Stumpy with the Bag of Gold. Page 253.Stumpy with the Bag of Gold. Page253.
"My throat was as parched as though I had spent a month in the Desert of What-you-call-it, you see," continued Mr. Redmond. "I desired very much to come down to the boat and obtain a draught of cold water. I didn't expect to obtain a draft on a gold bank then—ha, ha! you see? Not bad—eh? Even a gentleman can't help making a pun sometimes, you see."
"Making a what?" asked Leopold.
"A pun—you see," laughed Mr. Redmond.
"Which was the pun?"
"Don't you see it? Why, a draught of water, and a draft on a gold bank. Ha, ha!"
"O, that was it—was it? I'm much obliged to you for telling me."
Of course Mr. Redmond hardly expected a "countryman" to appreciate his wit.
"Iwas suffering with thirst, you see," continued the fop.
"I think you said so before."
"I wanted to introduce the matter so as not to be abrupt; not to tear myself rudely away from the ladies, you see. We were gazing out upon the vast ocean, you see; and a quotation from the poet—ah—a doosed odd sort of athing, written by the poet—what's his name? you know—about an old salt that killed a wild goose, or some sort of a thing, and then had nothing to drink. I repeated the quotation, and both of the girls laughed: 'Water, water, all around, but not a drop of whiskey to drink.'"
"I don't wonder the girls laughed," replied Leopold.
"Why so?" asked Mr. Redmond, blankly.
"You didn't quote it just as the poet 'What-you-call-him' wrote it, Stumpy can give it to you correctly."
"'Water, water everywhere;Not any drop to drink,'"
added Stumpy; "and Coleridge was the fellow that wrote it."
"Not correct," protested Mr. Redmond, emphatically. "Do you mean to tell me that an old salt thought of drinking water? It isn't the way old salts do that sort of thing, you see."
The coxcomb felt that he had the best of the argument, however astonished he was to find that these countrymen knew something about the poets.
"I told the ladies that I felt just as that old salt did, only I would rather have water just then than whiskey, however good whiskey may be in its place, you see. From this it was quite easy to say that I was very thirsty; and I said so. Though Miss Hamilton did not wish me to leave her, you see, she was kind enough to tell me that I should find a spring of nice cold water under the cliff. I apologized for leaving the ladies, you see; but they were so self-sacrificing as to say that I needn't climb up the rocks to join them again; they would soon meet me on the beach. Isn't it strange how these girls will sometimes give up all their joys for a feller?"
"The girls must be miserable up there without you," added Leopold.
"The water was clear and cold, and it suited me better than the whiskey that old salt wanted in the poem. I found a tin cup at the spring, and I drank half a gallon. I was very thirsty, you see. While I was drinking, I heard you talking about the bag of gold; and then I stepped in here under this rock, just in the nick of time. Come, Stumpy, cut the string of thebag, and let us divy before the ladies join us."
"Why should you want a share of it Mr. Redmond?" asked Leopold very much embarrassed by the situation. "You are the son of a rich man, and seem to have all the money you want."
"No, not at all. That isn't the way my governor does that sort of thing, you see. A year ago he used to do the handsome thing, and then I could give a champagne supper to my friends at Delmonico's. But one night, you see, I came home just a little elevated, you see; and when I went up to my bed, I had the misfortune to tumble down—it was quite accidental, you see—near the door of my governor's chamber. The patriarch came out. I was rather bewildered, you see, by my fall; and he had the impertinence to tell me I was intoxicated. After that he reduced my allowance of pocket money about one half, so that I have been short ever since, you see. Cruel—wasn't it? What would you say, Leopold, if your governor should tell you you were intoxicated?"
"If I had been drinking champagne, or any other kind of wine, I should believe he spoke the truth."
"Nonsense! You see, I'm a two-bottle man, and I was only just a little heavy, you see. But we are wasting time. Let us proceed to business. I have told you just how this sort of thing ought to be done; and I ask only the fair thing, you see. How much is there in the bag?" added Mr. Redmond, extending his hand to Stumpy to take the treasure.
Stumpy did not respond to this application for the money. On the contrary, he handed it to Leopold.
"How much is there? Do you know?" repeated the fop.
"I do know: the bag contains twelve hundred dollars in gold," replied Leopold, as he dropped the four-pound bag into his trousers pocket, where it weighed heavily upon his starboard suspender.
"Bully for you, my countryman;" exclaimed Mr. Redmond. "Twelve hundred dollars in gold! that's four hundred apiece, you see; and I don't ask for more than my third. Four hundred in gold! And that's over eight hundred dollars in greenbacks at the present time! I can give a dozen champagne suppers on that, you see; andwhen you fellows come to New York, I shall invite you to one of them, and tell my friends the romantic incident of the finding of the bag of gold."
"I don't believe that any of this money will be spent for champagne suppers—at least, not yet a while," replied Leopold.
"Aren't you going to divy?" demanded Mr. Redmond, looking as though he had regarded such a disposition of the treasure as a foregone conclusion.
"I am not going to divy."
"No? But that's mean you see."
"I don't see it."
"But it's the thing to do, when you find any money, you see."
"Do you think you had any share in finding it, Mr. Redmond?" asked Leopold, quietly, as he began to move towards the boat.
"I was looking on when you found it, Leopold; and it's the rule, you see, in such cases, to divy. I was here when you unearthed the thing."
"No, you were not," answered Leopold, decidedly. "I dug it before you came to Rockhaven."
"I don't claim any share of it," Stumpy put in. "Le didn't find it by accident. No part of it belongs to me, and I don't ask for a dollar of the money."
"O, you don't!" exclaimed Mr. Redmond; "then Leopold and I will divy even, you see; half to each."
"We shall not divide at all," added the skipper of the Rosabel, who had by this time reached the flat rock where the sloop was made fast.
"See here, Leopold; do I understand you to say that you are going to keep the whole?" asked Charley Redmond, very seriously. "That would be mean, you see. It would be the way a swine would do that sort of thing."
"I don't intend to divide at all, or to keep it myself. It don't belong to me any more than it does to you," protested Leopold.
"Didn't you find it?"
"Of course I did."
"Then it belongs to you."
"Not at all. If you pick up a pocket-book in the street of New York, does it belong to you, or to the one that lost it?"
"That's another sort of a thing, you see. This is money buried on the sea-shore by Captain Kidd, or some of those swells of pirates. It don't belong to anybody, you see."
"This gold was not buried by pirates."
"Who did bury it, then? That's the conundrum."
"His name was Wallbridge."
"Did you know him?" asked Mr. Redmond.
"No; I never saw him."
"Well, where is he now?"
"He is dead; he was lost on the brig Waldo, which went down by those rocks you see off there," replied Leopold, pointing to the reefs.
"Then he is dead!" exclaimed the fop, with a new gleam of hope. "Then he has gone to the happy hunting-ground, where gold isn't a hundred and twenty above par; and he won't have any use for it there, you see. The right thing to do is to divy."
"I think not. If your father had lost twelve hundred dollars in gold on this beach, and went to the happy hunting-ground before he found it, you would not say that the money belonged to me, if I happened to dig it up," added Leopold,earnestly, for he had some hope of convincing the New Yorker of the correctness of the position he had taken, and of inducing him to keep the secret of the hidden treasure until its ownership had been fully investigated.
"That's another sort of a thing, you see," replied Mr. Redmond. "In that case, the money would belong to me, as his nearest heir, and I should have the pleasure of spending the whole amount, thus unexpectedly reclaimed from the sands of the sea, in champagne suppers at Delmonico's up-town house. That would be the fair thing, you see."
"I think so myself; and I purpose to act on precisely the principle you suggest. Mr. Wallbridge, to whom the money belonged, has gone to the happy hunting-ground, where I don't want to trouble him to hunt for this bag of gold. For aught I know, Mr. Wallbridge had had a handsome, refined accomplished son, familiar with the poets, to whom this money now belongs just as much as though he were here to claim it; though I hope, when he gets it, that he will not spend the whole or any part of it in champagne suppers. I see that we are perfectlyagreed in this matter, and that you think the way I mention is the right way to do this sort of thing."
Mr. Redmond felt that he had been whipped in the argument; and he was very much dissatisfied with himself for the admission he had made in the supposed case, and very much dissatisfied with Leopold for the advantage he had taken of the admission.
"Who was the feller that buried the money?" he demanded, feeling his way to another argument in favor of a division.
"Mr. Wallbridge."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know."
"You haven't been introduced to him?"
"No."
"What do you know about him?"
"Nothing."
"Then how did you know he had a good-looking son, familiar with the poets?"
"I don't."
"That was what you said."
"I only supposed a case. So far as we know now, no one was acquainted with Mr. Wallbridge.No one knows anything at all about him."
"All right, then. All we have to do is to divy."
"Not yet. I am going to see the owners of the Waldo, in which Mr. Wallbridge was a passenger. They know nothing about him, I am aware; but I am going to ask them to write to their agents in Havana, and ascertain who he was."
"That's taking a good deal of trouble for nothing, you see," added Mr. Raymond, with a look of disappointment and dissatisfaction.
"That is just what I am going to do, any how," replied Leopold, firmly. "The money don't belong to me, and I intend to keep it safely till the heirs of Wallbridge appear to claim it; or at least, till I am satisfied there are no heirs. When that time comes, I shall be willing toconsiderthe question of dividing it with Stumpy and you."
"I don't think any of it belongs to me," added Stumpy.
"I think a share of it belongs to me; but I am willing to discount my claim, you see."
"Discount it?" queried Leopold.
"I can't wait a year or two till you find out whether or not the man that buried the gold has any heirs or not."
"I am very sorry you are so impatient."
"I want the money now, when my governor is cruel to me. Besides, in two years gold may be down to par, and it won't bring anything more than its face, you see. I want to do the fair thing. Give me two hundred dollars in gold, and I will relinquish my claim: discount it, you see."
"No, Mr. Redmond; I cannot sell or discount what don't belong to me. They may do it in New York, but some of us countrymen haven't yet learned how to do that thing, you see," laughed Leopold.
"Say one hundred, then."
"Not a single dollar. The best I can do is to promise that I willconsiderthe question of a division when I feel that the money belongs to the finder."
Mr. Redmond argued the point in all its bearings, but with no different result.
"But how long will it be before you find out whether this man had any heirs?" asked he.
"I may ascertain in a month or two. It don't take but a week or ten days for a letter to go to Havana."
"Then I must wait, I suppose," mused the fop.
"You must, indeed."
"But I am sure you will find no heirs."
"I may not."
"Leopold, I'll tell you what I will do. I want to be fair, you see."
"I see."
"Give me two hundred in gold now, and then, if you find any heirs, I will agree to pay the money back to you. That's fair, you see."
"Perhaps it is," laughed Leopold, amused at the desperation of the coxcomb; "but one so busy as you are, and will always be, in a great city like New York, might forget to send me the money."
"I will give you my note for it."
"Your note would not be worth any more than mine, for neither of us is of age. If you will give me your father's note I will think about it."
"My father's note! I don't want my governorto know anything about this business, you see. I want this money for my private purse, so that I can give a champagne supper when I please."
"I am afraid we shall not be able to manage the business, Mr. Redmond. You know I was toconsideryour claim, when I found there were no heirs."
"O, you mean to cheat me out of it."
"I promised toconsideryour claim. But in the mean time I don't want anything said about this money in Rockhaven. It would make too much talk."
"O, you want me to keep the secret—do you?" demanded Mr. Redmond, with a new gleam of hope.
"I do." And Leopold explained some of the reasons which induced him to desire that the hidden treasure should still remain a secret.
"If you mean to do the fair thing, of course I shall keep still, you know. Give me my share, and I will keep as still as the man that has gone to the happy hunting-ground."
"I can't promise anything."
"Neither can I," said the fop, angrily; for bythis time he had come to the conclusion that Leopold did not intend to do "the fair thing."
The money-digger was appalled to think of having the story of the buried treasure told all over Rockhaven, and perhaps being compelled to hand it over to his father before he had made any effort to find the heirs of the lost passenger. On the other hand, he could neither divide the money at the present time, nor promise to do so in the future, with the troublesome visitor; and the former was the less of the two evils. The appearance of the young ladies on the beach, as they emerged from the Hole in the Wall, put an end to the argument; but Leopold hoped yet that he should be able to prevail upon Mr. Redmond to be silent in regard to the treasure.
"I am very glad to see you again, ladies," said the fop, running toward them as they approached. "I hope you will pardon me for leaving you, and for not returning, for a matter of some little importance prevented me from joining you again."
"You are very excusable, Mr. Redmond," replied Rosabel. "We contrived to pass away the time in your absence."
"Thank you for your kind consideration."
"We didn't suffer much for the want of you, Charley Redmond," added Belle.
The party immediately embarked in the Rosabel, which was soon under way on the return to Rockhaven. But the wind was dead ahead, and even fresher than when they had come down to High Rock. Leopold stood directly out to sea, making only one tack in reaching the river. It was very rough, and Mr. Redmond soon lost all his elasticity of spirit, and forgot all about the hidden treasure of High Rock, in his fears for his own safety. But, in spite of the gale, the Rosabel went into the river without accident, under the skillful management of the skipper, though the entire party were thoroughly drenched by the spray.
As soon as Leopold had landed his passengers, and securely moored the sloop, he hastened, before going to the hotel, to the shop of his uncle. Without any explanation, he dropped upon the watch-maker's counter the shot-bag, in which the gold chinked as it fell, to the intense astonishment of Herr Schlager.
"Donner und Blitz." Page 273."Donner und Blitz." Page273.
"Donnerund blitz!" exclaimed Herr Schlager, when he realized that the wet and sandy bag on the counter before him contained money, for he was too familiar with the chink of gold to mistake the sound."Was haben sie, hier, Leopold?"
"Money, gold, specie, coin,geld," replied the boatman, hardly less excited than his Teutonic uncle.
"So mooch golt! Der bag is wet mit der sand, and covered mit salt water! Himmel! where so much money haf you found, Leopold?"
"Put it in the safe, uncle, and we will talk about it afterwards," added the young man. "I haven't opened this bag, and I don't want it opened."
"No? What for you want him not to be open?"
"It is not mine."
"Not your money? Dat is bad!"
"I wish it were mine, certainly, uncle; but, as it is not, I mean to take good care of it for the owner."
"Den I sall seal up der bag for you," replied the watch-maker, taking a piece of red tape from one of his drawers, which he wound tightly over the original string of the bag.
Then, lighting the spirit-lamp which he used with his blow-pipe, he melted a large mass of sealing-wax upon the knot of the red tape, and pressed upon it the great seal hanging from his watch-chain. Herr Schlager was a simple-minded man, and doubtless he believed that the seal was a perfect protection to the contents of the bag. Possibly he thought that no mortal man would dare to "cut the red-tape." Leopold was less superstitious in regard to the sanctity of a seal; and he relied more upon the protective power of the iron safe than upon that of the tape or seal. His uncle lodged in a little room in the rear of his shop for the better securityof his goods; and the young man felt that the treasure would be safe in the watch-maker's strong-box. Herr Schlager dropped the bag into one of the drawers of the safe.
"Now, where you was get him?" demanded the Teuton, as he closed the iron door.
"I dug it out of the sand on the beach at High Rock, uncle," replied Leopold.
"Den it pelongs to you, mine poy."
"Not at all, uncle; at least, not yet a while."
Leopold told the whole story, from Harvey Barth's diary down to date, as briefly as he could.
"If I don't find any owner, I suppose the money belongs to me," he added.
"Himmel! Yes!" answered the watch-maker.
"Now, uncle, don't you let anybody, not even my father, have the bag without my consent."
"No, Leopold; nobody shall touch him," added Herr Schlager, as he locked the door of the safe, and put the key in his pocket.
The money-digger was satisfied that his uncle would be faithful to the letter of his promise;and he hastened back to the hotel, to attend to his usual duties.
But the malignant little Mr. Redmond had already told the story of the hidden treasure, so far as he new it, to an audience in the office of the Sea Cliff House, which included the landlord. Of course the narrative was full of interest; and in the course of half an hour it was travelling from mouth to mouth up the main street of Rockhaven as rapidly as though it had been written out, and sent by express. When the finder of the treasure entered the hotel office, the subject was still under discussion.
"Leopold wouldn't do the fair thing, and divy with Stumpy and me," said the little fop, when he had finished his story. "If he had, I would have kept the whole thing secret as he wished me to do."
"Why should he share the money with you, Charley?" demanded Mr. Hamilton.
"Because I was in at the death, and that's the way to do the thing when any money is found. Leopold was mean about it."
"Perhaps he was; but my boy hasn't the reputation of being mean," added the landlord.
"I don't think Charley has any claim," said Mr. Redmond, senior, the father of theotherMr. Redmond, "however it may be with Stumpy."
"Here he is, to speak for himself," added Mr. Hamilton, as Leopold entered the room. "They say you are mean because you would not divide the money with Charley. How is that, my boy?"
"I certainly would not divide with him, or with anybody, for that matter," replied the skipper of the Rosabel. "I found the money, all alone by myself, on the night before the Orion arrived. I left it where it was, because I did not know what to do with it," replied Leopold.
"Where is it now?" asked the landlord.
"In my uncle's safe. I have not opened the bag, and uncle Leopold sealed it up. I told him not to let anybody touch it without my consent."
"I think that is the safest place for it," said Mr. Bennington. "Then it appears that Miss Liverage was not crazy, after all."
"She was right in every respect. If she could have told me where to look for the gold, I should have found it," replied Leopold.
"But how happened you to find it?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"I didn't happen to find it, sir. I went right to the place where it was, and dug it up, after I had read the directions in Harvey Barth's diary."
"But where did you get the diary, Leopold?" inquired the landlord.
"I found it in the chimney, when the old house was pulled down."
"You didn't say anything about it," added Mr. Bennington, rather reproachfully.
"You laughed at me, father, after Miss Liverage had gone, and I thought I wouldn't say anything more until I found out whether Miss Liverage was crazy or not. Then, when I read the diary, I didn't know but Harvey Barth might have been crazy when he wrote it, for I couldn't find any such rock as he mentioned till I went down to High Rock in a thunder-storm. I am willing to tell all I know about it; but it's rather a long story."
"And dinner is nearly ready," added the landlord, glancing at the clock.
"What is it? We want to know about it,"said Belle Peterson, rushing into the office, followed by Rosabel.
The story had been carried to the parlor by Mr. Redmond, junior, who had so little confidence in the future intentions of Leopold, that he had revealed the secret from motives of revenge.
"We will hear the story after dinner," said Mr. Hamilton.
"We want to hear it, too," interposed Miss Belle.
"Yes father," added Rosabel; "and all the ladies in the parlor want to hear it."
"Then Leopold shall tell it in the parlor, if he is willing."
"I'm willing, sir," replied Leopold. "All I have to say about the money now is, that I believe it belongs to somebody—to the heirs of the man who buried it in the sand; and, as I told Stumpy and Mr. Redmond, I intend to find those heirs, if I can."
"That's right, Leopold," exclaimed Mr. Hamilton, patting the boatman's shoulder. "Be honest before you are generous."
Leopold and his father went to the dining-room,to prepare for their duties there. The landlord did not think as much as usual at this time about his chowder, chicken, and roast beef. The time was rapidly approaching when the interest on the mortgage note would be due. His New York guests had not paid their bills in whole or in part, and he was still very short of funds. The vision of this twelve hundred dollars in gold which his son had dug up from the sands of the sea, was intensely exciting to him. The gold transmuted into currency, when a dollar of the one was worth more than two of the other, would enable him to pay his interest and discharge the mortgage upon his furniture. He wanted the money, and he was not particularly pleased with Leopold's idea of finding, at some remote period, the heirs of the man who had buried it. However, Mr. Bennington was an honest man; and further consideration of the subject would undoubtedly convince him that his son was exactly right and nobly just.
The dinner at the Sea Cliff House was as good, though no better than usual; but the guests, after the abundance of exercise duringthe forenoon, were in better condition to enjoy it. They did enjoy it; and they talked about the hidden treasure of High Rock while they did so.
While they were eating and talking, and the landlord and his son were waiting upon them, the story of the bag of gold was travelling up the main street of the village, and, following the angles and bifurcations of the highways, was penetrating to the remotest corner of the town. Among other places, it went to the Island House, and Ethan Wormbury was utterly dismayed when he had listened to it. Though it was almost dinner-time, he left the few guests in his house to wait upon themselves, and hastened over to his father's house, where he found that the astounding news had preceded him. Squire Moses was as much disconcerted and cast down as his son had been.
"Twelve hundred dollars in gold!" exclaimed the old man, wiping the perspiration from his bald head.
"Of course Bennington will be able to pay his interest money now," added Ethan.
"I suppose so," groaned the squire. "Butwhere on earth did the money come from? Who buried it in the sand?"
"One of the men that was lost on the Waldo."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know," replied Ethan, for not many of the particulars in regard to the hidden treasure had yet been circulated. "But they say Stumpy was with young Bennington when he found the money."
"What! Stumpy! With him! Then they will divide it between them!" exclaimed Squire Moses; and the amiable old gentleman did not seem to rejoice at this possible accession of fortune on the part of his grandson.
"I don't know about that," said Ethan, who was certainly not less troubled than his worthy patriarch.
"But they ought not to touch the money—none of them. It belongs to the heirs of the man that was drowned. It ain't no better'n stealing to keep the gold," continued Squire Moses, with an overflow of honest indignation.
"That's so," added Ethan, sharing the virtuous sentiments of his father. "Of course the money belongs to somebody, if the man thatburied it is dead. But I want to know more about it; and I'm going down to see Stumpy."
"I'll go with you, Ethan," said the squire; and together they left the house.
"If they should keep the money, and divide it, Joel's widow would pay off the mortgage on the house, and Bennington would settle up his interest money on the first of July, I suppose," mused Ethan aloud, as they walked along the street.
The landlord of the Island House appeared to be disposed to look the facts squarely in the face, however disagreeable they might be. If the money was divided, he could not expect to become the landlord of the new hotel, which was the height of his ambition.
"I don't know," replied Squire Moses. "I don't go near Bennington now; I don't say anything to him about the interest money; I don't want to disturb him, or to set him a thinking. He not only promises to pay the interest, but he promises to pay it on the first day of July. If he don't do it at the right time, I shall foreclose. I believe the man is ruined now; and the longer I wait, the more money I shalllose. He ought to know that such a big hotel, furnished as extravagantly as the new house, would not pay in such a place as Rockhaven. He can never recover himself in the world."
"But, father, even if the boys don't divide the gold, Bennington's customers will pay him enough to enable him to settle the interest," suggested Ethan, whose hopes were somewhat inflated by the reasoning of his father.
"That may be; but Bennington owes everybody in town, and his expenses for keeping those New Yorkers in his house are enough to swamp him. I don't believe he'll think of the interest at all, he's so busy, till after it is too late. He owes Jones three hundred dollars of borrowed money, which Jones lent him till the first of July, when he is to pay the mortgage on his house. I've already told Jones I couldn't wait a single day for my money; and he will have to make Bennington pay. Then I have hinted to Green, the market-man, Butler, the grocer, and others Bennington owes, that they had better look out and get their pay before the first of July. They are after him now, and he promises to pay them all just as soon asthese New York folks settle for their board. If Bennington ain't short on the first of July, I'll lose my guess," said the old man; and he believed that he had made things intensely hot for his creditor. "I can count up over a thousand dollars he has promised to pay by the first of July."
In justice to the landlord of the Sea Cliff House, it should be said that Squire Moses had overstated the facts, for Mr. Bennington had notpromisedto pay, but had merely expressed his hope and belief that he should be able to do so in the month of July. He actually owed, besides his interest, about seven hundred dollars; and his debts troubled him sorely. He could only hope that his creditors would wait a few weeks, though even now they harassed him every day of his life.
Squire Moses and Ethan entered the cottage of Joel's widow, and found the family at dinner. They did not knock at the door, or stand upon any ceremony.
"Stumpy, what's this story about the money found on the beach?" demanded Squire Moses, as though he felt that he had a right to know.
Now, half a dozen persons had already spoken to Stumpy about the hidden treasure, and he was aware the subject was no longer a secret.
"Leopold found a bag of gold buried on the beach," replied Stumpy; and without reserve, he proceeded to tell all he knew about the treasure.
"And you and he are going to divide this money between you!" exclaimed Squire Moses, jumping at once to the point, as soon as Stumpy had told the story.
"Who says we are?" asked Stumpy, indignantly.
"That is what they say," added Ethan, who had, possibly, heard such a suggestion, as the narrative became distorted in its passage along the main street.
"I want to tell you, Susan Wormbury," continued Squire Moses, addressing himself to "Joel's widow," as he and Ethan usually called her,—"I want to tell you, Susan Wormbury, that I don't believe this boy has been brought up right. You ought to have brought him up to be honest."
"Like his grandfather!" exclaimed Stumpy, sullenly.
"Yes, like your grandfather," added the squire, severely. "No man can say that Moses Wormbury ever stole a cent from anybody."
This remark evidently indicated the boundary line of the squire's homestead.
"Done just the same thing," muttered Stumpy.
"Why, father, Stumpy is a good boy," pleaded Mrs. Wormbury.
"If he takes any of this money, it will be just the same as stealing it," added the squire, projecting the remark savagely at the trembling widow of his lost son.
"Who is going to take any of it?" demanded Stumpy, springing to his feet, with his mouth full of fried fish.
"You! you and Bennington's son are going to divide it between you!"
"Its no such thing," protested Stumpy. "I wish we were, though."
"Do you say you are not?"
"I do say so! Leopold thinks the money belongs to the heirs of the man who buried it on the beach; and he is going to try to find them."
"That alters the case," replied the squire,more mildly. "I hope the man's heirs will get the money for it belongs to them."
"I hope everybody will get what belongs to him," said Stumpy; but the remark was too indefinite to be appreciated by his amiable grandfather.
"You have no right to a dollar of this money, Stumpy; and if you touch it, I want you to understand that it will be stealing."
"I have nothing to do with the money. Le Bennington found it, and he knows what to do with it. If he chooses to give me some of it, I will take it fast enough."
Squire Moses and Ethan were both satisfied, so far as Stumpy was concerned; and they were rejoiced to know that Leopold intended to keep the gold until he could find the heirs of the man who had committed it to the sand.
"Susan," said Squire Moses, as he turned to depart, "I told you that you might stay in this house till the first of August; and so you may; but I am going to foreclose the mortgage right off, so that I can get legal possession sooner. It won't make any difference to you."
The old miser did not wait to hear any replyto this announcement; but the tears dropped from the widow's eyes as the door closed upon the hard old man. The squire and Ethan walked down to the main street, talking with every one they met about the treasure, protesting that it ought to be kept for the heirs of the rightful owner, and manufacturing public sentiment which should compel the landlord of the Sea Cliff House and his son to pursue this course. It is true that the people of Rockhaven were very much surprised to hear Squire Moses and his son preaching such a doctrine; but they were willing to accept it, for it seemed to be just and right that the heirs should have what plainly belonged to them.
Unknown to them, and not yet with the entire approbation of his father, Leopold was their ally in directing public sentiment. After dinner, the parlor of the Sea Cliff House was filled by the New Yorkers and others who desired to hear the narrative of the finding of the hidden treasure. Leopold, in his best clothes, washed, dressed, and combed for a great occasion, appeared at the door of the parlor with Harvey Barth's diary in his hand. Stumpy, who hadcome over to see him in regard to the exciting topic, followed him, and took a back seat in one corner of the room. The money-digger was not a little abashed when he saw so many pairs of eyes directed towards him; but he commenced his story, and soon recovered his self-possession. He began with the wreck of the Waldo, for the New Yorkers knew little or nothing of this exciting event. He then came to the appearance of Harvey Barth at the Cliff House, and detailed all the incidents relating to the diary, the visit of Miss Sarah Liverage, and the finding of the journal when the chimney was pulled down.
Leopold stated he had read only those portions of the diary which related to the treasure; and then he read the description from the book of the burying of the gold in the thunder and lightning. He had dug the beach all over, under the instruction of the nurse; and he had been unable to find the bag even after he read the journal, until he went down to High Rock in a thunder shower. Then, for the first time, he could distinguish Coffin Rock. Thus guided, he had found the treasure.
Leopold then gave his views in regard to theownership of the gold, and declared that he intended to keep the money in his uncle's safe till he had seen the owners of the Waldo, and they had sent to Havana. This statement to the astonishment and confusion of the money-digger, was followed by hearty applause, in which even the ladies joined. Public sentiment in the parlor earnestly indorsed his views.
"Leopold reads very well," said Mr. Hamilton; "and as we desire to rest for an hour or two, I suggest that he read the diary to us from the time the Waldo left Havana."
This suggestion was warmly applauded, and verbally seconded by half a dozen of the party. Leopold consented under this pressure, and read for a full hour, till he came to the afternoon of the day on which the brig was lost; in a word, till he came to what Harvey Barth had just written when Wallbridge came to the galley to light his pipe, as recorded in the first chapter of this story. The steward did not believe the passenger's name was Wallbridge, as written on the Waldo's papers. He did not see what he had changed his name for, and hoped he hadn't done anything wrong.
"'He gave his name as J. Wallbridge,' Leopold read from the diary; 'but that was not the name I found on the paper in his state-room, when I made up his bed on the day we sailed from Havana, though the initials were the same. Then he lent me his Bible to read one day, and this other name was written on it in forty places, wherever there was any blank paper. I wanted to borrow the Bible again, but he would not lend it to me; and I thought he remembered about his name being written in it so many times. I saw the same name stamped on a white shirt of his, which he hung up to air on deck to-day. The name was not J. Wallbridge either; it was Joel Wormbury.'"
"My father!" shouted Stumpy, springing to his feet.
Stumpy was an excited young man. He had come into the parlor on the invitation of Leopold, and had very modestly coiled himself away in the most obscure corner of the room. He was very much interested in the reading of Harvey Barth's diary, and especially in regard to the mysterious passenger. When Leopold read the name of "Joel Wormbury," he could no longer contain himself. He leaped from his corner, and shouted as though he had been hailing the Rosabel half a mile off.
"My father!" repeated he; and all eyes were fixed upon him.
Stumpy was excited, not so much, we must do him the justice to say, because there was money involved in the fact, as because the name and memory of his father were dear to him.
"That man was Stumpy's father as true as the world!" said Mr. Bennington.
"It is a very remarkable affair," added Mr. Hamilton. "Such things don't often happen."
"But I haven't the slightest doubt that this Wallbridge was Joel Wormbury," replied the landlord.
"I'm sure of it," exclaimed Stumpy. "I know all about that Bible; I've seen it twenty times; and mother always used to put it into father's chest when he was going away fishing."
"I don't know about that, Stumpy," interposed Mr. Bennington, with a smile of incredulity; "I'm afraid it won't hold water."
"What's the reason it won't?" demanded Stumpy, who was entirely satisfied in regard to the identity of the sacred volume. "I used to carry it to Sunday school sometimes; and I've seen my father's name written in forty places in it, wherever there was a page or part of a page not printed on, just as Harvey Barth says in his diary. I don't believe there is any mistake about that."
"But the writer of this journal appears to have been considerably exercised about the passenger'schange of name," said Mr. Hamilton, before the landlord had an opportunity to explain why he doubted the truth of the statement in regard to the Bible. "Harvey Barth hoped Mr. Wallbridge had not done anything wrong."
"He hadn't done anything wrong," protested Stumpy, warmly.
"Why should he change his name, then?" asked the ex-congressman. "For the fact that he did so appears to be well established."
"There was a reason for it," replied the landlord, "though as Stumpy says, Joel Wormbury had done nothing wrong. Joel was attacked by a man in liquor, and in self-defence he struck the assailant on the head with a bottle, and supposed that he had killed him. He left Rockhaven in a great hurry, in order to escape the consequences. He did not even go to his house before he left town, afraid, perhaps, of finding a constable there waiting for him. He went off in such a hurry, that I don't believe he thought to take his Bible with him."
The landlord bestowed a smiling glance upon Stumpy, satisfied that he had as completely demolishedthe Bible argument as though he had been a practised theologian.
"If my mother was only here, she could tell you all about that," said Stumpy.
"Do you think he went home for the Bible before he left?" asked Mr. Bennington.
"I know he didn't."
"Where did he get the Bible, then?" asked the landlord.
"I'll tell you; and I won't say a word that I can't prove," replied Stumpy, warmly.
"You are not among enemies, or those who are at all inclined to doubt your word, young man," added Mr. Hamilton.
"I'll tell you about it, then; but I wish my mother was here, with the letters my father wrote to her."
"We are willing to believe all you say, Stumpy," said the landlord.
"You thought that what I said would not hold water, just now."
"But I explained why I thought so."
"And the doubt was certainly a reasonable one," added the merchant; "now we only wait for you to remove it."
"I will do that and I can prove all I say by my father's last letter to my mother, which is post-marked at Gloucester, Mass., in which he told all about the fight, and gave the reasons why he cleared out."
In answer to a question asked by one of the ladies, Stumpy related more fully the particulars of Joel Wormbury's departure from Rockhaven.
"About six months before my father went off for the last time, he returned to Gloucester from a fishing trip to the Georges," continued Stumpy. "He expected to go again in a few weeks; so he left his chest in Gloucester. His Bible was in that chest; but, as he found work coopering at home, he did not go again till he left after the fight. In his letter to my mother, he said he had got his chest, and that he had the Bible all right. He wrote, too, that he meant to read it more than he had ever done before, and not use it to scribble in. That was the last letter we ever got from father. We heard that he had gone out to attend to the trawls, and was lost in a fog, not being able to find his way back to the vessel. Of course wehadn't any doubt that he was dead, after we got a letter from the captain of the schooner in which my father sailed. That's all I know about it."
"But how came he in Havana?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"That's more than I know, sir," answered Stumpy.
"Harvey Barth could not have known anything about Joel Wormbury," added Leopold; "and he wrote his diary, it appears on the very day the Waldo was lost."
"There can be no doubt that Wallbridge and Joel Wormbury were one and the same person," said Mr. Hamilton. "The name which Harvey Barth found on the paper, the initials, on his valise, the name on the shirt, and written forty times in the Bible, fully establish the fact in my mind."
"And in mine, too," said Leopold. "Stumpy, the gold is yours, and I will give it to you whenever you are ready to take it."
"This is a go!" exclaimed Stumpy, with a broad grin on his brown face. "We need the money bad enough; and my mother will jumpup six feet when she hears the news. Somebody else won't feel good about it, I'll bet."
Stumpy did not explain to whom the last remark related; but he experienced the most lively satisfaction when he thought of the pleasure it would afford him to see his mother tender the seven hundred dollars in payment of the mortgage note. It occurred to him then that the business ought not to be postponed a single day, for Squire Moses had announced his intention of foreclosing the mortgage at once.
"How much money is there in the bag?" asked the merchant.
"Twelve hundred dollars in gold," replied Leopold; "and the diary says Joel Wormbury saved it in two years from his earnings in Cuba."
"Joel was an industrious and prudent man," added the landlord.
"It is very fortunate that the hidden treasure fell into honest hands," continued Mr. Hamilton, turning to Leopold; whereupon all the company clapped their hands, and the skipper of the Rosabel blushed like a school-girl.
"He's a noble fellow!" exclaimed Miss Rosabel.
"A pious swell," added Charley Redmond, with a sneer.
The business of the meeting having been thus happily accomplished, the occupants of the parlor departed.
"Come Stumpy, I want to hand the money over to you," said Leopold.
"I don't want it now," replied Stumpy. "I shouldn't dare to take it into the house, for fear my beloved grandad should steal it. I think he would find some way to do it, without calling the deed by any hard name."
"What are you going to do with the gold, Stumpy?" asked Mr. Hamilton.
"Hand it over to my mother. Squire Moses is going to foreclose the mortgage on the house we live in right off. I want to head him off on that before night."
"But gold, you know, is worth a large premium just now. I saw by my paper which came to-day that it was 208 in New York," continued the merchant.
"I'll go and tell my mother about it," said Stumpy, moving off.
"Stop a moment, my boy," interposed Mr.Hamilton. "If you are going to pay off the mortgage you should do so in currency, not in gold. I will buy your coin, and assist you in this business."
"Thank you, sir," replied Stumpy, warmly.
"I will pay you the market rate for your gold, whatever the papers report it to be for to-day."
Mr. Hamilton was certainly very kind; and Stumpy felt that, with such a powerful friend, he had the weather-gage of his avaricious grandfather. Leopold led the way to the shop of his uncle, and the New York merchant joined them.
"I want the gold, uncle," said Leopold.
"What for you want him?" demanded Herr Schlager.
"I have found the owner."
"Donner and blitz!Den he is no more your golt."
"No, uncle; but I feel better in handing it over to Stumpy than I should in spending it myself," laughed Leopold.
"Himmel!Stumpy!"
"Yes Stumpy." And the money-digger briefly stated the facts which had been discovered.
"Donner and blitz!I'm glad for der poy, but sorry for you," added the watch-maker, as he took from the safe the shot-bag containing the treasure.
"Take it, Stumpy. It is yours," said Leopold. "Open it."
"I can't exactly believe in this thing yet, Le," replied Stumpy, as, with trembling hand, he cut the red tape, and demolished the sacred seal of Herr Schlager.
Turning the bag over, he poured the gold out upon the counter. The money was American coin, which Joel Wormbury had probably purchased in Havana, to avoid the necessity of exchanging it after his return to Rockhaven. Mr. Hamilton counted the money, and found that Harvey Barth's statement was again correct.
"Now figure it up, my boy. Then we will finish this transaction at once," said the merchant. "I shall not be able to pay you in full for it to-day; but I have credits in Belfast and Rockland, and you shall have the whole of it by to-morrow night for we intend to cross the bay in the Orion to-morrow."
Leopold and Stumpy both did the sum, multiplying twelve hundred by two hundred and eight, and pointing off two decimals in the product.
"Twenty-four hundred and ninety-six dollars!" exclaimed Leopold.
"That's what I make it," added Stumpy, "What a pile of money!"
Mr. Hamilton, who had left New York prepared to pay the heavy expenses of his yacht excursion, counted off twelve one hundred dollar bills, which he handed to Stumpy.
"I will give you my note for the balance," said the merchant.
"Creation!" cried Stumpy, looking the bills over, his eyes dilated till they were nearly as big as saucers—small saucers. "Here's more money than I ever saw!"
Mr. Hamilton wrote the note, and gave it to Stumpy. It was made payable to the order of Sarah Wormbury.
"But I don't want all this money. I don't know what to do with it," exclaimed Stumpy, embarrassed by his sudden riches.
"You shall have the rest to-morrow night," added Mr. Hamilton.
"I would rather not have it just yet."
"As you please. If I retain it, I shall pay you interest," replied the merchant.
"Interest! Hold on, now, hold on, all!" almost shouted Stumpy, turning from the bills which still lay on the counter, and looking Leopold square in the face. "I'm a hog! I'm a pig, just out of the sty!"
"What's the matter now?" demanded Mr. Hamilton, laughing heartily at the odd manner of Stumpy.
"Here I've been thinking of myself and my folks all the time! Here I've been thinking of what I should do with all this money, and never had a thought of Le, who found it, and kept it for me and my folks. I'll do the fair thing Le."
"What do you mean?" asked the merchant.
"I shall divy with Le; I shall give him at least five hundred.
"Not a cent," protested Leopold.
"You bet!" added Stumpy. "I've been thinking all the time about getting my mother out of trouble, and only just now it comes into my head that Le's father is in hot water. I'll tell you what we'll do, Le: I'll give you five hundred—"