Frank and Fearless; or, The Fortunes of Jasper Kent

"Where were you, then?"

"In Missouri, near St. Louis."

"Indeed? Have you just come from there?"

"Yes."

"Did you have any business this way? I suppose you must, or you wouldn't have come so far."

"I came on purpose to see you, Helen," said Dick, trying to look like an affectionate brother, and signally failing.

"You are certainly very kind," said Mrs. Kent in a cold tone, evincing not the slightest pleasure at his devotion. "I am afraid you must have put yourself to a good deal of inconvenience on my account."

"Why, yes, I have," answered her brother, perceiving at once that he might urge this as a claim upon her; "but what of that? Ain't you my only sister, and hasn't it been years since we met?"

"Really, Richard," said Mrs. Kent, with a little quiet sarcasm, "I was hardly prepared to expect from you so great an interest in me. I wonder you didn't come before. It's a good many years since we met."

"Well, Helen, you see I couldn't afford it before. I wanted to see you, but I couldn't raise the money to come East."

"You've raised it now, it seems."

"Yes; I had a little stroke of luck."

"You're doing well, then?" asked his sister, with a slight show of interest.

If this were so, she was ready to welcome him.

"I said a little show of luck. I got together money enough to come East."

"Oh, indeed!" returned Mrs. Kent, her manner becoming chilly again.

Dick got nettled. He didn't relish his reception.

"It seems to me you ain't very glad to see me," said he, bluntly.

"I never was very demonstrative," said his sister. "Did you expect me to fall on your neck and embrace you?"

"No; but—well, you know what I mean. You are as cold as an icicle."

"It's my way, I suppose. Is your wife living?"

"Yes."

"Is she with you?" asked Mrs. Kent, rather apprehensively.

"No; it was too expensive for me to bring two. I hear you are rich, Helen."

"Is that what brought you on?"

"Don't be so suspicious. It's only natural I should congratulate you."

Before this Nicholas had left the room to go out on his proposed drive.

"I've got enough to live on economically," she answered, with reserve. "I am not rich."

"Your son, Nicholas, acts as if you were."

"How is that?"

Dick laughed.

"He puts on as many heirs as a prince."

"He has considerable spirit," said Mrs. Kent, proudly.

"There's no doubt of that. He ordered me off with the air of a young lord."

"That was before he knew who you were."

"Yes, he didn't know I was his uncle. By the way, you've got a step-son, haven't you?"

"Yes; two-thirds of this property belongs to him."

"Where is he?"

"He is absent just now," answered Mrs. Kent, in a tone of reserve.

Dick laughed.

"Oh, you're good at keeping secrets, Helen," he said; "but you can't deceive me."

"What do you mean?" inquired his sister, with some indignation.

"I know all about his going away, Helen."

"Who told you—the neighbors? Have you been questioning them about my affairs?"

"No, no. You're on the wrong scent this time. He told me himself."

"What! has he got back again?" demanded Mrs. Kent, in surprise and dismay.

"No; I met him in Missouri. He told me there."

"How did he know you were related to me?"

"He heard me and my wife talking about you, and then he told me."

"What did he tell you?"

"That you and he couldn't agree, and so he left home."

"He was insubordinate. He disobeyed me, and I wouldn't stand it."

"Oh, well, you two can settle your own affairs. I don't care to interfere, only I thought you would like to hear from him."

"What's he doing?" asked Mrs. Kent.

"He was in St. Louis when I left, looking out for a situation."

"I wash my hands of him. He might live easily enough if he would submit to me. If not, he will probably have to submit to a great many privations."

"He is a pretty smart boy; he'll get along."

"I consider my Nicholas smarter," said Mrs. Kent, coldly.

"Perhaps so," answered her brother, dubiously. "I don't know much about Nicholas."

"Where are you staying?" asked his sister.

"Why," said Dick, rather taken aback, "I calculated you would invite me to stay here awhile, seeing I've come so far to see you."

Mrs. Kent bit her lips in vexation.

"You can stay a day or two, if you like," she said, "but we live very quietly, Nicholas and I. I don't think it will suit one so active as you are."

"I'll take the risk, sister Helen. It seems good to be in my own sister's house after so many years. Besides, I should like to ride out with my nephew behind that gay horse of his."

"You can speak to him about it," said

Mrs. Kent. "I believe he prefers to be alone."

"Oh, he'll be willing to treat his uncle to a ride. I'll give him a few hints about driving."

Mrs. Kent winced. She was proud, and she did not fancy exhibiting Dick to the village people as her brother. But there seemed no way of avoiding it. She privately determined to get rid of him as soon as possible.

"I must leave you now," she said, gathering up her work. "I will ask the servant to show you your room."

"All right, Helen. Don't trouble yourself about me. I'll make myself at home."

"I'm afraid you will," thought his sister.

CHAPTER XXXIII.

DICK PUNISHES NICHOLAS

"Is that man going to stay here?" asked Nicholas, in a tone of dissatisfaction.

"Yes."

"What made you invite him?"

"I couldn't help it, Nicholas. He is my brother."

"I'm ashamed of the relationship."

"I am not proud of it myself, but I can't help paying him a little attention."

"How long is he going to stay?"

"A day or two."

"He'll stay a week or two if you let him."

"I can prevent that."

"How?"

"You'll see."

The manner of Nicholas toward his uncle was far from agreeable. In fact, it was almost insolent. Dick retained his temper out of policy, but he said to himself:

"Some time or other, my fine nephew, I'll pay off old scores. See if I don't."

"Are you going to ride this morning?" he asked the next day.

"I may," answered Nicholas.

"I should like to ride with you."

"I prefer riding by myself."

"Oh, come, nephew. I shan't stay here long. Don't refuse such a small favor."

In consequence probably of the first part of this answer, Mrs. Kent said:

"Nicholas, you'd better take your uncle out this morning and show him a little of the village."

Nicholas grumblingly assented.

So about ten o'clock they started out.

"You've got a good horse here," said Dick.

"He ought to be. Mother paid four hundred dollars for him."

"Did she, though? You ought to have got me to send you one from the West. For half the money I'd have sent you a better one."

"I don't believe it."

"Because you don't know. I do."

"It takes a good driver to drive this horse," said Nicholas.

"Does it? I could drive this horse blindfolded."

He spoke contemptuously, and Nicholas was nettled. He prided himself upon his driving ability, and now his uncle underestimated it.

"The horse is not as easy to drive as you think," he said. "If you don't believe it, take the reins and see."

"All right."

This was what Dick wanted, for he had a plan for revenging himself on his upstart nephew. He drove on till he got to a place where there was a muddy and miry puddle beside the road. Then by a dexterous manœuver, for he understood driving thoroughly, he managed to overturn the wagon, and Nicholas was thrown headlong into the puddle. Dick leaped out just at the right time, retaining his hold on the reins.

Bespattered with mud and drenched with mire, Nicholas arose from the puddle a sorry figure.

"What did you do that for?" he demanded, wrathfully, surveying himself with disgust.

"I'm afraid I can't manage your horse," said Dick, with hypocritical meekness. "He was too much for me."

"Didn't I tell you so?" said Nicholas, triumphing in spite of his woful condition.

"I'm sorry you fell into the puddle. Why didn't you jump, as I did?"

"I didn't have time," said Nicholas, ruefully. "What a figure I am!"

"I suppose we may as well go home."

"Yes," said Nicholas, sullenly. "That comes of giving you the reins."

"You are right," said Dick. "You'd better drive home yourself."

Nicholas took the reins, but it mortified him not a little to see the looks of wonder and amusement which he attracted as he passed through the village.

Dick laughed to himself.

"I rather think, my proud nephew, we're about even," he said to himself.

In the course of the next day Dick ventured to suggest to his sister that a temporary loan would be very acceptable.

"A loan!" she repeated, curling her lip. "Why not say 'gift' at once?"

"I'm willing to put it on that ground," said Dick, unabashed. "Still, I'll give you my note for the amount, if you say so."

"What good would that do?"

"Why, I've got some plans in view which, if successful, will enable me to repay you the money, with interest."

"I have small faith in the success of your plans, Richard."

"I haven't been as lucky as you, sister Helen, I admit; but where would you have been but for your lucky marriage?"

"As to that, I have always taken care of myself," said his sister, coldly.

"May be so. There are some born to good luck."

"How much money do you expect me to give you?" asked Mrs. Kent.

Dick looked at his sister's face attentively. He wished to judge how much there was a chance of getting out of her. His survey was not particularly encouraging. She didn't appear to be a woman easily wheedled out of her money. Still, he spoke up boldly, and said:

"A loan of five hundred dollars, Helen, would be a great lift to me."

"I have no doubt it would," said Mrs. Kent, quietly; "but if you have any expectation of getting that sum from me you know very little of me. I should be a fool to throw away such a sum of money."

"You would be generous."

"I have no ambition to be considered generous," she answered, coldly. "A fool and his money are soon parted. You appear to take me for a fool, but I beg to assure you that you are entirely mistaken."

"How much will you lend me, then?" asked Dick, rather 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. You will have no reason to be glad to see me. Follow me."

"I would rather not."

"Follow me, or I will drive this knife into you!" said Jack, savagely, displaying a murderous-looking weapon which he carried in his girdle.

Resistance would have been unavailing and dangerous, and Jasper obeyed, resolved, however, to escape at the first opportunity.

Jack led the way into the woods, not far, however, and finally paused under a large tree.

"Sit down," he said, imperiously.

He threw himself down on the green sward, and Jasper, not very comfortable in mind, sat down near him.

"Now, young fellow," said Jack, "I've got some questions to ask you."

"I suppose he is going to ask me about my escape," thought Jasper, and he was right.

"How did you get away from that room where you were locked up?"

"I got out of the sliding-door," said Jasper.

"How did you get out of the house? Did the old man help you?"

"No," said Jasper.

"Did you go out through the front door?"

"No."

"Don't keep me asking questions," said Jack, harshly. "How did you get out, then?"

"Through the door in the roof. From there I got in through the window into a room in the next house."

"Ha!" said Jack. "I never thought of that. Did you have any trouble with the people there?"

"No; I got into the room of a German, who let me spend the night with him and take breakfast."

"So, that's the way you managed it?"

"Yes."

Jasper felt relieved that no question had been asked him as to Nancy's agency in effecting his release. He would not have betrayed her, at any rate, but his refusal to speak might have incensed Jack.

"Well," he said, "so much for that. Now, how much money have you got with you?"