Do and Dare — a Brave Boy's Fight for Fortune

CHAPTER XXXII. THE BLAZING STAR MINE

Toward noon the next day George Melville and Herbert were resting from a country trip, sitting on a rude wooden settee which our hero had made of some superfluous boards, and placed directly in front of the house, when a figure was seen approaching with long strides from the shadow of the neighboring woods. It was not until he was close at hand that Herbert espied him.

“Why, it’s Mr. Holden!” he exclaimed.

“Jack Holden, my lad,” said the hunter, correcting him. “Is this the man you’re living with?”

Jack Holden was unconventional, and had been brought up in a rude school so far as manners were concerned. It did not occur to him that his question might have been better framed.

“I am Mr. Melville,” answered that gentleman, seeing that Herbert looked embarrassed. “Herbert is my constant and valued companion.”

“He’s a trump, that boy!” continued Holden. “Why, if it hadn’t been for him, there’d been an end of Jack Holden yesterday.”

“Herbert told me about it. It was indeed a tragic affair. The sacrifice of life is deplorable, but seemed to have been necessary, unless, indeed, you could have disabled him.”

“Disabled him!” echoed the hunter. “That wouldn’t have answered by a long shot. As soon as the reptile got well he’d have been on my trail ag’in. No, sir; it was my life or his, and I don’t complain of the way things turned out.”

“Have you buried him?” asked Herbert.

“Yes, I’ve shoved him under, and it’s better than he deserved, the sneakin’ rascal. I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Melville. Didn’t know I had changed neighbors till the boy there told me yesterday. I’ve tramped over this mornin’ to give you a call.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Holden. Sit down here beside us.”

“I’m more at home here,” answered Holden, stretching himself on the ground, and laying his gun beside him. “How do you like Colorado?”

“Very much, as far as I have seen it,” said Melville. “Herbert probably told you my object, in coming here?”

“He said you were ailin’ some way.”

“Yes, my lungs are weak. Since I have been here, I am feeling better and stronger, however.”

“There don’t seem to be anything the matter with the boy.”

“Nothing but a healthy appetite,” answered Herbert, smiling.

“That won’t hurt anybody. Mr. Melville, do you smoke?”

“No, thank you.”

“Queer! Don’t see how you can do without it? Why, sir, I’d been homesick without my pipe. It’s company, I tell you, when a chap’s alone and got no one to speak to.”

“I take it, Mr. Holden, you are not here for your health?”

“No, I should say not; I’m tough as a hickory nut. When I drop off it’s more likely to be an Indian bullet than any disease. I’m forty-seven years old, and I don’t know what it is to be sick.”

“You are fortunate, Mr. Holden.”

“I expect I am. But I haven’t answered your question. I’m interested in mines, Mr. Melville. Have you ever been to Deer Creek?”

“Yes, I went over with Herbert to visit the store there one day last week.”

“Did you ever hear of the Blazing Star Mine?”

“No, I believe not.”

“I own it,” said Holden. “It’s a good mine, and would make me rich if I had a little more money to work it.”

“Are the indications favorable, then?” asked Melville.

“It looks well, if that’s what you mean. Yes, sir; the Star is a first-class property.”

“Then it’s a pity you don’t work it.”

“That’s what I say myself. Mr. Melville, I’ve a proposal to make to you.”

“What is it, Mr. Holden?”

“If you could manage to call me Jack, it would seem more social like.”

“By all means, then, Jack!” said Melville smiling.

“You give me money enough to develop the mine, and I’ll make half of it over to you.”

“How much is needed?” asked Melville.

“Not over five hundred dollars. It’s a bargain, I tell you.”

“I do not myself wish to assume any business cares,” said Melville.

Jack Holden looked disappointed.

“Just as you say,” he responded.

“But Herbert may feel differently,” continued Melville.

“I’d like the lad for a partner,” said Holden, briskly.

“But I have no money!” said Herbert, in surprise.

George Melville smiled.

“If the mine is a good one,” he said, “I will advance you the money necessary for the purchase of a half interest. If it pays you, you may become rich. Then you can repay the money.”

“But suppose it doesn’t, Mr. Melville,” objected Herbert, “how can I ever repay you so large a sum?”

“On the whole, Herbert, I will take the risk.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, his face glowing with anticipation. To be half owner of a mine, with the chance of making a large sum of money, naturally elated him.

“Why shouldn’t I be, Herbert? But I want to see the mine first.”

“Can’t you go over this afternoon?” asked Holden, eager to settle the matter as soon as possible.

“It is a long journey,” said Melville, hesitating.

“You can stay overnight,” said Jack Holden, “and come back in the morning.”

“Very well; let us go then—that is, after dinner. Herbert, if you will set the table, we will see if we can’t offer our friend here some refreshment. He is hungry, I am sure, after his long walk.”

“You’ve hit it, Mr. Melville,” said Holden. “I allow I’m as hungry as a wolf. But you don’t set down to table, do you?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Mr. Melville, smiling pleasantly.

“I ain’t used to it,” said Holden; “but I was once. Anyhow, it won’t make no difference in the victuals.”

When dinner was ready the three sat down, and did ample justice to it; but Jack Holden made such furious onslaughts that the other two could hardly keep pace with him. Fortunately, there was plenty of food, for Melville did not believe in economical housekeeping.

After dinner they set out for Deer Creek. As has been already explained, it was the name of a mining settlement. Now, by the way, it is a prosperous town, though the name has been changed. Then, however, everything was rude and primitive.

Jack Holden led the way to the Blazing Star Mine, and pointed out its capabilities and promise. He waited with some anxiety for Melville’s decision.

“I don’t understand matters very well,” said Melville, “but I am willing to take a good deal on trust. If you desire it, I will buy half the mine, paying you five hundred dollars for that interest. That is, I buy it for Herbert.”

“Hooray!” shouted Holden. “Give us your hand, pard. You are my partner now, you know.”

As he spoke he gripped Herbert’s hand in a pressure which was so strong as to be painful, and the necessary business was gone through.

So Herbert found himself a half owner of the Blazing Star Mine, of Deer Creek, Colorado.

“I hope your mine will turn out well, Herbert,” said Melville, smiling.

“I wish it might for mother’s sake!” said Herbert, seriously.

“It won’t be my fault if it don’t,” said his partner. “I shall stay here now, and get to work.”

“Ought I not to help you?” asked Herbert.

“No; Mr. Melville will want you. I will hire a man here to help me, and charge it to your share of the expenses.”

So the matter was arranged; but Herbert rode over two or three times a week to look after his property.

CHAPTER XXXIII. GOOD NEWS FROM THE MINE

“Well, Herbert, what news from the mine?” asked Melville, two weeks later, on Herbert’s return from Deer Creek, whither he had gone alone.

“There are some rich developments, so Jack says. Do you know, Mr. Melville, he says the mine is richly worth five thousand dollars.”

“Bravo, Herbert! That would make your half worth twenty-five hundred.”

“Yes,” said the boy complacently; “if we could sell at that figure, I could pay you back and have two thousand dollars of my own. Think of that, Mr. Melville,” continued Herbert, his eyes glowing with pride and pleasure. “Shouldn’t I be a rich boy?”

“You may do even better, Herbert. Don’t be in a hurry to sell. That is my advice. If the present favorable indications continue, you may realize a considerably larger sum.”

“So Jack says. He says he is bound to hold on, and hopes I will.”

“You are in luck, Herbert.”

“Yes, Mr. Melville, and I don’t forget that it is to you I am indebted for this good fortune,” said the boy, earnestly. “If you hadn’t bought the property for me, I could not. I don’t know but you ought to get some share ef the profits.”

George Melville shook his head.

“My dear boy,” he said, “I have more than my share of money already. Sometimes I feel ashamed when I compare my lot with others, and consider that for the money I have, I have done no work. The least I can do is to consider myself the Lord’s trustee, and do good to others, when it falls in my way.”

“I wish all rich men thought as you do, Mr. Melville; the world would be happier,” said Herbert.

“True, Herbert. I hope and believe there is a considerable number who, like myself, feel under obligations to do good.”

“I shall be very glad, on mother’s account, if I can go home with money enough to make her independent of work. By the way, Mr. Melville, I found a letter from mother in the Deer Creek post office. Shall I read it to you?”

“If there is nothing private in it, Herbert.”

“There is nothing private from you, Mr. Melville.”

It may be explained that Deer Creek had already obtained such prominence that the post-office department had established an office there, and learning this, Herbert had requested his mother to address him at that place.

He drew the letter from his pocket and read it aloud.

We quote the essential portions.

“‘I am very glad to hear that you have made the long journey in safety, and are now in health.’”

Herbert had not mentioned in his home letter the stage-coach adventure, for he knew that it would disturb his mother to think that he had been exposed to such a risk.

“It will do no good, you know,” he said to Mr. Melville, and his friend had agreed with him.

“‘It is very satisfactory to me,’ continued Herbert, reading from the letter, ‘that you are under the charge of Mr. Melville, who seems to me an excellent, conscientious young man, from whom you can learn only good.’”

“Your mother thinks very kindly of me,” said Melville, evidently pleased.

“She is right, too, Mr. Melville,” said Herbert, with emphasis.

“‘It will no doubt be improving to you, my dear Herbert, to travel under such pleasant auspices, for a boy can learn from observation as well as from books. I miss you very much, but since the separation is for your advantage, I can submit to it cheerfully.

“‘You ask me about my relations with Mr. Graham. I am still in the post office, and thus far nearly the whole work devolves upon me. Except in one respect, I am well treated. Mr. G-. is, as you know, very penurious, and grudges every cent that he has to pay out. When he paid me last Saturday night the small sum for which I agreed to assist him, he had much to say about his large expenses, fuel, lights, etc., and asked me if I wouldn’t agree to work for two dollars a week, instead of three. I confess, I was almost struck dumb by such an exhibition of meanness, and told him that it would be quite impossible. Since then he has spent some of the time himself in the office, and asked me various questions about the proper way of preparing the mail, etc., and I think it is his intention, if possible, to get along without me. I don’t know, if he absolutely insists upon it, but it would be better to accept the reduction than to give up altogether. Two dollars a week will count in my small household.’

“Did you ever hear of such meanness, Mr. Melville?” demanded Herbert, indignantly. “Here is Mr. Graham making, I am sure, two thousand dollars a year clear profit, and yet anxious to reduce mother from three to two dollars a week.”

“It is certainly a very small business, Herbert. I think some men become meaner by indulgence of their defect.”

“I shall write mother to give up the place sooner than submit to such a reduction. Three dollars a week is small enough in all conscience.”

“I approve the advice, Herbert. If Mr. Graham were really cramped for money, and doing a poor business, it would be different. As it is, it seems to me he has no excuse for his extreme penuriousness.”

“How pleasant it would be to pay a flying visit to Wayneboro,” said Herbert, thoughtfully. “One never appreciates home until he has left it.”

“That pleasure must be left for the future. It will keep.”

“Very true, and when I do go home I want to go well fixed.”

Herbert had already caught the popular Western phrase for a man well to do.

“We must depend on the Blazing Star Mine for that,” said Melville, smiling. My young readers may like to know that, while Herbert was prospering financially, he did not neglect the cultivation of his mind. Among the books left by Mr. Falkland were a number of standard histories, some elementary books in French, including a dictionary, a treatise on natural philosophy, and a German grammar and reader.

“Do you know anything of French or German, Mr. Melville?” inquired our hero, when they made their first examination of the library.

“Yes, Herbert, I am a tolerable scholar in each.”

“I wish I were.”

“Would you like to study them?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Then I will make you a proposal. You are likely to have considerable time at your disposal. If you will study either, or both, I will be your teacher.”

“I should like nothing better,” said Herbert, eagerly.

“Moreover, if you wish to study philosophy, I will aid you, though we are not in a position to illustrate the subject by experiments.”

Herbert was a sensible boy. Moreover, he was fond of study, and he saw at once how advantageous this proposal was. He secured a private tutor for nothing, and, as he soon found, an excellent one. Though Mr. Melville had never been a teacher, he had an unusual aptitude for teaching, and it is hard to decide whether he or Herbert enjoyed more the hours which they now regularly passed in the relation of teacher and pupil.

It must be said, also, that while George Melville evinced an aptitude for teaching, Herbert showed an equal aptitude for learning. The tasks which he voluntarily undertook most boys would have found irksome, but he only found them a source of pleasure, and had the satisfaction, after a very short time, to find himself able to read ordinary French and German prose with comparative ease.

“I never had a better pupil,” said George Melville.

“I believe I am the first you ever had,” said Herbert, laughing.

“That is true. I spoke as if I were a veteran teacher.”

“Then I won’t be too much elated by the compliment.”

CHAPTER XXXIV. TWO OLD ACQUAINTANCES REAPPEAR

In the rude hotel kept by the outlaw, whom we have introduced under the name of Brown, there sat two men, to neither of whom will my readers need an introduction. They have already appeared in our story.

One was Brown himself, the other Col. Warner, or, as we may as well confess, Jerry Lane, known throughout the West as an unscrupulous robber and chief of a band of road agents, whose depredations had been characterized by audacity and success.

Brown was ostensibly an innkeeper, but this business, honest enough in itself, only veiled the man’s real trade, in which he defied alike the laws of honesty and of his country. The other was by turns a gentleman of property, a merchant, a cattle owner, or a speculator, in all of which characters he acted excellently, and succeeded in making the acquaintance of men whom he designed to rob.

The two men wore a sober look. In their business, as in those more legitimate, there are good times and dull times, and of late they had not succeeded.

“I want some money, captain,” said Brown, sullenly, laying down a black pipe, 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 give me some money.”

“First you must tell me where I am to get it,” answered Warner, with a shrug 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, though you 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 good time 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 us quarrel; 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 fault that 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, I was as sorry as you. I fail to see how it was my fault. Better luck next time.”

“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 that fooled us some time since?”

“I ought to.”

“I always meant to get on the track of that Melville, who spoiled our plot by overhearing us and giving us away to the passengers. He is very rich, so the boy who was with him told me, and I have every reason to rely upon his statement. Well, I want to be revenged upon him, and, at the same time, to relieve him of the doubtless large sum of money which he keeps with him.”

“I’m with you. Where is he?”

“I have only recently ascertained—no matter how. He lives in a small cabin, far from any other, about eight miles from the mining town of Deer Creek.”

“I know the place.”

“Precisely. No one lives there with him except the boy, and it would be easy enough to rob him. I saw a man from Deer Creek yesterday. He tells me that Melville has bought for the boy a half share in a rich mine, and is thought to have at least five thousand dollars in gold and bills in his 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 I have been saving this little affair for our benefit—yours and mine. We won’t let any of the rest of them into it, but whatever we find we will divide, and share alike.”

“Do you mean this, captain?”

“Yes, I mean it, friend Brown. You shan’t charge me with taking the lion’s share in this case. If there are five thousand dollars, as my informant 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 the way, Brown, it’s just as well not to let your wife or anyone else know where we are going.”

“All right,” answered Brown, cheerfully.

The next morning the two worthies set out their far from meritorious errand. Brown told his wife vaguely, in reply to her questioning, that he was called away for a few days on business.

If he expected to evade further question by this answer, he was mistaken. Mrs. Brown was naturally of a jealous and suspicious temperament, 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 to accept this statement, for her husband would vouchsafe no other.

That part of the State into which they journeyed was not new ground to either. They were familiar with all the settled portion of Colorado, and had no difficulty in finding the cabin occupied by George Melville.

Now it happened that they reached the modest dwelling in the woods about three o’clock in the afternoon. Herbert had ridden over to Deer Creek to look after his mining property, and it was not yet time to expect him back. George Melville was therefore left alone.

Knowing, as my young readers do, his literary tastes, they will understand that, though left alone, he was not lonely. The stock of books which he had bought from his predecessor was to him an unfailing resource. Moreover, he had taken up Italian, of which he knew a little, and was reading in the original the “Divina Comedia” of Dante, a work which consumed many hours, and was not likely soon to be over. To-day, however, for some reason Melville found it more difficult than usual to fix his mind upon his pleasant study. Was it a presentiment of coming evil that made him so unusually restless? At all events, the hours, which were wont to be fleet-footed, passed with unusual slowness, and he found 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 Herbert would return. I feel uneasy. I don’t know why. I hope it is not a presage of misfortune. I shall not be sure that something has not happened to Herbert till I see him again.”

As he spoke George Melville rose from his chair, and was about to put on his hat and take a short walk in the neighboring woods, when he heard the tramp of approaching horses. Looking out from the window, he saw two horsemen close at hand.

He started in dismay, for in the two men he was at no loss in recognizing his stagecoach companion, Col. Warner, and the landlord who had essayed the part of a road agent.