A Cousin's Conspiracy: or, A Boy's Struggle for an Inheritance

Ernest said to himself that this man with his shifty looks and suspicious appearance would be about the last man he would think of engaging.

“Perhaps Mr. Ames would give you a chance to work some of his claims,” he suggested.

“I will look about me a little before I apply to him,” replied the customer.

“Did you come here alone?” he asked after a pause.

“No. A friend came with me – Luke Robbins.”

The stranger started a little when Ernest pronounced this name, so that young Ray was led to inquire, “Do you know Luke?”

“How should I know him? Is he a young man?”

“No; he is probably about your age.”

“I suppose he came with you from Nebraska?”

“Iowa.”

“Oh, yes, Iowa. He isn’t in the store, is he?”

“He is working for Mr. Ashton on one of his claims.”

At this point a new customer came in and the visitor, after a brief delay, left the store.

When Ernest had waited upon the new customer he looked for the first visitor, but missed him.

“I wonder who he was,” he reflected, puzzled. “I am sure that I have seen him before.”

But think as he might he could not trace him.

Yet with this man he had had a very exciting experience in Oak Forks, for it was no other than Tom Burns, the tramp who had entered his cabin during the night and robbed him, and later had attacked him when digging for Peter’s hidden treasure. It had been only a few months since they had met, but Tom Burns, during that time, had grown a thick beard, which had helped to disguise him.

It is hardly necessary to explain how Burns had found his way out to Oreville. It was his business to tramp about the country, and it had struck him that in the land of gold he would have a chance to line his pockets with treasure which did not belong to him. So fortune had directed his steps to Oreville.

When he entered the store in which Ernest was employed, he immediately, and in some surprise, recognized the boy of Oak Forks. He was glad to find that Ernest did not recognize him, and he immediately began to consider in what way he could turn the circumstance to his own advantage.

“I wonder if the boy sleeps there,” he said to himself. “If so, I will make him a visit to-night. Probably the money he has taken during the day will be in some drawer where I can get hold of it.”

As he was leaving the store in the stealthy way habitual to him, he met a man walking toward the place with a long and careless stride.

He started nervously, for this man was one whom he dreaded, and had reason to fear.

It was Luke Robbins, who, tired with working the claim, was going to the store to replenish his stock of tobacco.

Tom Burns pulled his soft hat down over his eyes and pushed swiftly on.

Luke Robbins halted a moment and looked at him. As in Ernest’s case, he seemed to see something familiar in the appearance of the tramp. He realized, at all events, that he was a stranger in Oreville, for he knew everyone in the mining settlement.

“Who are you, stranger? Have I seen you before?” asked Luke, hailing him.

Tom Burns did not dare to reply, for he feared that Luke might prove to have a better memory than Ernest. So he was passing on without a response, when Luke, who considered his conduct suspicious, demanded, in a peremptory tone, “Who are you? Do you live here?”

Tom Burns shrugged his shoulders, and said, disguising his voice, “Me no understand English, boss.”

“What countryman are you?” asked Luke suspiciously.

“Italian,” answered Tom.

“Humph! you are the first Italian I have seen in Oreville.”

“Si, signor,” answered Tom, and this comprised all the Italian he knew.

“Well, I don’t think you will find any inducement to stay.”

“Si, signor,” replied Burns meekly.

Without another word Luke entered the store.

“Ernest,” he said, “I am out of tobacco, and must have a smoke. Give me half a pound.”

“All right, Luke.”

“I ran across an Italian just outside. He seemed to be leaving the store.”

“An Italian?” queried Ernest, his tone betraying surprise.

“Yes. Wasn’t he in here?”

“There was a man in here – a stranger, but I don’t think he was an Italian.”

“This man answered me in some Italian gibberish. He said he couldn’t understand English.”

“What was his appearance?”

Luke described him.

“It’s the same man that was in here just now, but he could speak English as well as you or I.”

“Did you have some conversation with him?”

“Yes. He looked familiar to me, and I asked him who he was. He said he had come from Missouri. He was in search of work.”

“You say he understood and spoke English?”

“Yes.”

“Then I wonder what could be his game.”