CHAPTER XXXI.A LUCKY FIND.
“If his name is Bixby he cannot be my uncle,” I gasped.
“What is your uncle’s name?”
“Enos Norton.”
“There is a similarity in names, but I guess he is not the man.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. The news was worth more than a thousand dollars to me.
“Then he is some first-class fraud,” I went on; “for he came to Bend Center about a week ago, and pretended to be my uncle, and said that my father had appointed him as my guardian.”
“That is very odd,” observed Judge Green gravely. “This matter must be looked into. You are positive this man is Norton Bixby?” he continued, to Mr. Markham.
“I am. His face is one not easily forgotten. But I thought his term was not up for some time yet.”
“Perhaps he was let out for good behavior,” suggested Captain Harley. “They often shorten their time for that reason, you know.”
“So I understand. How about this, Bixby?”
And he turned to my pretended guardian.
Mr. Norton, as I shall continue to call him for the present, pressed his mouth together tightly.
“I don’t know you,” he snapped.
“What!”
“I say I don’t know you.”
“Do you mean to deny that you are Norton Bixby?”
“I certainly do.”
“I can prove it to be true, sir,” returned Mr. Markham with energy.
“How?”
Mr. Norton asked the question coolly, and I saw that the city gentleman was nonplused.
“We will see later,” he returned, and then spoke to the judge in a low tone.
“I am Enos Norton, and this boy’s uncle,” went on my pretended guardian. “This man and the boy, who is a bad egg, have hatched up this scheme against me.”
“We will find out the truth of the matter at the trial, or before,” said Judge Green. “In the meanwhile, Oldman, remove the prisoners, and see to it that neither of them gets away. You, Stone, I will let go on the bail furnished to Squire Slocum. I suppose you can be found at your mill whenever wanted?”
“Yes, sir; either there or somewhere in the vicinity. Dan Ford will be able to tell where I am at any time.”
“That will do then. Mr. Markham, I will consult with you later. Will you dine with me this evening?”
“With pleasure, Judge,” was the reply.
A little later the hearing was brought to a close, and Mr. Norton and Yates were led away. The police authorities remained in Bayport to await the return of those who had gone in search of Avery. Ford and I went down to the dock and hired a man to take us over to the Bend.
“I would like to know just how much this Carney had to do with the affair,” I said as we were crossing.
“Not much, I guess,” returned Ford. “He is an awfully ignorant fellow, and merely did what was told him in the shape of sailing the men where they wanted to go.”
“I am inclined to think that way, Dan. But you can’t always tell about these matters. I trust that they will catch Avery and get back the Catch Me,” I continued. “I wouldn’t have that boat injured for a good deal.”
“No; she is too fine a craft for that.”
At the Bend, Ford and I separated; and I hastenedalong the road to the mill to assure myself that nothing had occurred during my absence.
As I hurried on, I thought over the way Mr. Norton had acted since he had come to the Bend, and I could not believe but that Mr. Markham was right, and that he was not my uncle at all.
This thought gave me much satisfaction, but there was a great deal in it to worry me.
If Mr. Norton was an impostor, what of the letter he had written to me concerning my father’s death? Had my parent met his end in the manner described, or was it possible that my dear father was alive?
Fervently I prayed that such might be the fact, that my father might some day come back to me. The prayer brought a hope, and I walked along with a lighter tread after I had uttered it.
Presently I passed the spot where Ford and I had captured Carney. The remembrance of the occurrence brought to mind Mr. Norton’s valise and the letters that had been missing from it. In the rush of other events, this had slipped my mind; but now I determined to make a search for the documents.
I found the exact spot where Carney’s boat had been beached, and soon discovered his footprints in the soil near by.
I had hardly got thus far, when I saw somethingwhite on the ground just ahead. I rushed forward, and in a moment held in my hand the precious letters for which I was seeking.
They were three in number, and bound around with an elastic. Why Carney had thrown them away without looking in them, I did not know; but later on found out that he could not read.
I hastily opened one of the letters. It was short, and ran as follows:—
New York, June 6.Dear Bixby,—Will be on hand in Chicago as soon as I can arrange with Avery. He will meet us at Bayport when desired.Martin Yates.
New York, June 6.
Dear Bixby,—
Will be on hand in Chicago as soon as I can arrange with Avery. He will meet us at Bayport when desired.
Martin Yates.
The second letter was of more importance.
Bayport, July 23.Dear Bixby,—Avery and I are here awaiting you. So are the diamonds. Why fool with that boy, even though his father is dead! If you try to impersonate his uncle, even though he was your cousin, you may get into trouble, and I cannot see how it is going to benefit us much, except to afford some kind of a hiding-place if we get in a tight fix. Will be near the mill when wanted.M. Y.
Bayport, July 23.
Dear Bixby,—
Avery and I are here awaiting you. So are the diamonds. Why fool with that boy, even though his father is dead! If you try to impersonate his uncle, even though he was your cousin, you may get into trouble, and I cannot see how it is going to benefit us much, except to afford some kind of a hiding-place if we get in a tight fix. Will be near the mill when wanted.
M. Y.
As I read this letter the tears sprang into my eyes. Then my father was really dead! It was a cruel thought, and one that so unnerved me that I could hardly read the third communication.
Bixby,—All is ready for the final move. Destroy this letter, so if you get caught we will not be known. I think you acted like a fool in going to the mill at all, there was so little money in the scheme; but you always were a queer stick. I intend to impersonate the boy during the evening. I have one of his old coats, also his cap. It will mix matters up and be the better for us. Carney does what he is told and don’t know any better. Watch Avery. He is rather soft and may back out. That boy is no fool, and if you get your fingers burnt it will be your own fault.M. Y.
Bixby,—
All is ready for the final move. Destroy this letter, so if you get caught we will not be known. I think you acted like a fool in going to the mill at all, there was so little money in the scheme; but you always were a queer stick. I intend to impersonate the boy during the evening. I have one of his old coats, also his cap. It will mix matters up and be the better for us. Carney does what he is told and don’t know any better. Watch Avery. He is rather soft and may back out. That boy is no fool, and if you get your fingers burnt it will be your own fault.
M. Y.
I folded up the letters and put them into my pocket. I had learned much from them. Norton Bixby was my real uncle’s cousin; Yates had done me the injury of appearing in my coat during the evening at Bayport, and raised the impression that I was in town; and my father was no more.
I continued on my way slowly. So absorbed was I, that when I approached the mill I did not notice a stranger standing by the door, and when he spoke to me I started at his voice.
“Is this the Stones’ mill?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I replied; “and I am Reuben Stone.”
“Indeed!” He looked at me in a kindly way. “Give me your hand,” he went on; “I am your uncle, Enos Norton, just arrived from the West.”