Frank and Fearless; or, The Fortunes of Jasper Kent by Jr. Horatio Alger (bearly read books .txt) 📕

sullenly.

"Don't use that ridiculous word 'lend,' when you know there's no probability of your ever repaying it, even if you should be able."

"Have your own way, Helen."

"I will give you fifty dollars, though in justice to my boy I ought not to do so."

"Fifty dollars!" repeated Dick, chagrined. "Why, that don't pay me for coming East."

"You are right. You would have done better to stay where you were."

"You don't seem to consider, Helen, that we hadn't met for years, and I wanted to see my only sister."

"Suppose I had had no money, would you have come then?" asked Mrs. Kent, with contemptuous incredulity.

"No; I couldn't have afforded it. But, Helen, fifty dollars is nothing at all. You might say a hundred."

"I might say a hundred, but there is no chance that I shall. Are you not ashamed—a great, strong man, as you are—not to be able to support yourself and wife without help from me?"

"Luck's been agin me," said Dick, sullenly. "I could have got ahead but for that."

"How has it been against you?"

"I owned a mining claim in California—it didn't pay anything—and I sold it for ten dollars. The man I sold it to kept working till he struck a vein. He cleared ten thousand dollars."

"As you might have done if you hadn't despaired too quickly."

"Oh, well, it's easy enough to criticise, Helen. You've struck a vein, and you're in luck. No more hard work for you."

"There would be if I gave away my money, five hundred dollars at a time. You needn't complain of my good fortune. I have had my share of work to do. Now I am comfortable, and I mean to keep so."

"No matter what becomes of your poor brother?" whined Dick.

"My poor brother must work as I have done, and he won't starve. Do you think, if I were a man," she said, disdainfully, "that I would stoop to ask help of a woman!"

"Well, let me have the money, then," said Dick, gloomily.

Mrs. Kent drew from her pocket-book five ten-dollar bills and placed them in his hand.

"Don't expect any further help," she said. "In justice to my son I must refuse it."

Dick left the house with an execration.

"Was there ever a more selfish, cold-hearted woman?" he muttered. "It's all for her son, is it? I'd like to choke the whelp!"

With this sentiment the affectionate uncle left his sister's house.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

AN IMPORTANT COMMISSION.

It was nearly a year later, and Jasper Kent still remained in St. Louis, and in the employ of Herman Fitch. He had won his way to the favor of his employer, not alone on account of his personal good qualities, but because in the way of business he manifested an unusual aptitude. For this reason he had already had his pay raised to fifteen dollars a week and was thoroughly trusted, even in matters of importance.

Of this he was about to receive an additional proof.

"Jasper," said Mr. Fitch one day, as our hero entered his counting-room, "how would you like a little journey?"

Jasper's eyes brightened.

"I would like nothing better," he answered, promptly.

"So I supposed. Young men of your age generally like to travel."

"To what place do you wish me to go, may I ask, sir?"

"To Kansas—a small town named Plattville."

"Very well, sir, I will go."

"The business is this: A firm in that town, Watts & Duncan, are considerably indebted to me, and I have doubts as their solvency. In the event of their failure I want to realize as much as possible of my claim. I don't want the other creditors to forestall me."

"Yes, sir; I see."

"It is rather a delicate commission, you perceive. You are to go there and quietly find out what you can of their affairs, and report to me by mail. Then I shall send you instructions how to proceed."

"Very well, sir."

"Some might blame me for sending so young a messenger, but I have two objects in view. A boy of your age will not excite suspicion, and again, I repose great confidence in you."

Jasper was not a little gratified by this assurance.

"I will try not to disappoint your expectations," he said, earnestly.

"I don't think you will."

"When do you want me to start?"

"To-morrow."

"I'll be ready," said Jasper, briskly.

"You can go a part of the way by rail, but only a part. It is a frontier town, and you may have to ride horseback a part of the way. That I must leave to your judgment."

"All the better," said Jasper.

"I see you don't mind roughing it," said Mr. Fitch.

"No; that's the best part of it."

"Well, you may go home now and make preparations. To-morrow morning come to the office for instructions and money. One thing only I suggest now—take as little baggage as possible. It would only be in your way."

"All right, sir. I've got a small knapsack that will hold all I want to carry."

"Good! Be here to-morrow at nine o'clock."

At the appointed hour Jasper received his instructions and a certain sum of money. He had provided himself with a belt, into which he put the money to guard against possible robbery, carrying only a few dollars in a pocket-book for outward show.

In explanation of these precautions it must be stated that the events which I am describing took place some years since, when Kansas was more sparsely settled and life less secure than at present.

He received his instructions, and set out on his journey, secretly envied by other clerks who had been longer in the office than himself, but who had not been complimented by having a similar trust reposed in them.

We will follow him and see how he fares.

CHAPTER XXXV.

AN INDIAN MAIDEN.

From the information afforded by his employer Jasper was led to expect a somewhat adventurous journey. He was not to be disappointed. As long as he was in the well-settled part of the country he encountered no difficulties nor adventures worth recording. Plattville, as already stated, was a frontier town, and there was a large tract of almost uninhabited country between it and the nearest settlement.

Late in the afternoon of the fourth day Jasper found himself standing on the bank of a river which must be crossed. There was no boat in sight, and he was puzzled what to do. While he was considering, a young Indian girl glided by in a canoe. She handled the paddle dexterously and as one who had been long accustomed to the exercise, though she did not look more than twelve years of age.

"I wonder if she understands English?" thought Jasper. "Perhaps I could get her to ferry me across."

Acting upon this thought he called out:

"Halloo, there!"

The young girl turned quickly, and discovered Jasper, whom she had not before seen.

She stopped paddling, and asked, in a musical voice:

"White boy speak?"

"Yes," said Jasper. "Do you speak English?"

"A little."

"I want to go across the river. Will you take me in your canoe?"

The girl hesitated a moment, perhaps from uncertainty as to whether she could trust our hero, for she surveyed him attentively. It appeared that her impressions were favorable, for she turned her canoe to the shore and said, simply:

"Yes."

"Thank you," said Jasper, and he promptly took his place in the frail craft.

The Indian girl pushed off and began to paddle rapidly.

"It seems odd to be ferried by a girl," thought Jasper. "I think I ought to offer to take her place." "Shall I paddle instead of you?" he asked.

The girl laughed and shook her head.

"White boy not know how to paddle a canoe—tip it over," and she laughed again.

"I don't know but I should," thought Jasper, as he noticed how light and frail the little canoe was, and how a slight motion would agitate it.

"Do you live around here?" he asked, in some curiosity.

"Up the river," said the girl, indicating with her head, for her hands were occupied.

"Have you a father?"

"Monima's father great chief," said the girl, proudly.

"Monima! Is that your name?"

"Yes."

"It is a pretty name."

The girl laughed and appeared to be pleased with the compliment, though it was only to her name. She seemed in turn to be possessed by curiosity, for she asked:

"What white boy's name?"

"Jasper."

"Jasper," she repeated, with difficulty.

"Isn't it a pretty name?"

"No," said Monima, laughing.

"I am sorry you don't like it, Monima."

"I like white boy. He will be big warrior some day."

"I don't know about that, Monima. So your father is a chief?"

"Yes," said Monima, proudly. "Great chief."

"Did he give you this canoe?"

"Yes."

"Have you any brothers and sisters?"

"One brother, young man; no sister."

By this time they had reached the other side. Monima skilfully drew up the canoe alongside, and Jasper jumped out. He stood on the bank, and drew from his vest-pocket a silver half-dollar, which he handed to Monima.

"Monima no want money," said the girl, proudly.

"Keep it to remember white boy," said Jasper.

"Monima will remember white boy without money."

Jasper reluctantly put the money in his pocket, but he did not like to accept the favor from Monima without rendering her some return. He was in doubt at first, but finally an idea occurred to him. He had half a dozen photographs of himself, which he had recently had taken in St. Louis. He drew out one of these and extended it to Monima.

"Take that, Monima," he said. "Keep that and remember me."

Monima's face lighted up with wonder and admiration when she saw the photograph, for she had never seen one before. She looked from the picture to Jasper, and from Jasper back again to the picture, and laughed softly.

"White boy's picture?" she said.

"Yes, Monima. Do you think it looks like me?"

She nodded emphatically.

"Two white boy—here and there," she said, pointing first to the picture, then to Jasper.

"Good-bye, Monima," he said.

But the Indian girl was evidently tired of the river, for she fastened the canoe and walked by his side. He kept up a conversation for some time, till she turned aside and entered a path which led into the woods.

"Does your father live there?" he asked.

"Yes," said Monima.

"Good-bye," he said.

She didn't say good-bye, but uttered a word which was probably the Indian equivalent for it, and was soon lost to his sight.

"Well, that's romantic, to begin with," thought Jasper. "The daughter of a great chief has ferried me across the river, and I have given her my photograph. The next romantic thing that happens to me may be my losing my way, but I hope not."

He had a general idea of the way he wanted to go, but after awhile he became perplexed, and was led to doubt whether he had not gone astray.

"I wish I could find somebody to guide me," he thought.

He had his wish. A few rods farther on he came upon a man stretched upon the grass under a tree.

"I have lost my way," he began, but before he could finish the sentence the man sprang to his feet, and, to his dismay, he recognized Jack, the man who had had him locked up in St. Louis.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

IN DIFFICULTIES.

Jack looked at first surprised, then smiled with malicious joy as he recognized the boy who accosted him.

"Ha! my chicken, it's you, is it?" he said. "You remember me, don't you?"

"Yes, I remember you," said Jasper.

"I thought I'd get hold of you again some time," said Jack, "but hang me if I expected to find you out here. What brings you here?"

"I came here on business," said Jasper.

"So you are a man of business, are you?" sneered the burglar.

"I am in the employ of Herman Fitch, of St. Louis."

"The father of the boy that Dick kidnapped?"

"Yes."

"Did he send you out here?"

"Yes."

"What for?"

"On a little matter of business," said Jasper, with reserve.

"Oh, that's it. Well, you didn't expect the pleasure of seeing me, did you?"

"I don't consider it a pleasure," said Jasper, boldly.

"Ha! you are a bold boy."

"I speak the truth."

"Well, it isn't always best to speak the truth," said Jack, frowning.

"Shall I lie to you, then?"

"Don't be impudent."

"I shan't say I am glad to see you when I am not."

"Perhaps you are right, boy.