A Cousin's Conspiracy; Or, A Boy's Struggle for an InheritanceAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
A Cousin's Conspiracy; Or, A Boy's Struggle for an Inheritance
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Inheritance and succession -- Juvenile fiction
As the Indian was four or five inches taller than himself, the legs
covered his feet. He laughed as he saw how they looked, and the Indian's
serious face relaxed a little from the same cause.
"Now I will dry your clothes," he said.
He took a chair and, hanging the wet garments over the back, placed it
very near the stove. Ernest hardly liked to lose so much time, but he knew
that it would not be safe to wear the trousers in their soaked condition.
"You speak English very well," he said, turning to the Indian.
"Yes; I have spent much time with white people," was the answer.
"Do you support yourself by hunting?" went on Ernest.
"Yes, I am a hunter, but I go with rich white people from the cities and
with Englishmen who want a guide."
"And do they pay you well?" asked Ernest, not quite sure whether he was
not showing too much curiosity.
"Yes, they pay me well. I have some money in the bank."
Then Ernest remembered having seen the Indian one day at the bank. He was
told at the time that his name was John Castro, and that he had several
hundred dollars on deposit.
CHAPTER XV
JOHN CASTRO
While Ernest's clothes were drying the Indian woman was bustling about the
stove. The boy did not suspect her object till she placed on the table a
plate of Indian cakes hot from the oven and he was invited to partake.
It was the first time he had ever been a guest in an Indian family, and he
hesitated, but saw that his refusal to partake might hurt the feelings of
his new friends. He seated himself at the table, and found the cakes
really very good.
When his clothes were dry he rose to go.
"Won't you stay all night?" asked Castro.
"Thank you. I cannot spare the time. I must push on."
"Where are you going?" asked the Indian.
"To Lee's Falls."
"I will go with you a short distance."
So they set out together.
At length John Castro stopped.
"That is your way," he said. "I wish you a pleasant journey. I will not
forget what you have done for my little son. If ever you are in trouble
send for John Castro."
"I thank you."
The Indian shook hands with him gravely and turned back toward his cabin.
All this had taken time. Ernest had no watch with him, but he estimated
that the adventure had cost him two hours. However, he had saved a boy's
life.
Again he had made a friend. The friend was an Indian, but Ernest was wise
enough to consider that no friend, however humble, is to be despised.
It was clear that he would reach his destination late, and he began to
wish that some carriage would overtake him in which he might ask for a
ride.
But he walked two miles farther without encountering any team. At last,
however, he heard the rumble of wheels, and turning round to see whether
there was room in the vehicle, he saw that it was a buggy driven by a
tall, thin man with dark hair, swarthy face and a long, aquiline nose.
The driver eyed Ernest sharply and brought the buggy to a standstill.
"Where are you going, boy?" he asked.
"To Lee's Falls."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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