The tramp withdrew from the cabin and lay down under a tree, where he wassoon fast asleep. Curiously it was the very oak tree under which Peter'slittle hoard was concealed. This of course he did not know. Had he beenaware that directly beneath him was a box containing a hundred dollars ingold he would have been electrified and full of joy.
Tom Burns in his long and varied career had many times slept in the openair, and he had no difficulty in falling asleep now, and when he woke itwas much later than he intended. However, without delay, he made his wayto the cabin, and arrived just as Ernest discovered the death of the oldman whom he had supposed to be his uncle.
What time it was the tramp did not know, but as he stood with his faceglued to the window-pane he heard a clock in the cabin striking the hourof three.
"Three o'clock," he ejaculated. "Well, I did have a nap!"
The boy was awake, and he thought it best to wait a while.
"Why didn't I get here a little sooner?" he grumbled. "Then I could haveransacked the cabin without trouble. Probably the old man has been deadsome time."
He watched to see what Ernest would do.
"He won't be such a fool as to sit up with the corpse," he muttered alittle apprehensively. "That wouldn't do no good."
Apparently Ernest was of this opinion, for after carefully covering up theinanimate body he lay down again on his own bed.
He did not fall asleep immediately, for the thought that he was in thepresence of death naturally affected his imagination. But gradually hiseyes closed, and his full, regular breathing gave notice that he wasasleep.
He had left the candle burning on the table. By the light which itafforded the tramp could watch him, and at the end of twenty minutes hefelt satisfied that he could safely enter.
He lifted the window and passed into the room noiselessly. He had one eyefixed on the sleeping boy, who might suddenly awake. He had taken off hisshoes and left them on the grass just under the window.
When Tom Burns found himself in the room he made his way at once to thetrunk, which his watchful eye had already discovered.
"That's where the old man keeps his gold, likely," he muttered. "I hope itisn't locked."
Usually the trunk would have been fastened, but the conversation whichErnest had with old Peter so engrossed his mind as to make him lesscareful than usual. Tom Burns therefore had no difficulty in lifting thelid.
With eager fingers he explored the contents, and was not long indiscovering the box which contained the two gold coins.
The discovery pleased and yet disappointed him.
"Only ten dollars!" he muttered. "There ought to have been a pile of theseyellow boys. Perhaps there are more somewhere."
Meanwhile he slipped the two coins into his vest pocket. It was not much,but it was more than he had had in his possession for months.
He continued his search, but failed to discover any more money. He feltindignant. That a miser should have but a paltry ten dollars in his trunkwas very discreditable.
"He must have some more somewhere," Burns reflected.
It occurred to him that there might be hoards hidden under the floor, orin the immediate neighborhood of the cabin. But it was night, and therewould be no profit in pursuing the search now.
"To-morrow," he reflected, "the boy will be off, making preparations forburyin' the old man, and then I can make another visit."
He closed the lid of the trunk, and with a general glance to see if therewas anything more worth taking he rose to his feet and prepared to leavethe room.
Just at this moment Ernest, who was probably dreaming of the old man,spoke in his sleep.
"Uncle Peter," he murmured.
The tramp stood still, apprehensive that Ernest would open his eyes anddetect his presence. But the boy did not speak again.
"I had better get," muttered Burns.
He got out of the window quietly, but as the boy stirred again he hurriedaway without stopping to shut it.
When, a little after seven o'clock, Ernest woke up, the sun was streamingin at the open window, and the cool air entered with it.
"How came the window up?" thought Ernest, wondering. "I am sure I didn'tleave it open last night."
There was nothing else to indicate that the cabin had been entered. Butthe more Ernest thought it over the more convinced he was that there hadbeen a visitor.
What could have been his motive?
With sudden suspicion he went to the trunk and opened it. It was evidentthat things had been disturbed. His eyes sought the box that contained thegold pieces. He opened it, and found that he had been robbed.
"Who could have done it?" he asked himself.
He could not think of anyone. He was acquainted with everyone in thevillage, and he knew none that would be capable of theft. He never thoughtof the ill-looking tramp he had met in Joe Marks's store.
Ten dollars was a considerable loss to him, for he had estimated that itwould defray the expenses of old Peter's interment. It was not so bad asit might have been, for the hundred dollars of which Peter had told himwere still safe.
"When I get that I must be careful," he said to himself.
Though his rest had been disturbed, he felt ready to get up. There waswork for him to do. He must arrange for the burial of the old man withwhom he had lived so long, the only friend he felt he could claim.
Ernest rose, and after dressing himself made a frugal breakfast. He lookedsadly at Peter. Death was to him something new and strange, for he did notremember ever having seen a dead man before. He must get help, and withthat object in view he went to the village, and sought the store of JoeMarks.
"What brings you out so early, my lad?" asked Joe.
"Matter enough, Joe. My uncle is dead."
He still called him uncle, though he knew now that Peter was no kin tohim.
"Old Peter dead!" ejaculated Marks. "When did he die?"
"Some time during the night. I wish you'd help me, for I don't know whatto do."
"So I will, boy. We'll stand by you, won't we, Luke?"
This was said as Luke Robbins entered the store.
"To be sure we will, Ernest. We all like you."
"Oh, I forgot to say," continued Ernest, "the cabin was entered last nightand some money taken."
CHAPTER IV
ALONE IN THE WORLD
Joe Marks and Luke Robbins looked at each other in amazement.
"Your cabin entered!" exclaimed Joe. "What do you say to that, Luke?"
"I did not know there were any thieves round here," answered Luke. "Whatwas taken?"
"An old trunk was opened--I carelessly left it unlocked--and twofive-dollar gold pieces were stolen out of it. At any rate, I couldn'tfind them this morning."
"Two five-dollar gold pieces?" said Joe quickly. "Then I know who tookthem."
"What do you mean, Joe?" said Luke. "Out with it!"
"You know that tramp who was here yesterday, Luke?"
"Yes."
"He came round an hour ago, and called for a glass of whisky. 'Where isyour money?' I asked. 'I've got plenty,' he said. Then I called upon himto show it, and he pulled out a five-dollar gold piece. Of course I wassurprised. 'Where did you get it?' I asked suspiciously. 'Yesterday yousaid you had no money.' 'I had that,' he answered, 'but I didn't want tospend it. You see it was a gift from my dyin' mother, and I wanted to keepit for her sake.' With that he rolled up his eyes and lookedsanctimonious. Then I asked him how it happened that he was ready to spendit now."
"What did he say?"
"He said that he was so parched with thirst that he felt obliged to doit."
"Did you take his money?"
"No. I was short of change. You see I changed a gold piece for the boyyesterday. Besides, I wasn't sure the piece was good, seeing who offeredit."
"Then he didn't get his whisky?"
"No. He went away disappointed. I don't doubt, Ernest, that the gold piecewas one of yours. How did the fellow get in?"
"Through the wi
ndow. I found it open when I woke up."
"You must have slept sound."
"I did. I slept an hour later than I generally do."
"Was anything else taken?"
"Not that I could discover."
"Do you mean to say that your uncle had but ten dollars?" asked Joeincredulously.
"It was all he had in the trunk."
"I always thought him a rich man."
"He was not," said Ernest quietly.
"Was that all the money he had? He had the reputation of being a miser,with hoards of gold hidden in or near the cabin."
"I know of one sum of money he had concealed, but it was not a largeamount."
"I'm glad you won't be left penniless, lad; did he own the cabin?" saidLuke.
"Nobody owned it," said Joe Marks. "It was built years ago by a man whosuddenly left it and went away, nobody knew where. It wasn't worth much,and no one ever took the trouble to claim it. When your uncle came here hefound it empty and took possession of it, and there he has lived eversince. So you'll have some money, Ernest?"
"Only a hundred dollars."
"What will you do? What are your plans?"
"I don't know. I haven't had time to think."
"I might find a place for you in the store. We wouldn't like to have yougo away."
"Thank you, Joe. You are very kind. But there's no chance for me aroundhere. I'll take the money and go somewhere. But first I must see UnclePeter buried. Will you help me?"
"To be sure we will. Was he your only relation?"
"He was not my relation at all."
"Why, you have always called him uncle."
"I supposed him to be my uncle, but yesterday he told me that he was onlya servant in my father's family, and that on my father's death he wasplaced in charge of me."
"I reckon that's so. You didn't favor the old man at all. You look as ifyou came from better stock."
"All the same I shall miss him," said Ernest sadly. "He was a good friendto me."
"Did he tell you whether you had any kin?"
"Yes; I have a cousin of my father's living in New York State. He is arich man. He inherited the property that ought to have gone to myfather."
"How did that happen?"
"He prejudiced my grandfather against my father, and so the estate waswilled to him."
"The mean scoundrel!" exclaimed Luke indignantly. "I'd like to have him inmy hands for a few minutes; I'd give him a lesson."
"I should pity him if ever you got hold of him, Luke," said Joe Marks."But we must consider what we can do for the boy."
"I wish we could get hold of that thief of a tramp!"
"Probably we shall. He'll find his way back here sooner or later."
But the burial of Peter Brant was the first consideration. No undertakerwas called, for in that small settlement one would not have beensupported. The ceremonies of death were few and simple. A wooden box wasput together, and Peter was placed in it, dressed as he was at the time ofhis death. There was an itinerant minister who preached in the villageonce in four weeks, but he was away now, and so there could be noreligious ceremony beyond reading a chapter from the New Testament. JoeMarks, who had received a decent education, officiated as reader. Then theinterment took place. In the forenoon of the second day Peter's body waslaid away, and Ernest was left practically alone in the world.
Meanwhile some account must be given of Tom Burns, the tramp.
When he found it impossible to obtain whisky with the gold he had stolenhe felt very despondent. His craving became intolerable. He felt that hehad been decidedly ill used. What was the use of money unless it could beconverted into what his soul desired? But there was no way of changing thecoin except at the store of Joe Marks. To ask any of the villagers wouldonly have excited suspicion. Besides, the tramp felt sure that Ernestwould soon discover that he had been robbed. He would naturally besuspected, especially as Joe Marks had knowledge of a gold piece being inhis possession.
There was a small settlement about five miles off called Daneboro. It wasprobably the nearest place where he could get a glass of whisky. He mustwalk there. It was not a pleasant prospect, for the tramp was lazy and notfond of walking. Still, it seemed to be a necessity, and when he left thestore of Joe Marks he set out for Daneboro.
Thirst was not the only trouble with Tom Burns. He had not eaten anythingfor about twenty-four hours, and his neglected stomach rebelled. Hetightened a girdle about his waist and walked on. He had perhaps gone twomiles when he came to a cabin. A woman stood in the doorway.
"My good lady," said Tom, putting on a pitiful expression, "I am a veryunfortunate man."
"Are you?" said the woman, scanning him critically. "You look like atramp."
"I do, madam, yet I was once a thriving merchant."
"You don't look like it."
"I don't; I acknowledge it."
"How did you lose your property, if you ever had any?"
"By signin' notes for my brother. It swept off all my possessions."
"Then I pity you. That's the way my man lost five hundred dollars, nearlyall he had. What can I do for you?"
"Madam, I am hungry--very hungry."
"Set right down on the settee, and I'll give you what's left of ourbreakfast."
Tom Burns obeyed with alacrity.
A plate of cold bacon, a cold potato and some corn bread were placedbefore him, and he ate them voraciously. There had been times in his lifewhen he would have turned up his nose at such fare, but not now.
"My good lady," he said, "you have saved my life."
"Well, you must 'a' been hungry," said the woman. "A man that'll eat coldvittles, especially cold potato, ain't shammin'."
"I wish I had money to offer you----"
"Oh, never mind that; you're welcome. Can I do anything more for you?"
"I feel sick, and sometimes, though I am a temperance man, I take whiskyfor my health, if you had just a sup----"
"Well, we haven't any, and if we had I wouldn't give you any."
"You misjudge me, madam. You must not think I am a drinker."
"It's no matter what I think. You can't get any whisky here."
At Daneboro Tom fared better. He changed his gold piece, drank a pint ofwhisky, and the next day retraced his steps to old Peter's cabin. He feltsatisfied that somewhere near the cabin there was treasure concealed.
CHAPTER V
BURNS RETURNS
When Peter Brant was laid away under a tree not far from the cabin wherehe had ended his days Ernest felt that he was at liberty to begin the newlife that lay before him. Despite the natural sadness which he felt atparting with his old friend, he looked forward not without pleasantanticipations to the future and what it might have in store for him.
Oak Forks had few attractions for him. He had a literary taste, but couldnot get books. Peter Brant had about a dozen volumes, none of which he hadread himself, but Ernest had read them over and over again. None of theneighbors owned any books. Occasionally a newspaper found its way into thesettlement, and this, when it came into Ernest's hands, was read,advertisements and all.
How, then, was his time passed? Partly in hunting, partly in fishing--forthere was a small river two miles away--but one could not fish or hunt allthe time. He had often felt a vague yearning to go to Chicago or New York,or anywhere where there would be a broader field and large opportunities,and he had broached the subject to Peter.
"I can't afford to go, Ernest," the old man would reply. "I must live onthe little I have, for I am too old to work."
"But I am young. I can work," the boy would answer.
"A boy like you couldn't earn much. Wait till I am dead, and then you cango where you like."
This would always close the discussion, for Ernest did not like toconsider such a possibility. Peter represented his world, for he had noone to cling to except the man whom he supposed to be his uncle.
Now, however, the time had come when he could go forth and enter upon acareer. Accordingly h
e declined Joe Marks' offer to take him into thestore. He understood very well that it was only meant in kindness, andthat he was not really needed.
"You don't need me, Joe," he said. "You are very kind, but there must bereal work for me somewhere."
"Well, my lad, I won't stand in your way, but I've known you a long time,and I shall hate to lose sight of you."
"I'll came back some day, Joe--that is if I am prosperous and can."
"If you are not prosperous, if you fall sick and need a home and a friend,come back then. Don't forget your old friend Joe Marks."
"I won't, Joe," said Ernest heartily.
"You've got another friend here, Ernest," added Luke Robbins. "I'm a poorman, and my friendship isn't worth much, but you have it, all the same."
Ernest grasped the hands of both. He felt that each was a friend worthhaving.
"You may be sure that I won't forget either of you," he said.
"When do you expect to go, Ernest, and where?" asked Joe Marks.
"I shall get away to-morrow, I think, but where I shall go I can't tellyet."
"Do you need any money?"
"No; my uncle left me some."
Ernest had not yet secured the gold, but he knew exactly where it was, andnow that all his business was ended he felt that it was time to possesshimself of it. Accordingly, he took a spade from the house, and bent hissteps in the direction of the old oak tree.
He went alone, for he thought it best not to take anyone into hisconfidence.