In the rude hotel kept by the outlaw, whom we have introduced under thename of Brown, there sat two men, to neither of whom will my readersneed an introduction. They have already appeared in our story.
One was Brown himself, the other Col. Warner, or, as we may as wellconfess, Jerry Lane, known throughout the West as an unscrupulousrobber and chief of a band of road agents, whose depredations had beencharacterized by audacity and success.
Brown was ostensibly an innkeeper, but this business, honest enough initself, only veiled the man's real trade, in which he defied alike thelaws of honesty and of his country. The other was by turns a gentlemanof property, a merchant, a cattle owner, or a speculator, in all ofwhich characters he acted excellently, and succeeded in making theacquaintance of men whom he designed to rob.
The two men wore a sober look. In their business, as in those morelegitimate, there are good times and dull times, and of late they hadnot succeeded.
"I want some money, captain," said Brown, sullenly, laying down a blackpipe, which he had been smoking.
"So do I, Brown," answered Warner, as we will continue to call him."It's a dry time with me."
"You don't understand me, captain," continued Brown. "I want you to giveme some money."
"First you must tell me where I am to get it," answered Warner, with ashrug of his shoulders.
"Do you mean to say you have no money?" asked Brown, frowning.
"How should I have?"
"Because in all our enterprises you have taken the lion's share, thoughyou haven't always done the chief part. You can't have spent the whole."
"No, not quite; but I have nothing to spare. I need to travel about,and--"
"You've got a soft thing," grumbled Brown. "You go round and have a goodtime while I am tied down to this fourth-rate tavern in the woods."
"Well, it isn't much more than that," said Warner, musingly.
"Do you expect me to keep a first-class hotel?" demanded Brown,defiantly.
"No, of course not. Brown," continued Warner, soothingly, "don't let usquarrel; we can't afford it. Let us talk together reasonably."
"What have you to say?"
"This, that it isn't my fault if things have gone wrong. Was it my faultthat we found so little cash in that last store we broke open?"
"Nineteen dollars!" muttered Brown, contemptuously.
"Nineteen dollars, as you say. It didn't pay us for our trouble. Well, Iwas as sorry as you. I fail to see how it was my fault. Better luck nexttime."
"When is the next time to be?" asked Brown, somewhat placated.
"As soon as you please."
"What is it?"
"I will tell you. You remember that stagecoach full of passengers thatfooled us some time since?"
"I ought to."
"I always meant to get on the track of that Melville, who spoiled ourplot by overhearing us and giving us away to the passengers. He is veryrich, so the boy who was with him told me, and I have every reason torely upon his statement. Well, I want to be revenged upon him, and, atthe same time, to relieve him of the doubtless large sum of money whichhe keeps with him."
"I'm with you. Where is he?"
"I have only recently ascertained--no matter how. He lives in a smallcabin, far from any other, about eight miles from the mining town ofDeer Creek."
"I know the place."
"Precisely. No one lives there with him except the boy, and it would beeasy enough to rob him. I saw a man from Deer Creek yesterday. He tellsme that Melville has bought for the boy a half share in a rich mine, andis thought to have at least five thousand dollars in gold and bills inhis cabin."
Brown's eyes glistened with cupidity.
"That would be a big haul," he said.
"Of course, it would. Now, Brown, while you have been grumbling at me Ihave been saving this little affair for our benefit--yours and mine. Wewon't let any of the rest of them into it, but whatever we find we willdivide, and share alike."
"Do you mean this, captain?"
"Yes, I mean it, friend Brown. You shan't charge me with taking thelion's share in this case. If there are five thousand dollars, as myinformant seems to think, your share shall be half."
"Twenty-five hundred dollars!"
"Exactly; twenty-five hundred dollars."
"That will pay for my hard luck lately," said Brown, his face clearing.
"Very handsomely, too."
"When shall we start?"
"To-morrow morning. We will set out early in the morning; and, by theway, Brown, it's just as well not to let your wife or anyone else knowwhere we are going."
"All right," answered Brown, cheerfully.
The next morning the two worthies set out their far from meritoriouserrand. Brown told his wife vaguely, in reply to her questioning, thathe was called away for a few days on business.
If he expected to evade further question by this answer, he wasmistaken. Mrs. Brown was naturally of a jealous and suspicioustemperament, and doubt was excited in her breast.
"Where shall I say you have gone if I am asked?" she said.
"You may say that you don't know," answered Brown, brusquely.
"I don't think much of a man who keeps secrets from his wife," said Mrs.Brown, coldly.
"And I don't think much of a man who tells everything to his wife,"retorted Brown. "It's all right, Kitty, You needn't concern yourself.But the captain and I are on an expedition, which, to be successful,needs to be kept secret."
Mrs. Brown was not more than half convinced, but she was compelled toaccept this statement, for her husband would vouchsafe no other.
That part of the State into which they journeyed was not new ground toeither. They were familiar with all the settled portion of Colorado, andhad no difficulty in finding the cabin occupied by George Melville.
Now it happened that they reached the modest dwelling in the woods aboutthree o'clock in the afternoon. Herbert had ridden over to Deer Creekto look after his mining property, and it was not yet time to expect himback. George Melville was therefore left alone.
Knowing, as my young readers do, his literary tastes, they willunderstand that, though left alone, he was not lonely. The stock ofbooks which he had bought from his predecessor was to him an unfailingresource. Moreover, he had taken up Italian, of which he knew a little,and was reading in the original the "Divina Comedia" of Dante, a workwhich consumed many hours, and was not likely soon to be over. To-day,however, for some reason Melville found it more difficult than usual tofix his mind upon his pleasant study. Was it a presentiment of comingevil that made him so unusually restless? At all events, the hours,which were wont to be fleet-footed, passed with unusual slowness, and hefound himself longing for the return of his young friend.
"I don't know what has got into me to-day," said Melville to himself."It's only three o'clock, yet the day seems very long. I wish Herbertwould return. I feel uneasy. I don't know why. I hope it is not apresage of misfortune. I shall not be sure that something has nothappened to Herbert till I see him again."
As he spoke George Melville rose from his chair, and was about to puton his hat and take a short walk in the neighboring woods, when he heardthe tramp of approaching horses. Looking out from the window, he saw twohorsemen close at hand.
He started in dismay, for in the two men he was at no loss inrecognizing his stagecoach companion, Col. Warner, and the landlord whohad essayed the part of a road agent.
CHAPTER XXXV. MELVILLE IN PERIL.
Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune Page 34