Before more could be said by any of the band, a bell rang over in the
dumb-waiter, and two men at once stepped to the cupboard and began to
place dishes upon the table, preparatory to having supper.
Will was told to sit down on a chair, and the coming meal, rather than
the boy prisoner, seemed to occupy the thoughts of the rude gathering.
By the time that the table was set, with a plate, knife, fork, teacup
and spoon for each, and a dish of butter and large bowl of sugar in the
centre, a second ring came at the dumb-waiter, and up from the depths
below appeared the supper.
The two men, whose duty it seemed, put the supper on the table, and it
was by no means a repast to be refused, for there was hot coffee, milk,
hot biscuit, steak, potatoes and preserves.
Will was told to "Take a seat youngster, and pitch in, for you don't
know how soon yer rations will be cut short."
He had eaten but a light breakfast, and nothing since, so he obeyed the
injunction with a gusto, winning the admiration of the men at his pluck
in not losing his appetite when his fate hung so in the balance of
uncertainty.
But Will had made up his mind that though he was in a tight place, he
would not despair, but find some way to get out, and the means of doing
so did not worry him until the time came for action.
He had read the papers, and he knew that almost under the eyes of the
police there were bands of evil men who would rob and kill without mercy
to gain gold.
That he had fallen into the hands of some such wicked men he did not
doubt; but he did not despair of working out his own salvation in some
way, when he was assured just what their game was that they intended to
win by playing him as a trump card.
So Will ate his supper with apparent relish, and rising, thanked them
politely and resumed his former seat.
"You've been well raised, boy," said Jerry. "What is your name?"
"Will Raymond, sir," said the boy, returning to his old name, for while
with the colonel he had taken that of Ivey, at his request.
"What do you do?"
"Anything I can earn money at to support my sick mother and little
sister."
"Well, how would you like to become a rich man's son?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"The captain sent you here because you resembled somebody, didn't he?"
"He gave me a letter to bring to you, and said you would give me two
dollars for doing the errand."
"Well, that was a bait to get you here; but if you do as I say, you'll
do better by far than make two dollars."
"What must I do?"
"Do you see this photograph?" and he held up a picture before Will of a
small boy, perhaps seven years of age.
"Yes, sir."
"This photograph looks just as you did six years ago, and then your name
was Willie Rossmore. Your home was in Baltimore, or rather near it, and
these are photographs of the place, and a handsome one it was.
"You went out in the grounds, just here, running away from your nurse,
and two men, passing along the highway in a buggy, took you with them.
"They carried you far away, treated you well, and took you to a farm in
the West, where one day I found you, and you told me your story and I
immediately recognized you as a boy stolen years ago, and whose
photograph I had often seen published in the papers.
"Your father, Mr. Rossmore, is a very rich man, and he has offered fifty
thousand dollars for your return, and I will get it.
"Now, my boy, I wish you to study these photographs of your old home,
and here is the name of the servants who were at the house then, and
your nurse was an old coloured woman, Auntie Peggy.
"These are the clothes you had on when you were stolen; they are ragged
now, for you wore them a long time, and when you got others you kept
these. You had this ring on your forefinger then, but you can wear it
now on your left hand little finger--see, it just fits."
"What has become of the real little boy that was stolen?" asked Will,
quietly.
The men all exchanged peculiar glances with each other, and one said:
"Tell him, Jerry, so that he'll know we won't stand any nonsense."
"Well, he would not behave as we wished him to, and he would remember
too much, and so we dared not take him back to get the reward, you see."
"And is he dead?"
"You've hit it, he is, for one day he left our camp, as we were crossing
the prairie in Nebraska, not very many miles from Fort McPherson, and we
found him lying under a solitary tree, mighty near dead from starvation;
and he died, and we buried him there, cutting his name into the tree, as
a monument, as any emigrant folks would who had lost a young one.
"Poor little fellow, he had better have done as you wished, and so been
able to get home."
"Boy, you've got wisdom above your years, and you'll play our little
game for us with a handful of trumps and a card or two up your sleeve, I
can tell you.
"I guess you've been nipped by hunger, and wish a soft thing of it for
life, don't you?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you'll talk our way, won't you?"
"Oh, yes, sir; only it will be very sad for my poor mother and sister to
lose me."
"No, for you can write them that you had a chance to go West, and I'll
take the letter and some money to them, and you bet we'll keep them from
want and send them lots of things, while if you don't like it where you
go, you can just skip out after you've got together a nice little sum of
money, for we don't care so long as we get the reward for your return,
and you shall have five thousand of that, for I'll keep you posted where
we are, and you can have the money any time you call for it."
"This looks fair, sir; but I hate to leave my mother and little sister,
though I do want to make money."
"Well, you write your mother a letter, and I'll see that she gets it
to-morrow, and I'll put a cool fifty in it for her, too.
"Now, write your letter, and then study over those photographs, this
list of names, and the lesson I have here for you," and Jerry handed
Will various slips of paper.
"Now, lad," he continued, "if you play this game right, you'll get all I
say; but if you play us false, you'll be knifed sure, so just bear that
in mind."
"I don't wish to die, and I'd rather be rich than poor, if I can take
care of my mother and sister, and they don't find out I am deceiving
them."
"They'll never know it, lad, and it was a lucky find the captain made in
you, for you look just what we want, and have got the sense to play the
game through.
"I tell you, though, we had a time with Willie Rossmore, up to his death
three years ago, for we had to travel about with him, hide him, watch
him, and were going to take him to an Indian camp to live for a year or
so to make him forget, when he ran off and died on the prairie. But you
look like him exactly, though you are older by a year or so, but that
don't make any difference. Now there's a pen and ink, and here's your
lesson to study, while we play a game of cards."
Will sat down at a shelf that served as a desk, and began to "study his
lesson," as Night Hawk Jerry had called it.
He wrote a letter to his mother, and at last the men began to turn in,
each one going to his bunk, while the boy was also given one, and
crawling into the berth, appeared to be sound asleep, while the last man
retiring put out the lamp, and only the light from the stars, twinkling
through the skylights, pervaded the large room, and the sonorous
breathing of the sleepers soon showed that, guilty beings though they
were, no twinges of conscience kept them awake.