been treated.
“Shall I take it back and put it among your things?”
“No; never mind that now. Jonas has told me that I can not go into his
house again, and he may rest assured that I will never do it.”
“He did not mean what he said,” exclaimed Nat. “He is all over his
passion by this time.”
“It is too late. He will never see a cent of my money. Did you put
those leaves all in just as you found them?”
“I tried, but I reckon I did not succeed very well.”
“Did you find anything that did not belong there?”
“I found two leaves that were pasted together,” said Nat, and he
grew excited at once when he saw the expression that came upon Mr.
Nickerson’s face. “Did you know about those two leaves?”
“Have you brought them with you?”
“I have. I would have left the whole book behind before I would them,
for I knew they meant something,” said Nat, producing them from his
pocket the leaves of which he had spoken. “Now, by holding it up to the
light this way,” he added, “in order to see what was in them, I can see
through the leaves, and I can see a third piece of paper in there.”
“Yes; and there is something on that paper, too,” said the old man
rising to his feet and going toward the door. “We must first make sure
that there is nobody coming; for you have a fortune right there in your
hands.”
“A fortune?” gasped Nat.
“It was the money I had in the bank at the time the war broke out,”
said Mr. Nickerson, who, having looked up and down the place and toward
the house to satisfy himself that he and Nat were safe from intrusion,
returned to his seat. “It is all in gold, too.”
“How-how much is there of it?” said Nat, who did not know whether to
believe the story or not.
“As much as three or four thousand dollars; perhaps more; I did not
count it. You see I drew this money at different times, and as fast as
I got it, I hid it. When the rebels came there and took me away, they
searched the house high and low for some money that they supposed I
had, but it was not in the house; It was out in the field. You see this
black line?” he continued, taking the two leaves and pointing with his
shivering finger to one of the marks on the inclosed paper. “By the
way, you don’t want to take this out until you are already to go to
work, for fear that somebody may steal it from you. Well, you go to the
house--”
“But how can I tell where it is?” cried Nat. “Those men cleaned you
out. They thought they would get something by doing that.”
“They didn’t, so they might as well have left me my house. However, it
don’t matter much now. I shall never live in it again. You can tell
where the house stood, even if it isn’t there now, can’t you? You go
to the corner of that house nearest the woods, hold this paper before
you and follow as straight a course as you can down the hill and across
the break until you come to a brier patch. It is made up entirely of
briers, for I cut them down and put them there. Then leave that to your
right and go thirty yards and you will strike a stone, as big as you
can lift, which does not look as though it had ever been touched. But
it has been, and you can pry it up if you want to. When you get that
stone out of its place, you dig down about two feet, and there you will
find it.”
Nat listened with all his ears, but there was one thing that did not
look right about it: The old man talked about the place and the way to
find it as though there had never been anything the matter with him at
all. If there was something wrong about his mind, Nat failed to see
what it was. He talked as though he were reading from a book.
“But what makes you give all this to me?” said Nat at length. “You
don’t act as though you had any interest in it at all.”
“I am not going to last long, and I know it,” said Mr. Nickerson. “I
have neither kith nor kin in this land, or in any other so far as I
know, and since Jonas does not want the money, why you can have it. I
know enough about law to know that there is nobody can take it away
from you. If you could, I say if you could without too much trouble,
call and see Jonas’s wife after you get the money, and give her one
thousand dollars, I could rest easy. Could you do that much for me?”
“Of course I can. I will give it all to her if you say so.”
“No, I don’t want you to do that. I know you would give it all to her,
because you are an honest boy. You have been good to me during the
years I have been here, never had anything cross to say to me, you
don’t like Jonas, and neither do I. Mandy has been good to me, too, but
you see if I give her this money Jonas will have a chance to take it.
I don’t want him to see a cent of it.”
“But Mr. Nickerson, what was your object in pasting your description in
the book this way? The book might have been stolen.”
“But it was not stolen. As many as fifty soldiers, Union and
Confederate, have had that book in their hands, and when they came to
turn it up and see what the title was, they threw it aside. No soldier
wants to read a book like that. It is growing late and I must lie down
somewhere.”
“Come into my room and turn into my bunk,” said Nat. “You will sleep
well there.”
“Jonas has turned me out of his house and I am going to stay out,” said
Mr. Nickerson, with more spirit than he usually exhibited. “I will lie
down here and die in his barn.”
“Don’t talk that way, Mr. Nickerson,” said Nat; and some way or other
he could not get it out of his head that the old man was in earnest.
“If you are going to stay here I will go up and get a couple of
blankets and a pillow for you. I will see you all right in the morning.”
He laid the book beside the old man, folded up the two leaves and put
them into his pocket and hurried toward the house. Somehow he did not
feel exactly right about Mr. Nickerson.