For a few minutes Ralph stood outside of the general store, undecided what was best to do next.
It was true that the bill in Uriah Dicks' possession was his own, yet how could he prove it, and thus get it once more into his possession?
"I'll call on Percy Paget, and see what he has to say," he thought. "Perhaps I can make him confess how he obtained the bill, and make the amount good to Mr. Dicks."
With this object in view the young bridge tender hurried through the village toward the hill, upon which the few handsome residences of the place were situated.
In the most prominent spot was located the mansion of Squire Paget, a Queen Anne structure, surrounded by a garden full of fancy shrubs and plants, which during her life had been Mrs. Paget's pride.
Passing through the gate, Ralph walked up the gravel path to the front piazza and rang the bell.
He had to wait a short time. Then a slow step was heard through the hallway, and the door was opened by Mrs. Hanson, the squire's housekeeper.
"Good-evening," said Ralph, politely. "Is Percy at home?"
"I don't really know," returned Mrs. Hanson. "Come in and I will find out."
She ushered Ralph into the hallway, and motioned him to a seat. Then she passed upstairs.
"I guess it will be all right, squire," Ralph heard a voice say in a nearby side room—the library. "And you are perfectly safe in making the deal."
"I trust so, Pickley," came the reply, in Squire Paget's well-known sharp tones. "It's worth the trouble, you know."
"Of course, I get pay for my trouble," went on Pickley, as he stepped to the doorway.
"I'll pay what I promised," returned the squire, and then both men stepped into the hallway.
They started back on seeing Ralph, as though they had imagined no one was around. The young bridge tender made up his mind they had not noted his ring.
"Why—ah—what brings you here, Nelson?" demanded the squire, as soon as he could recover.
"I called to see Percy, sir."
"I believe Percy is out."
Ralph's hope fell at this announcement.
"Can you tell me where I can find him, sir?" he asked.
"He is somewhere about the village, I presume. He said he would be back by nine o'clock or half-past."
Ralph glanced at the tall clock which stood at the end of the hall, and saw that it lacked but ten minutes of nine. Percy might be in in a few minutes.
"If you please, I will wait for him," he said, politely.
"Very well."
Squire Paget moved toward the door, and opened it for Dan Pickley, his visitor.
"Good-night, Pickley," he said.
"Good-night, squire," was the reply, and then Pickley moved down the steps.
The squire watched him go out of the gate, and then closed the front door once more.
"How long have you been waiting?" he asked, rather abruptly.
"Only a minute or two, sir."
"No longer than that?" and the squire bent his searching eyes full upon Ralph's honest features.
"No, sir, Mrs. Hanson just let me in."
Squire Paget seemed relieved to hear this. His conversation with Dan Pickley had been both important and private, and he was afraid Ralph might have overheard more than he wished to become public.
"So you wish to see Percy?" he went on, after a short pause. "Is there anything special?"
"Yes, sir."
"What is it?"
"Excuse me, but I would like to speak to Percy first."
The squire drew up his lower lip and looked plainly annoyed.
"I do not allow my son to have any secrets from me, so you might as well speak out, Nelson," he observed, abruptly.
"I came to see Percy about a twenty-dollar bill which belonged to me, and which he obtained," returned Ralph, boldly.
"A twenty-dollar bill of yours Percy obtained? Why, Nelson, what do you mean? Come into the library."
"I mean what I say, Squire Paget," said the young bridge tender, following the great man of the village into the apartment mentioned. "Percy had a twenty-dollar bill belonging to me and he passed it off on Mr. Dicks, the storekeeper."
"But he could not have known it was your bill if he spent it."
"He ought to have known it was mine, sir."
"Give me the particulars of this matter," was Squire Paget's short response.
In as few words as possible the young bridge tender told of the row on the bridge, and of what had followed. While he was speaking the squire grew excited, and paced up and down nervously. He could hardly wait for Ralph to finish.
"See here, Nelson, this is preposterous, absurd! My son is above such a thing!" he cried.
"So I hoped, sir. But I have only stated the plain facts."
"It is a tissue of falsehoods, young man! Wait till I hear Percy's side of the story. The idea! my son has enough spending money without resorting to—to such unlawful means of obtaining more."
"Well, it is my twenty-dollar bill that he gave to Mr. Dicks," said Ralph, doggedly.
"Where did you obtain the bill?"
A gentleman gave it to me for assisting him out of the water, after his sloop had been wrecked against the stonework of the bridge."
"That is a likely story! As if twenty-dollar bills were flying around so thickly!"
"I am telling the truth, sir."
"Who is the gentleman?"
"He is from New York, and is up here on a vacation."
"I can hardly believe he gave you so much money."
"He did, and I can prove it."
"Well, be that as it may, I am certain Percy did not take your bill."
"Did you give him a twenty-dollar bill?"
"I give him all the spending money he needs," returned Squire Paget, evasively. "He has probably saved the amount and had some one change his small money for one big bill."
"He didn't have it changed into my bill—the one Mr. Dicks holds. That he got at the bridge—how, I don't know—and I am going to have it back."
"Ha! do you threaten my son!" cried Squire Paget, wrathfully.
"I am going to make him do what is right, sir. I can't afford to lose twenty dollars and say nothing."
Instantly Squire Paget flared up, and shook his fist in Ralph's face.
"If you dare to make trouble for my son I'll have you discharged as bridge tender," he fumed. "Understandthat, Nelson! I am not going to have Percy's fair name ruined."
At that moment, before Ralph could reply, a key was heard to turn in the front door, and a second later the squire's son strode into the house.
Percy Paget had not expected to see Ralph, and he was very much disconcerted when brought thus unexpectedly face to face with the young bridge tender.
"Why—er—you here?" he stammered, as he flung aside his hat.
"He has been telling a fine string of falsehoods against you, my son!" put in the squire, ere Ralph could speak.
"And what has he been saying?" demanded the aristocratic bully, coolly. "Has he been telling you how I had to polish him off for insulting me?"
"No; he tells me that you stole a twenty-dollar bill from him!"
Percy was about to burst out into violent language, that would have astonished even his indulgent parent, but suddenly he changed his mind and allowed an injured look to cross his face.
"I hope, father, you don't believe any such outrageous story about me," he said, plaintively.
"Of course I don't," returned the squire, promptly. "I know my son will not steal."
"Ralph is mad because I gave him a good thrashing," went on the only son.
"I imagine the boot is on the other foot," put in Ralph. "It is Percy who got the worst of the encounter."
"He says you refused to pay the toll," went on Squire Paget.
"I only refused after he had called me all sorts of names," retorted the only son. "I was going over to Eastport, but after I had to teach him a lesson, I concluded to remain on this side."
"You are not telling the truth!" cried Ralph, indignantly. "It was you who insulted me, and I gave you a good deal less than you deserved in the shape of a whipping for doing it."
"Stop! stop!" stormed the squire. "I will have no quarrel in my house! Nelson, don't you know it is all wrong to fight on the bridge?"
"I didn't fight. I stopped your son when he refused to pay toll, that was all."
"I do not believe it."
"Believe it or not, it's true. But I came here for another purpose than to speak of the quarrel, as you know. I want Percy to make good the twenty dollars which belonged to me."
"I ain't got your twenty dollars—never had them!" blustered the aristocratic bully. "If you say I have, I'll pitch you out of the house!"
"Gently, Percy——"
"I don't care, father. It makes me mad to have this upstart speak to me in this fashion!"
"I know it does, but control yourself, my son. We will find a way to punish him at another time."
"Can't you have him discharged? He ain't fit to be the tender of the bridge; he's so insulting!"
"Perhaps," returned the squire, a sudden idea flashing across his mind.
It would assist his schemes wonderfully to have Ralph Nelson discharged.
"You had my twenty-dollar bill, and you paid it over to Mr. Dicks," said Ralph. "You can't deny it."
At these words Percy staggered back, for the unexpected shot had struck home.
"Who—who says I paid the bill over to Mr. Dicks?"
"Will Dicks himself. You bought cigarettes, and gave him the bill to change."
"I gave him a twenty-dollar bill, but it wasn't yours."
"It was, and I can prove it."
"How?"
"By a grease spot in one corner, made by the butter on a sandwich I had."
"Is that all?" sneered Percy.
"I think that's enough."
"Well, hardly. I guess there are a good many bills with grease spots on them floating around."
For the moment Ralph was nonplussed. The aristocratic bully saw it and went on:
"You are afraid you are going to lose your place, and you want to get me and my father in your power, so we can help you keep it. But it won't work, will it, father?"
"Hardly, my son. We are not to be browbeaten in this style," remarked Squire Paget, pompously.
"Then you do not intend to make good the amount?"asked Ralph, shortly, disgusted at the way in which the squire stood up for Percy.
"I shall not give you twenty dollars when I don't owe it to you," said Percy.
"Will you tell me where you got that twenty-dollar bill?"
"I got it in Chambersburgh last week. A man asked me to change it for him and I did so."
Percy had thought out this falsehood before, and now he uttered it with the greatest of ease.
"I believe my son speaks the truth," added Squire Paget. "You had better be going and hunt for your money elsewhere."
"I don't believe he ever had twenty dollars, excepting he saved it out of the toll money," sneered Percy, and he walked from the room.
Burning with indignation, but unable to help himself toward obtaining his rights, Ralph arose and without another word left the squire's mansion. It was too late to attempt to do more that night, and after some hesitation he went home.
Squire Paget watched him leave the garden, and then locked the front door and went back to the library.
"Ralph Nelson is getting too important, in his own estimation," he mused. "I thought he was a mere youngster who could be twisted around one's finger, but I was mistaken. I must get him out of his situation and compel him to leave Westville, if possible. I can't do much while he is around here."
Squire Paget sat for half an hour in his easy chair thinking over his plans. Then he went to bed.
After breakfast he started out to pay a visit to Benjamin Hooker, the village postmaster. Hooker, Dicks and the squire were close friends, and they constituted a majority of the village board, which controlled the bridge and other local matters.
"Well, squire, what brings you around this morning so early?" questioned the postmaster, for it was an hour before regular mail time.
"I come to see you about committee matters," returned Squire Paget. "I have got to report against Ralph Nelson, our bridge tender."
"What's he been a-doing, squire?"
"He insulted and assaulted my only son yesterday in a most outrageous fashion, without provocation."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed the postmaster. "I thought Nelson was quite a gentlemanly boy."
"I never did, Benjamin, never! He is nothing but a young tough."
"It's too bad."
"He isn't fit to have on the bridge any longer, and I move we give him a week's notice," went on the squire. "We don't want passengers on the bridge insulted on their way over."
"That's so, squire. But what caused the row?"
"Nothing at all, excepting that Nelson has taken a dislike to my son. And he is such a wicked boy, too, Benjamin. Why, when he heard that my son was going to proceed against him, what do you suppose he did?"
"What did he do?" questioned the postmaster, eagerly.
"Actually accused my son of stealing twenty dollars from him."
"Gracious!"
"Isn't that enough to provoke a saint, Benjamin? Do you wonder I wish to take him in hand?"
"Not at all, squire; not at all."
"And you will vote to remove him, won't you?"
"Certainly—if you wish it," replied Benjamin Hooker, who was under obligation to the squire, for money loaned. "But we can't remove him without another vote in the board."
"I know that. Come with me to Uriah Dicks', and I'll tell him about the matter. Uriah will stand by us, I know, in a case like this."
As there would be nothing to do in the office for at least half an hour, the postmaster readily consented to accompany the squire, leaving the place in charge of the clerk.
Five minutes later the two stepped into Uriah Dicks' general store. They found the old man talking earnestly to Ralph and a stranger, who was none other than Horace Kelsey.
Both Squire Paget and the postmaster were surprised to see Ralph in conversation with Uriah Dicks and the young gentleman who was a stranger to them.
The squire had expected to hold a quiet talk with the keeper of the general store, and he was much disappointed to learn that this was to be denied to him.
However, he put on a bold front, and approached Uriah without hesitation, just as the latter looked up.
"Why, here is Squire Paget now!" exclaimed Uriah Dicks. "Squire, you are just the man I want to see!"
"I can say the same for you," returned the squire, with a sharp glance at Ralph.
"I got a twenty-dollar bill from your son yesterday, and it looks like it was going to make trouble for me," went on the storekeeper.
"It has already made enough trouble for me," retorted the squire, pointedly.
"Squire Paget, this is Mr. Kelsey, the gentleman that gave me the twenty-dollar bill," put in Ralph.
"Humph! He might have given you a twenty-dollar bill, but this is not the one," growled the squire.
"I believe it is, sir," said Horace Kelsey.
"You do?"
"Yes, sir. It is, as you see, a new one, issued by the First National Bank of Chambersburgh. That is the bank at which I drew it."
"It's all rot!" roared the squire. "My son Percy received that bill, and in Chambersburgh, too!" he added, suddenly. "He said so last night."
Again Ralph's hopes fell. He had felt almost certain that his city friend would be able to prove the property, but now this supposed proof amounted to little or nothing.
"But that grease spot——" he began.
"A story invented by yourself," interrupted Squire Paget. "It is more than likely that the grease spot was on the bill when my son received it."
"Did your son receive the bill at the bank?" questioned Horace Kelsey.
"I don't know—I suppose he did," stammered the squire.
There was an awkward pause. Uriah Dicks drummed uneasily upon the counter, where lay the bill in dispute.
"One thing is certain," said Uriah. "I took the bill in good faith, and I ain't a-goin' to lose on it, mind that."
"You shan't lose on it, Uriah," replied the squire. "My son gave it to you, and it was his bill. You keep it, and I'll take young Nelson in hand. He has concocted this story for a purpose."
"A purpose, eh?" queried the storekeeper.
"Exactly. He knows that he is in danger of losing his situation, and it is his endeavor to get me and my sonin his power, so we will influence others to help him keep him in his place."
"I don't see what I have done to lose the job on the bridge," said Ralph, his cheeks growing red.
"I thought he was doin' well enough," put in Uriah.
"He is a regular rough!" burst out the squire, with a fine appearance of wrath. "He insulted my son on the bridge and knocked him down. And he insults every one he dares!"
"That is a gross untruth, Squire Paget!" burst out Ralph. "I insult nobody——"
"He's a very impulsive youth," put in Postmaster Hooker, thinking it time to bolster up the squire's remarks. "He is, I am afraid, too hot-headed to have on the bridge, not to say anything about this attempt to—ahem!—cast an unworthy reflection on the fair name of our squire's son."
And the postmaster looked as important as possible as he spoke.
Uriah Dicks caught the drift of the talk and looked perplexed, not knowing exactly upon which side to cast his opinion.
But he soon made up his mind. Ralph was a poor boy, with little or no influence, while the squire was rich and powerful.
"I don't know but what you are right, gentlemen," he said. "He certainly talked putty sharp-like about Percy last night."
"I shall make him suffer for that, never fear," said thesquire, pointedly. "He shall not insult my son with impunity!"
Ralph was about to speak, but Horace Kelsey checked him.
"It will do you no good to talk," he said, in a low tone. "They are against you, and we can prove nothing. Better drop the matter, at least until something more in your favor turns up."
"But I am certain the bill is mine——"
"So am I, but it is one thing to know it and quite another to prove it."
"Hadn't you ought to be on the bridge now?" asked Uriah, sourly.
"Bob Sanderson is tending for me."
"Who give him that right?" asked Squire Paget.
"Certainly not the town committee."
"Mr. Foley said I might have him help me during slack hours," returned the young bridge tender, mentioning the name of another of the committeemen.
"He ain't got no power," put in Uriah. "It wasn't never put to a vote."
"I must have some help."
"A young man that was really willing to work wouldn't need no help," grumbled the miserly storekeeper. "It is only on account of laziness you need help."
"That's so," added the postmaster, willing to "pile it on" when there was such a good chance. "Better get back to work at once!"
"I will," replied Ralph, and, not wishing to lose hisjob on the spot, he left the store, followed by Horace Kelsey.
"It's a shame the way they treat you!" burst out the young man, as the two walked toward the bridge. "I don't really see how they can do it."
"I suppose they will discharge me now," returned Ralph, bitterly. "And all because I claim a bill that I am positive is my own!"
"If they discharge you, I would make that Percy Paget prove where he got the bill. If he cannot prove it, that will be one point in your favor."
The two walked down to the bridge, and here the young man from the city left Ralph, and went off with Bob Sanderson to see how the repairs to the sloop were coming on.
Ralph was in no happy frame of mind when left alone. He had tried only to assert his rights, but the future looked black in consequence.
Presently his mother came down from the cottage to talk matters over with him. She knew her son had gone off with Horace Kelsey to Uriah Dicks' store.
"The squire is certainly very unreasonable," she said, after Ralph had told his story. "Every one around Westville knows that Percy is arrogant to the last degree."
"That is so, mother, but, to the squire, Percy is perfection. I do not see how he can be so blind."
"If you lose your position on the bridge, Ralph, what in the world will we do? Times are so hard in Westville."
"I'll have to look for work in Eastport or Chambersburgh, I suppose," returned the son. "But I haven't lost the job yet," he added, as cheerfully as he could.
"But if Uriah Dicks and the postmaster and the squire are against you, they can put you out. There are only five in the committee, and three are a majority."
Ralph was about to reply, but several passengers had to be waited on, and he went on to collect the tolls. Then a whistle sounded from up Big Silver Lake, notifying him that a steamboat wished to pass through the draw, and the opening and closing of the bridge took ten minutes or more.
"If I were only bookkeeper enough to strike a job in one of the factories, I wouldn't care whether I lost the place here or not," said Ralph, when he was again at leisure. "This is a lazy sort of a job, and I would much prefer office work."
"That is true, my son, but one must be thankful to get work of any kind now," returned Mrs. Nelson.
"Oh, I know that, and I am not grumbling, mother, but the—what's that?"
Ralph broke off suddenly. A crash of glass, coming from the neighborhood of the cottage, sounded in their ears. The first crash was followed by half-a-dozen others in rapid succession.
"What in the world can that mean?" cried Mrs. Nelson, and, without waiting, she ran from the bridge.
Ralph looked up and down to see if any one was coming across, and, sighting none, followed.
On a run it did not take long to reach the little homeby the side path. As they neared it, Ralph pointed excitedly to the sitting-room windows.
"Look, mother," he cried, in deep indignation. "Some vandal has broken nearly every pane of glass in the house!"
"Perhaps there are thieves around!" returned Mrs. Nelson, quickly.
"No, they wouldn't break glass needlessly. This was done out of pure meanness."
They hurried around to the door and into the cottage. Alas! a single glance around was enough. Fully half the panes of glass in the cottage were smashed, and on the floors of the various rooms lay a dozen stones as big as a man's hand.
"I know who did this!" ejaculated Ralph, in high anger. "Percy Paget, and no one else!"
"Would he dare?" faltered Mrs. Nelson.
"Yes; and it is just in line with his sneak-like character. I am going to see if I can find him."
Ralph dashed out of the cottage as rapidly as he had entered it. He made a strict search about the grounds, up the road, and in the wood on the other side. But it was of no avail; the person who had committed the contemptible act had disappeared.
Had it not been for his duties on the bridge, Ralph would have continued his search still farther. But already several persons had passed over and dropped their pennies on the counter of the little office, and now a horn was blowing from the deck of the little schooner sailing up Silver Lake.
So telling his mother that he would be back as soon as possible, he hurried to the bridge. Half-a-dozen boats wished to go through the draw, including a string of canal boats, and it was nearly noon before he could leave the spot.
Then Bob Sanderson came around the cove in the sloopMagic. Beside him sat Horace Kelsey. The repairs to theMagicwere now completed, and the little craft was practically as good as new.
"Hallo, Bob, come up here and tend for me, will you?" shouted Ralph, as soon as he caught sight of the old man.
"All right, Ralph! What's up?"
"I must go home," returned the young bridge tender, and when the sloop was tied up near by, he told the two occupants of what had occurred.
"I never heard the like!" burst out Bob Sanderson. "If it was really that Paget boy, he ought to have a whip across his back!"
Horace Kelsey accompanied Ralph to the cottage to see the extent of the damage done. The young man from New York was also of the opinion that the guilty party ought to be brought to swift justice.
"But no one saw Percy, and we cannot prove anything," said Mrs. Nelson.
"Perhaps we can," said Ralph. "I'm going to hunt him up, if that is possible."
Horace Kelsey did not feel able to remain longer at Westville, and so he left when Ralph did. Before he went, however, he insisted on presenting Ralph with another twenty-dollar bill, to replace the one lost.
"Here is my card," he said, on leaving. "If you ever come to New York, drop in and see me."
"Thank you; I shall be very much pleased to," replied Ralph.
He noted that Horace Kelsey was in the insurance business, with an office on Broadway, and then he placed the address carefully away in a drawer of the old-fashioned desk in the sitting-room.
"Who knows, but if I am discharged here I may some day go to New York," thought the young bridge tender.
After taking another look about the cottage and through the wood, Ralph started up the road leading to the center of the village. Presently he came across a young man named Edgar Steiner, who was one of Percy Paget's intimate friends.
"Steiner, do you know where Percy Paget is?" he asked.
"Percy has gone to Silver Cove," returned Steiner.
"When did he go?"
"Went early this morning. He drove down to see about a dog he is going to buy from a sport who lives there."
Silver Cove was several miles below Westville, and the road to the place would not have brought the aristocratic bully near the cottage by the bridge.
"You are sure he went?"
"Yes. I saw him drive off. He wanted me to go along, but I couldn't very well. Do you wish to see him?"
"Yes."
"I understand you and he had some trouble yesterday."
"We did have some trouble yesterday. But I want to see him about something else now."
Steiner stared at Ralph. Then, thinking he had spent enough time on such a poor lad as the bridge tender, he turned away and walked off, whistling a merry concert-hall air.
Ralph stood still, undecided what to do next. If Percy had really gone to Silver Cove, somebody else must be guilty of breaking the cottage windows. But who? Ralph could not remember of having any other enemy.
While the boy was deliberating he saw three men coming toward him. They were the squire, the postmaster, and Uriah Dicks.
"Why ain't you at the bridge?" asked Uriah, sourly.
"We have had trouble at the cottage, sir," replied Ralph. "Some vandal has broken nearly all of our windows."
"It's a wonder you do not blame it on my son Percy!" sneered the squire.
"I do blame it on him," retorted Ralph. "He is the only enemy who would do such a thing."
"More of the scheme to get my son into trouble. You see how it is, gentlemen; he is a thorough young rascal!" exclaimed the squire.
"It's awful!" murmured Postmaster Hooker. "It's a good thing we intend to act on this matter, squire."
"Yes, we can't let it rest another minute," returned Squire Paget.
And on the three men passed, leaving Ralph more bitter in heart than ever.
The young bridge tender returned to work, sending Bob Sanderson to the cottage with instructions to buy what glass was needed, and put it in, taking the money out of the twenty-dollar bill Horace Kelsey had given him that morning.
The afternoon slipped by quietly, and at sundown Sanderson came back to relieve Ralph as usual.
"The glass is all in, and here is the change," said he, and handed over sixteen dollars and a half. "Had to pay three dollars and a half for glass, tacks, and putty."
"But your pay, Mr. Sanderson——"
"That's all right, Ralph; I won't ask none on this job, exceptin' you catch the chap as did it, and make him pony up, as the sayin' goes."
"You are very kind. I doubt if I am able to do anything in the matter," returned Ralph, hopelessly.
He had hardly reached home, when a knock was heardon the cottage door. They opened it to admit Squire Paget's hired man.
"A letter for Ralph Nelson," the man said, and handed it over. "I don't think there is any answer," he added, and bowed his way out.
"It must be from the squire," cried Mrs. Nelson. "Perhaps he has relented of his harsh treatment——"
"Not he!" exclaimed Ralph. "It isn't in him."
The boy broke the seal of the letter, and drew out the document, which read as follows:
Mrs. Randolph Nelson:—Owing to circumstances of which you are as well aware as ourselves, we shall not require your services or those of your son as bridge tender for Westville after the week ending July 19.
The Westville Township Committee,
Per Hon. Thomas Paget, Chairman.
"What is it, Ralph?" asked his mother, anxiously.
"Just as I thought, mother. My services as bridge tender will not be required after this week," returned Ralph, bitterly.
"Let me see the letter." Mrs. Nelson took and read the epistle. "It is too bad!"
"It's an outrage, mother, that's what it is! And all on account of that aristocratic sneak, Percy Paget!"
"Do not call harsh names, Ralph!"
"I can't help it, mother; he is a sneak, and worse. He brought on the row, took that money, and I am certain he broke our windows into the bargain!"
Mrs. Nelson did not reply. She thought in silence for a moment, and the look of anxiety on her face deepened.
"What shall we do when you are out of work, Ralph?"
"I must try to obtain another job, mother."
"But if you are not successful?"
"Let us not anticipate, mother. I am sure to strike something. In the meantime we will have a little money to fall back on—the balance of that twenty-dollar bill, for instance."
"Yes, and we will have the other money we have saved," added Mrs. Nelson. "But I would not like to touch that if it could be helped."
"We won't touch it. I'll find work before my week's wages and the sixteen dollars and a half are gone. The one pity is we'll feel too poor just now to advertise for those missing papers, and offer any reward for their return."
"That is so," and Mrs. Nelson gave a long sigh.
Perhaps she saw the many disappointments in store for her son when he should seek employment elsewhere.
By the next morning Ralph felt better. He was able to take the matter of his discharge philosophically, and he was even hopeful that the next week would see him in a better situation than he now occupied.
He went at his duties with a willing spirit, resolved that there should be no cause for complaint during his last days on the bridge. Only one thing made him feel bad, and that was that he could not prove that Percy and not himself had been to blame for the row.
But Ralph soon learned that many of the village folks who used the bridge daily sided with him. Some of these were very outspoken in their opinion of the committee's actions.
"Under the squire's thumb, all of 'em!" said Bart Haycock, the village blacksmith. "We ought to have a new committee, and maybe we will have at the coming election."
But all this talk did not help Ralph. He had received notice, and in three days his duties on the bridge would come to an end. And the change would also hurt Bob Sanderson, who would now have either to pay for his board or go elsewhere.
"Who is to take your place?" asked Sanderson, when he came to relieve Ralph in the evening.
"I don't know, Mr. Sanderson," returned the young bridge tender. "But I hope, whoever it is, he keeps you as helper."
"Well, that depends," returned the old man. "I wouldn't care to work for everybody, say Dan Pickley, for instance."
"Do you think Dan Pickley is after the job?" questioned Ralph, quickly.
"He was after it before, and he ain't doing much now."
"I imagine Squire Paget will give him the position if he wishes it," mused Ralph. "He and the squire are quite thick."
"That's because Dan is willing to do any work the squire wishes done," responded Bob Sanderson. "That fellow will do anything for pay."
That evening Ralph and his mother had a talk, in which it was decided that old Bob Sanderson should be allowed to remain at the cottage at the nominal amount of a dollar per week for board, until he managed to obtain another situation, or until jobs in his line became more numerous.
When Sanderson was told of this he was very grateful. As he had no other boarding-place in view, he gladly accepted the offer, and promised that the widow and her son should lose nothing by their kindness.
On the following morning Ralph was collecting toll, when a man approached the bridge, and began to watch proceedings. The man was Dan Pickley.
"What brings you, Pickley?" asked Ralph, after the latter had been watching him for some time.
"Came down to get the run of things," returned Pickley.
"Then you are to have the job after I leave?"
"Reckon I am. The squire said as much."
"The squire and you are rather thick," remarked the young bridge tender, coolly.
"Oh, I don't know," returned the man, uneasily. "He knows a good hand to hire when he wants him."
"It was you who were at the squire's house when I called, a few nights ago."
"Yes; I had an errand for him."
As he uttered the last words, Dan Pickley looked at Ralph closely. He was wondering if the boy had overheard much of the conversation which had passed between Squire Paget and himself that night in the library.
Pickley sat down on the end of the bridge, and began to count the folks as they passed over. Ralph saw that he was keeping track of the toll, but said nothing.
"Let me help you turn the bridge," said Pickley when a horn sounded for the draw to be opened.
"No, thank you; I can do it alone," replied Ralph.
"Don't you want me to take hold?"
"It is not needed. You will get enough of the work after I leave."
"You don't want to be a bit sociable," growled Pickley, and he turned away, but still kept on counting the passengers as they crossed.
"I suppose he wants to make sure that I am not going to cheat the bridge board out of its cash," mused Ralph, somewhat bitterly. "No doubt Squire Paget fancies that, now I have my walking-papers, I will steal every penny I can!"
During his odd moments Ralph threw several fishing-lines over, and the catching of a mess of fish served to occupy his thoughts to a considerable extent.
Pickley watched him fish for a while, but did not offer to resume the conversation. But he kept a close tally of every cent taken in as toll.
At noon Bob Sanderson brought over Ralph's lunch.
"Well, I'm lucky anyway," he said. "I've got a job at building hot-bed frames for Mr. Ford that will give me steady work for nigh onto three weeks at good pay."
"I am glad to hear it," replied Ralph, with a smile. "Three weeks is a long time, and something is sure to turn up in the meantime."
"I'm glad you have a job, too," put in Pickley, "for I am going to have Andy Wilson help me."
"Then you've got the job?" said Sanderson.
"Yes, I go on as soon as Ralph quits."
While the young bridge tender was eating his lunch a steamboat whistle sounded, and he had to leave it to open the draw. The steamboat passed through, and then he noticed another boat coming down the lake, although some distance off.
As there were just then no passengers wishing passage over the bridge, Ralph decided to leave the draw open for a few minutes, until the boat had time to go through.
He sat down to finish his lunch. He had just raised a bit of home-made berry pie to his mouth, when a clatter on the Westville turnpike startled him.
"My gracious! a runaway!" cried old Bob Sanderson.
Ralph leaped to his feet, and saw that his old helper wasright. There, tearing along the road that led from the village center was an elegant team of black horses, attached to a large open carriage.
"It's Mrs. Carrington's team!" cried Pickley. "And blame me if the old lady and her daughter ain't in the carriage!"
"The team is coming this way!" put in Bob Sanderson. "I wonder if we can't stop them?"
"Not much!" roared Pickley. "Get out of the way, or you'll be knocked down and killed!"
Sanderson was too old a man to attempt to subdue the fiery steeds, and he quickly followed Pickley out of harm's way.
In the meantime Ralph stood undecided as to what to do. Should he run forward, and try to bring the horses to a standstill before the bridge was reached?
"It won't do," he muttered, half-aloud. "I might miss them, and then——"
He thought no further, but with a bound, sprang to the capstan bar, and with might and main strove to swing the heavy bridge around into place, thus closing the draw.
It was hard work, and the sweat poured from his face and down his chin. But he kept at it, noting at each turn how close the steeds and the elegant turnout were drawing.
At last, with a shock and a quiver, the draw-bridge reached its resting piers. As it did so Ralph gave the bar and capstan a jerk from the hole in which it worked. He threw it aside, just as the front hoofs of the runaways struck the long planking at the end of the bridge.