Digging for Gold. Horatio Alger Jr.

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Grant began to draw the bills out of his pocket, Luke’s eyes opened with amazement.

      “Where did you get all this money, Grant?” he asked. “You haven’t been – no, I can’t believe it possible you’ve been robbing the old man.”

      “I should think not,” returned Grant indignantly. “I haven’t sunk so low as that.”

      “But where did you get it? Why didn’t you ask me to take charge of it when you were here before?”

      “Because I didn’t have it.”

      “Have you got it since?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then you found it somewhere. It must belong to some one who hid it.”

      “No, it doesn’t. It was given to me.”

      “I want to believe you, Grant, and I never knew you to tell a lie, but it aint easy, boy, it aint easy. If you don’t tell me where and how you got it, I can’t agree to keep it for you. It might be stolen money for aught I know.”

      “Then I’ll tell you, Luke. When I crossed the railroad I found the bridge was broken. I signalled the train just in time to stop it’s going across.”

      “Sho! you don’t say! Then but for you the train would have been wrecked?”

      “Yes.”

      “I’m proud of you, Grant! Give me your hand. Why, boy, you’ve saved fifty lives, perhaps.”

      “That’s what the engineer said.”

      “But about the money – ”

      “The passengers took up a contribution, and here it is.”

      “How much is there?”

      “As near as I can tell, for I counted it in a hurry, there’s a hundred and fifty-two dollars.”

      “And you deserve it all, Grant. Yes, I’ll keep it for you, and give it back whenever you ask for it.”

      “I was afraid Mr. Tarbox might try to get it away from me.”

      “So he would, I make no doubt. He won’t get it from me, I’ll tell you that.”

      “Now I must be getting home. I’ve been away a long time.”

      When Grant approached the farm-house, Rodney, who was standing in front of the house, hailed him.

      “Say, there’s a rod in pickle for you. Grandfather’s awfully mad at your staying so long.”

      CHAPTER V

      GRANT ORDERS A NEW SUIT

      Grant listened to what Rodney said, but Mr. Tarbox’s anger did not signify as much to him as it would have done a few hours earlier. The money he possessed made him feel independent.

      Seth Tarbox appeared at the door, ready to empty the vials of his wrath on Grant’s devoted head.

      “So you’ve been loiterin’ on the way, have you?” he said harshly. “You’ve been twice as long as you need to be.”

      “Well, perhaps I have,” Grant admitted coolly.

      “So you own up to it, do you?”

      “Of course I do.”

      “And what excuse have you?”

      “Do you expect me to work all the time?”

      “I expect you to earn your board and clothes.”

      “I earn them both, and more too, but I don’t get the clothes.”

      “Hey? Oh, I see. You loitered because I wouldn’t buy you a suit of clothes,” snarled Seth.

      “You can take it that way if you want to,” said Grant.

      “What’s got into you, Grant Colburn? ’Pears to me you are mighty independent all at once.”

      “That’s the way I feel.”

      “You seem to forget that but for me you wouldn’t have a home.”

      “When you get tired of providing me with a home, Mr. Tarbox, I will find one somewhere else.”

      “So you think, but if you leave my home you’ll become a poor tramp.”

      Rodney laughed.

      “I guess you’re right, grandfather,” he said.

      Grant darted a look at him which showed that he understood the nature of his feelings.

      “Well,” he said, “I’ll take the risk.”

      “I don’t take back the offer of a suit of clothes, Grant,” said Rodney smoothly. “I’ll bring ’em over the next time I come.”

      “Yes, do, Rodney,” put in his grandfather.

      “You needn’t take the trouble, Rodney,” said Grant. “I shan’t wear the suit if you bring it.”

      “I suppose you expect I’ll buy you a new one,” sneered Seth Tarbox.

      “No, I don’t.”

      “Then you are content to go as you are?”

      “No, I shall have a new suit in a few days, if I have to pay for it myself.”

      “You’re welcome to do that,” responded Seth in a tone of satisfaction, for he concluded that Grant’s mother would pay the bill, and that suited him.

      No more was said to Grant on the subject of his delay in returning from the other farm. He had occasion a little later to go on an errand, and called at the village tailor’s.

      “Mr. Shick,” he said, “I want you to make me up a good serviceable suit. How much will it cost?”

      “It depends on the cloth, Grant. Here is a remnant that will wear like iron. I can make it up in two styles, according to the trimmings, seventeen dollars or twenty.”

      “I want a good suit, and will pay twenty.”

      The tailor was rather surprised, for he knew that Grant’s step-father was a thoroughly mean man.

      “Mr. Tarbox is getting liberal, isn’t he?” he inquired. “That’s more than he pays for his own suits.”

      “He isn’t going to pay for mine.”

      “Oh, it’s your mother, then.”

      “No, I shall pay for it myself.”

      “Will it be cash down?”

      “Yes.”

      “I am glad you are so well off, Grant,” said Mr. Shick, puzzled.

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