ARTHUR TRIES TO HELP HIMSELF.
Arthur found his father alone in the office, pacing the floor, with his
hands in his pockets, and a look of triumph and exultation on his face;
but, when his son entered, he sank into the nearest chair, and tried to
appear very sorrowful, indeed.
“That was a sad event, Arthur,” said he, with a long-drawn sigh—“a very
sad event. I don’t wonder that you look frightened. I was frightened
myself, and so was everybody else; but we have the satisfaction of
knowing that we used our utmost endeavors to save him.”
We have already told how hard Uncle Bob and Arthur worked to keep the
boat from going into the canyon. The former did nothing but shout out
orders, to which nobody paid the least attention, while Arthur stood by
and looked on, without uttering a word.
“Yes, I know we did all we could,” replied Arthur, faintly; “but we
couldn’t help him. Bob knew as well as we did that he was doomed. He
told me yesterday, while we were down the river looking at the canyon,
that if I went out in a boat, I must be careful not to let that current
get hold of me. If I did, I might as well be in the rapids above Niagara
Falls, for nothing could save me. Now, father, I can’t stay here any
longer, and I want you to give me money enough to take me back to
Bolton.”
“I should like to go there myself, or somewhere else, and stay until
time has somewhat effaced the memory of this terrible occurrence; but,
under the circumstances, I don’t think it best for either one of us to
leave,” answered Uncle Bob.
“Why not?” asked Arthur. “Why can’t we both go?”
“Because our absence might give people occasion to say hard things about
us.”
“I don’t see why it should. We had nothing whatever to do with it.”
“Certainly not. But that wouldn’t make any difference to these herdsmen,
who are as unreasonable as so many pigs. I can see very plainly that
they don’t like us, and don’t want us here; but, to tell you the plain
truth, Arthur, I should be afraid to go away after what has happened.”
“Why would you?”
“Because these ignorant men would take it as a confession of guilt on my
part.”
All unaccustomed as Arthur was to reasoning _a posteriori_—that is, from
the effect to the cause—he told himself that his father never could have
reached this conclusion if he had not felt guilty.
Although Uncle Bob tried to believe that he was sorry his nephew was
gone, he did not succeed in deceiving either himself or those about him;
and it was not at all improbable that an attempt at flight on his part
would have resulted in something serious.
Whenever Uncle Bob allowed his mind to dwell upon this matter, he became
as badly frightened as Arthur was. Dearly as he loved money, he loved
life better, and he would willingly have surrendered his nephew’s
millions if, by so doing he could have transported himself and Arthur
back to Bolton, where he knew they would be safe.
“And must we stay here in the midst of these lawless men, who may at any
moment take a notion to hang us?” exclaimed Arthur in great alarm.
“It seems to be our only chance,” confessed Uncle Bob, in agitated
tones. “I have thought the matter all over, and I don’t see that we can
do anything else. If we could only make these men believe that we take
the matter as much to heart as they do, they wouldn’t think so hard of
us; but they are very obstinate and set in their ways, and it will take
time to accomplish that.”
“But, father, I _can’t_ stay here,” insisted Arthur, jumping to his
feet, and walking nervously up and down the floor. “I shall go crazy if
I do—I know I shall. If you won’t go with me, give me money and let me
go alone. You’ve got plenty of it. I heard one of the men say that there
were twenty or thirty thousand dollars in that safe.”
“There’s more than that in there,” said Uncle Bob. “But it isn’t the
money I care for. I was thinking of you. It would not be best for you to
leave now.”
“I will take all the risk,” pleaded Arthur. “Don’t refuse, for if you
do, there is no telling what may happen.”
“Don’t get excited over it,” advised Uncle Bob, who was anything but
calm himself. “Be governed by me, and hope for the best.”
Arthur who became almost frantic whenever he thought of Sam, and the
interview he had appointed for the morrow, “right away after breakfast,”
said everything he could think of to induce his father to grant his
request, but he urged and begged in vain.
When Uncle Bob once made up his mind to a thing, he was fully as
obstinate and unreasonable as the herdsmen to whom he had referred in
tones so contemptuous, and Arthur might as well have argued with the
stone walls of the ranch.
Finding that he could make no impression upon his father, the boy grew
angry, and was more than once on the point of declaring that Sam had
made a demand upon him for five thousand dollars, threatening, in case
of refusal, to publish a story of his own getting up, that would induce
the herdsmen to make short work of both of them.
But his guilty fears would not allow him to do it, and, besides, he had
some other plans in his head that he wanted to try first, so he bolted
out of the office, banging the door behind him.
“He’s the meanest old hulks of a father that any fellow ever had,”
thought Arthur, stopping in the hall long enough to shake his fist at
the door, “and I don’t care what happens to him. As he is too pig-headed
to do as I want him to do, I’ll help myself to every cent there is in
that safe this very night if I can get in. If I succeed, I will give Sam
his hush-money to-morrow morning, and hire him to show me the way to the
railroad station. I have seen quite enough of Arizona, and if I can only
get aboard a train of cars that is headed for the East, the prospect of
owning four times four million dollars won’t bring me back here.”
While Arthur was talking to himself in this way, he looked cautiously
out of the door, and, having satisfied himself, by a few minutes’
reconnaissance, that the herdsmen had all dispersed, he walked across
the porch, and bent his steps toward the grove.
He wanted to be alone, and this was the most retired spot he could find.
It was utterly impossible for him to keep still, and here he could walk
about among the trees without being seen by anybody.
Arthur had been in the grove, perhaps half an hour, keeping his thoughts
busy with the plans he intended to put into operation in case his
attempt to steal the money in the safe did not prove successful, when he
saw the superintendent stop in front of the porch with a couple of
horses that were saddled and bridled.
After he had stood there for a minute or two, Uncle Bob came out of the
ranch, with his hat on his head and a riding-whip in his hand. He
mounted one of the horses, Mr. Jacobs sprang upon the other, and
together they rode away.
“They are going off somewhere on business,” soliloquized Arthur, “and
this is as good an opportunity as I shall have to take a look at that
safe. I wish the money in it belonged to me, and that the old man wanted
some of it. He shouldn’t have a cent if he was starving.”
Arthur gave the horsemen time to get out of sight, and then he left the
grove and walked toward the ranch.
He went into the office, and having locked the door to prevent
interruption, he began an examination of the safe, which was set into
the wall so that nothing but the face of it could be seen.
If it had been provided with a combination lock, Arthur would have set
to work upon it at once; but as it was an old-fashioned article,
requiring a key to open it, he could do nothing.
Thinking it possible that his father might have left the key in the
room, he began looking for it in the bookcases, under the lounge, along
the edge of the carpet—in every place, in fact, that seemed to offer the
least chance for concealment, but his search was in vain.
“It is in his pocket, most likely,” said Arthur, as he unlocked the
door, sat down in one of the easy chairs, and opened a book, which he
had taken at random down from one of the shelves. “I’ll just hang around
the rest of the day, and satisfy myself on that point. That key is the
only thing that stands in my way. If I can get my hands on that, the
rest will be easy enough, for I know how to open the safe.”
Arthur turned his chair about so that he could not see the river when he
happened to glance out of the window—somehow, he could not bear the
sight of it now—and tried to amuse himself by looking at the engravings
in the book he held in his hand; but the excitement and suspense which
had taken the place of his fears were too much for him, and sometimes he
would spring to his feet and rush about the room like some caged wild
animal.
But he was quiet enough when his father returned about dinner-time, and
came into the office, accompanied by the superintendent.
Some argument had arisen between them regarding the business of the
ranch, and, in order to settle it, they had to refer to the books that
were in the safe.
Arthur saw his father take the key from his pocket and insert it in the
lock, and took particular notice to the way he twirled the knob.
When the door swung open and the interior of the safe was disclosed to
his view, Arthur was not a little astonished.
One of the shelves was piled full of greenbacks, and on the shelf under
it were four large tin boxes, which were filled to the brim with bright,
shining gold pieces.
As he did not care to stay there and listen to a discussion about
matters of which he knew nothing and cared less, Arthur put away his
book and went out into the hall.
He walked about for a few minutes, with his eyes fastened thoughtfully
on the floor, and then hurried to his room and began to unpack his
valise. He had not thought of it before.
“There’s a lot of money in that safe,” said he to himself, “and I must
have something to carry it in, for I couldn’t get the tenth part of it
into my pockets. I don’t know what the old man will say when he finds
that his safe has been emptied; and, in order to keep it from his
knowledge as long as I can, I will take the key with me when I go. I
wish now that I had told Sam to meet me about midnight. If he comes to
the grove this afternoon, I will make new arrangements with him.”
Arthur spent the entire afternoon in the grove, with his thoughts for
company; but Sam did not put in an appearance. He knew better.
He had made some threats against Bob in the presence of some of the
herdsmen, and the valley was not a safe place for him. He was idling
away the time in the seclusion of a deep ravine a short distance away,
waiting impatiently for the morrow.
Arthur went to bed as soon as he had eaten his supper, and when his
father came into the room, about eleven o’clock, he lay with his face to
the wall, apparently fast asleep. The two had but little to say to each
other since the interview in the morning.
Uncle Bob tried to be sociable while they were at the table, but Arthur
would scarcely listen to him.
“I was the only friend he had on the ranch,” the youth kept saying to
himself, “and I want him to see that he has made an enemy of me. If he
doesn’t know it now he will find it out very shortly.”
It was long after midnight before Arthur made any move to show that he
was awake. Then he turned over very cautiously, and, after listening
intently for a few minutes, he made up his mind that the time for action
had arrived.
Noiselessly he arose from the bed and moved towards the chair upon which
his father had deposited his clothing.
After a little fumbling in the dark, he found the pocket of which he was
in search, and his fingers closed tightly on the coveted key.
Hardly able to repress an exclamation of triumph, Arthur picked up his
valise, which he had placed at the foot of his bed, unlocked the door
and passed through the hall into the office.
Feeling his way to the safe, he put the key into the lock, turned the
knob, and the door opened for him.
“It’s all mine,” thought he, as he opened his valise and proceeded to
stow the greenbacks away in it. “If father wants to stay here, and run
the risk of being hanged, he can do it and welcome; but I’m off for
Bolton, this very—”
All on a sudden, the door of the office creaked on its hinges, and the
room was brilliantly illuminated. With a piercing cry of terror, Arthur
looked over his shoulder and saw his father standing behind him, holding
a lamp in one hand and a big revolver in the other.