LITMIR.BIZ

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you, sir,” he said; “but you are a stranger, and I have a step-father living.”

      He said this on the impulse of the moment, as a reason for not acceding to Mr. Silverthorn’s request, but it occurred to him that it would be about as difficult to regard Mr. Tarbox with filial feelings as the newcomer.

      “Ah, he is indeed fortunate!” sighed Mr. Silverthorn. He had a habit of sighing. “My friend” – here he addressed himself to the blacksmith – “do you ever smoke?”

      “Yes, when I get the chance.”

      “And have you, perchance, a cigar?”

      “No; a cigar is too high-toned for me. I have a pipe.”

      “That will do.”

      “But I have no tobacco.”

      “Ah!” Here there was another long-drawn sigh.

      After supper they sat down around the fire, to rest and chat for a while before retiring.

      “I suppose, my friends,” continued Dionysius, “you would be surprised if I should tell you that I was once wealthy.”

      “You don’t look like it now,” said Tom Cooper bluntly.

      “No; indeed I don’t. Yet six years ago I was worth fifty thousand dollars.”

      “I shall be glad if I am worth as much six years hence.”

      “How did you lose it?” asked Jerry Cooper.

      “Through the knavery of wicked men. I was so honest myself that I supposed all with whom I had dealings were equally honorable, and I was deceived. But I am happy to think that when I was rich I contributed to every good work. I gave a thousand dollars to the church in my town. I gave five thousand dollars as a fund for a town library. All men spoke well of me, but when I lost my fortune all turned the cold shoulder, and I found I had no friends. It is the way of the world.”

      “If you were a teacher I don’t see where you got so much money,” remarked Grant curiously.

      “I didn’t make it by teaching, my young friend. An old uncle died and left me his money. He had been a miser, and never took any notice of me, so it was a great surprise to me when his will was read and I was constituted his sole heir.”

      “I wish an old uncle would die and leave me fifty thousand dollars,” said Tom.

      “Such may be your luck.”

      “Not much chance of that. I haven’t got but one uncle living, and he’s as poor as Job after he lost all his flocks and herds.”

      “I don’t complain of my unhappy condition,” said Dionysius meekly. “I have been rich and now I am poor, but I am resigned to the Lord’s will.”

      “He seems to be a very good man,” whispered Mrs. Cooper to Tom.

      Tom shrugged his shoulders.

      “I don’t take much stock in him,” he whispered back.

      “How did you happen to escape when the rest of your party were destroyed by the Indians?” asked the blacksmith.

      “The attack was made in the night. I had been unable to sleep, and I got up and went for a walk in the woods, hoping to become fatigued and drowsy. I was absent for an hour and a half, as well as I can estimate. When I returned to the camp, what was my dismay when I saw that my friends had been surprised, their goods confiscated, and a scene of violence enacted.”

      “Were all killed?”

      “I don’t know, but on the ground, by the dismantled tent, I saw a human arm which had been lopped from the shoulder.”

      “Do you know whose it was?” asked Tom.

      “Yes, it was the arm of a young man about your age, who doubtless had excited the anger of the Indians by resistance.”

      Mr. Silverthorn put his red handkerchief to his eyes and sobbed, or appeared to do so, convulsively.

      “Excuse these tears,” he said. “They are a tribute to my murdered friends.”

      “Did you follow the Indians? Did you try to find out where they had carried your companions?”

      “No. It would have been no good. I was single-handed.”

      “I would have done it!” said Tom resolutely.

      “I would expect it of you, for you are a brave young man.”

      “How do you know I am?”

      “By your looks and manner. I am not. You may despise me, but I am obliged to confess that I am chicken-hearted. I am afraid I am a coward. It is not a pleasant confession, but I do not wish to represent myself other than I am.”

      “Then I am afraid that you are not the right kind of a man to cross the plains to California.”

      “I am not sure but you are right. I sometimes think so myself. But I hoped to retrieve my fortunes, and in my state of health there seemed no other way open to me.”

      “You haven’t had much encouragement yet?”

      “No, but I feel that I am fortunate in meeting with your friendly party. And this emboldens me to make a request.”

      “What is it?” asked the blacksmith.

      “Will you let me travel with you? I am alone, quite alone. It would make me happy to be with you. The sight of that boy, who reminds me of my lost son, would be a daily source of happiness to me.”

      Mr. Cooper hesitated, and the expression of his face showed that the proposal was distasteful to him.

      “You can stay with us to-night,” he answered briefly. “I cannot promise more.”

      CHAPTER X

      MR. SILVERTHORN’S TREACHERY

      The little party generally lay down to sleep soon after eight. The days were always fatiguing, and they were in the habit of rising early.

      The weather was warm, for it was toward the end of June, and they did not even raise the tent, but lay down on the ground with a blanket underneath and above them. Mrs. Cooper generally slept in the wagon.

      “We have an extra pair of blankets, Mr. Silverthorn,” said Mrs. Cooper. “We cannot offer you a bed; you will fare as well as my husband and the boys.”

      “How kind you are!” murmured Dionysius. “To me this simple provision will be a luxury. For a week I have slept on the bare ground without a blanket.”

      “You need not go to bed as early as the rest of us, unless you like.”

      “My dear lady, if you don’t object, I will retire into the woods for an hour and indulge in religious meditation. I wish to express my thanks to Providence for my happy encounter with your kind party.”

      “There is no objection, I am sure, Mr. Silverthorn,” said Mrs. Cooper. “What a good man he is!” she said to herself.

      “That man makes me sick,” remarked Tom, aside to Grant.

      “I think he is a humbug,” whispered Grant.

      “I am sure he is.”

      The little party stretched themselves on the ground, and Dionysius Silverthorn walked pensively into the woods.

      When he returned, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper and Tom were asleep.

      The pair of blankets assigned to the stranger lay ready for use. He did not immediately lie down, but thoughtfully surveyed the sleepers.

      “They seem fast asleep, but perhaps it will be better to wait awhile,” he murmured thoughtfully to himself. “It will not do for me to get caught. That young man, Tom, is very muscular, and the old man is strong in spite of his years. I will lie down awhile.”

      It was well for him that he decided thus, for Grant awoke – a thing unusual for him – and, looking around, saw their visitor.

      “Haven’t

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