Digging for Gold 32

Digging for Gold 32

“I have been in the restaurant business myself,” continued Albert.

 

“Then you are just the right man to buy me out.”

 

“Will you sell out for the money I have in my pocket?”

 

“How much have you?”

 

“‘I have fifteen dollars in my inside pocket,’ as the song has it.”

 

Hardy shook his head.

 

“I want a thousand dollars for the place,” he said.

 

“I will buy it, and pay you on instalments,” said Benton.

 

“Well, I might agree to that for half the purchase money. Pay me five

hundred dollars down, and the rest you can pay at, say, twenty dollars a

week. I am sure that is a liberal offer.”

 

“I don’t think so. Besides, I haven’t got five hundred dollars.”

 

“Can’t you borrow it?”

 

“I don’t know.” And then it occurred to Benton that perhaps Tom Cooper

and Grant might be induced to advance that sum of money.

 

“Well, perhaps so,” he resumed, after a pause.

 

“Find out, and then come and talk to me.”

 

“Won’t four hundred dollars do?”

 

“No. I shall need to take five hundred dollars with me to San

Francisco.”

 

“Is this the best you can do?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I will think of it, and let you know.”

 

Albert Benton walked thoughtfully out of the restaurant. He had tried

gold-digging, and didn’t like it. His old business seemed to him more

reliable, and this seemed a good opportunity to go back into it.

 

“Hardy hasn’t much enterprise,” he soliloquized. “If he can clear forty

dollars a week, I shouldn’t be surprised if I could carry it up to

sixty. I have never had a chance to show what I could do, always having

had some one over me. I should just like to try it once.”

 

Benton waited till his two fellow boarders got home from their day’s

work, and then opened the subject.

 

“I can tell you of a good investment for your money, Grant,” he said.

 

“How do you know I have any money to invest?”

 

“I suppose you have been making some, and you never spend any.”

 

“I never spend any foolishly, if that is what you mean.”

 

“You don’t seem to have much idea of enjoying life.”

 

“Not in your sense. I enjoy life in my own way.”

 

“I am glad you do, because you must have some money to lend me.”

 

“To lend you?”

 

“Yes; I have a chance to buy out a fine restaurant in the village, but

must pay five hundred dollars down. I am almost sure I can clear sixty

dollars a week, net profit, from it. You know yourself that I understand

the business.”

 

“Yes, you ought to understand it.”

 

“I understand it better than digging for gold. I soon tired of that.”

 

“It is tiresome work,” admitted Grant.

 

“And doesn’t pay much.”

 

“It used to pay better—in the early days, I should think.”

 

“Well, Grant, what do you say? I can give you the restaurant as

security, and pay you back at the rate of twenty dollars a week. I’ll

pay you one per cent. a month interest.”

 

“How much of the sum are you going to furnish yourself?”

 

“Why,” said Benton, embarrassed, “I am not so fixed that I can pay

anything at present. I’ve got an old uncle, over seventy years old, who

is sure to leave me five thousand dollars, so that is additional

security.”

 

“I haven’t five hundred dollars to lend.”

 

“I didn’t suppose you had, but your friend Cooper could chip in with you

on the loan, and just draw his one per cent. a month regular. If that

isn’t enough, I would pay fifteen per cent. It would pay me, for it

would put me into a good business.”

 

“I don’t know how Cooper will feel about it, Mr. Benton, but I prefer to

keep what little money I have in my own hands.”

 

“I think you might oblige a friend,” said Benton crossly.

 

“There’s a limit to friendship. I shall need my money for my own use.”

 

Cooper said the same, and Benton saw that he must get the money in some

other way. He dropped the subject, in order to avert suspicion, and

began to consider the scheme which all the time he had in view to fall

back upon.

 

The next day, when the coast was clear, he went upstairs, and entered

Grant’s room. There was no lock on the door, for in California people

were not suspicious.

 

“Now I wonder where they keep their gold-dust?” Benton asked himself.

“It must be somewhere in this room, for they have no other place.”

 

He looked about him. The room was very simply furnished. There was a

bureau, with three drawers, which Benton was able to unlock, for he had

a key that would fit it. There were only articles of underclothing

inside, as, indeed, Benton anticipated.

 

“I think it must be in the chest,” he decided, as he fixed his glance

upon it. “Let me lift it.”

 

He raised it, and found that it was quite heavy.

 

“That’s the weight of the gold-dust,” he reflected. “If I could only

open it!”

 

He tried the different keys he had in his pocket, but none of them would

answer.

 

“I must hunt up some more keys,” he said to himself. “It will pay.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXX.

BENTON LAYS HIS PLANS.

 

 

As Benton left the room, Paul Crambo, who was just coming upstairs,

caught sight of him. Observing his landlord’s surprised look, Benton,

who was not easily disconcerted, said, “I was looking for a

clothes-brush. I thought Grant might have one in his room.”

 

“Did you find one?” asked Crambo.

 

“No.”

 

“I thought he had one.”

 

Paul Crambo entered the chamber, and pointed out a whisk-broom lying on

the bureau.

 

“There is one,” he said significantly.

 

“So there is,” said Benton, for once looking confused. “Where could my

eyes have been?”

 

“It is strange you didn’t see it. It was in plain sight.”

 

“So it was. I am very absent-minded.”

 

Paul Crambo made no answer, but when he went downstairs he said to his

wife, “I begin to mistrust that Benton.”

 

“Why?”

 

Then Paul told what he had seen.

 

“You are right, Paul. He wasn’t in there for any good purpose. I can’t

say I am very much surprised. I didn’t take any fancy to him.”

 

“Nor I. I wouldn’t like to have him rob our two friends. They are fine

fellows.”

 

“We had better tell them to-night.”

 

“I’ll do it before that. I’ll go out to their claim at once. The sooner

they know it the better.”

 

“Do so.”

 

Paul Crambo didn’t often call on the two miners, and they were a little

surprised to see him approaching the claim.

 

“How are you, Mr. Crambo? Are you out for a walk?” asked Grant.

 

“Partly; but partly on business.”

 

“Do you want to buy us out?”

 

“Well, not at present. I ain’t in love with gold-digging. Is that Benton

a friend of yours, Mr. Colburn?”

 

“He isn’t a friend. He is an acquaintance.”