George at the Wheel

"Leave the room!" roared Ned.

"Very good," replied George, rising to his feet, and putting on his hat; "I will leave the room very willingly, but I give you fair warning, Uncle John, that if I do it, I shall go straight home and begin proceedings against you. I have been advised to have a new guardian appointed, and I begin to think it is the best thing I can do."

"Sit down! sit down!" cried Uncle John, when he saw the boy moving toward his valise. "Let us see if we can't straighten things out to the satisfaction of all of us."

"I think myself that you had better straighten them out now, instead of waiting until you are obliged to do so before a court of law," said George, significantly.

"Who advised you to have a new guardian appointed?" inquired Uncle John.

"Mr. Gilbert did."

"Of course," sneered Ned. "He is down on us because we are so far above him. Who is he, any how, but a low, ignorant herdsman, whose money entitles him to the position he holds? What would he be up North?"

"What were you up North?" asked George, in reply.

"I was a gentleman, and I am one now."

"And Mr. Gilbert would be known as an honest man, no matter where he went."

"I suppose you think I am not honest," said Uncle John, who, during this side sparring had been allowed a little time in which to collect his scattered wits. "You can carry out your silly threat about that court of law just as soon as you please."

"If I do, you will have to account for every cent that has passed through your hands since you have been my guardian," returned George.

"I can do it. The books show where it has gone."

"What entry did you make in reference to the money that Ned sent to Gus Robbins to pay his way down here?"

"I charged it to myself," answered Uncle John, who was not a little astonished by this question. He supposed that that was a matter that George knew nothing about.

"What did you do with the ten thousand dollars you received for the herd of cattle that Mose drove to Palos when he met Gus Robbins there?"

"I entered it upon the cash account in the proper way. The books show it."

"They don't show it!" said George, bluntly. "They don't show more than half the money you have received since you have been on that ranche."

"How do you know?" demanded Uncle John, starting up in his chair. "Look here, young man! Have you been prying into my private affairs?"

"I have been examining the books you thought you left locked up in the safe, if that is what you mean," replied George, boldly. "And as I know something about bookkeeping, and all about the money you have received since you took charge of my affairs, I was able to see that your accounts are frauds of the first water. Now, Uncle John, I have dwelt longer on these matters than I intended to when I came up here, and I am coming down to business. If you will promise faithfully that you will deal honestly and fairly by me from this time forward, you can hold your present position for five years longer; otherwise you shall not hold it five days. In the first place, there must not be a single steer sold from that ranche while I am gone. There is no need of it, for you have, or ought to have, fifty thousand dollars in the bank to draw on. Do you promise that?"

"I shall make no promises or concessions whatever," replied Uncle John, whose terror had given away to rage intense and bitter. "I shall manage that estate in future as I have in the past, according to my own judgment."

"Then you shall not manage it any longer. Your account is twenty-five or thirty thousand dollars short already, and I can't stand such a leak as that," said George, as he put on his hat again and picked up his valise. "I don't want to disgrace you, but I don't see how I can help it; for you can bet your bottom dollar that I am not going to stand still and see myself robbed."

George walked out of the room, banging the door behind him, while Ned threw himself into his chair and looked at his father who mopped his face vigorously with his handkerchief, while his hands trembled so violently that he could scarcely control them. They had passed through a very trying interview.

CHAPTER VIII

LIFE IN THE PILOT-HOUSE

"Now, I just want to know if anybody ever heard of such miserable luck as I have," exclaimed Ned, who was the first to break the silence. "Here I was, pluming myself on being the owner of the finest cattle ranche in Texas, when, as if to mock me and show me how all my bright hopes are destined to end, in walks George, as cool as a cucumber, and looking as though he had never seen a Greaser. Why in the world couldn't they hold fast to him after they got him? My forty thousand a year are up a hollow stump, and George knows everything. Did you hire those men to capture him?"

"Didn't you hear me say that every word of his story was false?" demanded his father, fiercely. "Would I be likely to put my nephew's life in jeopardy?"

"If there is no truth in it, I don't see how he came to hear it from so many different sources."

"And neither do I see how he found out that you sent that money to Gus Robbins," said Uncle John. "Have you any idea how that got to his ears?"

"Not the slightest," answered Ned. He saw that his father was almost ready to boil over with fury, and he did not think it would be quite safe to acknowledge that it was through his own admissions that George had become acquainted with that little circumstance. "Gus must have told him; or it may be that I have enemies as well as you. But what are we going to do? That's the question."

And it was one that aroused Uncle John from the stupor into which he had fallen, and showed him the necessity of prompt and decisive action. He jumped from his chair and began walking up and down the room.

"Can George turn you out of your position and have somebody appointed in your place?" continued Ned.

"Of course he can. I hoped to keep him in ignorance concerning that fact, but Gilbert, or some other busy-body, has been posting him."

"Then you had better make things straight with him and be quick about it," said Ned, growing frightened again. "If you don't, he'll oust you sure, and then what will become of me – of both of us? You'll have to go back to your desk again, and I'll have to pick up my yard-stick. Father, I never could endure that sort of life again. You must make it up with him?"

Uncle John wrung his hands and groaned. He was terribly agitated, and it was not to be wondered at. He could not have told which he stood the more in fear of – punishment at the hands of the angry settlers, who would be sure, sooner or later, to learn all about his dealings with his nephew, or the loss of the management of his brother's property. He could not bear to think of either.

"Where are you going?" inquired Ned, as his father suddenly turned toward the door and laid his hand upon the knob.

"I am going to see George," was the reply. "It would never do to let him go back home feeling as he does now, for you and I would never dare to show our faces there again. I am going to try to reason with him first, and if that has no effect, I shall use my authority."

"That's the way to talk," exclaimed Ned, gleefully. "Pound him within an inch of his life, and if you want any help, call for me. I will leave the door open so that I can hear you."

Ned had been on the very point of volunteering to go with his father, in order to back him up during the coming interview, and holding himself in readiness to assist him as circumstances might require; but the fear that the interview might end in a fight, checked the words that arose to his lips. George's fists were pretty large and heavy, and a good fair blow from one of them would have played sad havoc with the little sense that Ned Ackerman possessed.

"I hardly think that extreme measures will be called for," said Uncle John, "but if they are, I shall use them. Stay here until I return."

"I declare, I didn't know that George could be so insolent," thought Ned, as his father closed the door behind him. "The idea of a little snipe like him sitting there and talking to a gray-headed man as he would talk to a boy of his own age! I wonder that he wasn't kicked out of the room for his impudence. But I believe that father is afraid of him; he certainly acted like it; and if he is, it proves that he has been up to something. I hope he will lay his plans with a little more skill next time."

Ned kept his ear at the open door, but no sounds came up from below to indicate that his father had found it necessary to use his authority in order to bring the refractory George to his senses. He passed a long and gloomy hour alone in his room, and sometimes his impatience and suspense increased to such a degree that it was all he could do to keep from going out in search of Uncle John. When the latter at last made his appearance, Ned saw at a glance that he had passed through another exciting and stormy interview. The perspiration stood on his forehead in great beads, and his face was as flushed as it would have been if he had just finished a hotly-contested foot-race with somebody. He dropped into his chair, and drew his handkerchief from his pocket.

"Now, I tell you what's a fact," said Ned, to himself; "if he has been trying to use 'extreme measures,' he has got worsted at it; he has come back whipped. Well, why don't you speak?"

"Let me recover my breath, won't you?" exclaimed Uncle John, impatiently.

"Is everything all right, or not?" demanded Ned, paying no attention to this request. "I want to know the best or the worst, at once."

"I am to retain my position as his guardian," said Uncle John, "but he imposes some hard conditions."

"You didn't agree to them, of course?"

"Of course, I did. I couldn't do otherwise."

"Why didn't you use the authority you talk so much about?"

"I didn't think it was best. I can do as I please about keeping my promises."