Indian and Scout: A Tale of the Gold Rush to California, Page 2

  CHAPTER II

  Jack Kingsley's Dilemma

  Mary Kingsley may be described as an eminently unfortunate woman.Married at an early age, it was not long before her husband fell out ofemployment, and found himself hard put to it to make a living. That wasin or about the year 1848; and presently, when a fever for gold diggingin California spread over the United States of America, Tom Kingsleybecame badly bitten with the desire to try his own fortune. A town-bredman, he fared but ill at first; but in a little while his fortunesmended, so that he was able to send money to his wife. Then had come apartnership, bringing great profit at first, and later on the disasterwith which the reader is acquainted.

  Five years after the death of Tom Kingsley, Mary married again--a man ofuncertain temper, who quickly began to look upon his stepson Jack as anencumbrance. There were quarrels between himself and his wife withregard to the boy, and very soon Jack himself came in for ill-feelingand frequent chastisement.

  "I don't think I shall put up with it much longer, Mother," said Jackone day when there had been an unusually stormy scene. "I learned lastyear that when I was away from home, on a visit up the Hudson, you andFather got on well together; but immediately I returned there werequarrels, of which I was the cause. I think he's jealous of your carefor me."

  "It seems so," admitted Mary with tears in her eyes. "I've noticed thesame, Jack. Phineas is a good and kind husband when things do notdisturb him, but when he's upset, matters are--well, unpleasant for all.If he had had a son of his own perhaps things would have been different;but he hasn't, and so one has to look facts in the face. You know, boy,that your mother would not have you leave. But----"

  "Just so, Mother," interrupted Jack. "There is always a but in theseaffairs. I've talked it over with Uncle up the Hudson, and he thinks Ishould cut from home and strike out for myself. I'm old enough. I'mseventeen and a half."

  "And big enough, bless you!" cried Mary. "Ah, if only the question hadnever arisen! But I'm not a fool anyway, Jack, and I'm looking facts inthe face. I see clearly that it would be better for you, better for me,and happier altogether. Though I shall miss you, boy. How I shall you donot know. What'll you do?"

  Jack thought for a moment; and while he stands there, his hands sunkdeep in his pockets, let us take a good look at him. Jack Kingsley wasof that peculiarly fair complexion which is generally, and too oftenwrongly, associated with a hasty and hot temper. His hair was distinctlyred, not the lank red hair one often meets with, but crisp red curlsthat clung closely to his head. Indeed the colour suited his generalcomplexion remarkably well, and Jack was by no means a bad-lookingfellow. For the rest, he was a typical American; well grown for hisage, in fact quite tall, though a little lanky, for he was too young tohave filled out yet. Still Jack was well covered with muscle, light andactive on his feet, with his head well set back on a pair of stoutshoulders. There was a deep white scar on his cheek, which seemed to setoff the good lines of his face as a patch sets off that of a lady. Thatscar was the result of a determined struggle with an old school enemy,whom Jack had fought three times in succession, suffering defeat on thefirst two occasions. Eyes which looked at you frankly and steadily, afirm chin and expressive lips, hiding a set of excellent teeth,made up an appearance which was as decidedly attractive andconfidence--inspiring as Tusker Joe's had been the opposite.

  "Yes, I'm old enough and big enough," said Jack, with that easyassurance so common to young Americans. "And I ain't afraid of work."

  "A good thing too," echoed his mother. "Because you will have to look toyourself. Your father hasn't enough to be making you allowances, andyou've nothing else to look to. I'm not sorry either. A young man shouldlook at the world for himself. The fact that he has to make his wayshould give him greater determination. If Tom had lived it might havebeen different. But that rogue who murdered him stole all he possessed,including his papers. But there--I'll not bother you with the tale. Whatwill you do?"

  "I've talked it over twenty times, Mother, and Uncle has advised me togo west, down to the camps."

  "To dig! Gold prospecting!" exclaimed Mary Kingsley with horror in hervoice; for she thought of her first husband.

  "Perhaps. But only if other things fail. I'm told that a smith is alwayswanted down there. There are spades and picks to mend, ironwork toprepare, and, in fact, lots of jobs for a handy man."

  "But you don't----"

  Mary threw her hands up in consternation. She knew that Jack had butrecently left school, and had as yet no knowledge of any trade. He haddone a great deal of amateur joinery at home; but then that was notsmith's work.

  "I've tried it," said Jack sturdily. "Uncle sent me to the forge nearhis house, and last holidays I did a month on end. I can use a hammernow, and in a few months shall be able to do ordinary jobs, as well asshoeing horses. The older I get the stronger I shall become, no doubt;and strength is what is wanted, once one has the training andknowledge."

  "But for the moment you are useless to all intents and purposes,"exclaimed Mary.

  "I can earn my bread and butter and a trifle for spending in leisuretimes," said George. "I stopped at Hopeville as I came through from upthe Hudson, and James Orring, the smith, will take me at a dollar aweek, with board and lodging thrown in. If you're willing I'll go atonce."

  It may be imagined that Mary was thrown into a condition of unhappinessat her son's news. True, she had begun to realize more and more that thebest thing for the boy was to leave home and strike out a career forhimself. But she had put the evil day as far from her as possible,satisfied in her unselfishness to put up with her husband's tempers ifher son could be near her. And now to hear that he was prepared to go atonce, that the day was actually at hand for him to cut adrift from thenest which had held him all these years, was a bitter blow. She shedtears, and then, like the sensible woman she was, encouraged Jack tocarry out his determination.

  She busied herself for the next two days with his clothes, and then badefarewell to him bravely. So, in due course, our hero reached Hopeville,and took up his residence with James Orring.

  "You'll have to fetch and carry besides smithing," said James, a blunt,kind-hearted fellow. "Labour's hard to get hereabouts. Mighty hard, Itell you, and a chap who wants wages has to earn them. But I'll not bestingy. Show us that you're a willing fellow, and the money'll be goodand plenty."

  For a month Jack laboured steadily in the forge, his sleeves rolled tothe elbow, and his leathern apron round his waist. And, little bylittle, James allowed him to undertake work at the anvil.

  "He's shapin' well," he told his wife, "and since that's the case I'mgiving him jobs. It'll help to make him know his powers, besides givinga body time for a smoke in his own parlour. He ain't no trouble, thatlad."

  Three months later Jack had become so good at the work that James wasable to enjoy even more leisure. He began to take a holiday every nowand again, and left the little township with his wife in order to visitfriends. He felt he was justified in doing so, for his apprentice waswonderfully steady, and easily earned the four dollars a week he was nowreceiving.

  "We're off for the day and night," he said when he came to the forge inthe early morning, his white cuffs and collar showing that he did notintend to work. "You can manage any ordinary job that comes in. But ifit's something big, and you don't fancy tackling it, why, it'll waittill to-morrow. Me and the missus is off to see her sisters, way back ofthe forest, and we'll be here again by noon to-morrow."

  Jack nodded, and stopped hammering for a moment. "There are plenty ofsmall jobs to keep me going to-day," he said. "I'll look to things. Goand enjoy yourself."

  Some two hours later he was disturbed at his work by the arrival of abuggy. It was driven up to the door of the forge, and a man whoseclothing showed that he came from a town descended briskly.

  "Mornin'," he said. "Busy?"

  "Moderate," answered Jack, for he was not anxious to lose a job.

  "Got time ter do a little bit for me?"

  "Depends what i
t is," said Jack. "If it ain't big, reckon I'll tackleit. But not now. I've a heap to get on with."

  "Special money fer special work," exclaimed the stranger. "See here,I've broke the key of my front door, and blest if I know how I'm ter gitin again. I could break a window, fer sure, but then that's moreexpensive than getting another key. The puzzle is that the business endis broken off in the lock, and I ain't got it."

  He held up the shank of a big key, one which might have belonged to thelock of a large front door, and handed it to Jack. The stem was brokenand twisted halfway up, and the most important item was missing. Jackshook his head.

  "I could forge an end to it easy," he said. "But then, what'd be theuse? It wouldn't open the lock unless you knew all about the wards. Itwould be waste of money."

  "So it would, so it would, siree," agreed the stranger, a man of somethirty-five years of age, to whom, somehow or other, Jack took aninstant dislike. "But I ain't sich a fool as I look. I can give yer aplan."

  "Exact?" asked Jack.

  "To a T; a wax impression. Thar's care for you! I'm fond of a bit ofmodelling in wax, and sometimes try my hand at amateur sculpture. Guessit was one of the first things I did ter take a wax impression of that'ere key. And it's comin' in useful. I'd forgot it almost, and thenremembered it was in the drawer."

  He stopped suddenly and looked keenly at Jack; for this individual hadoverstepped himself. If he had broken the key of his own front door, andso locked himself out, how had he been able to get the impression fromthe drawer? Jack was no duffer, to be sure, but he had at the same timeno cause for suspecting anyone who came to offer work. Moreover, he waspondering with all his youthful keenness how to set about the task.

  "It's a longish job," he said, scratching his head.

  "How much?" demanded the man quickly.

  "I don't know for sure. Depends on how long it takes. Besides, I'veother work, which can't be left."

  "Ten dollars if it's ready in two hours," came from the stranger, makingJack open his eyes.

  "Right!" he said promptly. "I'll do it. Leave the shank and theimpression. I'll get at the job at once."

  As a matter of fact it took our hero rather less than two hours tocomplete the task, for he was a quick workman, and this was astraightforward matter. In a very little while he had welded a piece ofiron on to the broken shank, and had shaped it roughly to form the wardsof the key. Then he placed it in the vice, and used a hack saw and filetill all was completed.

  "And I wonder why he's in such a hurry, and ready to pay such a figurefor it," he wondered, as he put the finishing strokes. "Ten dollarswould pay for more than window and key, and--jimminy!"

  He gave vent to a shrill whistle, and stood looking out of thesmoke-grimed window, his hand supported on a file. He was thinking ofthe stranger, and for the first time felt suspicious. What hissuspicions were he could not say for the life of him. They were entirelyintangible. But why did the man need that key? Was it actually for hisfront door, and, if so, how did he obtain the wax impression? Jackpicked up the piece of wax and examined it.

  "Certainly not old," he said emphatically. "This was moulded perhapsyesterday, or the day before. I wonder if----"

  "Got it ready, youngster?" came a voice from the door, and looking thereJack saw the stranger. He had not come in his buggy on this occasion,but afoot; and as he spoke was gingerly stepping round the puddle andsoft mud which existed near the door.

  "Ready, sure," exclaimed Jack, reddening. "And I hope it'll do. You saidit was for the front door?"

  "Yes. Ye're right in one guess. It's the front door. That's a good job,lad. Let's see if it'll stand the pressure."

  Placing the wards in the vice, the stranger tested the strength of thekey by twisting with all his might.

  "A strong job too," he exclaimed. "Here's the ten dollars. Four innotes, and the rest cash. Good day!"

  He was gone almost before Jack had finished counting the money, and,having stepped again gingerly across the mud, disappeared along the roadwhich led through the town. He left our hero staring after him, andunconsciously examining the wax impression which he still held in hishand.

  "It's queer," he said. "Wish James was back home to discuss the matter.Now, if I was older, or had more experience, I suppose I should get tothinking that that fellow wanted the key for some other purpose. That itwas not his own front door he wished to open with it. He told me a fib,I'm sure. He made a mistake when he talked about the impression being inhis drawer. Well, there's the money, and James will be glad."

  At six o'clock our hero shut the forge, took his tea in the houseclosely adjacent, and, having washed himself and put on a suit ofrespectable clothes, he went down into the town and out to the otherside. He was fond of a sharp walk after being cooped up in the forge allday long, and often went off into the country. It was dark when he hadcovered six miles, and by then he was almost in the wilderness. The roadhad almost ceased to exist, while there was forest land on every side.On the left, however, as he faced home again, the country was divided bythe Hudson River, beside which the road wound, but elevated from itssurface. Indeed, it stood three hundred feet above the water.

  "A fine place for a house," thought our hero, as his eyes were attractedby lights ahead and to the left. "The man who selected that site had aneye to beauty. They say he started without a dollar, and made all he hasby hard work. I wonder if I shall ever be able to do anything like that.It doesn't seem possible, and yet I dare say he thought the same. Itwould be grand to have a big house overlooking the Hudson, and givemother a home there."

  Jack was not above the building of castles in the air, and as he trudgedalong, his busy brain conjured up a future for himself, a future inwhich hard work and care would bring him riches and a rise in the world.For America was the home of numbers and numbers of men who had madewealth from nothing, aided by a strong arm, a firm purpose, andcontinuous application. Why should he, Jack Kingsley, not be able tofollow in their footsteps? What if he were to own a big forge one ofthese days, and, leaving it to a manager, opened others elsewhere. Thatwould be doing business. That would be rising in the world, and, if thething were managed properly, money would be gained and would accumulate.

  Jack was so entirely lost in the brilliant scenes he was conjuring upthat he was barely conscious of his surroundings. He had strayed fromthe road now, and was traversing a strip of moorland which ran betweenit and the river. Then of a sudden something attracted his attention.It was a dusky outline right ahead, which presently took on the shape ofa buggy. Jack halted when he was within ten paces of the cart andlistened. He was no sneak at any time, but a familiar note caught hisear. Someone was speaking, and, since he could not settle the doubt inhis mind at that distance, he stepped even closer, making not a sound ashis feet trod the soft green carpet beneath them.

  "Jest ten o'clock," he heard the voice say, while someone on the farside of the buggy struck a match, shielded it with his hand, andevidently examined his watch with the aid of the flame.

  "Jest ten, and Jem Bowen's away down in New York city. That's good."

  "Fer us. Guess it ain't fer him," responded someone else. "'Cos, seeingas he ain't here, and don't have need fer certain things, we'll makefree with 'em. Did yer get the key?"

  "Yer bet," and Jack instantly recognized that this was undoubtedly thevoice of the man who had accosted him at the forge. "I ain't lived awhile fer nothing. I've been down here for two weeks past lordin' it inHopeville, and getting ter know the ropes. Thar's a young chap down atJames Orring's forge as is a good workman, and soft."

  Jack flushed in the darkness at this allusion to himself, and stoodundecided how to act. His idea of common fairness bade him decamp atonce, and no doubt he would have done so had not the words he hadalready heard, and others which followed immediately, persuaded him thathe ought to stay.

  "Soft?" queried the other man with a giggle which roused Jack'sindignation. "Perhaps he's made a mistake."

  "No fear of that. He's more simple than so
ft. That's jest what I meant.He's jest mighty keen on his work, and don't give a thought to othermatters. I guessed he was the man fer us, so I cleared old man James outwith a call from his wife's sisters. Then I went down ter the forge, andthe young chap asked no questions. I jest stuffed him with a yarn, andhe swallowed it. At any rate, thar's the key. A fine job."

  "And it's like the impression?"

  An oath escaped the first man. He remembered now for the first time thathe had left the wax model behind him.

  "'Tain't no matter after all," he said after a while. "The model ain'tno use to him, and ten to one he's tossed it into the fire. At any rateI compared the thing he made with the model, and I guess it was exact.Thar ain't a doubt but what it'll fit."

  "Then thar's no use in waitin'. The lights yonder has been out fer thelast three hours, save in the servants' quarters, and we know the oldman who's in charge is as deaf as any adder. The sooner we break theplace the better chance of getting clear. How's that?"

  "Sense! Nothing more and nothing less. Let's git right now. Thar ain'tno need ter exert ourselves. We'll drive pretty close, and walk rightin."

  The two figures appeared from the far side of the buggy, while Jack slidto the ground and crouched behind a bush. He caught the whiff ofsomeone's pipe, and saw the red end of the barrel. Then the men sprangto their places, the whip cracked, and in a moment the buggy was movingaway.

  "Ought he to follow? Should he cling to the back of the buggy and givethe alarm when they reached the house? Should he leave the matter? Itwas no affair of his."

  The questions raced through Jack's mind, and for a few seconds he wasundecided. Care for his own safety prompted him to pursue the easiercourse, to let matters drift, and not interfere himself. Then hisduty--the common duty we owe one another--pulled him in the otherdirection. He would go and give the alarm. But those few seconds ofindecision had altered the complexion of affairs. The buggy was alreadysome yards away, and, though Jack ran, it rapidly increased its distancefrom him. Then the house to be burgled by these rascals was a good mileand a half away, and before he could arrive their purpose might becarried out.

  "Not if I can stop them," said Jack stubbornly. "It's clearly for me todo something. I'll put a spoke in their wheel."

  He took to his heels at once and cut straight across towards the house,at that moment hidden from him by a rise in the land. However, he soonsighted the light which had been referred to, and within a little whilewas at the gates which shut in the surroundings of the park attached tothe mansion. They were open, and the buggy stood just within, the reinsbeing secured to the ironwork. Jack stepped boldly through into thepark, and ran along on the grass border. In a little while he reachedthe drive, and, skirting that--for to have stepped into it would havebeen to make a noise--he presently came to the large front door. It wasopen.

  "And the thieves have gone in. I'll follow, and then kick up a rumpus,"he said. "They shall not get away with any booty if I can avoid it."

  He stepped across the threshold, and was within the mansion immediately.Listening for a moment, he heard sounds in the distance, and set off inthat direction.

  "Better catch them red-handed than not," he thought. "Guess this'll be asurprise for 'em."