Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 25

Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 25

"Let me see. To-day is Wednesday, and Friday is the day when we had

decided to send the messenger. He was to go by the morning train. I

think I will send you off in advance by the evening train of Thursday.

Then the bonds will be in the bank at Boston, while the regular

messenger is still on the way."

 

"That will suit me very well, sir."

 

"The train starts at ten o'clock. You can be at the train at half-past

nine. I will be there at the same hour, and will have the bonds with me.

I will at the same time provide you with money for the journey."

 

"All right, sir. Do you want to see me any time to-morrow?"

 

"No. I think it best that we should not be too much together. Even then,

I don't think any one would suspect that I would employ you on such an

errand. Still, it will be most prudent not to do anything to arouse

suspicion."

 

"Then, Mr. Graves, I will bid you good night," said Grit, rising. "I

thank you very much for the confidence you are going to repose in me. I

will do my best, so that you may not have occasion to repent it."

 

"I don't expect to repent it," said Mr. Graves, shaking hands with Grit

in a friendly manner.

 

When the young boatman left the house of the bank president, it was

natural that he should feel a thrill of pride as the thought of the

important mission on which he was to be sent. Then again, it was

exhilarating to reflect that he was about to visit Boston. He had lived

at Chester for five years and more, and during that time he had once

visited Portland. That was an exciting day for him; but Boston he knew

was a great deal larger than the beautiful city of which Maine people

are pardonably proud, and contained possibilities of pleasure and

excitement which filled him with eager anticipations.

 

But Grit knew that his journey was undertaken not for his own enjoyment,

but was to be an important business mission, and he resolved that he

would do his duty, even if he did not have a bit of fun.

 

As he thought over the business on which he was to be employed, his

thoughts reverted to Ephraim Carver, the bank messenger, and the more

he thought of him, the more he suspected that he was implicated in the

projected robbery. It was perhaps this thought that led him to make a

detour so that he could pass the house of the messenger.

 

It was a small cottage-house, standing back from the street, from which

a narrow lane led to it. Connected with it were four or five acres of

land, which might have yielded quite an addition to his income, but Mr.

Carver was not very fond of working on land, and he let it lie fallow,

making scarcely any use of it. Until he obtained the position of bank

messenger he had a hard time getting a living, and was generally

regarded as rather a shiftless man. He was connected with the wife of

one of the directors, and that was the way in which he secured his

position. Now he received a small salary, but one on which he might have

lived comfortably in a cheap place like Chester. But in spite of this he

was dissatisfied, and on many occasions complained of the difficulty he

experienced in making both ends meet.

 

Grit turned down the lane and approached the house.

 

He hardly knew why he did so. He had no expectation of learning anything

that would throw light on the question whether Carver was or was not

implicated in the conspiracy. Still, he was drawn toward the house.

 

The night was quite dark, but Grit knew every step of the way, and he

walked slowly up the lane, which was probably two hundred feet long.

 

He had gone, perhaps, half the distance, when he saw the front door of

Carver's house open. Mr. Carver himself could be seen in the doorway

with a kerosene-lamp in his hand, and at his side was a person whom with

a thrill of surprise Grit recognized as the man staying at the hotel

under the name of Colonel Johnson.

 

"That looks suspicious," thought Grit. "I am afraid the messenger is

guilty."

 

He reflected that it would not do for either of them to see him, as it

might render them suspicious. He took advantage of the darkness, and the

fact that the two were not looking his way, to jump over the stone wall

and hide behind the broad trunk of the lofty elm which stood just in

that spot.

 

"I wish I could hear what they are saying," thought Grit. "Then I should

know for certain if my suspicions are well founded."

 

The two men stood at the door for the space of a minute or more, and

then the stranger departed, but not alone. Ephraim Carver took his hat

and accompanied him, both walking slowly up the lane toward the main

road.

 

By a piece of good luck, as Grit considered it, they halted beneath the

very elm-tree behind which he lay concealed.

 

These were the first words Grit heard spoken:

 

"My dear friend," said Johnson, in bland, persuasive accents, "there

isn't a particle of danger in it. You have only to follow my directions,

and all will be well."

 

"I shall find it hard to explain how it happened that I lost the

package," said Carver.

 

"Not at all! You will have a facsimile in your possession--one so like

that no one need wonder that you mistook it for the original.

Undoubtedly you will be charged with negligence, but they can't prove

anything more against you. You can stand being found fault with for five

thousand dollars, can't you?"

 

"If that is all, I won't mind. I shall probably lose my situation."

 

"Suppose you do; it brings you in only six hundred dollars a year, while

we pay you in one lump five thousand dollars--over eight times as much.

Why, man, the interest of this sum at six per cent. will yield half as

much as your annual salary."

 

"The bank people ought to pay me more," said Carver. "Two months since

I asked them to raise me to eight hundred a year, but they wouldn't.

There was only one of the directors in favor of it--the man who married

my wife's cousin."

 

"They don't appreciate you, friend Carver," said Johnson. "How can they

expect you to be honest, when they treat you in so niggardly a manner?"

 

"Just so," said Carver, eager to find some justification for his

intended treachery. "If they paid me a living salary, I wouldn't do this

thing you ask of me."

 

"As it is, they have only themselves to blame," said Colonel Johnson.

 

"That's the way I look at it," said the bank messenger.

 

"And quite right, too! I shouldn't be surprised if you managed to keep

your place, after all. They won't suspect you of anything more than

carelessness."

 

"That would be splendid!" returned Carver. "With my salary and the

interest of five thousand dollars, I could live as comfortably as I

wanted to. How soon shall I receive the money?"

 

"As soon as we can dispose of the bonds safely. It won't be long."

 

Here the two men parted, and Carver returned to his house.

 

Grit crept out from behind the elm-tree when the coast was clear, and

made his way home. He had learned a most important secret, but resolved

to communicate it only to Mr. Graves.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER XXV.

 

MRS. BRANDON IS MYSTIFIED.

 

 

When Grit explained to his mother that he was going away for a day or

two on a journey, she was naturally surprised, and asked for

particulars.

 

"I should like to tell you, mother," said the young boatman, "but there

are reasons why I cannot. It is a secret mission, and the secret is not

mine."

 

"That is perfectly satisfactory, Grit," said Mrs. Brandon. "I have full

confidence in you, and know I can trust you."

 

"After I return I shall probably be able to tell you all," said Grit.

"Meanwhile, I shall, no doubt, be paid better than if I were ferrying

passengers across the river."

 

"At any rate, I shall be glad to see you back. We have not been

separated for a night for years, or, indeed, since you were born."

 

The next day, Mr. Brandon, taught by experience that he need not look

for his meals at home, went over to the tavern to breakfast. He felt

unusually independent and elated, for he had money in his pocket,

obtained from Colonel Johnson, and he expected soon to receive the

handsome sum of five thousand dollars. A shrewder man, in order to avert

suspicion, would have held his tongue, at least until he had performed

the service for which he was to be so liberally paid; but Brandon could

not forego the opportunity to boast a little.

 

"It is quite possible, Mrs. B.," he said, in the morning, "that I may

leave you in a day or two, to be gone a considerable time."

 

Mrs. B. did not show the expected curiosity, but received the

communication in silence.

 

"You don't inquire where I am going," said Brandon.

 

"Where do you propose to go?" asked his wife, whose chief feeling was

that she and Grit would now be left to their old quiet and peace.

 

"I may go to Europe," said Mr. Brandon, in an important tone.

 

"Isn't this a new plan?" asked Mrs. Brandon, really surprised.

 

"Yes, it is new. I shall go on business, Mrs. B. My friend Travers and

I will probably go together. You and Grit made a great mistake when you

treated him with rudeness. It is through him that I am offered most

remunerative employment."