Robert Coverdale's Struggle: or, on the Wave of Success. Horatio Alger Jr.

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      "It's all right," said the fisherman; "I'll wait till ten o'clock and then I'll go home."

      Meanwhile Robert went out on the cliff and looked about him. He looked down upon the waves as they rolled in on the beach and he enjoyed the sight, familiar as it was, for he had a love of the grand and beautiful in nature.

      "I think if I were a rich man," thought the poor fisherman's boy, "I would like to build a fine house on the cliff, with an observatory right here, where I could always see the ocean. It's something to live here, if I do have to live in a poor cabin. But I must consider where I will hide my money."

      At his feet was a small tin box, which had been thrown away by somebody, and it struck Robert that this would make a good depository for his money. Fortunately the cover of the box was attached to it.

      He took the money from his vest pocket and dropped it into the box. Then he covered it, and, finding a good place, he scooped out the dirt and carefully deposited the box in the hole.

      He carefully covered it up, replacing the dirt, and took particular notice of the spot, so that there would be no difficulty in finding it again whenever he had occasion.

      Having attended to this duty, he retraced his steps to the cabin and found that the tea had been steeped and the table was covered with a neat cloth and two cups and saucers were set upon it.

      "Tea's all ready, Robert," said his aunt cheerfully. "The smell of it does me good. It's better than all the liquor in the world!"

      Robert did not like tea as well as his aunt, but still he relished the warm drink, for the night was cool, and more than ever he rejoiced to see how much his aunt enjoyed what had latterly been rather a rare luxury.

      About nine o'clock Robert went to bed and very soon fell asleep.

      He had not been asleep long before he was conscious of being rudely shaken.

      Opening his eyes, he saw his uncle with inflamed face and thickened utterance.

      "What's wanted, uncle?" he asked.

      "Where's that money, you young rascal? Give me the dollar and forty-two cents you're hiding from me!"

      CHAPTER VI

      MAN AGAINST BOY

      As Robert, scarcely awake, looked into the threatening face of his uncle he felt that the crisis had come and that all his firmness and manliness were demanded.

      Our hero was not disposed to rebel against just authority. He recognized that his uncle, poor as his guardianship was, had some claim to his obedience.

      In any ordinary matter he would have unhesitatingly obeyed him. But, in the present instance, he felt that his aunt's comfort depended, in a measure, upon his retention of the small amount of money which he was fortunate enough to possess.

      Of course he had thought of all this before he went to sleep, and he had decided, in case his uncle heard of his good luck, to keep the money at all hazards.

      For a minute he remained silent, meeting calmly the angry and impatient glance of his uncle.

      "Give me that money, I tell you!" demanded the fisherman with thickened utterance.

      "I haven't got any money of yours, Uncle John," said Robert, now forced to say something.

      "You lie, boy! You've got a dollar and forty-two cents."

      "I haven't got as much as that, but I have nearly as much."

      "Have you been spending any more money?"

      "I bought a loaf of bread for six cents."

      "Then you've got a dollar and thirty-six cents left."

      "Yes, I have."

      "Give it to me!"

      "You want to spend it for rum, I suppose, uncle."

      "Curse your impudence! What difference does it make to you what I do with it?"

      Robert rose to a sitting posture, and, carried away by just indignation, he said:

      "I mean to keep that money and spend it for my aunt. There ought to be no need of it. You ought to support her yourself and supply her with all she needs; but, instead of that, you selfishly spend all your money on drink and leave her to get along the best way she can!"

      "You young rascal!" exclaimed his uncle, half ashamed and wholly angry.

      "Is that the way you repay me for keeping you out of the poorhouse?"

      "I can support myself, Uncle John, and for the last two years I've done it and helped Aunt Jane besides. There isn't any danger of my going to the poorhouse. I would leave Cook's Harbor tomorrow if I thought Aunt Jane were sure of a comfortable support, but I am afraid you would let her starve."

      Robert had never spoken so plainly before and his uncle was almost struck dumb by the boy's bold words. He knew they were deserved, but he was angry nevertheless and he was as firm as ever in his determination to have the money.

      "Boy," he said, "you are too young to lecture a grown man like me. I know what's best to do. Where did you get the money?" he demanded with sudden curiosity. "Did you find it in any of my pockets?"

      "There wouldn't be much use in searching your pockets for money. You never leave any behind."

      "Where did you get it then?"

      "Mr. Tudor, who boards at the hotel, gave it to me."

      "That's a likely story."

      "He gave it to me because I ran after his hat, which was blown off by the wind, and brought it back to him. It was a very expensive hat, so he said."

      "I know; it is a Panama hat."

      "That's what he called it."

      "Did you have that money when I saw you coming out of the tavern yard?"

      "No."

      "When you got it, why didn't you come and bring it to me?"

      "Because it was my own money. You had no right to claim it," said Robert firmly.

      "He is right, John," said Mrs. Trafton, who had listened uneasily to the conversation, but had not yet seen an opportunity to put in a word in Robert's favor.

      "Shut up, old woman!" said the fisherman roughly. "Well," said he, turning to Robert, "I've heard what you've got to say and it don't make a bit of difference. I must have the money."

      "I refuse to give it to you," Robert said, pale but firm.

      "Then," said John Trafton with a curse, "I'll take it."

      He snatched Robert's pants from the chair on which they were lying and thrust his hand into one pocket after the other, but he found nothing.

      He next searched the vest in the СКАЧАТЬ