Cast Upon the Breakers

CHAPTER XXVII

THE FAILURE OF SQUIRE SHELDON’S PLOT

On the morning of the same day Squire Sheldon sat in his study when the servant came in and brought a card.

“It’s a gentleman thats come to see you, sir,” she said.

Lemuel Sheldon’s eye brightened when he saw the name, for it was that of a railroad man who was interested in the proposed road from Sherborn.

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Caldwell,” he said cordially, rising to receive his guest. “What is the prospect as regards the railroad?”

“I look upon it as a certainty,” answered Enoch Caldwell, a grave, portly man of fifty.

“And it is sure to pass through our town?”

“Yes, I look upon that as definitely decided.”

“The next question is as to the route it will take,” went on the squire. “Upon that point I should like to offer a few suggestions.”

“I shall be glad to receive them. In fact, I may say that my report will probably be accepted, and I shall be glad to consult you.”

“Thank you. I appreciate the compliment you pay me, and, though I say it, I don’t think you could find any one more thoroughly conversant with the lay of the land and the most advisable route to follow. If you will put on your hat we will go out together and I will give you my views.”

“I shall be glad to do so.”

The two gentlemen took a leisurely walk through the village, going by Cyrus Hooper’s house on the way.

“In my view,” said the squire, “the road should go directly through this farm a little to the north of the house.”

The squire proceeded to explain his reasons for the route he recommended.

“To whom does the farm belong?” asked Caldwell, with a shrewd glance at the squire.

“To an old man named Cyrus Hooper.”

“Ahem! Perhaps he would be opposed to the road passing so near his house.”

“I apprehend that he will not have to be consulted,” said the squire with a crafty smile.

“Why not?”

“Because I hold a mortgage on the farm which I propose to foreclose this afternoon.”

“I see. So that you will be considerably benefited by the road.”

“Yes, to a moderate extent.”

“But if a different course should be selected, how then?”

“If the road goes through the farm I would be willing to give a quarter of the damages awarded to me to—you understand?”

“I think I do. After all it seems the most natural route.”

“I think there can be no doubt on that point. Of course the corporation will be willing to pay a reasonable sum for land taken.”

“I think I can promise that, as I shall have an important voice in the matter.”

“I see you are a thorough business man,” said the squire. “I hold that it is always best to pursue a liberal policy.”

“Quite so. You have no doubt of obtaining the farm?”

“Not the slightest.”

“But suppose the present owner meets the mortgage?”

“He can’t. He is a poor man, and he has no moneyed friends. I confess I was a little afraid that a nephew of his just returned from Montana might be able to help him, but I learn that he has only brought home five hundred dollars while the mortgage, including interest, calls for thirteen hundred.”

“Then you appear to be safe. When did you say the matter would be settled?”

“This afternoon at two o’clock. You had better stay over and take supper with me. I shall be prepared to talk with you at that time.”

“Very well.”

From a window of the farmhouse Cyrus Hooper saw Squire Sheldon and his guest walking by the farm, and noticed the interest which they seemed to feel in it. But for the assurance which he had received of help to pay the mortgage he would have felt despondent, for he guessed the subject of their conversation. As it was, he felt an excusable satisfaction in the certain defeat of the squire’s hopes of gain.

“It seems that the more a man has the more he wants, Jefferson,” he said to his nephew. “The squire is a rich man—the richest man in Burton—but he wants to take from me the little property that I have.”

“It’s the way of the world, Uncle Cyrus. In this case the squire is safe to be disappointed, thanks to my young friend, Rodney.”

“Its lucky for me, Jefferson, that you came home just the time you did. If you had come a week later it would have been too late.”

“Then you don’t think the squire would have relented?”

“I know he wouldn’t. I went over a short time since and had a talk with him on the subject. I found he was sot on gettin’ the farm into his own hands.”

“If he were willing to pay a fair value it wouldn’t be so bad.”

“He wasn’t. He wanted to get it as cheap as he could.”

“I wonder,” said Jefferson Pettigrew reflectively, “whether I shall be as hard and selfish if ever I get rich.”

“I don’t believe you will, Jefferson. I don’t believe you will. It doesn’t run in the blood.”

“I hope not Uncle Cyrus. How long have you known the squire?”

“Forty years, Jefferson. He is about ten years younger than I am. I was a young man when he was a boy.”

“And you attend the same church?”

“Yes.”

“And still he is willing to take advantage of you and reduce you to poverty. I don’t see much religion in that.”

“When a man’s interest is concerned religion has to stand to one side with some people.”

It was in a pleasant frame of mind that Squire Sheldon left his house and walked over to the farmhouse which he hoped to own. He had decided to offer eighteen hundred dollars for the farm, which would be five hundred over and above the face of the mortgage with the interest added.

This of itelf would give him an excellent profit, but he expected also, as we know, to drive a stiff bargain with the new railroad company, for such land as they would require to use.

“Stay here till I come back, Mr. Caldwell,” he said. “I apprehend it won’t take me long to get through my business.”

Squire Sheldon knocked at the door of the farmhouse, which was opened to him by Nancy Hooper.

“Walk in, squire,” she said.

“Is your husband at home, Mrs. Hooper?”

“Yes; he is waiting for you.”

Mrs. Hooper led the way into the sitting room, where her husband was sitting in a rocking chair.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Hooper,” said the squire. “I hope I see you well.”

“As well as I expect to be. I’m gettin’ to be an old man.”

“We must all grow old,” said the squire vaguely.

“And sometimes a man’s latter years are his most sorrowful years.”

“That means that he can’t pay the mortgage,” thought Squire Sheldon.

“Well, ahem! Yes, it does sometimes happen so,” he said aloud.

“Still if a man’s friends stand by him, that brings him some comfort.”

“I suppose you know what I’ve come about, Mr. Hooper,” said the squire, anxious to bring his business to a conclusion.

“I suppose it’s about the mortgage.”

“Yes, its about the mortgage.”

“Will you be willing to extend it another year?”

“I thought,” said the squire, frowning, “I had given you to understand that I cannot do this. You owe me a large sum in accrued interest.”

“But if I make shift to pay this?”

“I should say the same. It may as well come first as last. You can’t hold the place, and there is no chance of your being better off by waiting.”

“I understand that the new railroad might go through my farm. That would put me on my feet.”

“There is no certainty that the road will ever be built. Even if it were, it would not be likely to cross your farm.”

“I see, Squire Sheldon, you are bound to have the place.”

“There is no need to put it that way, Mr. Hooper. I lent you money on mortgage. You can’t pay the mortgage, and of course I foreclose. However, I will buy the farm and allow you eighteen hundred dollars for it. That will give you five hundred dollars over and above the money you owe me.”

“The farm is worth three thousand dollars.”

“Nonsense, Mr. Hooper. Still if you get an offer of that sum TODAY I will advise you to sell.”

“I certainly won’t take eighteen hundred.”

“You won’t? Then I shall foreclose, and you may have to take less.”

“Then there is only one thing to do.”

“As you say, there is only one thing to do.”

“And that is, to pay off the mortgage and clear the farm.”

“You can’t do it!” exclaimed the squire uneasily.

Cyrus Hooper’s only answer was to call “Jefferson.”

Jefferson Pettigrew entered the room, followed by Rodney.

“What does this mean?” asked the squire.

“It means, Squire Sheldon,” said Mr. Pettigrew, “that you won’t turn my uncle out of his farm this time. My young friend, Rodney Ropes, has advanced Uncle Cyrus money enough to pay off the mortgage.”

“I won’t take a check,” said the squire hastily.

“You would have to if we insisted upon it, but I have the money here in bills. Give me a release and surrender the mortgage, and you shall have your money.”

It was with a crestfallen look that Squire Sheldon left the farmhouse, though his pockets were full of money.

“It’s all up,” he said to his friend Caldwell in a hollow voice. “They have paid the mortgage.”

After all the railway did cross the farm, and Uncle Cyrus was paid two thousand dollars for the right of way, much to the disappointment of his disinterested friend Lemuel Sheldon, who felt that this sum ought to have gone into his own pocket.

CHAPTER XXVIII

A MINISTER’S GOOD FORTUNE

“I have another call to make, Rodney,” said Mr. Pettigrew, as they were on their way back to the hotel, “and I want you to go with me.”

“I shall be glad to accompany you anywhere, Mr. Pettigrew.”

“You remember I told you of the old minister whose church I attended as a boy. He has never received but four hundred dollars a year, yet he has managed to rear a family, but has been obliged to use the strictest economy.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“I am going to call on him, and I shall take the opportunity to make him a handsome present. It will surprise him, and I think it will be the first present of any size that he has received in his pastorate of over forty years.

“There he lives!” continued Jefferson, pointing out a very modest cottage on the left hand side of the road.

It needed painting badly, but it looked quite as well as the minister who came to the door in a ragged dressing gown. He was venerable looking, for his hair was quite white, though he was only sixty five years old. But worldly cares which had come upon him from the difficulty of getting along on his scanty salary had whitened his hair and deepened the wrinkles on his kindly face.

“I am glad to see you, Jefferson,” he said, his face lighting up with pleasure. “I heard you were in town and I hoped you wouldn’t fail to call upon me.”

“I was sure to call, for you were always a good friend to me as well as many others.”

“I always looked upon you as one of my boys, Jefferson. I hear that you have been doing well.”

“Yes, Mr. Canfield. I have done better than I have let people know.”

“Have you been to see your uncle? Poor man, he is in trouble.”

“He is no longer in trouble. The mortgage is paid off, and as far as Squire Sheldon is concerned he is independent.”

“Indeed, that is good news,” said the old minister with beaming face. “You must surely have done well if you could furnish money enough to clear the farm. It was over a thousand dollars, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, thirteen hundred. My young friend, Rodney Ropes, and myself managed it between us.”

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Ropes. Come in both of you. Mrs. Canfield will be glad to welcome you.”

They followed him into the sitting room, the floor of which was covered by an old and faded carpet. The furniture was of the plainest description. But it looked pleasant and homelike, and the papers and books that were scattered about made it more attractive to a visitor than many showy city drawing rooms.

“And how are all your children, Mr. Canfield?” asked Jefferson.

“Maria is married to a worthy young man in the next town. Benjamin is employed in a book store, and Austin wants to go to college, but I don’t see any way to send him, poor boy!” and the minister sighed softly.

“Does it cost much to keep a boy in college?”

“Not so much as might be supposed. There are beneficiary funds for deserving students, and then there is teaching to eke out a poor young man’s income, so that I don’t think it would cost over a hundred and fifty dollars a year.”

“That isn’t a large sum.”

“Not in itelf, but you know, Jefferson, my salary is only four hundred dollars a year. It would take nearly half my income, so I think Austin will have to give up his hopes of going to college and follow in his brother’s steps.”

“How old is Austin now?”

“He is eighteen.”

“Is he ready for college?”

“Yes, he could enter at the next commencement but for the financial problem.”

“I never had any taste for college, or study, as you know, Mr. Canfield. It is different with my friend Rodney, who is a Latin and Greek scholar.”

The minister regarded Rodney with new interest.

“Do you think of going to college, Mr. Ropes?” he asked.

“Not at present. I am going back to Montana with Mr. Pettigrew. Perhaps he and I will both go to college next year.”

“Excuse me,” said Jefferson Pettigrew. “Latin and Greek ain’t in my line. I should make a good deal better miner than minister.”

“It is not desirable that all should become ministers or go to college,” said Mr. Canfield. “I suspect from what I know of you, Jefferson, that you judge yourself correctly. How long shall you stay in Burton?”

“I expect to go away tomorrow.”

“Your visit is a brief one.”

“Yes, I intended to stay longer, but I begin to be homesick after the West.”

“Do you expect to make your permanent home there?”

“I can’t tell as to that. For the present I can do better there than here.”

The conversation lasted for some time. Then Jefferson Pettigrew rose to go.

“Won’t you call again, Jefferson?” asked the minister hospitably.

“I shall not have time, but before I go I want to make you a small present,” and he put into the hands of the astonished minister four fifty dollar bills.

“Two hundred dollars!” ejaculated the minister. “Why, I heard you only brought home a few hundred.”

“I prefer to leave that impression. To you I will say that I am worth a great deal more than that.”

“But you mustn’t give me so much. I am sure you are too generous for your own interest. Why, it’s munificent, princely.”

“Don’t be troubled about me. I can spare it. Send your boy to college, and next year I will send you another sum equally large.”

“How can I thank you, Jefferson?” said Mr. Canfield, the tears coming into his eyes. “Never in forty years have I had such a gift.”

“Not even from Squire Sheldon?”

“The squire is not in the habit of bestowing gifts, but he pays a large parish tax. May I—am I at liberty to say from whom I received this liberal donation?”

“Please don’t! You can say that you have had a gift from a friend.”

“You have made me very happy, Jefferson. Your own conscience will reward you.”

Jefferson Pettigrew changed the subject, for it embarrassed him to be thanked.

“That pays me for hard work and privation,” he said to Rodney as they walked back to the tavern. “After all there is a great pleasure in making others happy.”

“Squire Sheldon hadn’t found that out.”

“And he never will.”

On the way they met the gentleman of whom they had been speaking. He bowed stiffly, for he could not feel cordial to those whom had snatched from him the house for which he had been scheming so long.

“Squire Sheldon,” said Jefferson, “you were kind enough to invite Rodney and myself to supper some evening. I am sorry to say that we must decline, as we leave Burton tomorrow.”

“Use your own pleasure, Mr. Pettigrew,” said the squire coldly.

“It doesn’t seem to disappoint the squire very much,” remarked Jefferson, laughing, when the great man of the village had passed on.

“It certainly is no disappointment to me.”

“Nor to me. The little time I have left I can use more pleasantly than in going to see the squire. I have promised to supper at my uncle’s tonight—that is, I have promised for both of us.”

Returning to New York, Jefferson and Rodney set about getting ready for their Western journey. Rodney gave some of his wardrobe to Mike Flynn, and bought some plain suits suitable for his new home.

While walking on Broadway the day before the one fixed for his departure he fell in with Jasper Redwood.

“Have you got a place yet Ropes?” asked Jasper.

“I am not looking for any.”

“How is that?” asked Jasper in some surprise.

“I am going to leave the city.”

“That is a good idea. All cannot succeed in the city. You may find a chance to work on a farm in the country.”

“I didn’t say I was going to the country.”

“Where are you going, then?”

“To Montana.”

“Isn’t that a good way off?”

“Yes.”

“What are you going to do there?”

“I may go to mining.”

“But how can you afford to go so far?”

“Really, Jasper, you show considerable curiosity about my affairs. I have money enough to buy my ticket, and I think I can find work when I get out there.”

“It seems to me a crazy idea.”

“It might be—for you.”

“And why for me?” asked Jasper suspiciously.

“Because you might not be willing to rough it as I am prepared to do.”

“I guess you are right. I have always been used to living like a gentleman.”

“I hope you will always be able to do so. Now I must bid you good by, as I am busy getting ready for my journey.”

Jasper looked after Rodney, not without perplexity.

“I can’t make out that boy,” he said. “So he is going to be a common miner! Well, that may suit him, but it wouldn’t suit me. There is no chance now of his interfering with me, so I am glad he is going to leave the city.”

CHAPTER XXIX

A MINING TOWN IN MONTANA

The scene changes.

Three weeks later among the miners who were sitting on the narrow veranda of the “Miners’ Rest” in Oreville in Montana we recognize two familiar faces and figures—those of Jefferson Pettigrew and Rodney Ropes. Both were roughly clad, and if Jasper could have seen Rodney he would have turned up his nose in scorn, for Rodney had all the look of a common miner.

It was in Oreville that Mr. Pettigrew had a valuable mining property, on which he employed quite a number of men who preferred certain wages to a compensation depending on the fluctuations of fortune. Rodney was among those employed, but although he was well paid he could not get to like the work. Of this, however, he said nothing to Mr. Pettigrew whose company he enjoyed, and whom he held in high esteem.

On the evening in question Jefferson rose from his seat and signed to Rodney to follow him.

“Well, Rodney, how do you like Montana?” he asked.

“Well enough to be glad I came here,” answered Rodney.

“Still you are not partial to the work of a miner!”

“I can think of other things I would prefer to do.”

“How would you like keeping a hotel?”

“Is there any hotel in search of a manager?” asked Rodney smiling.

“I will explain. Yesterday I bought the ‘Miners’ Rest.’”

“What—the hotel where we board?”

“Exactly. I found that Mr. Bailey, who has made a comfortable sum of money, wants to leave Montana and go East and I bought the hotel.”

“So that hereafter I shall board with you?”

“Not exactly. I propose to put you in charge, and pay you a salary. I can oversee, and give you instructions. How will that suit you?”

“So you think I am competent, Mr. Pettigrew?”

“Yes, I think so. There is a good man cook, and two waiters. The cook will also order supplies and act as steward under you.”

“What then will be my duties?”

“You will act as clerk and cashier, and pay the bills. You will have to look after all the details of management. If there is anything you don’t understand you will have me to back you up, and advise you. What do you say?”

“That I shall like it much better than mining. My only doubt is as to whether I shall suit you.”

“It is true that it takes a smart man to run a hotel, but I think we can do it between us. Now what will you consider a fair salary?”

“I leave that to you, Mr. Pettigrew.”

“Then we will call it a hundred and fifty dollars a month and board.”

“But, Mr. Pettigrew,” said Rodney in surprise, “how can I possibly earn that much?”

“You know we charge big prices, and have about fifty steady boarders. I expect to make considerable money after deducting all the expenses of management.”

“My friend Jasper would be very much surprised if he could know the salary I am to receive. In the store I was only paid seven dollars a week.”

“The duties were different. Almost any boy could discharge the duties of an entry clerk while it takes peculiar qualities to run a hotel.”

“I was certainly very fortunate to fall in with you, Mr. Pettigrew.”

“I expect it will turn out fortunate for me too, Rodney.”

“When do you want me to start in?”

“Next Monday morning. It is now Thursday evening. Mr. Bailey will turn over the hotel to me on Saturday night. You needn’t go to the mines tomorrow, but may remain in the hotel, and he will instruct you in the details of management.”

“That will be quite a help to me, and I am at present quite ignorant on the subject.”

Rodney looked forward with pleasure to his new employment. He had good executive talent, though thus far he had had no occasion to exercise it. It was with unusual interest that he set about qualifying himself for his new position.