A Cousin's Conspiracy: or, A Boy's Struggle for an Inheritance

The two friends knew nothing of mining, but as practiced in those days it took very little time to learn. They found that their new friend was a man of consideration at Oreville. He owned several claims, and had no difficulty in finding them employment. They set to work at once, for they were almost penniless.

It may easily be supposed that the miners were not fastidious about living. The cabins or huts which they occupied were primitive to the last degree. Generally they did their own cooking, such as it was. Three of these cabins Tom Ashton owned, and one was assigned to the use of Ernest and his friend.

For years Ernest, with his old friend and supposed uncle, Peter Brant, had lived in a cabin at Oak Forks, but it was superior to their new residence. Yet his former experience enabled him the better to accommodate himself to the way of living at Oreville.

For a month the two friends worked steadily at their claim, which Ashton had finally given them. They made little. In fact, it was with difficulty that they made expenses.

“It will be a long time before we make our pile, Ernest,” said Luke one evening, as he sat in front of his cabin smoking.

“Yes, Luke, things don’t look very promising,” replied Ernest gravely.

“If it weren’t for my pipe I should feel blue.”

“That is where you have the advantage of me, Luke.”

“You have the same chance that I have. I have an extra pipe. Won’t you take a smoke?”

Ernest shook his head.

“I think I’m better off without it.”

“Perhaps you’re right, lad. I remember my poor father warned me against smoking. The question is, how long we’d better keep at it.”

“Is there anything else, Luke?”

“Well, no; not here.”

“And we haven’t money enough to get away.”

Just then a tall man with reddish hair strode across the field to their cabin.

“Good-evening, neighbors,” he said. “How are you making out?”

“Not over well,” answered Luke.

“There’s a difference in claims. You’ve got a poor one.”

“Probably you are right.”

“There’s been considerable gold-dust gathered in Oreville within six months. I have been one of the lucky ones.”

“Indeed! I am glad of it.”

“Yes; I found a nugget two months since that I sold for two thousand dollars. I have made five thousand within a year.”

“You’ve been in luck. I wish the boy and I could be as successful.”

“The claim is not good enough to support two. Why not let the boy find something else?”

“You wouldn’t have me freeze him out?” said Luke in a tone of displeasure.

“No, but suppose I find something for him to do? What then?”

“That’s a different matter. Have you an extra claim?”

“Yes; but that isn’t what I offer him. I have a plan in which he can help me.”

“What is it?”

“All our supplies come from Sacramento. What we need is a retail store in Oreville – a general store for the sale of almost everything that miners need.”

“It would be a good plan to open one,” said Luke approvingly.

“Now, you must know that I am an old storekeeper. I had for years a store about twenty miles from Boston. I succeeded fairly with it, but my health gave out. The doctor told me I must not be so confined – that I needed out-of-door exercise. So I came out here and got it. Well, the advice proved good. I am strong and robust, and I feel enterprising. Now, what I propose is this: ‘I will open a store, and put the boy in charge under me.’”

“I should like it,” said Ernest eagerly.

“You know what we pay for supplies. There’s at least a hundred per cent. made, and no one objects to the prices. Why shouldn’t we make it as well as the Sacramento storekeepers?”

“True!” said Luke.

“I don’t ask you to work for me, my friend, for I don’t think it would suit you.”

“It wouldn’t. At home – that’s in Oak Forks, Iowa – I was a hunter. I was always in the open air. The sort of life we live here suits me, though I haven’t made much money as yet.”

“The boy, I think, would do. He looks like a hustler. I need only look at his face to know that he’d be honest and faithful. What is your name, boy?”

“Ernest Ray.”

“That’s a good name. You’ll only have to live up to it – to the first part of it, I mean. Then you accept my offer?”

“You haven’t made any,” said Ernest, smiling.

“Oh, you mean about wages. Well, I don’t offer any stated wages. I will give you one-third profits, and then your pay will depend on your success. The fact is, you are to keep the store.”

Ernest looked an inquiry.

“One person can attend to it by day. I will come in the evening, and take a general look after things. Just at first I’ll stay with you till you’ve got the hang of things. But during the day I shall be looking after my claims. Do you know how to keep books?”

“I understand single-entry bookkeeping.”

“That will be all you will require.”

“How soon shall you start?” asked Ernest, who began to feel very much interested.

“I will go to Sacramento to-morrow, now that we have come to terms. You know that frame building near Ashton’s cabin?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t know what it was originally used for, but it is empty and I can secure it for our store. It isn’t large, but it will hold all we need.”

“Yes, that will do.”

“You haven’t said how you like my offer.”

“Of one-third profits? I like it better than if you paid me wages. I will make it amount to a good deal.”

“That will suit me. I don’t care how much you make out of it, for I shall make twice as much.”

“How did you happen to think of me?”

“I’ve watched you ever since you came. I can judge of anyone, man or boy, if I have time enough to take stock of him. I saw that you were just the man for me.”

“Boy,” suggested Ernest, smiling.

“Oh, well, I’ll make a man of you. By the way, an idea has just occurred to me. You’d better go to Sacramento with me to-morrow.”

“I should like to do it,” said Ernest.

“Then you can notice where I buy my supplies. You may need to go alone sometimes.”

“At what time will we start?”

“The stage leaves at seven o’clock.”

“I will be ready.”

CHAPTER XXVIII

STOREKEEPING

The journey to Sacramento was made, the goods selected, and in less than a week the new store was stocked. In the arrangement of goods Ernest took a zealous part. He had never served in a store, yet it seemed to come natural to him, and he felt more interest in it than in the work of mining.

After the store was in full working order, Horace Ames left Ernest as sole manager, coming in only in the evening to look at the books, for Ernest as far as possible kept a record of every sale.

Storekeeping in those days and in that country was unusually profitable. Ernest made a little comparison between the cost of goods and the selling price, and arrived at the conclusion that the average profits were a hundred per cent. And still the miners were able to buy goods cheaper than when they sent to Sacramento for them.

At the end of the first week Ernest figured up the sales and found they aggregated two hundred dollars. His share of the profit amounted to a little over thirty dollars.

This was encouraging, being three times as much as he had ever realized in the same length of time from mining. There was one embarrassment. There was no bank in the place where money could be deposited, and of course the chance of loss by robbery was much increased. However, his partner purchased a small safe, and this afforded some security.

One day a man entered the store and purchased a pipe and tobacco. He was a stranger to Ernest, but there was something familiar in his look, yet he could not place him.

The newcomer looked about with considerable curiosity.

“You have quite a snug store here,” he remarked.

“Yes.”

“Does it belong to you?”

“I have an interest in it, but it belongs to Mr. Ames.”

“Is he here much?”

“He usually comes in evenings, but he is interested in mining.”

“You seem to have a good trade.”

“What makes you think so?”

“You have a good stock. You would not keep so many goods unless you had a call for them.”

“Have I ever seen you before?” asked Ernest abruptly, for the idea grew upon him that he and his new customer had met somewhere under peculiar circumstances.

“I don’t know. I don’t remember you,” answered the customer, shrugging his shoulders. “I haven’t been in California long. I suppose you were born here.”

“No; very few of those now living in California were born here. I once lived in Iowa. Were you ever there?”

“Never,” answered the customer. “I’ve been in Missouri, but never in Iowa.”

“I have never been in that State. Are you going to stay here?”

“I don’t know. It depends on whether I can make any money. I suppose you don’t want to hire a clerk?”

“No.”

Ernest said to himself that this man with his shifty looks and suspicious appearance would be about the last man he would think of engaging.

“Perhaps Mr. Ames would give you a chance to work some of his claims,” he suggested.

“I will look about me a little before I apply to him,” replied the customer.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked after a pause.

“No. A friend came with me – Luke Robbins.”

The stranger started a little when Ernest pronounced this name, so that young Ray was led to inquire, “Do you know Luke?”

“How should I know him? Is he a young man?”

“No; he is probably about your age.”

“I suppose he came with you from Nebraska?”

“Iowa.”

“Oh, yes, Iowa. He isn’t in the store, is he?”

“He is working for Mr. Ashton on one of his claims.”

At this point a new customer came in and the visitor, after a brief delay, left the store.

When Ernest had waited upon the new customer he looked for the first visitor, but missed him.

“I wonder who he was,” he reflected, puzzled. “I am sure that I have seen him before.”

But think as he might he could not trace him.

Yet with this man he had had a very exciting experience in Oak Forks, for it was no other than Tom Burns, the tramp who had entered his cabin during the night and robbed him, and later had attacked him when digging for Peter’s hidden treasure. It had been only a few months since they had met, but Tom Burns, during that time, had grown a thick beard, which had helped to disguise him.

It is hardly necessary to explain how Burns had found his way out to Oreville. It was his business to tramp about the country, and it had struck him that in the land of gold he would have a chance to line his pockets with treasure which did not belong to him. So fortune had directed his steps to Oreville.

When he entered the store in which Ernest was employed, he immediately, and in some surprise, recognized the boy of Oak Forks. He was glad to find that Ernest did not recognize him, and he immediately began to consider in what way he could turn the circumstance to his own advantage.

“I wonder if the boy sleeps there,” he said to himself. “If so, I will make him a visit to-night. Probably the money he has taken during the day will be in some drawer where I can get hold of it.”

As he was leaving the store in the stealthy way habitual to him, he met a man walking toward the place with a long and careless stride.

He started nervously, for this man was one whom he dreaded, and had reason to fear.

It was Luke Robbins, who, tired with working the claim, was going to the store to replenish his stock of tobacco.

Tom Burns pulled his soft hat down over his eyes and pushed swiftly on.

Luke Robbins halted a moment and looked at him. As in Ernest’s case, he seemed to see something familiar in the appearance of the tramp. He realized, at all events, that he was a stranger in Oreville, for he knew everyone in the mining settlement.

“Who are you, stranger? Have I seen you before?” asked Luke, hailing him.

Tom Burns did not dare to reply, for he feared that Luke might prove to have a better memory than Ernest. So he was passing on without a response, when Luke, who considered his conduct suspicious, demanded, in a peremptory tone, “Who are you? Do you live here?”

Tom Burns shrugged his shoulders, and said, disguising his voice, “Me no understand English, boss.”

“What countryman are you?” asked Luke suspiciously.

“Italian,” answered Tom.

“Humph! you are the first Italian I have seen in Oreville.”

“Si, signor,” answered Tom, and this comprised all the Italian he knew.

“Well, I don’t think you will find any inducement to stay.”

“Si, signor,” replied Burns meekly.

Without another word Luke entered the store.

“Ernest,” he said, “I am out of tobacco, and must have a smoke. Give me half a pound.”

“All right, Luke.”

“I ran across an Italian just outside. He seemed to be leaving the store.”

“An Italian?” queried Ernest, his tone betraying surprise.

“Yes. Wasn’t he in here?”

“There was a man in here – a stranger, but I don’t think he was an Italian.”

“This man answered me in some Italian gibberish. He said he couldn’t understand English.”

“What was his appearance?”

Luke described him.

“It’s the same man that was in here just now, but he could speak English as well as you or I.”

“Did you have some conversation with him?”

“Yes. He looked familiar to me, and I asked him who he was. He said he had come from Missouri. He was in search of work.”

“You say he understood and spoke English?”

“Yes.”

“Then I wonder what could be his game.”

“Don’t he look familiar to you?”

“Yes; there was something familiar about his appearance, but I couldn’t place him.”

“He asked me if I couldn’t employ him in the store. I told him Mr. Ames might give him a chance at mining.”

“Well?”

“He said he would look round a little before deciding.”

“Did he buy anything?”

“Yes, tobacco.”

“Did you mention my name?”

“Yes, and he looked uneasy.”

“Ernest,” said Luke Robbins, with a sudden inspiration, “I know the man.”

“Who is it?”

“Don’t you recall any man at Oak Forks with whom you had trouble?”

“Tom Burns?”

“Yes. That’s the man.”

“Why didn’t we recognize him then?”

“Because he has grown a full beard.”

“That’s so, Luke. I understand now why he looked so familiar. I am sorry to see him here.”

“He’d better not undertake any of his rascalities or he will find himself in hot water.”

CHAPTER XXIX

TOM BURNS MAKES A CALL

When Burns left the store he walked to the outskirts of the mining settlement, not wishing to attract attention. He wished especially to avoid encountering Luke Robbins, with the strength of whose arm he was disagreeably familiar.

He proposed to keep out of sight until night, and then make a visit to the store. It would go hard with him if he did not make a raise there, either in the shape of money or articles of value.

He came to a cabin standing by itself, at a considerable distance from the homes of the other miners. Sitting in front of it was a man with grizzled beard whose appearance indicated advanced age. There were lines upon his face that betrayed ill health.

“I wonder if anything can be got out of him,” thought Tom Burns. “I’ll see.”

“Good-day, sir,” he said, affably.

The old man looked up.

“Good-day,” he replied. “Who may you be?”

“I’m an unfortunate man, in search of employment.”

“When people are unfortunate there is generally a reason for it. Are you intemperate?”

“No, sir,” answered Burns, as if horror-stricken. “I hate the taste of liquor.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“I belong to three temperance societies,” continued Tom, by way of deepening the favorable impression he thought he had made.

“And still you are poor?”

“Yes,” answered Burns. “Once I was prosperous, but I was ruined by signing notes for an unprincipled man who took advantage of my friendship. Do you think I can find work here?”

“I don’t know. Probably you can get a chance to work on one of Mr. Ames’s claims.”

“Is it Mr. Ames who owns the store?”

“Yes.”

“I called there to buy some tobacco. Is the boy there his son?”

“No; he is a recent arrival in Oreville. He is a very smart boy.”

“Is he? Mr. Ames trusts him, I suppose?”

“Yes. Why shouldn’t he?”

“I – I would rather not answer that question.”

“Have you ever met the boy before?”

“Yes; I met him in the East,” answered Burns.

“Since you have said so much you must say more. I am a cousin of Mr. Ames, and if you know anything unfavorable of the boy, it is your duty to tell me.”

“I have nothing against the boy, and would prefer not to speak.”

“I insist upon your doing it.”

“It is only this. When I knew him he was employed in a store. He was trusted as he appears to be here. One night the store was robbed – that is, some money disappeared, and the boy claimed that it was broken into by thieves, who took the money, whereas he took it himself.”

“That seems bad. Was it proved that he took the money?”

“Yes. That’s why he was compelled to leave the place.”

“Did you come here to expose him?”

“No; I didn’t know he was here. I was very much taken by surprise when I saw him in the store.”

“This is important, if true. Mr. Ames ought to be informed.”

“Don’t tell him while I am here. The boy is very revengeful, and he might try to do me an injury.”

“Are you afraid of a boy?”

“I am a man of peace. I don’t want to get into any difficulty.”

“I suppose you wonder that I am sitting here while others are at work.”

“Well, it did cross my mind.”

“My spine is affected. I look well, but I cannot walk. I hope to be better after a while, but at present I am comparatively helpless.”

“Can’t I help you?”

“You may go into the cabin, and bring me a bottle of medicine which you will find in the cupboard.”

Burns entered the cabin gladly. It occurred to him that he might find something worth taking.

On the wall, hanging from a nail, was a gold watch. It was too good a chance to be lost. It might or it might not be valuable, but at any rate it was worth something.

So, while securing the bottle, Burns slyly possessed himself of the watch, which he slipped into his inside breast pocket.

“Here is the bottle, sir,” he said, meekly.

“Thank you. Now bring a spoon which you will find on the table.”

Burns did so.

“Now pour out a teaspoonful, which I will take.”

“I am glad to be of service to you. Don’t you want an attendant while you are sick?”

“There would not be enough for you to do. I have a son at work in the mines who is here morning and night, and he gives me all the care I require.”

“I am sorry to hear that,” thought Burns. “The son may be dangerous.”

“Then, sir, I will bid you good-by. I will pray for your recovery.”

“Thank you. The prayers of the righteous avail much. Are you righteous?”

“It isn’t for me to say, sir. I don’t want to boast.”

“That is creditable to you. By the way, are you hungry?”

“I haven’t broken my fast since morning.”

“You will find some cold meat and a loaf of bread in the cupboard. It is plain, but if you are hungry you will enjoy it.”

“Thank you, sir. I will accept your kind invitation.”

Tom Burns was really hungry, and he did justice to the food offered him.

When his lunch was over he came outside.

“Thank you,” he said, “for your kindness.”

“Out here we are always glad to give a meal of victuals to a stranger who needs it. Are you going to stay long in Oreville?”

“If I can get anything to do I may. You see I am a poor man, and stand in pressing need of employment.”

“Keep up your courage! Something will turn up for you. I will ask my son if he cannot find something for you to do.”

“Thank you, sir. I will bid you good-by, with thanks for your kindness.”

“If you are not pressed for time, I will send you on an errand.”

“All right, sir. I shall be glad to be of service to you.”

“Here is a Mexican dollar. You may go to the store and bring me a dozen eggs. If there is any change you may keep it.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“A dollar in!” thought Burns, as he turned away from the cabin. “I think I can turn it to a better use than spending it in eggs. That was a profitable call. I made a gold watch and a dollar by it. The old man can’t pursue me, thanks to his spinal complaint.”

“That is a very clever fellow,” reflected the old man, when Burns had started on his errand. “A bit too religious to suit my taste. Still he seemed grateful for the little I did for him. If he had a little more push and get up and get about him he would succeed better. Why, he isn’t more than forty and he confesses himself a failure. Why, at forty I considered myself a young man, and was full of dash and enterprise. Now I am sixty and tied to my seat by this spinal trouble. However, I’ve got something laid by, and, old as I am, I feel independent as far as money goes.”

Half an hour – an hour – passed, and still the old man found himself alone. His messenger had not come back.

But there came up the path a tall, muscular figure, who greeted the old man in a bluff, off-hand way.

“How are you, Luke?” said the old man. “I was feeling lonely. I am glad to see you.”

“Have you been alone since morning?”

“Not quite all the time. I had quite a long call from a stranger.”

“A stranger!” repeated Luke suspiciously. “What was his appearance?”

The old man described Burns, and Luke knew him at once.

“What did he say to you?”

“That reminds me – he said he knew the boy whom Horace has put in the store – young Ray.”

“Did he?”

“Yes, and he doesn’t speak well of him.”

“What does he say about him?”

“I don’t like to tell you, Luke, for I believe he is a protégé of yours.”

“Don’t mind that. If there is anything to be said unfavorable of Ernest I ought to know it.”

“He says the boy robbed a store in which he was employed, and then pretended it was entered by thieves. It was on that account, he says, that the boy was compelled to leave the town where he lived and come to California.”

“Really, that is very interesting. To my own personal knowledge the boy was never before employed in a store, and he came out to California with me.”

“Then what could the man mean?”

“I can’t say. I can only tell you that he is a professional thief.”

“Look quick, Luke, and see if my gold watch is hanging on a nail near the cupboard.”

“No, it is not there.”

“Then the rascal must have stolen it. I gave him a Mexican dollar to buy some eggs at the store.”

“I don’t think you will ever see it again, unless I catch the thief, as I may to-night.”

CHAPTER XXX

A BURGLAR’S FAILURE

If Tom Burns had been more prudent, he would have made good his escape with the money and gold watch he had already secured. But he was too greedy for gain.

He pictured to himself the store with its goodly stock of money taken in during the day, and he felt an irresistible craving for it. There might be one or two hundred dollars, and no one in charge but a boy whom he could easily overpower.

Apart from the pecuniary gain he felt that he should enjoy getting the best of Ernest, who had already foiled him at Oak Forks.

“This time he will come out second best,” chuckled Burns to himself.

Then he laughed when he remembered how his appearance had puzzled Ernest.

“It was a good idea growin’ a beard,” he said to himself. “Seems to have disguised me pretty well. The boy thought he had seen me before, but he couldn’t make out where. The next time he’ll know me, I reckon.

“I must keep out of the way till night,” he said to himself. “It won’t do for me to be seen prowlin’ round the settlement.”

He retired a mile or two among the hills, and waited impatiently for night to come.

“It is lucky that the old man gave me a meal,” he reflected, “otherwise I should be about starved. I wonder if that watch is worth much.”

He examined the watch, and decided that its value was probably not far from a hundred dollars. In fact, the old man had bought it in St. Louis, and had selected a high-priced article.

It did occur to Burns that perhaps he had better remain satisfied with what he had got, for the watch would probably bring him fifty dollars at a sacrifice sale; but the temptation to stay was too strong.