Digging for Gold 5

Digging for Gold 5

“It’s no trick,” answered Grant earnestly. “The bridge just ahead is

broken down.”

 

“Good Heavens! is this true?”

 

“Get out and see for yourself.”

 

The engineer lost no time in following Giant’s advice. He and his young

guide walked forward, and he saw that Grant’s information was correct.

 

“It’s a narrow escape,” he said slowly. “The train would have been

wrecked, and by this time in all probability I should have been a dead

man.”

 

By this time a number of passengers, curious to know what had happened,

and why the train had stopped so suddenly, got off the cars and advanced

to where the engineer stood with Grant at his side.

 

“What’s the matter,” asked the first man.

 

“You can see for yourself,” answered the engineer, pointing to the

bridge.

 

“Good Heavens!”

 

“You’ve been as near death as you probably ever will be without meeting

it.”

 

“And what saved us?”

 

“This boy,” said the engineer, pointing to Grant. “But for him, some of

us would be dead men at this moment.”

 

Grant blushed, for all eyes were fixed on him.

 

“It was lucky I was here and discovered the broken bridge,” he said.

 

“Gentlemen,” said a portly, gray-haired man, a clergyman, “this boy has

under Providence been the means of saving our lives. He deserves a

reward.”

 

“So he does! So he does!” exclaimed a dozen men heartily.

 

“Let me set the example,” and the minister took off his hat and

deposited therein a five dollar bill. “I am not a rich man—ministers

seldom are—but what I give, I give with all my heart.”

 

“Here is another!” said the engineer. “I am perhaps under deeper

obligations than any one.”

 

“Let me contribute!” said a sweet-faced old lady, and she dropped

another five-dollar bill into the minister’s hat.

 

Then the passengers generally brought forward their contributions,

though some were able to give but a silver coin. There was one notable

exception: One man, when he saw what was going forward, quietly shrunk

away, and got back into the train.

 

“Who’s that man,” asked the engineer sharply.

 

“I know,” said an Irishman, who out of his poverty had given a dollar.

“It’s Mr. Leonard Buckley, of New York. He’s worth a million. He is rich

enough to buy us all up.”

 

“No matter how much money he possesses, he is a poor man,” said the

minister significantly.

 

“He’s given all his life is worth to the world,” said a passenger

cynically. “When he dies he won’t be missed.”

 

“And now, my young friend,” said the clergyman to Grant, “let me make

over to you this collection of money as a small acknowledgement from the

passengers of this train of the great service you have rendered us.”

 

While the collection was being taken up, Grant stood as if dazed. All

had passed so suddenly that he could not realize what it meant. Now he

found a voice to speak.

 

“I don’t think I ought to take it,” he said. “I didn’t do it for money.”

 

“Of course you didn’t!” said the clergyman. “If you had, your act would

have been far less commendable, though it might have been as effective.

I think you need not hesitate to take the money.”

 

“Take it, take it!” said more than one.

 

So Grant took the hat, and held it awkwardly for a moment, hardly

knowing what to do with the contents till some one suggested, “Put it in

your own hat!”

 

Grant did so, and then the engineer went forward to examine the bridge

more carefully, and decide what had better be done.

 

There was no further reason for Grant to remain, and he walked a little

distance away and began to count his money. There were one hundred and

forty dollars in bills, and about twelve dollars in silver.

 

“One hundred and fifty-two dollars!” said Grant, elated. “Now,” and his

face brightened up, “now I can go to California!”

 

But what should he do with the money? He felt that it would not be

prudent to carry it home, for his step-father would be sure to claim it.

He might hide it somewhere, but there was danger that it would be

discovered, and lost. Finally, he decided to carry it to Luke Weldon,

and ask him to keep it for him for the present. Luke was a poor man, but

he was thoroughly honest. There was no one in town who would not sooner

have trusted him than Seth Tarbox, though Seth had twenty dollars to his

one.

 

When Grant entered the farm-yard again, Luke looked up with surprise.

 

“What brings you back, Grant?” he asked.

 

“I want to ask a favor of you, Mr. Weldon.”

 

“I am always ready to do you a favor, Grant.”

 

“Will you keep some money for me?”

 

Luke Weldon was surprised. He knew pretty well how Grant was situated,

and that money must be a scarce article with him. Perhaps, however, he

had a little extra change which he was afraid of losing, he reflected.

 

“All right, Grant!” was his reply. “I’ll keep it for you. How much is

it?”

 

When Grant began to draw the bills out of his pocket, Luke’s eyes opened

with amazement.

 

“Where did you get all this money, Grant?” he asked. “You haven’t

been—no, I can’t believe it possible you’ve been robbing the old man.”

 

“I should think not,” returned Grant indignantly. “I haven’t sunk so low

as that.”

 

“But where did you get it? Why didn’t you ask me to take charge of it

when you were here before?”

 

“Because I didn’t have it.”

 

“Have you got it since?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then you found it somewhere. It must belong to some one who hid it.”

 

“No, it doesn’t. It was given to me.”

 

“I want to believe you, Grant, and I never knew you to tell a lie, but

it aint easy, boy, it aint easy. If you don’t tell me where and how you

got it, I can’t agree to keep it for you. It might be stolen money for

aught I know.”

 

“Then I’ll tell you, Luke. When I crossed the railroad I found the

bridge was broken. I signalled the train just in time to stop it’s going

across.”

 

“Sho! you don’t say! Then but for you the train would have been

wrecked?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I’m proud of you, Grant! Give me your hand. Why, boy, you’ve saved

fifty lives, perhaps.”

 

“That’s what the engineer said.”

 

“But about the money——”

 

“The passengers took up a contribution, and here it is.”

 

“How much is there?”

 

“As near as I can tell, for I counted it in a hurry, there’s a hundred

and fifty-two dollars.”

 

“And you deserve it all, Grant. Yes, I’ll keep it for you, and give it

back whenever you ask for it.”

 

“I was afraid Mr. Tarbox might try to get it away from me.”

 

“So he would, I make no doubt. He won’t get it from me, I’ll tell you

that.”

 

“Now I must be getting home. I’ve been away a long time.”

 

When Grant approached the farm-house, Rodney, who was standing in front

of the house, hailed him.

 

“Say, there’s a rod in pickle for you. Grandfather’s awfully mad at your

staying so long.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER V.

GRANT ORDERS A NEW SUIT.

 

 

Grant listened to what Rodney said, but Mr. Tarbox’s anger did not

signify as much to him as it would have done a few hours earlier. The

money he possessed made him feel independent.

 

Seth Tarbox appeared at the door, ready to empty the vials of his wrath

on Grant’s devoted head.

 

“So you’ve been loiterin’ on the way, have you?” he said harshly.

“You’ve been twice as long as you need to be.”

 

“Well, perhaps I have,” Grant admitted coolly.

 

“So you own up to it, do you?”