CHAPTER XXI.
WHAT HAPPENED IN THE ROAD.
As soon as the train had passed, and Nick’s chance to escape had eluded him, I released my grasp, and permitted him to rise.
“What do you mean by pitching into me in that way?” demanded Nick, puffing with the violence of his struggles.
“I have business with you,” I replied, as much out of wind as he was.
I stood in the road, by the side of his travelling bag, resting upon the rifle. I had arranged with Colonel Wimpleton to get out at the second switch, and drive back the horse he would find near it, if I did not join him. He was to understand by this that I had captured the fugitive.
“What do you want of me?” asked Nick, when he had recovered his breath a little.
“You know very well what I want.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You do.”
“How should I know?”
“Your conscience, if nothing else, will tell you.”
“It don’t. I’m going to California.”
“Not just yet, Nick. You will give up some of the money you have upon you before you go to California, or anywhere else.”
“What money?” said he, snappishly; but I saw that his lip quivered.
“Ten thousand dollars that you stole from me,” I replied, impatiently.
“I never knew you had so much money.”
“You stole a check in my favor, for that sum, at the hotel in Grass Springs.”
“I didn’t take any check.”
“It’s no use to lie about it, Nick. The whole thing has come out. If you want to spend the next twenty years of your life in the state prison, deny it. Colonel Wimpleton will be here in a few moments,” I added, as I heard the rattle of the wagon.
“Colonel Wimpleton!” exclaimed Nick.
“Here he comes,” I continued, as the wagon began to descend the hill. “If you try to get away from me, I may find it necessary to break your head.”
“You have him,” said the colonel, as he stopped the horse, and got out of the wagon.
I picked up Nick’s travelling bag, for I suspected that the money, or some part of it, was in it.
“Nick, we can make short work of this business,” said the colonel, confronting my prisoner. “We haven’t brought any officers with us, but we can obtain them when needed.”
“What do you want of me, Colonel Wimpleton?” asked Nick. “You gave me five hundred dollars for what I did for you, and I’m going to California, to see if I can’t do something.”
“You may go to California, but you must give up the ten thousand dollars you stole first.”
“I haven’t any ten thousand dollars.”
“Yes, you have; you stole my check for that amount. It’s useless for you to deny it.”
“I didn’t expect this of you, Colonel Wimpleton,” added Nick, trying to assume an air of injured innocence, in which, however, he was not successful, for he hardly understood the phases of that quality.
“Instead of sending an officer after you, Nick, I have come myself. You must acknowledge that this was considerate.”
“I saved your life, Colonel Wimpleton.”
“If you did, that is no reason why you should steal ten thousand dollars from me.”
“Wolf says I took it from him.”
“We will not quibble; it will come out of me in the end.”
“If I have to go back to Centreport, I think there will be some talk about you, Colonel Wimpleton.”
“If you go back, it will only be on your way to the penitentiary. Will you give up the money, or not?”
“What! the five hundred you gave me for pulling you out of the lake?” exclaimed Nick.
“No; the ten thousand you stole.”
“I haven’t it.”
I grasped Nick by the collar, for I thought, from a movement he made, that he intended to run for the woods.
“We need not parley with him,” I added. “We had better search him at once.”
“Let me alone, Wolf!” cried Nick, beginning to struggle.
Colonel Wimpleton came to my assistance, though I did not need his help; for I was abundantly able to manage Nick, and we held him fast. He made an effort to release himself; but finding it fruitless, he began to be more reasonable.
“If you will produce the money, all right; if you won’t, I shall search you,” said the colonel.
“You have no right to do that,” blubbered Nick, who was now able fully to comprehend the situation.
“I shall take the responsibility,” added the colonel. “Let me tell you in the beginning, Nick, that I do not intend to prosecute you unless you compel me to do so. You must give up the money you obtained by fraud.”
“I will, if you won’t send me to jail,” replied Nick.
“I will not send you to jail. I have not forgotten what you did for me a few days ago.”
“I haven’t the money with me. I will send it to you to-morrow, if you will let me go.”
“I will not let you go. Were you going to California without your money? Where is it?”
“In my bag.”
“Open your bag,” said the colonel.
Finding that his only hope of escaping the penalty of his crime was by giving up the money, he obeyed. Opening his bag, he took from a roll of clothing a little package, carefully wrapped up in brown paper, and gave it to Colonel Wimpleton. The latter opened the parcel, and found that it really contained the bank notes, which he hastily counted.
“The money is all here, Wolf,” said the colonel. “You may let him go now.”
I released him; but he was not disposed to go.
“Are you really going to California, Nick?” I asked of him.
“I was going there; but I haven’t money enough now to pay my fare out and back, if I don’t find anything to do,” he replied, doggedly; and it was plain that he was more disappointed than burdened with guilt at the failure of his plans.
“I will give you more, Nick,” said the colonel; “for I think my life is worth more than five hundred dollars.”
“I shouldn’t have used this check if you had done the handsome thing by me,” added Nick, with an effrontery which moved me to indignation.
“I will give you fifteen hundred dollars more,” said the colonel.
“I can get along with that,” answered Nick.
“But I want to ask you a few questions first. Why did you tell me that Wolf was working against me?”
“Because he was. He knew very well that you were after Waddie and the rest of them, and he sent me over to the Horse Shoe to tell them to clear out.”
“Why did you tell Colonel Wimpleton that the party were together, and that they were on better terms than they ought to be?” I inquired.
“That’s my business; but, as I shall not be seen again in these parts, I don’t mind telling,” said he, with a coarse grin. “Miss Minnie was rather fond of me, and--”
“You impudent rascal!” exclaimed the colonel.
“O, it was so! She told me so herself. I was a little mad because Tommy Toppleton was likely to cut me out.”
“You may go now. I don’t want to see or hear any more of you,” replied Colonel Wimpleton, disgusted with the fellow’s conceit.
“Where can I go now? I have lost the train,” added Nick, as he glanced at the wagon.
“Go where you please; but don’t let me see you in these parts again,” replied the great man, as he stepped into the vehicle.
I took my seat at his side. The colonel opened the roll of bills which Nick had restored to him, and gave him the sum he had promised. I could not help thinking that it was a very handsome reward for a small service. When this business was done, I took the reins, and drove back to Hitaca. We arrived just in time for the colonel to take the railroad boat, which started at quarter of twelve. After dinner, I obtained some provisions for the Belle, and sailed for home. Unfortunately, the wind was light from the north, where it had been on my voyage up the lake, and from Port Gunga I was obliged to beat all the way down. It was nine o’clock when I arrived at Middleport, and I went directly home.
“What’s going on, Wolf?” asked my father.
“Colonel Wimpleton and I have made it all up,” I replied.
“I’m so glad!” exclaimed my mother.
“He told me I might take command of the Ucayga again; but I don’t think I shall. How did Van Wolter make out going down to-day?”
“Lost the trains this morning; for he would not go through the Horse Shoe Channel. He just saved them this afternoon. There is a great deal of grumbling.”
“I will go pilot in her to-morrow,” I added.
“Why not captain?”
“I’m really sorry for Van Wolter. He is a good, honest man, and I don’t like to displace him. I hope a new arrangement will be made soon.”
My father was curious to know what had passed between the colonel and myself; but I told him I was not at liberty to inform him, and he was reasonable enough not to require me to violate the confidence of the magnate. I told him, however, that we were better friends than ever before, and, what I regarded as the best news of all, that Colonel Wimpleton had stopped drinking.
For some reason or other, I felt happier that night than for years before. I could not help believing that there was “a good time coming.” Everything looked more hopeful to me than ever before. One thing was very surprising to me. In the long talk I had had with Colonel Wimpleton, he had not even alluded to the matter which had so excited his indignation on the day we went to Grass Springs. Not a word had he said about Tommy Toppleton and Miss Minnie, or about Waddie and Grace. I had expected him to speak of this subject, and I feared it; for, as I was not disposed to deceive him, it would have been a very embarrassing topic to me. I was almost prepared to believe that he intended to let the young people follow their own inclinations, if they had any inclinations of this kind.
At half past eight the next morning I was on the wharf when the Ucayga arrived from up the lake. I saw John, the colonel’s man, hand Van Wolter a note, as I went on board. He opened it, and read its contents.
“I’m glad to see you, Wolf,” said he, as I presented myself. “I am ordered to report to you as captain of the Ucayga again,” said Van Wolter.
“I have not received my appointment as captain,” I replied. “Of course I cannot take the command without authority.”
“Here it is.”
“That is not directed to me. I want you to keep your place, Van Wolter, for the present. I will be your pilot to-day; and, when I have seen Colonel Wimpleton, I hope it will be all right with both of us.”
He objected, but I prevailed upon him at last to pocket the note, and retain his position. I took the Ucayga through the Horse Shoe Channel on that trip, and she was on time. When I returned at noon, Colonel Wimpleton came on board, and gave me a very pleasant greeting.
“What does Van Wolter say about his boy?” he asked.
“Not a word. Of course he does not know anything about the affair of yesterday.”
“You can tell him that Nick has gone to California, if you believe he has gone there.”
“I do not believe it. I think we had better say nothing about him. Probably he will come back when he has spent his money.”
“Well, what does Van Wolter say about losing his place as captain?”
“I don’t think he has lost it yet. I have not been appointed.”
“I thought you would consider what I said yesterday as an appointment.”
“Not exactly, sir,” I replied. “I was in hopes that you would make me the agent of the line.”
“I have thought about that matter, Wolf,” he replied, struggling to conceal a frown. “We will consider it.”
We took seats in my state-room for this purpose.