TOM IN A TIGHT PLACE.
TOM’S NEW employer was Oliver Burton. He had come from New Jersey
originally with the intention of going to the mines, but he was shrewd
enough to see, on landing in San Francisco, that trading was a more
certain means of getting rich than mining. He established himself in the
city, therefore, bought out a man who was compelled by sickness to
retire from active business, and was now rich. Though occasionally
irritable, he was in the main just and easy to get along with, and Tom
soon got into favor.
Our hero had never worked, but he was sharp and diligent, and he did not
need to be told the same thing twice. So at the end of the first week
his employer said:
“Well, Tom, you have been with me a week, and for a green hand you have
done remarkably well.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Tom; “I have tried to do my duty faithfully.”
“You have. Moreover, I am convinced of your honesty.”
“You need have no fears on that score,” said Tom proudly.
“I have not, and experience teaches me that this is quite as important
as a capacity for business. Why, my last clerk was a capital
salesman—knew how to please customers and influence trade—but contrived
to swindle me out of several hundred dollars in three months.”
“That wasn’t very satisfactory,” said Tom.
“I should say not. But what I am coming at is this—I should like to have
you remain with me. What wages will satisfy you?”
“You are a better judge than I am. What did you give your last clerk?”
“Twenty-five dollars a week and board. You are a green hand, and several
years younger, but in consideration of your honesty, in which I feel
full confidence, I will give you twenty.”
“That will satisfy me, sir,” said Tom promptly.
“Then here are your first two week’s wages.”
Tom took the money—it was in gold—with pride and pleasure. It was no
novelty to him to have considerable money, but excepting the three
dollars which he had received for carrying a bundle, this was the first
money he had actually earned, and he felt pleased accordingly.
“Twenty dollars and my board for a week’s work!” he said to himself.
“Now I really begin to feel that I am of some use in the world. It’s a
good deal better than leading an idle life.”
It may be remarked also, that Tom had lost with his property the old
bullying spirit which gave him the title by which he was known at the
beginning of this story. He still retained, however, the spirit and
courage which in his case had accompanied it; and this was fortunate,
for he was in a country where at that time the laws had not yet obtained
that ascendency which they possess in older settlements. The time was
not far off when his courage was to be tested.
About three weeks after his entrance into the store, Mr. Burton left the
city for a visit of several days into the interior. By this time Tom
knew enough of the business to be intrusted with the sole charge.
“I shouldn’t have dared to leave my former clerk,” said Mr. Burton, “but
I am sure I can trust you.”
“You can,” said Tom promptly. “I may not be able to fill your place, but
I’ll do the best I can.”
“I am convinced of it. You will sleep in the store; for though
burglaries are not frequent, there might be an attempt to open the
store.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You won’t be afraid to remain here alone?”
“Afraid!” exclaimed Tom. “I hope not. I should be ashamed of myself if I
were.”
“I shall leave my revolver, and I expect you to use it if necessary. Do
you understand its use?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then I have no further directions to give. I cannot tell exactly how
many days I shall be absent.”
“Don’t hurry home, sir. All will go well.”
“It’s odd how much confidence I have in that boy,” said Mr. Burton to
himself. “He says he is only sixteen, but he’s as cool and self-reliant
as a man of twenty-five. He has been well educated, too, I judge from
his manners and conversation. I feel fortunate in securing him.”
On the fourth night after Mr. Burton’s departure, Tom went to bed at his
usual hour. His bed was made up on the floor, about the center. He was
unusually fatigued, and this no doubt accounted for his sleeping sounder
than common. Something roused him at last. At first he thought, in his
bewilderment, that it was Mr. Burton who had shaken him, but he was
quickly undeceived.
Lifting his head, he saw a sinister face, rough and unshaven, bending
over him.
“What!” he commenced, but the other interrupted him in a stern whisper.
“Speak low, boy! Make no alarm, or by the powers above I’ll kill you
instantly. Do you understand?”
Tom was now thoroughly awake. He comprehended that this man was one
against whom it was his duty to defend the store and its contents. On
account of the soundness of his sleep he had not heard him effect his
entrance.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“You can guess why I am here. I want all the money you have in this
store.”
“You had better leave here at once,” said Tom, having recourse to
stratagem. “Suppose my employer should have heard you and come in.”
“Suppose he don’t,” said the burglar, with a sneer. “I know as well as
you that he is in the country. You can’t play any of your games on me,
boy.”
“He has been in the country.”
“And he is there now. Boy, I can’t waste time. Do you see this?” and he
drew a formidable knife from its sheath.
“Yes, I see it,” said our hero.
“You will feel it also,” said the burglar, “if you don’t show me where
you keep your gold, and be quick about it.”
Tom was at his wits’ end. There were eight hundred dollars in gold in
the store, and moreover it was all kept together. If he could have saved
the rest by delivering to the burglar a hundred dollars, he would not
have scrupled to do this, feeling that in so doing he would do the best
thing possible, and obtain Mr. Burton’s approval. But this was
impossible. It must be the whole or none, and it seemed probable that
the whole would be taken. He was only a boy—strong of his age, it is
true, but no match for the burly ruffian who, with drawn knife, was
looking down upon him.
Again, suppose he surrendered the money, how could he convince Mr.
Burton that he did it upon compulsion? Might it not be supposed that the
burglar was a confederate of his own, whom he had voluntarily admitted
into the store? Might it not even be suspected that there had been no
burglary at all, but that he himself had appropriated the money, and
trumped up a story to conceal his guilt.
These thoughts passed through his mind in a much shorter time than I
have taken to record them. But slight as the delay was, it was too great
for the impatience of the ruffian.
“If you don’t get up before I count three,” he said, “you shall have a
taste of this knife.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------