"But even with these bags full, you have got more than some men have who have been on the Flat for two years," said he. "Now, boys, is there anything we can do for you before we bid you good-bye?"

No, Julian and Jack could not think of anything they wanted. They thanked the miners for bringing them some provisions, and offered payment on the spot; but Mr. Banta said they would let that go until the boys had got through working their mine. They shook them by the hand, wished them all the good luck in the world, turned their faces toward home, and in a few moments the sound of their horses' hoofs on the rocks had died away in the distance.

CHAPTER XXV.

CLAUS, AGAIN.

"There!" said Mr. Solomon Claus, as he entered at a fast walk the railroad depot, pa.s.sed through it, and took up the first back street that he came to; "I guess I have got rid of him. Now, the next thing is to go somewhere and sit down and think about it."

Claus kept a good watch of the buildings as he pa.s.sed along, and at last saw a hotel, into which he turned. He bought a cigar at the bar, and, drawing a chair in front of one of the windows, sat down to meditate on his future course; for this German was not in the habit of giving up a thing upon which he had set his mind, although he might fail in every attempt he undertook. He had set his heart upon having a portion of that money that Julian had come into by accident, and, although something had happened to upset his calculations, he was not done with it yet.

"That was a sharp trick, sending off the box by express, when they might as well have carried its contents in their valises," said Claus, settling down in his chair and keeping his eyes fastened upon the railroad depot. "Wiggins was at the bottom of that, for I don't believe the boys would ever have thought of it. I wonder how they felt when they found their valises gone? Now, the next thing is something else. Shall I go home, get my clothes, and spend the winter in Denver, or shall I go home and stay there? That's a question that cannot be decided in a minute."

While Claus was endeavoring to come to some conclusion on these points he saw Casper Nevins coming along the railroad and entering the depot.

By keeping a close watch of the windows he discovered him pa.s.s toward the ticket office, where he made known his wants, and presently Claus saw him put a ticket into his pocket.

"So far, so good," muttered Claus, as he arose from his chair. "I guess I might as well get on the train with him, for I must go to St.

Louis anyhow. Perhaps something will occur to me in the meantime."

Casper was sitting on a bench, with his hands clasped and his chin resting on his breast, wondering what in the world he was going to do when he got back to St. Louis, when he heard Claus's step on the floor. He first had an idea that he would not speak to him at all; but Solomon acted in such a friendly manner, when he met him, that he could not fail to accost him with

"You were trying to shake me, were you?"

"Shake you! my dear fellow," exclaimed Claus, as if he were profoundly astonished. "Such a thing never entered my head! I simply wanted to get away by myself and think the matter over. Have a cigar."

"I don't want it!" declared Casper, when Claus laid it down upon his knee. "I don't believe I shall want many cigars or anything else very long."

"Disappointed over not finding that wealth, were you?" asked Claus, in a lower tone. "Well, I was disappointed myself, and for a time I did not want to see you or anybody else. I have wasted a heap of hard-earned dollars upon that 'old horse.'"

"Have you given it up, too?" inquired Casper.

"What else can I do? Of course I have given it up. I will go back home again and settle down to my humdrum life, and I shall never get over moaning about that hundred thousand dollars we have lost."

"Do you think we tried every plan to get it?"

"Every one that occurred to me. They have it, and that is all there is to it. What are you going to do when you get back to St. Louis?"

inquired Claus, for that was a matter in which he was very much interested. He was not going to have Casper hanging onto him; on that he was determined.

"I suppose I shall have to do as others do who are without work,"

replied Casper. "I shall go around to every store, and ask them if they want a boy who isn't above doing anything that will bring him his board and clothes. I wish I had my old position back; I'll bet you that I would try to keep it."

"That is the best wish you have made in a long time," said Claus, placing his hand on Casper's shoulder. "If I was back there, with my money in my pocket, I would not care if every one of the express boys would come and shove an 'old horse' at me. I tell you, 'honesty is the best policy.'"

Casper was almost ready to believe that Claus had repented of his bargain, but he soon became suspicious of him again. That was a queer phrase to come from the lips of a man who believed in cheating or lying for the purpose of making a few dollars by it. For want of something better to do, he took up the cigar which Claus had laid upon his knee and proceeded to light it.

"Well, I guess I'll go and get a ticket," remarked Claus, after a little pause. "I don't know how soon that train will be along."

"'Honesty is the best policy,' is it?" mused Casper, watching Claus as he took up his stand in the door and looked away down the railroad.

"Some people would believe him, but I have known him too long for that. I wish I knew what he has in his head. He is going to try to get his hands on that 'old horse'; and if he does, I hope he will fail, just as we have done. He need not think that I am going to hold fast to him. I have had one lesson through him, and that is enough."

Claus did not seem anxious to renew his conversation with Casper. He had heard all the latter's plans, as far as he had any, and now he wanted to think up some of his own. He walked up and down the platform with his hands behind his back, all the while keeping a bright lookout down the road for the train.

"I must go to Denver, because I shall want to make the acquaintance of some fellows there whom I know I can trust," soliloquized Claus. "I can get plenty of men in St. Louis, but they are not the ones I want.

I must have some men who know all about mining, and perhaps I can get them to sc.r.a.pe an acquaintance with Julian. That will be all the better, for then I can find out what he is going to do. Well, we will see how it looks when I get home."

For half an hour Claus walked the platform occupied with such thoughts as these, and finally a big smoke down the track told him the train was coming. He stuck his head in at the door and informed Casper of the fact, and when the train came up he boarded one of the forward cars, leaving his companion to do as he pleased.

"You are going to shake me," thought Casper, as he stepped aboard the last car in the train. "Well, you might as well do it at one time as at another. I have all the money I can get out of you, but I am not square with you by any means. From this time forward I'll look out for myself."

And the longer Casper pondered upon this thought, the more heartily he wished he had never seen Claus in the first place. He did not sleep a wink during his ride to St. Louis, but got off the train when it reached its destination and took a straight course for his room. The apartment seemed cheerless after his experience on the train, but he closed the door, threw himself into a chair, and resumed his meditations, for thus far he had not been able to decide upon anything.

"I am hungry," thought he, at length, "and after I have satisfied my appet.i.te I will do just what I told Claus--go around to the different stores and ask them if they want a boy. I tell you that will be a big come-down for me, but it serves me right for having anything to do with Claus."

We need not go with Casper any further. For three nights he returned from his long walks tired and hungry, and not a single storekeeper to whom he had applied wanted a boy for any purpose whatever. Sometimes he had sharp words to dishearten him. "No, no; get out of here--you are the fifth boy who has been at me this morning;" and Casper always went, for fear the man would lay violent hands on him. On the fourth night he came home feeling a little better than usual. He had been hired for a few days to act as porter in a wholesale dry-goods store, and he had enough money in his pocket to pay for a good supper. The wages he received were small--just about enough to pay for breakfast and supper; but when the few days were up the hurry was over, and Casper was once more a gentleman of leisure. And so it was during the rest of the summer and fall. He could not get anything to do steadily, his clothes were fast wearing out, and the landlord came down on him for his rent when he did not have a cent in his pocket. Utterly discouraged, at last he wrote to his mother for money to carry him to his home; and so he pa.s.ses out of our sight.

As for Claus, we wish we could dispose of him in the same way; but unfortunately we cannot. Everybody was glad to see him when he entered the pool-room where he had been in the habit of playing, and more than one offered him a cigar. He told a long story about some business he had to attend to somewhere out West, and when he talked he looked up every time the door opened, as if fearful that Casper would come in to bother him for more money. But Casper was sick of Claus. The lesson he had received from him was enough.

Claus remained in St. Louis for two months; and he must have been successful, too, for the roll of bills he carried away with him was considerably larger than the one which Casper had seen. When he was ready to go he bade everybody good-bye, and this time he carried his trunk with him. He was going out West to attend to "some business,"

which meant that he was going to keep watch of Julian and Jack in some way, and be ready to pounce upon them when they worked their mine--that is, if they were successful with it.

"That will be the only thing I can do," decided Claus, after thinking the matter over. "They have the buildings by this time, at any rate, so that part of it has gone up; but when they get out alone, and are working in their mine, that will be the time for me to take them. They will have all the work, but I will have the dust they make."

When Claus reached this point in his meditations, he could not help remembering that some of the men who were interested in the mines were dead shots with either rifle or revolver, and that if he robbed the boys he would be certain to have some of them after him, and what they would do if they caught him was another matter altogether.

"I can shoot as well as they can," thought he, feeling around for his hip pocket to satisfy himself that his new revolver was still in its place. "If I have some of their money in my pocket, I would like to see any of the miners come up with me."

When Claus reached Denver, his first care was to keep clear of Julian and Jack, and his next was to find some miners who were familiar with the country in the region bordering on Dutch Flat; for thus far Claus had not been able to learn a thing about it. Dutch Flat might be five miles away or it might be a hundred, and he wanted somebody to act as his guide. He put up at a second-rate hotel, engaged his room, and then came down into the reading-room to keep watch of the men who tarried there.

"I must find somebody whose face tells me he would not be above stealing a hundred thousand dollars if he had a good chance," decided Claus; "but the countenances of these men all go against me--they are too honest. I guess I'll have to try the clerk, and see what I can get out of him."

On the second day, as Claus entered the reading-room with a paper in his hand, he saw before him a man sitting by a window, his feet elevated higher than his head, watching the people going by. He was a miner,--there could be no doubt about that,--and he seemed to be in low spirits about something, for every little while he changed his position, yawned, and stretched his arms as if he did not know what to do with himself. Claus took just one look at him, then seized a chair and drew it up by the man's side. The man looked up to see who it was, and then looked out on the street again.

"Excuse me," began Claus, "but you seem to be a miner."

"Well, yes--I have dabbled in that a little," answered the man, turning his eyes once more upon Claus. "What made you think of that?"

"I judged you by your clothes," replied Claus. "Have a cigar? Then, perhaps you will tell me if you know anything about Dutch Flat, where there is--"

"Don't I know all about it?" interrupted the man. "Ask me something hard. A bigger fraud than that Dutch Flat was never sprung on any lot of men. There is no color of gold up there."

"Then what made you go there in the first place?" asked Claus.

"It got into the hands of a few men who were afraid of the Indians, and they coaxed me and my partner to go up," replied the man. "But there were no Indians there. I prospected around there for six months, owe more than I shall ever be able to pay for grub-staking, and finally, when the cold weather came, I slipped out."