CHAPTER X
AN UNEXPECTED VISITOR
Gerald had often thought vaguely of the time when he would be left alone. Between him and his father there had been an intimacy and mutual dependence greater than usually exists between father and son. Now that his father had passed away, a sudden feeling of desolation chilled the boy’s spirits, and he asked himself what life had in store for him of hope and happiness. But youth is buoyant, and Gerald was but sixteen. He felt that he had something to live for. He would redeem his father’s reputation, and instead of giving way to his feelings would fight manfully the great battle of life.
But how? To what should he turn? He began to consider his resources. First and most available was money. He emptied his pockets, and took account of his worldly wealth. It amounted to one dollar and sixty-five cents, all told.
“That isn’t much,” thought Gerald. “I shall have to go to work without delay.”
He prepared supper as usual, but had small heart to sit down to it alone. Little as he liked Bradley Wentworth he would have been glad to have his company till he could endure the thought of solitude. But he was not destined to eat by himself. Going to the door of the cabin just as his simple preparations were made, he caught sight of an approaching figure. It was that of a stranger, a strong, robust man of little more than thirty, with a florid face and dressed like an English tourist.
“Hallo, there!” called out the stranger, as he caught sight of Gerald.
“Hallo!” responded Gerald.
“Is there any hotel round here?”
“Not that I know of, sir.”
“As I feared. I’ve been wandering round this confounded country till I’ve got lost. It’s a beastly wilderness, that’s what it is.”
Gerald smiled. His experience of men was limited, and he had never met a British tourist before.
“May I sit down awhile?” went on the newcomer.
There was a long seat built against the cabin, with the wall of the latter for a back.
“Certainly, sir. I shall be glad of company.”
“Do you live here?”
“Yes, sir. I have lived here for three years.”
“I should think you’d commit suicide, I should, upon my word. Does no one live with you?”
“Not now,” answered Gerald gravely. “My father died two days since.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon, I do indeed,” said the Englishman in a tone of sympathy. “It wasn’t an accident, was it?”
“No, he had long been sick of consumption. I was feeling very lonely, for he was only buried to-day.”
“I hope I don’t intrude. I wouldn’t do that on any account.”
“No; on the contrary I am glad to have company. I was about to sit down to supper. If agreeable I shall be pleased to have you join me.”
“Supper!” repeated the tourist with sudden animation. “It is the one thing I have been longing for. I haven’t eaten a particle of food since morning, and didn’t know where to find any, though my pocket is full of money.”
“I can’t offer you anything very inviting,” said Gerald, as he led the way into the cabin. “I have some fish and potatoes, bread and coffee, but I have neither milk nor butter.”
“Don’t apologize, my young friend,” interposed the Englishman. “It is a feast fit for the gods. I have an appetite that will make anything palatable. But where do you get your bread? There can’t be any bakers’ shops in this wilderness.”
“There are not. I make my own bread.”
“You don’t say so! And upon my word it is delicious.”
“It is fortunate that you are hungry,” said Gerald with a smile.
“No, ’pon honor, it isn’t that. It is really better than I often eat at hotels. You really have talent as a cook.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t care for cooking, but have taken it up from necessity.”
The tourist hadn’t exaggerated his appetite. He ate so heartily that when the meal was concluded there wasn’t a crumb left. All the dishes were empty.
“I ought to apologize for my appetite,” he said, “but I have been rambling about ever since breakfast, and I find the air here very stimulating.”
“Don’t think of apologizing!” returned Gerald. “I am glad you relished my simple supper.”
“Now, if I were only sure of a bed, I should feel quite easy in mind.”
“I will gladly offer you a bed. This is the first night that I should have been alone, and the solitude depressed me.”
“I will accept your kind offer thankfully. But you ought to know whom you are obliging.”
The stranger drew from his pocket a card on which Gerald read the name:
The Hon. Noel Brooke
“I should be glad to give you my card, Mr. Brooke,” said Gerald, “but here in this wilderness cards are not customary. My name is Gerald Lane.”
“I am delighted to know you, Mr. Lane,” said the tourist offering his hand cordially.
It seemed odd to Gerald to be called “Mr. Lane.”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Brooke,” he said, “please call me Gerald. I never thought of myself as Mr. Lane.”
“I will do so with pleasure, and it will seem easy and familiar, for I have a Cousin Gerald. His name, too, is not unlike yours. He is Lord Gerald Vane, son of the Marquis of Dunbar.”
“There is one essential difference,” said Gerald. “I am plain Gerald – I can’t call myself a lord.”
“Oh, you are all sovereigns in America,” laughed the Englishman, “and that is higher than the title of lord.”
“Perhaps you are a lord also?” suggested Gerald.
“No, Gerald, not at present. My father has a title, but my elder brother will inherit that. However, that is of little importance here.”
“Have you been long in Colorado, Mr. Brooke?”
“About a month. I was told it was the Switzerland of America. So after visiting your principal cities and having seen your famous Niagara, I pushed on out here, but I didn’t reckon on there being no hotels, or I might have stayed away.”
“There will be plenty of hotels in a few years. There are few settlements as yet.”
“Just so. Excuse my saying so, but until that time comes I should rather keep away. And you have actually lived here for three years?”
“Yes.”
“But why come here when there are plenty of places where you would have enjoyed greater advantages?”
“We came here on account of my father’s health. He was in a consumption, and the dry, clear air of this region is especially favorable for any lung troubles.”
“Did he experience benefit?”
“Yes; he lived three years, when elsewhere he would probably have died in twelve months.”
“But now you won’t stay here? You haven’t got consumption.”
“Not that I am aware of,” answered Gerald with a smile.
“Have you formed any plans?”
“No; I have not had time.”
“You ought to go to New York or Chicago. There would surely be an opening in one of those cities for a clever boy like yourself.”
“Thank you for the compliment. There is one good reason, however, why I cannot follow your advice.”
“Name it.”
“Money is necessary, and my poor father was unable to leave me any.”
“But this cabin?”
“That indeed belongs to me and the eighty acres adjoining, but it would be difficult to sell it, nor do I care to do so. Some day, when the country is more settled, it may be worth much more than at present.”
“You are right, Gerald. But you are not obliged to remain here. The cabin and the land won’t run away.”
“That’s true. I mean to leave it and go somewhere, but my plans are not formed yet.”
“Then let me help you form them. I want to make a prolonged tour in this country, and I find it beastly dull without a companion. Come with me!”
“But, Mr. Brooke, I am poor. I have less than two dollars in my possession.”
“My dear fellow, what difference does that make?”
“But I can’t travel without money.”
“I offer you a position as my – private secretary, with a salary of – I say now, I don’t know how much to pay you. We’ll call it four pounds a week, twenty dollars in your money, if that is satisfactory.”
“But, Mr. Brooke,” exclaimed Gerald in astonishment. “I don’t understand the duties of a private secretary, and I can’t possibly be worth that money.”
“You won’t find your duties difficult. I call you my secretary, but you’ll only have to keep me company.”
“I will do that with pleasure, Mr. Brooke.”
“Then it’s all settled, Gerald. Your hand upon it!”
The two clasped hands, and Gerald felt that this new friend would be a good offset for his powerful enemy.
CHAPTER XI
JAKE AMSDEN MAKES AN EARLY CALL, AND HAS A WARM RECEPTION
The next morning Gerald was up bright and early. He felt bound to entertain his new employer, who was temporarily his guest, as royally as possible. So he decided to make some fresh bread for breakfast, and this would take him some time. Still all his preparations were made, and breakfast all ready to be served before his companion awoke.
“He must be pretty tired,” thought Gerald. “I won’t wake him up, for his business isn’t very pressing, and he will be glad of a good long rest.”
He ate a little himself, for he had been up long enough to have a good appetite, and seated himself on the settee in front of the cabin.
It was a charming morning, and as Gerald sat there, he felt that he had good reason to be thankful. Yesterday he had felt alone in the world, and had very little idea how he was going to make a living, but to-day he found himself with a bright prospect ahead, and the promise of an income which would have been satisfactory to many of double his age.
The state of the weather is apt to affect our spirits, and the clear sunshine and cool bracing air had its effect on Gerald. From his seat he could see at a distance of twenty-five miles the snowy top of Pike’s Peak, looking on account of the clearness of the atmosphere not more than five miles away. There were intermediate summits which, had he been nearer, would have hidden the snowy crest of the grand old mountain, but from where he was he could see clearly, rising above the wooded slope.
“Colorado may be a wilderness, but it has grand scenery!” thought Gerald. “Some time I must go to the top of Pike’s Peak. The view from there must be great.”
He had entertained this wish before, but his father would not consent, and, indeed as there was some danger of losing one’s way in case of a sudden fog, his apprehensions were justified.
“How peaceful and beautiful everything looks this morning,” thought Gerald.
But though Gerald was right, the peacefulness of the scene was soon to be broken in upon by a human intruder on whom it produced no impression.
As Gerald sat in quiet contemplation the figure of a man approached rapidly. When he came nearer Gerald recognized his visitor as Jake Amsden.
There was something hostile in Jake’s appearance, and there was an ugly look on his face that indicated anything but friendship.
“Hallo, you young rascal!” he called out roughly, when he arrived within earshot. “Why don’t you answer me?” he continued as Gerald remained silent.
“I am no rascal, Mr. Amsden,” said Gerald in a dignified tone, “and I don’t choose to be called one.”
“Oh, you’re puttin’ on frills, are you?” retorted Jake, halting where he stood, and eying the boy with evident malevolence.
“If that’s what you call it, I am. If you will speak to me in a civil manner I will answer you.”
“Oh, you will, will you?” sneered Amsden. “You’ll answer me any way.”
“Have you any business with me?”
“Yes, I have. You don’t think I’d come round here so early in the mornin’ if I hadn’t?”
“I don’t know. I am not acquainted with your habits.”
“Has the gentleman gone that was stoppin’ here?”
“You mean Mr. Wentworth?”
“Like as not. I don’t know his name.”
“He went away yesterday.”
Jake Amsden appeared to receive this answer with satisfaction. He wanted to be sure that Gerald was alone and unprotected.
“Ho ain’t comin’ back, is he?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then you’re livin’ alone?”
“My poor father is dead as you know. Yes, I am alone in the world.”
“Look here, boy!” he commenced abruptly, “you asked me if I came on business.”
“Yes.”
“Well, I have,” and the visitor eyed Gerald with a sinister glance.
Gerald suspected that Jake had heard of his visit to Pete Johnson’s saloon, and wanted to hold him responsible for the loss of the stolen wallet. He was not alarmed, knowing, as Jake Amsden did not, that he had a friend within call.
“State your business,” he said calmly.
“I’ll do just that. Gerald Lane, you’ve played me a mean trick.”
“Go ahead! Tell me what it is.”
“You came to Pete Johnson’s and stole a wallet full of money from me when I was asleep. Now it ain’t no use your denyin’ that you was there, for Pete Johnson told me all about it.”
“I don’t intend to deny it. Mr. Wentworth and I called at Pete Johnson’s saloon when you were lying under the counter.”
“No matter where I was. I’m a gentleman, and if I choose to lie down under the counter of my friend Pete Johnson, it’s none of your business.”
“Oh, I don’t care to interfere with you. You can lie there every night if you like, so far as I am concerned.”
“Of course I can, but that ain’t business. Where’s that wallet you took from me? Answer me that, you young jackanapes!”
“I took no wallet from you.”
“Then the man that was with you did.”
“That is nothing to me. Tell me, Jake Amsden, where did you get that wallet, and the money that was in it?”
“It was my wallet.”
“And the money was yours, too, I suppose?”
“It’s none of your business any way. It was in my pocket when I lay down and when I got up it was gone. You needn’t go to deny it, for Pete Johnson saw it taken.”
“Look here, Jake Amsden!” said Gerald in a fearless tone, “the wallet and money were stolen by you from Mr. Wentworth, and he only took what belonged to him.”
“That’s a lie!”
“It’s the truth.”
“Did you see me take it?”
“No, but my father woke up in the night, and saw you bending over Mr. Wentworth. That was when you took the wallet.”
“Your father was dreamin’! It’s all a made up story. Jake Amsden ain’t no thief.”
“I shan’t call you any names. I only tell you the facts in the case.”
“Look here, boy, you’re mighty independent for a kid. Do you know who I am?” and Jake, with his arms akimbo, faced Gerald threateningly.
“I know who you are very well, Mr. Amsden.”
“Mr. Amsden! Well, that’s all right. You’d better be respectful. Do you know what I’ve come here for?”
“Suppose you tell me.”
“I’ve come here to thrash you within an inch of your life.”
“What for?” asked Gerald, who didn’t seem as much overwhelmed as Jake Amsden anticipated.
“For robbin’ me of a wallet full of money.”
“I told you already that I had nothing to do with taking the wallet. You must see Mr. Wentworth about that.”
“But he isn’t here.”
“You may see him again some time.”
“That don’t go down. He’s gone away, but you are here. I’m goin’ to take it out of your hide.”
“I am only a boy, Mr. Amsden. Won’t you let me off?”
Gerald seemed alarmed, and Jake Amsden was pleased at the impression his threats appeared to have made.
“How much money have you got about you?” he demanded.
“Not quite two dollars.”
“Didn’t your father leave you any?” asked Jake, incredulous.
“My father was a very poor man. He had no money to leave.”
“Then it’s all the wuss for you, youngster. I’m goin’ to tan your hide, and don’t you forget it!”
Jake slipped off his coat, and advanced in a menacing way.
Gerald dodged him, and tried to escape. For a time he succeeded in eluding the grasp of his antagonist, and the delay only infuriated Amsden the more.
At last he managed to catch Gerald, and with a savage cry of triumph bore him to the ground.
“Now I’ve got you!” he exclaimed, “and I’m goin’ to pound you till you won’t know where you are.”
He pinioned Gerald to the earth, and the boy would have fared very badly, but for the timely assistance of his guest.
Jake Amsden was preparing to carry out his threat, when something unexpected happened, and he was under the impression that he had been struck by a cyclone. The English tourist had been awakened by the discussion, and comprehending from what he heard that Gerald was in a tight place, he hastily threw on his clothes, and at the right time darted out of the cabin, seized Jake by the collar with one hand while with the other he planted a blow in his face, nearly stunned him, and dragging him from Gerald hurled him forcibly upon the ground six feet away.
“Jumpin’ Jehosaphat! What have I struck?” muttered Jake, looking around stupidly, as he lay on his back without attempting to get up.
CHAPTER XII
AN INTERNATIONAL COMBAT
“Excuse my want of ceremony,” said Noel Brooke nonchalantly. “I would have waited for an introduction but there wasn’t time.”
“Who are you?” gasped Jake Amsden.
“Allow me to introduce myself,” said the Englishman, raising his hat as ceremoniously as if he were addressing a Chicago millionaire. “I am the Hon. Noel Brooke, of England, at your service.”
“An Englishman? That is worse than all. That Jake Amsden should live to be floored by an Englishman!”
“My friend, I hope that is no disgrace. There are plenty of your countrymen who could floor me.”
“But I can’t understand it,” said Jake, rising with difficulty from his recumbent position. “You don’t weigh within twenty-five pounds of me.”
“It isn’t always weight that counts – it’s science. I learned how to box when I was at Eton.”
“I think I could lick you in a fair fight,” went on Jake, surveying the trim figure of his antagonist, who was at least three inches shorter than himself. “You hit me when I wasn’t lookin’.”
“True enough! Would you like to try it again?”
“Yes.”
“I’m ready.”
Gerald awaited the result not without anxiety. Certainly the two did not look very well matched. Jake Amsden was a broad-shouldered, powerfully built man of five feet ten, and would tip the scales at a hundred and eighty pounds. Noel Brooke was three inches shorter, and did not look to weigh over a hundred and fifty.
“I am afraid Jake will be too much for him,” he thought, “and if he is, it will be my turn next.”
Evidently Jake was of the same opinion.
“Why, you’re a Bantam compared to me,” he said. “You’ll think you’ve been struck by a cyclone.”
“Strike away – cyclone!” said the Englishman calmly.
Jake Amsden took him at his word. He advanced confidently, waving his arms like a flail, and tried to overwhelm his opponent at the first onslaught. But, intent on attack, he did not provide for defense, and received a powerful blow for which he was unprepared, and which quite staggered him. Now he began to get angry and renewed the attack with even less prudence than before. The result may easily be guessed. A blow behind the ear prostrated him, and he resumed his recumbent position.
“That’s the end of the first round,” said the Englishman with unruffled composure. “Will you try another?”
“No, I’ve got enough,” returned Amsden, raising himself on his elbow. “I say, stranger, you’re a reg’lar steam engine. Do all Englishmen fight like that?”
Noel Brooke laughed.
“Not all,” he said, “but some Americans fight better. I put on the gloves in New York with a member of the Manhattan Athletic Club, and he served me as I have served you.”
“I’m glad of that.”
“You have no hard feelings, I trust, my mountain friend.”
“No, but I’m glad you’ve found your match in America.”
“And you perhaps feel the same, Gerald?” said Mr. Brooke.
“I am a true American boy, Mr. Brooke,” returned Gerald.
“You are right there, and I respect you the more for it, but we won’t let any international rivalry interfere with our friendly feelings.”
“Agreed!” said Gerald cordially.
“Now,” continued Noel Brooke, turning to Amsden, “you’ll tell me why you attacked my young friend here.”
Jake Amsden looked a little sheepish.
“I thought he didn’t use me right,” he answered.
“Suppose you tell me the particulars. I’ll arbitrate between you.”
“He took a wallet full of bills from me when I was drunk.”
“I didn’t take it,” said Gerald. “It was the gentleman who was with me that took it.”
“How came you with a wallet full of bills?” asked the Englishman.
“I found it.”
“Where did you find it?”
“I can’t remember exactly where.”
“Then I will help you,” put in Gerald. “You found it in our cabin during the night, when Mr. Wentworth, our visitor, was asleep.”
“That puts rather a different face upon the matter, it strikes me,” said the tourist.
“Mr. Wentworth owed me some money anyway,” retorted Amsden doggedly.
“He owed you money? What for?” asked Gerald in unfeigned surprise.
“He hired me to hunt for some papers that he said were in your cabin somewhere.”
“Is this true?” demanded Gerald in amazement.
“Yes; it’s true as preachin’.”
“And was that why you came there that night?”
“Yes.”
“You came for the papers?”
“Yes.”
“How about the wallet?”
“I saw it on the floor and I thought I’d take it – payment in advance.”
“Do you believe this story, Gerald? Do you know anything about the papers this man speaks of?” asked Mr. Brooke.
“Yes, I think his story is true as far as that goes. My father had some papers which Mr. Wentworth tried to buy, first of my father, and next of me. They were the records of a debt which he owed father. But I didn’t think he would stoop to such means to obtain them.”
“What kind of a man is this Wentworth?”
“I cannot consider him an honorable man, or he would have treated us differently.”
“What are his relations with you?”
“Unfriendly. He will do me an injury if he gets a chance. But I will tell you more of this hereafter.”
“I have heard your story, Mr. Amsden,” said the Englishman, “and I am obliged to decide against you. You had no right to tackle Gerald – ”
“It was hard on a poor man to lose so much money,” grumbled Amsden.
“No doubt, only it happened that it was money to which you had no rightful claim.”
“You don’t know what is it to be poor, squire.”
“I have no doubt it is very uncomfortable, but there are others who are in the same condition. Gerald here is poor, but he doesn’t pick up wallets belonging to other people. I advise you to go to work – there are few Americans who don’t work – and no nation is more prosperous. Go to work, and you won’t have so much reason to complain.”
“That’s all very well to say, but if a fellow hasn’t a cent to bless himself with, it’s a poor lookout.”
“Are you so poor as that?”
“If gold mines were sellin’ for a nickel apiece, I couldn’t raise the nickel,” asseverated Amsden in a melancholy tone.
“Come, that’s a pity. I didn’t know any American was ever so poor as that. As I’ve knocked you down twice, perhaps it is only fair to compensate you for affording me such a chance for healthful exercise. Here, my friend, here are two silver dollars, one for each time I floored you.”
“You’re a gentleman!” exclaimed Amsden, his face lighting up with satisfaction as he pocketed the coins. Then, as he turned, a sudden idea struck him, and he asked insinuatingly: “Wouldn’t you like to knock me down ag’in, stranger?”
“No, I think not,” responded the tourist laughing. “However, we’ll suppose I have, and here’s another dollar.”
“Thank you, squire.”
Jake Amsden departed with alacrity, making a bee-line for his friend Pete Johnson’s saloon.
Gerald and his friend then sat down to breakfast, which, it is needless to say, they both heartily enjoyed. As they rose from the table a knock was heard at the cabin door.
Gerald answered it in some surprise, for visitors and calls were infrequent, and found outside a man of about forty, holding by the hand a boy of twelve.