Once in the outer cavern, Desmond said:
"It's now a matter of business."
"Well?"
"How shall we divide?"
"You are the finder," replied Creedon; "you are to decide."
"You leave it to me?"
"Yes."
"I'll make it an even divide all round."
"Boy, it's a great discovery."
"What do you think of its value?"
"It depends upon the weight, but from your description I should say we had a ten-thousand-dollar find."
Desmond's eyes opened wide, and after a moment he asked:
"Does it really belong to us?"
"It does certainly; I am really the appointed heir of the old Mexican, but anyway treasure-trove goes to the finder who can establish a right to it."
"We can," said Brooks.
"You bet we can, and it is ours, but it's strange how the old Mexican's secret has been opened up. Here I've had five years to search for this gold and failed to find it, and this lad gets on to it in one day."
"It was a mere chance."
"Well, yes, to a certain extent; but if you had not been so persistent you would not have developed the chance and made the find possible."
"How did the old man accumulate this gold?"
"It's plain enough; he has known some stream and has washed it, and possibly it took him ten years to gather the heap you found there; but how well he did it!"
"He did, sure."
"How shall we make a divide?"
"Easy enough if you will let me make a suggestion."
"Certainly."
"We will carry it all out here; we run no risk, no one will ever penetrate to this retreat; then when we have it all carted out here we will divide it, a coffee cup full at time."
"Good enough; that suits me."
"But wait; I've a better proposition if you will accept it."
"Go ahead."
"Let's leave it where it is, go on to my mine, and if it amounts to anything we will have the capital to work it ourselves."
Desmond glanced at Brooks, and the man said:
"That is a good proposition."
Brooks was less suspicious than Desmond, but the lad determined to accede to the proposition, and it was decided that on the following morning they would start for Creedon's mine, and the guide said:
"We will start before daylight."
"Why?"
"We had better cross the chasm in the dark; I am afraid you would hardly recross it if you were to behold once what would be underneath you."
It was so decided.
The party made all their preparations and on the following morning, before daylight, with the aid of Creedon's ladder the party crossed the chasm and proceeded on their way toward the place where Creedon's mine was located. They managed to secure enough game which they cooked and had for food, and commenced their long march, and it was a long march. They had been five days on the tramp, and stopped one night to camp, when Creedon said:
"In the morning we will be on the ground."
The place where they were camped was a mountain glen, and our young friend Desmond, being in splendid health, was exceedingly happy. The life thus far had been one of constant excitement, and therefore at his age one of continuous enjoyment, and besides, to crown all, he was comparatively rich. As intimated, Creedon had valued the dust at ten thousand dollars, and when it should be turned into money Desmond could indeed clear his mother's farm and go to school, and then to college, and it was his highest ambition to obtain a fine education. He was an ambitious lad.
Creedon was restless and excited all the evening; for him a great decision was to be rendered. He had come to know that Brooks was indeed an expert, and should the latter decide that his claim was of value it meant that for which he had been struggling a long time, as he had said, for fifteen years.
Creedon did not sleep; much danger would not have kept him awake, but the possibilities of the dawning day did cause exceeding restlessness. Desmond noticed that the woodsman did not sleep and went over and sat near him.
"What's the matter, lad; why don't you sleep?"
"Why don't you sleep?"
"To tell the truth, I can't."
"Neither can I."
"I don't see what keeps you awake."
"The possibilities of the coming day."
Creedon was in a thoughtful mood, and Desmond asked:
"Why are you so anxious to get rich?"
"Lad, I'll tell you: I am thirty-three years old; I started from home when I was less than eighteen; my father was a poor man. Living in our town was a rich man who had a lovely daughter; she was just fifteen. I had known her from the time we were wee little tots, and we fell in love with each other, although she was fifteen and I but a little past seventeen, but her father was rich; he despised low people, and that girl and I agreed that I was to leave home, go into the world and earn a fortune, and go back and claim her. We made a solemn agreement, pledged ourselves under the stars, she was to wait for me even if I did not return until I was a gray-haired man. Boy, she is waiting yet; she is a handsome woman now—I have her photograph—and once a year I receive a letter from her. She has urged me to return; her father is dead and she has a competency in her own right, but I am not willing to go home, marry her and live on her money; and besides, I want to get rich—real rich. I wish to buy her the finest house in our native town, give her horses and carriages; I'll die before I will return poor. The people in the town have often and often hurt her feelings by their deridings, telling her that I had forgotten her, that if I did succeed in winning a fortune I would never return to her, but would marry some one else. They told her I was a thriftless vagrant, never would get rich, and through all this she has remained true to me, and every time I receive a letter from her she urges me to return. I don't know; if my mine turns out all right I will return, if it don't I will not return, and here I am just about to learn what the chances are. It means to me life, love, and happiness, or a return to the endless longing that has inspired me for the last fifteen years; but, boy, I will never return unless I have a fortune."
"No wonder you are restless, and I am now as much interested in our success on your account as I am on my own."
"I have high hopes, lad—yes, high hopes."
On the morning following the dialogue related, all hands were up bright and early and they started for the mine, and in two hours were on the ground. Creedon was pale as a pictured ghost while pointing out to Brooks the indications, and Brooks also was excited as he made his study.
We will not bore our readers with an account of the investigations made by Brooks, but will state that at the end of the second day he was compelled to announce that the mine was valueless.
Desmond thought he had never seen a more disconsolate look on any man's face than the one that settled over the face of Creedon when the announcement was made.
"Your mine don't amount to anything in itself," said Brooks, "but it carries a suggestion; it is a compass that points to where a valuable mine may be found. We are not in it yet; to-morrow I will make a survey and I may get indications that will carry us to the ledge where the gold ores extend in paying quantities—yes, I think I can read the indications as plainly as though the road were mapped out."
Brooks spent two days, and then said:
"It's all right; there is a mine somewhere, but I must have the proper instruments and testing utensils. I will leave you and Desmond here in the mountains and proceed to the nearest settlement and secure what I need. Creedon, I can almost promise you that we will find a rich digging, and it will be more accessible than this one."
"I have a better plan," said Creedon.
"What is your plan?"
"We will go and get the dust that the lad found; we will carry that to the town, dispose of it, get our money, make our deposits in the bank, and then start in on the search. Possessing the knowledge that you do, we will find a mine. I am not discouraged yet."
It was so agreed, and the party made their way back to where they had their store of dust. Creedon had made some deerskin bags so that the burden would not fall upon one person. The dust was all secured and they made a start for the town.
On the night when they made their last halt before ending their trip in the town, Brooks, the wizard tramp, took advantage of an opportunity to talk to Desmond alone. He said:
"Lad, to-morrow we will be in the town and we will have money. I have a proposition. It will take a year or two to develop matters in case I do locate the mine; you cannot afford at your time of life to spend a year. I do not need you with me now. I am a man again, thanks to you, and I will make a confidant of Creedon. He is a manly, honest fellow, and will watch over me. Our joint interest will make him a splendid sentinel. I feel that we are sure to win, if not in one direction in another. With my scientific knowledge and his practical knowledge we will win, but it may be two or three years. This is a fascinating life for you, but you cannot afford to lose this valuable time."
"What is it you are about to propose?"
"I can send you home with five thousand dollars and I will still have money enough to carry on our purpose. You can clear off the farm and go to school; you are ambitious, and in less than a year you will be prepared to stand an examination for college, and you can go with a cheerful heart, for if my life is spared I will win a fortune for you. I have no use for a fortune myself; I am working for you and Amy."
"But suppose something should happen to you? Do you remember you have not made your revelation?"
"I propose to provide for that; I will confide to you a document. It is not to be opened until you are assured of my death, so living or dead you shall in good time learn the great secret that I have held all these years."
"I must think this matter over," said Desmond.
"There must be no thinking. I have decided as to what you must do."
"And you do not want me to go back at all?"
"No, I want you to go home to the State of New York; I want you to go to clear off the farm and go to school, and I will attend to your affairs out here."
"I will decide in the morning."
That night Desmond thought over the whole matter. He had become fascinated with the life in the mountains, but when he revolved the whole matter in his mind he saw that it was indeed wiser for him to return to his home; and under what joyful circumstances he would return! He could clear the farm and have money in the bank; he could go to school and go to college, and devote his whole attention to study without any worry or fear, and in the morning he greeted Brooks with the announcement:
"I have decided to obey you."
There came a sad look to the face of Brooks, and he said:
"I shall miss you, Desmond, but I feel it is for the best. You are a youth of great promise. I do not mean to flatter you, I am speaking the truth, and it is in your interest that I so warmly advocate your return to the East. I desire that you become an educated man, a graduate of college; I wish you to secure your degree. And let me tell you now there was fate in our meeting, and very remarkable consequences may follow our acquaintance begun and maintained under such strange circumstances."
Desmond had never beheld his strange friend, the wizard tramp, under a similar mood. There appeared to be a prophetic spell prompting the words of the strange man.
"I hope you do not wish to get rid of me."
"No, I am speaking in your interest alone, lad; my life has been a wasted one, yours is just commencing. You can be of some use in the world, I have been a nuisance. I have a strange tale to tell—yes, Desmond, like many others I have encountered a romance in life. I deliberately threw myself away, but where I failed you can win; there is a chance for you to become a useful man; great honor may await you because you possess the qualities that win success. You are brave, firm, and persistent, also enterprising; with these qualities, in this land, any young man can win a success against the great throng of unambitious and careless men like myself."
"Can you trust yourself?"
"I can."
"You are certain?"
"I am."
"You do not need me?"
"I do not."
"Remember, your weakness upon several occasions permitted you to fall."
"I have considered everything; I have an object in life now and a prospect."
"A prospect?"
"Yes."
"Is there anything you are concealing from me?"
"I am considering your interests alone," was the reply.
"But your revelation?"
"It is not necessary for me to tell you once again that I have provided for you to learn the secret of my life in case anything should happen to me."
Desmond at once began his arrangements for a return to the East. He had been away for many months; he had plenty of money; his return would be in great triumph in every way. He purchased fine clothes, which he was able to do even in the far Western town where he was stopping, and when he arrayed himself in his good clothes even Brooks was surprised at the wonderful transformation well-fitting attire made in the youth. Desmond was indeed a fine-looking fellow, well educated comparatively, and as is not unusually the case, he was naturally capable of adapting himself to changed conditions. He did not seem awkward in his good clothes, but appeared as though he had worn fine attire all his life.
At length the hour came when Desmond and Brooks were to part company. The wizard tramp had a sad look upon his face, although he tried to be cheerful and jovial The attempt, however, was a failure. He said:
"I will not go with you to the train, Desmond, we will part here, and you can address your letters to me here; I will arrange to have them forwarded to me in case I go prospecting again."
"You will go prospecting, I suppose, of course."
"I cannot tell; but remember, if anything happens to me I have arranged for you to be communicated with."
There came a look of concern to our hero's face, and the discerning Brooks said:
"You have something to say."
"I have an idea."
"Well?"
"There is great peril in the wilderness."
"Yes."
"There have been cases where men have lost their lives and their deaths have not become known until many years afterward."
"That is true, lad, and I have calculated for that."
"You have?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"You will know if such an event should occur. In the meantime let me tell you if a year should pass and you do not hear from me you will know that I am dead."
"And then?"
"Tell Amy."
"And then?"
"She may make a disclosure to you. Remember, I have taken every precaution."
"I do not know why you should withhold from me your life secret. No harm could come of an immediate revelation, but of course you have your own reasons for withholding your story."
"Yes, that is it, I have reasons; no harm might come of an immediate revelation, but I have reasons of a very satisfactory character to myself. You will understand and appreciate them when they are made known to you. Desmond, I am a changed man; you need have no fear concerning me now; time has righted a wrong. I am strong now—that is, normally strong—all will go well, I believe, if not with me at least with you."
A little later and our hero was on his way across the country to the town where he was to take the train, and a better equipped lad for adventure never boarded a train, and lo, he encountered several very thrilling adventures ere he arrived at the valley farm where kind hearts beat to greet him.
Desmond had been on the train but a few minutes really when he observed a tall, country-looking young fellow, who fixed his eyes on him. As has been demonstrated all through our narrative, Desmond was a very quick, discerning chap; in the language of the day, he was "up to snuff," and the instant he caught the eye of the country-looking fellow he knew that something was up, and he discerned more which will be disclosed as our narrative advances.
Desmond had not boarded a through train; he was to go to a large town where he would meet a through express. The train he had entered was a way train, and he seated himself by the window. No one was in the seat with him at first, but soon the country-looking chap took a seat beside him. The latter appeared to be a jolly, innocent sort of chap, and he addressed the young adventurer with the words:
"Hello!"
There came a merry gleam in Desmond's eyes, as he asked:
"Do you take me for a telephone?"
The stranger arched his eyebrows, and demanded:
"A telephone?"
"Yes."
"What makes you ask that question?"
"Because you yelled 'hello' in my ear."
"I've heard about telephones, but I never saw one."
"You never did?"
"No; what are they like?"
The question was asked seemingly in the most innocent manner, but the keen-witted Desmond's suspicions were at once aroused, and on the instant he made a curious discovery. The fellow was a make-up, under a disguise, and consequently under immediate suspicion also.
"So you never saw a telephone?"
"Never."
"Youtellme that?"
"Yes."
Our hero knew he had a long journey before him; he was naturally very fond of a joke and excitement, and besides he had instinctive hatred for designing men. Our hero was aware that the trains, as a rule, are infested with sharps, and the efforts of the railroad companies to squelch these nuisances are not altogether successful. Our adventurer determined to have a little amusement, and if his suspicions were fully verified he was resolved to teach at least one sharp a good lesson. We will repeat, Desmond did not look like an athlete or a youth who had seen the rough side of life; he could easily be mistaken for an ordinarily bright youth who had much to learn.
"So you really never saw a telephone?"
"Never," repeated the man.
Desmond, having determined upon his course of action, assumed a most serious air, and with the greatest earnestness graphically described a telephone, and the stranger appeared to be all interest and attention, and expressed his surprise by innocent ejaculations, as our hero related the wonderful possibilities of the telephone.
It was an amusing scene, or would have been to one who was under the rose and understood that a game was being played.
When Desmond's description apparently, as stated, told in the most earnest manner the sharp, as we shall call him, said:
"Well that beats me, it beats anything I ever heard. See here, stranger, you are making a fool of me with a big fish story because I am a green Western man, born and raised on the prairie."
"No, I've told you the truth."
"Well, well, you come from the city?"
"No, I am going to the city."
"New York?"
"Yes."
"Is that your home?"
"Well,New York lies near whereI live."
"Dear me, what wonderful sights you have seen!"
"Yes, sir."
"That New York is a wonderful place."
"You bet it is."
"I am going there some day—yes, I've said I'd see New York some day and I will. It must make a man blind for a few days to go around there."
"Well, yes, it is rather dazzling," said Desmond.
So the conversation continued for quite a time and finally the stranger rose and went away, saying he would return immediately. Quite a respectable-looking man took the vacated seat beside Desmond, and the last neighbor asked:
"Do you know that green-looking chap who was just talking to you?"
"No, sir, I never saw him before."
"Then you don't know who he is?"
"No, sir."
"That is a son of Senator F——, the richest mine owner out in this
Desmond studied the man who was giving him this unsolicited information, and he concluded that the nice-looking man was sharp number two; he was up to this sort of business and perceived the whole game.
"Yes, he appears like a good, honest fellow," said Desmond.
"Honest? why, you could trust him with all you had in the world."
"Yes, he looks that."
"He is one of the kindest-hearted fellows in the world. I tell you if you get into trouble he is the man to aid you. He is the best pistol shot and rifle shot in the land. Why, that fellow has fought off a whole tribe of Indians. The redskins fear him as a white man fears the devil, and his father is one of the richest men out in this section, as I told you."
"Yes. He don't look like a millionaire's son."
"No, but he is all the same, and he appears to have taken a great fancy to you. I was watching him while he talked to you; I tell you no one will interfere with you anywhere in this land if they know that he is your friend."
"That's good."
"Yes. He is a splendid fellow."
The man who had volunteered all this information walked into a forward car, and a few moments later the senator's son, so-called, returned, and as frequently occurs in far Western trains, the particular car in which Desmond was riding was deserted. Our hero and the countryman had the car all to themselves, and after a little further talk the senator's son said:
"I wish some greeny would come in here, we'd have some fun."
"How?"
"I'll tell you, I am a regular juggler; I know all the tricks of gamblers and I'd fool a fellow."
"Do you know all the tricks of gamblers?"
"Yes, and sometimes I beat the game just for fun. You see I am down on gamblers, I just like to beat them. Generally there are one or two of those rascals on this train, but they know me; I don't get a chance at them any more, so I sometimes amuse myself by astonishing greenhorns. By ginger! but it's funny I've never been in New York; I am half a mind to go right on to the great city with you."
"Yes, come along," said Desmond, a merry twinkle in his eyes.
"I can't go, but I'd like to; but you give me your address, and some day you will see me in York. I feel like the man who said, 'See Venice and die;' I want to see New York. Say, they tell me there are a great many sharpers in that wonderful city."
"Yes, it's full of them."
"Well, wouldn't I have fun beating those fellows, especially on the race track, eh? They tell me these sharps are as thick as mosquitoes in August down on the race tracks."
"Yes, they hover around there."
"I like you, young fellow."
"Thank you."
"Yes, I do."
"So you said."
"You're honest; I like an honest young fellow every time. Are you an orphan?"
"A half orphan."
"Your mother dead?"
"No, my father."
"Well, I am just the other way—my mother is dead and my dad, he is away up. They say he is a great man. I reckon he is, but I am no shakes; you see I care more for fun than lands. Now, see here; I'll teach you some tricks. Would you like to learn?"
"Yes, I would."
"Good enough, and when you get back to York you can punish some of those sharps there, for my occupation is gone out here; they won't let me play against them or I'd beat them every time—yes, I beat their game and then give the money away to some poor person who needs it; but they don't know you, and before we get to the end of the route some of those fellows may get aboard, and as I said, they don't know you, and we'll have some great fun; you can beat the game."
"I'd like to do that."
"You would?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I was beaten once."
"You were?"
"Yes."
"At what game?"
"Three card monte."
"Well, well! and did they ever come the thimblerig on you?"
"Yes, I had a taste of that also."
"Then you've been through the mill?"
"Yes."
"Well, now, see here; I'll teach you the game, and you are the only one I ever will teach it to; you are honest. But if I were to teach the game to some fellows who claim to be honest they would start in as gamblers right away."
"I never will."
"No, I can see that in your eye; you've got an honest face; I like you clean through."
"Thank you again."
"Yes, and I am going to learn you a trick or two."
"I'll be glad to learn."
The man produced his cards and said:
"I always carry an outfit with me just for fun."
"Is that so?"
"Yes."
"That's fine."
We cannot in words describe the peculiar tones of our hero or the singular expression upon his face, but he was playing for great fun. He held in reserve a great surprise for the senator's son, a grand climax and tableau was to close the scene, or rather, as Desmond classed it in his mind, grand comedy. He did not know just how the fellow intended to work his game; he believed the method would be a novel one, but he was ready—yes, permitting himself to be led on to the grand climax.
The wizard tramp was an expert gambler and he had taught Desmond a great many tricks in order to put the youth on his guard, and also for amusement during their lonely hours together. All there was to learn about the trick Desmond already knew, but he pretended ignorance, and let the sharp go ahead. He proved an apt scholar, however, for the senator's son said:
"Jiminy! I don't know but I am doing wrong."
"Doing wrong?"
"Yes."
"You learn so quick you appear to be a natural gambler."
"I am pretty quick at learning points, I will admit."
"You are great."
Our hero had just about mastered the intricacies of the game when, lo, three men entered the car, and the sharp whispered to the lad:
"Great Scott! here are a lot of 'gambs' as sure as you are alive. I wonder if they will give me a chance at them; if they do I'll show you some fun, if they don't you are up to the trick, you are my pupil, and you can show me the fun."
"That's so."
"Lay low, my friend, don't go too fast or these fellows will become suspicious. I want to catch them good, and we will if you play it right."
Desmond was on to the trick; he saw how the game was to be played, and he appreciated that it was indeed a neat little trick. They were working to fleece him differently from any little game he had ever seen or had read about.
The "gambs," as the sharp had called the newcomers in the car, did not betray their game at once. They took a seat a little distance off and commenced playing among themselves "only for fun," as they said loud enough to be overheard.
"We'll catch them," whispered the sharp.
"I don't know; they do not appear disposed to let us into their game; maybe they are acquainted with you."
"Never mind, they will go for you. Let me see, I'll go out of the car, see! and then they will make your acquaintance. I'll be at hand in case there is a row."
"Yes, I see."
"We must catch these fellows and teach them a lesson."
"We will."
"We will have to blind them. Let me see; have you any money to make a bluff on?"
"Yes, plenty."
"Make believe you are making a bet with me and show a roll, then we will bait them and they will go for you; and, oh, won't we give 'em a lesson? You bet we will; we'll just clean them out and give the money to some needy person—that is, you can—and you'll meet many a poor cuss before you get to New York."
"You can meet them anywhere."
"Have you got a roll?"
"Yes."
"A good sized one? for we want to give them a good bait."
Desmond was playing his part of the game well—very well—his whole manner was right up to the mark—indeed, he did a fine piece of acting. He pulled out a roll of bills, pretended to dispute with the sharp, and suddenly exclaimed:
"I'll bet you a hundred."
"No, no, young fellow, I don't bet," said the sharp. "I know I am right, I'd only be robbing you."
"I won't let you rob me; I am up to what I say."
The youth put an emphasis on his words which the sharp did not notice; he thought he had such a sure thing, he was not looking for a false "steer." Desmond saw the glitter, however, in the sharp's eyes at the sight of the roll, for it looked like a big pile of money, and the sharp appeared to feel, as indicated in his face, that the pile was already his own.
"By ginger!" he said, "you are a dandy; you can play this game right up, but don't be too anxious or you will scare those fellows off; just take it easy, let them lead you on."
"Oh, I know how to work; don't you forget I am a Yorker."
"Yes, I see you Yorkers are smart fellows. You know a heap, I can see that; but I did learn you some?"
"Yes, and when we get through here, I'll teach you a trick."
The sharp shot a keen glance at Desmond, and the lad saw that he had been a little premature, but it was only a fuse that flashed, and the sharp said, speaking in a very low tone:
"I'll go in the next car, but I'll be on hand at the right moment. I want to enjoy the laugh when you catch these fellows. You are sure you are on to the trick?"
"I am."
"You must keep your eyes well open."
"You bet I will."
The sharp left the car, and after a moment one of the confederates came over and took a seat alongside of Desmond, and in a jolly, familiar tone, he said:
"You bucked the senator's son down, didn't you?"
"Well, yes."
"It takes a good man to buck him down; He's got lots of stuff and sand too, but you bucked him."
"Yes, I did."
"We're having a little game here to pass the time—it's awful dreary these long rides. You see, we are salesmen and we've had some of these fellows out here trying to rope us in, and we are trying to learn the game."
"Don't you know the game?"
"No; do you?"
"Well, I know a little about it."
"Come along and show us what you know."
The party got together; Desmond appeared hale-fellow-well-met with the rogues, and the game was played amid a great deal of laughter, until one of the party said:
"By Jove! boys, I am on to this thing."
"You are?"
"Yes, I am."
"You daren't bet for fair."
"Yes, I dare."
"Oh, come off."
"I'll bet for fair; I'll give every one of you a chance."
"You will?"
"Yes, I will."
"Come off."
"I am in earnest; who'll go first and bet me?"
"I will," said one man.
"All right."
The cards were thrown and a bet made, and the dealer was beat and lost apparently a ten-dollar bill.
"All right; I was beat that time. Who'll take a second hack at it? I've got it all right, and I'll catch some of you fellows."
"Will you?"
"I will, by thunder."
The trick was being played in the most bungling manner, simply because when properly played the exposure would have shown the game. The second man bet and won, and the dealer said:
"I give it up, let's play a little game we know something about."
"What will it be?"
"I'll deal you fellows a little faro; we might as well pass the time that way as any other."
A game of faro commenced and Desmond went into the game, and in a little time the original sharp came in the car and wanted to take a hand, and it was then that the gamblers said:
"No, we won't let you; you are a 'jack' player; we are only amateurs."
The party played faro for a little while and then a regular game of poker was proposed. The latter was a game that all hands could play in for a trick; even the senator's son was permitted to enter the game, and winking in a knowing manner to our hero he did get in the game, and the four proceeded up to a crisis where, as usual, two men held hands of value, and as it chanced, the original sharp was the man who held a hand against Desmond, and he said:
"Here, I'll only make a small bet; I don't want to win your money."
"I'll bet you anything you want," said Desmond.
"Hello! are you in earnest?"
"Yes, I am."
"Do you really want to get my money?"
"Yes, I do."
"Dead sure?"
"Yes."
"I've a big hand, I'll tell you that before you start in."
"That's all right, I'm betting on my hand."
"Now see here, young fellow, remember this is poker, and on principle I always claim when I win, so don't bet high on your hand."
"I'll go as high as you choose."
"And you know what you are doing?"
"Yes."
"I am in dead earnest."
"So am I."
"Everything is barred?"
"Yes, everything," said Desmond.
"All right; if you will have it so swing out your roll. I'm betting heavy on this hand, but I've warned you, remember."
"Yes, but you can't bluff me," said Desmond.
Again the sharp fixed his eyes upon our hero, but it was not a give-away; Desmond was playing his game too well. He appeared like an excited gambler, an amateur, who apparently believed he had a sure thing.
"I'll warn you once more," said the sharp.
"To the dogs with your warning, you daren't bet."
"Oh, yes, I dare bet, but I like you; I've a dead sure hand, you can't beat me."
"That's my lookout."
"Then you know just what you are doing?"
"Yes, I do."
"These men can bear witness that I want to throw up my hand."
"You needn't."
"And you will really bet?"
"Yes, I will."
"With your eyes open?"
"Dead sure."
"All right; what is your raise?"
Desmond gave a lift and the sharp raised back, and so the play went on until the stake was a thousand dollars on the two hands, and the sharp said:
"See here, young follow, five hundred is enough for you to lose."
"No, no, I am not losing."
"You ain't?"
"No."
"Suppose you are mistaken."
"I can stand it."
"You can?"
"I can."
"All right; no use for me to attempt to stand against a young fellow like you. I begin to suspect you've been playing innocent, and I will teach you a lesson; I raise you a hundred."
"I see it and go two hundred better."
Each time a bet was made the money was laid on the table, and it was a very exciting scene and moment. The sharp looked puzzled; he had laid out for a dead sure thing, but there had come a complete change over Desmond, and it was the latter fact that scared the sharp. He hesitated, but at length, in a slow tone, said:
"I'll see you a call," and he laid down his cards. He held four jacks, a great hand, but one that is often beaten, of course, and it was beaten on this occasion, for, strange to declare, Desmond held four kings.
Right here let us offer an explanation. Our hero was playing against a false deal; the man who was leading him made the fatal mistake that he was working with a gudgeon on his hook, consequently he was not watchful. The wizard tramp had taught Desmond a great many tricks, and the lad's natural discernment and watchfulness had prepared him for the hand when the great trick was to be sprung, and unwatched he worked a bigger trick. He did not know what the hand was he was pitted against, but he had been let in to gamblers' tricks, that is, "snide" gamblers. These fellows in making a false deal do not win on the highest hands, for they always know the hand against them. The fellow who was seeking to rob Desmond thought he knew our hero's hand, but it was right there he was fooled. Our hero had worked his own trick, as stated—he stole a hand so deftly that the unwatchful robbers did not see him do it, and it was there he had them. He was really taking a slight chance, but only a slight one, and what followed? Well, it was a case of the biter bitten, and when Desmond exposed his hand there came a look upon the sharp's face that can never be described, but which might be photographed with a snap-shot machine.
There fell a dead stillness in that car for a few seconds, and then the defeated sharp said:
"Aha! you are a cheat."
"Am I?"
Desmond was perfectly cool.
"Yes, you are, and that money is mine."
"Is it?"
"Oh, see here, young fellow, don't you attempt to bluff me, or I'll mark you."
As intimated, there had come a great change over Desmond. He did not look like and he certainly did not act like the same person who a little time previously had been learning gambling tricks from the sharp. The gambler attempted to rake the money from the seat, and it was at that moment the real fun commenced.
"You miserable rascal," cried Desmond, "lay a finger on a bill on that seat and I'll pin your hand to the car seat."
Well, there was a scene of consternation around there just at that instant, and our hero said:
"I've been carrying out your programme, amusing myself with a sneak thief, and now, Mr. Senator's Son, you have evidence that Yorkers do know a thing or two, and you get yourself together and get out of this car and off the train at the next station, or I'll make a horse-fly net of you. Is that plain English? Take your own money, I don't need it. You are under cover, but let me give you a pointer—you play the senator's son too well altogether to make a success of it."
The group of gamblers stared in silence. They did not dare make a hostile move; there was something about Desmond in his transformed appearance that froze them—indeed, even his youth was a mystery to them, for he acted like a man who had had years of experience.
"You started in, gentlemen, to play a big game of robbery, but ran up against a snag. I am letting you off easy—very easy—but you see we young fellows from York are not malicious."
The gamblers had indeed gotten off easily, and we will here explain that they did not fear Desmond in a scrimage; but they would have feared any one who would have made a fight, as they did not wish to draw the attention of the train men to their scheme which had been exposed. Had they been winners they would have made a fight, but the game they were attempting was one of highway robbery, for they had been outwitted in the deal, and had no claim upon the money.
The train arrived at a station and the gamblers started to alight. They felt bitter, and the self-styled senator's son said to Desmond:
"The train will stop here fifteen minutes. You are a good fellow, I like you, I'd like to have you stop off a minute and have a cool drink with us."
Desmond well knew the scoundrel's purpose, but being fond of adventure he determined to give the rascals a still greater surprise. He was in splendid condition, his muscles were developed up to the consistency of whit-leather, and with a smile he rose to follow the man who had invited him to alight for refreshment. The gambler stepped off the car ahead of Desmond; the latter followed, when the former suddenly swung round and made a vicious lunge at the youth who had so cleverly outwitted him, and once again the scamp was outwitted. A second time he ran up against a snag, for our hero dodged the blow that was meant for him and countered with a tremendous slugger which landed on his assailant's nose, and over the man fell with a swiftness that would have suggested the kick of a horse, and when he fell he lay there; but two of the other chaps had in the meantime made a rush for Desmond, and they received a rap successively—indeed, they had run in on our young walking champion where he was at home. He was a wonder in science, strength and agility; no two or three ordinary men would have had any show with him at all, and the fact was the assailants so determined, for the attack was not renewed, and our hero stepped aboard the train, the object of the wondering glances of twenty people who had witnessed the assault and its culmination.
Desmond sat down in the car as coolly as though he had just gone out for a breath of fresh air.
Our hero encountered several other adventures of a minor character, but in good time arrived in New York City. He had not announced his return to the farm, and consequently spent several days in the all-round greatest city in the world. There is no place like old New York; there is more life to be seen in the great American metropolis in one day than can be seen in any other great capital in two. It is a city peculiar to itself, unlike any other, in its situation between two rivers and its nose practically putting out to the sea; in its activities and general loveliness—indeed, it in a wonderful place, and Desmond enjoyed every minute during his sojourn, but at length he took a train up-country and in due time arrived at the station from which he was to team it to the old farm where his grandfather and father had lived and died.
As stated, Desmond had not announced his return, and when within a mile of the farm he alighted from the wagon that had carried him over and started afoot. It was late in the afternoon when he arrived in sight of the old farm, and he was standing on a rise of ground looking over toward his old home, when he espied a girl sitting beneath a tree. One glance was sufficient; he recognized Amy, and he determined to steal upon her unawares. He managed to gain a clump of bushes located within twenty feet of where the girl sat, and he had an opportunity to study her unobserved. We will not describe his emotions, but it was a beautiful sight that fell under his delighted gaze. The life on the farm had been of great advantage to Amy in many ways, and in her white muslin dress she appeared so beautiful as to make it seem that she was out of place in that wild region. Her form was perfect in its grace, and her face—well, we will not go into a description, but let it suffice to say that there are few girls in all the world who surpass her in the exquisite loveliness of her face.
Desmond studied the girl for a long time and he observed that she appeared to be perfectly contented and happy. She had her mandolin with her, and after quite a period of abstraction she took up her instrument, and soon her splendid voice sounded clear and melodious on the still air, for it was an afternoon when nature rested under a spell, as it were; not a breath of air appeared to float amid the leaves and flowers.
A moment, and our hero made the most delightful discovery of his life. Amy was singing and improvising; she did it readily and charmingly, and her hidden auditor was indeed charmed. She was singing to an absent one, and she mingled the name of our hero in her song. It was a plea for the absent one to return, and the sweetness of the melody was not more entrancing than the verses. She appeared to be not only a singer but a poetess, possessed of rare talent.
Desmond did not appear inclined to break the spell, but when he saw Amy making preparations to depart he stepped from his place of concealment. The girl uttered a cry; at the first glance she did not recognize the farmer boy, transformed as he was into a gentleman in dress, but when she caught sight of his face and heard his merry laugh and pleasant salutation, she exclaimed:
"Oh, Desmond, I did not know you at first. How elegant you look!"
"Thank you; how is my mother?"
"She is well, but did not know you were coming home; neither did I."
"Well, no, I thought I would give you a surprise. It's all right, here I am, this side up with care."
"Your mother will be delighted."
"And you?"
"I am giddy with delight, and I hope all is well with you and with my—" The girl stopped short and said, "Mr. Brooks."
"Yes, when I left him he was all right."
"Did he come with you?"
"No, he remained behind to transact some business; and, Amy, if you are surprised to see me looking so elegant, as you say, you would be more surprised did you behold at this moment your—I mean Mr. Brooks."
A shadow flitted across the girl's face, but it was succeeded a moment later by a bright smile, as she said:
"Oh, I am so happy, I was never happier in my whole life."
"And what makes you so happy?"
The question was put abruptly.
Amy suddenly appeared to realize—well, our readers can guess what. It appeared to cross her mind that she was betraying too great happiness, and was a little too free in betraying it. She hesitated and blushed, and after an instant of embarrassment Desmond said:
"Oh, don't be afraid, tell me why you are so happy."
"Everything makes me happy, and I shall continue to be happy unless—" Again the girl stopped short.
"Go on," said Desmond.
"Unless I am to be taken away from your mother."
"Do you desire to remain with my mother?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I love your mother."
"You love my mother?"
"Yes, I do."
"And who else?"
The question came in a pointed manner; Amy was a girl nearly sixteen.
"My—I mean Mr. Brooks."
"Who else?"
The girl did not answer.
"Come, Amy, who else do you love?"
"You are real mean."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"You know."
"I do?"
"Yes."
"I don't want to be mean, but tell me who else you love?"
"I won't."
"You won't?"
"No."
There was bantering in the tones of both these young people at that moment.
"Shall I tell you who I love?"
"Yes."
"I love my mother."
"You can't help it."
"I have learned to love Mr. Brooks, your—I mean—well, Mr. Brooks."
In a tantalizing tone the girl asked:
"Who else?"
"Oh, you're real mean," said Desmond, imitating Amy's tone at the moment she had made the same remark to him.
"I don't want to be mean."
"You don't?"
"No."
"Will you keep my secret?"
"Yes," came the eager answer.
"Honor bright?"
"Yes, honor bright."
"You won't tell even my mother?"
The girl did not answer.
"Come, promise."
"I promise."
"I've met a girl I love, and I've made you my confidante, but don't tell my mother."
Amy had turned desperately pale, and in a pettish, trembling tone, she said:
"Yes, I will tell your mother."
"You promised not to do so."
"I don't care, I'll break my promise."
"Oh, Amy, you are real mean."
"I can't help it if I am."
"You can't?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"I am mad—real mad."
"You are?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because you went and fell in love with a girl; it's ridiculous, anyway."
"It is?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"You are only a boy."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"What are you, pray? you are only a girl."
"I know it."
"I couldn't fall in love with a mere girl, could I?"
"Yes, you could."
Desmond laughed in a merry manner, and said:
"Well, to tell the truth, I did fall in love with a mere girl. Do you want to hear about her?"
"No."
"You don't?"
"No, I don't."
"I am going to tell you all the same; you are the girl I've fallen in love with."
There came a bright, happy look to Amy's beautiful face as she said:
"Oh, you are real mean."
"I am?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"To tell me that so suddenly."
"Well, who else do you love?"
"I love you."
"All right; go and break your promise and tell my mother," said Desmond in a provoking tone, following his advice by encircling Amy's waist and imprinting upon her red-hot cheek a kiss.
"You tell your mother yourself," said Amy.
"No, I won't; you said you would."
"Then I will."
"You will?"
"Yes."
"Well, well!"
"Your mother will be glad."
"What?" ejaculated Desmond.
"Your mother will be glad."
"How do you know?"
"She told me so."
That night there was a happy party under the old farmhouse roof. Mrs. Dare had met her son with tears of joy in her eyes, and Desmond had told the weird tale of his remarkable adventures.
At once our hero set to work to prepare for college. He had talked the matter over with his mother and with Amy, and in due time he did enter Amherst College, and for a long time his adventures ceased. He heard occasionally from Mr. Brooks, who appeared to be doing well and who sent money on at intervals, but no explanation. And so the time passed until Desmond graduated and returned home. He met his mother and Amy, and a moment later there came forth from the house a well-known figure; it was Brooks, the whilom wizard tramp.
Again there followed a pleasant evening, and on the following morning Desmond was out bright and early to take a walk over the farm. He had gone but a short distance when he saw a figure in the grove near the house. He advanced and met his old friend the wizard tramp.
"You are out early," said Desmond.
"Yes, I thought I might meet you."
"And you will now tell me how you have succeeded?"
"Yes, Desmond, I will tell you all now, and I owe all to you. We are rich—very rich. We found the mine, Creedon and I, and we got capitalists interested and developed it. You were our silent partner, and to-day you are worth a quarter of a million and I am worth as much more, or rather Amy is, for I have been working for my child."
"I have suspected all along that Amy was your daughter. Has she told you anything?"
"Yes, she has told me she is to become your wife."
"What do you think of it?"
"It has been the one hope of my life that you would win her love and she yours. It was for this reason I insisted upon your returning to the East, and the wisdom of my plans is fully confirmed."
"You have a revelation to make to me."
"I have made the revelation—Amy is my own child."
"And is that all you have to reveal? I've known that all along."
"That is my most important revelation, but I have another to make. My father was the younger son of an English nobleman; he married a beautiful but poor girl, as the world counts riches, and his father drove him away, and he came here to America. He never saw his brother again; his nephew, my cousin, inherited the estates and title, but strange to say, I was the nearest of kin. Five years ago my cousin died; he left no estate, but the title which had been maintained in honor by my ancestors has descended to me, and when you marry Amy you will marry a lord's daughter."
Desmond meditated a moment, and then said:
"I am satisfied to marry the daughter of plain Mr. Brooks."
"Thank you, my son, but I shall clear the estate, and for a season at least dwell in the ancient halls of my ancestors. I will remain to witness your marriage and shall then go home to England. And now comes my last revelation: you and Amy are distantly connected; my remote ancestors were yours also. Your grandfather came down from the younger line a long time back, but blood as good as any one's flows in your veins."
"Yes, from my mother."
"I admit it,from your mother."
Our readers know what followed. Amy and Desmond were married, and on the night of the wedding he remarked to his father-in-law:
"This time I took no desperate chance."
"Neither did Amy when she intrusted her future happiness to you," came the bright and elegant answer.
The whilom wizard tramp did return to England, and it was in the ancestral halls that Desmond and Amy spent their delightful honeymoon.