Mark Manning's Mission. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ Taylor listened in sullen disappointment. He did know that his uncle's word could be relied upon implicitly, and that the hopes which he had built up of securing a large fund from the uncle he had once robbed, were not destined to be realized.

      "It seems you are a pauper, then," he said.

      "I have not been compelled to ask for charity yet," answered Anthony. "I live here for next to nothing, and have not suffered yet for the necessities of life."

      Lyman Taylor looked around him contemptuously.

      "You must have a sweet time living here," he said, "in this lonely old cabin."

      "I would not exchange it for the place in which you confess that you have passed the last four years."

      Taylor frowned, but did not otherwise notice the old man's retort.

      "Give me the five dollars, boy," he said, "and I will go. It seems I am wasting time here."

      Mark drew a gold piece from his pocket and passed it to him.

      "Have you many more of these?" he demanded, his eyes gleaming with cupidity.

      "No."

      "Give me another."

      "They are not mine to give."

      "Not another one, Mark," said Anthony. "He does not deserve even that."

      "Make way, then, and I will go," said the nephew, convinced that he had no more to expect.

      Mark moved aside, and he strode out of the cabin.

      "Good-bye, Uncle Anthony," he said. "You haven't treated me very generously, considering how long it is since you did anything for me."

      "Are you utterly shameless, Lyman?" said the hermit. "I hope never to set eyes on you again."

      "Thank you, you are very kind. Boy, what is your name?"

      "Mark Manning."

      "Well, Mark, as you appear to be in charge of my uncle, I shall be glad to have you write me if anything happens to him. As his nearest relative and heir, I ought to be notified."

      Mark looked to the hermit for directions.

      "Give him your address, Lyman," said Anthony. "If there is any news to interest you, he shall write. But don't calculate on my speedy death. It is hardly likely to benefit you."

      "I may want to visit your grave, uncle," said Lyman, jeeringly.

      "Give him an address where a letter will reach you then."

      "No. – Third Avenue, New York," said Taylor. "Write soon."

      He left the cabin, and old Anthony and Mark were alone.

      "He is my nearest relative," said the old man, "and a relative to be proud of, eh, Mark?"

      "No, sir."

      "Years since we were in California together, I had two thousand dollars in gold dust under my pillow. My nephew was my companion, but none of the gold belonged to him. I woke one morning to find my nephew gone, and my gold also. From that time I have not set eyes on him till to-day."

      "It was a shabby trick," said Mark, warmly. "Were you left destitute?"

      "So far as money went, yes. But I was the owner of a claim which my nephew thought exhausted. I resumed work on it, and three days later made a valuable find. Within a month I took out ten thousand dollars, and sold it for five thousand more."

      "Your nephew does not know this, does he?"

      "No; if he had, I should not have got rid of him so easily. But I have not told you all. I remained in California a year longer, and left it worth forty thousand dollars."

      "Then why—excuse me for asking—have you come to this poor cabin to live?" asked Mark.

      "I had one other relative than Lyman, a daughter—I left her at a boarding-school in Connecticut. I returned to find that she had married an adventurer a month previous. Two years later I heard of her death. Life had lost its charm for me. I would not deprive myself of it, but in a fit of misanthropy I buried myself here."

      Old Anthony seemed weary, and Mark questioned him no more, but set before him the milk and loaf which he had brought with him.

      CHAPTER V.

      LYMAN TAYLOR MAKES A NEW ACQUAINTANCE

      On leaving the cabin Mark promised to call again the next afternoon, bringing from the village such articles as Anthony might require. This he could readily do as the shoe manufactory was not running full time.

      "I will see that you are paid for your trouble," said the hermit.

      "That will be all right," said Mark, cheerfully.

      "I am able to pay you, and will employ you only on that condition," persisted Anthony.

      "I shall not object to that part of the bargain," said Mark, smiling. "Money never comes amiss to me."

      "I have plenty of money, though I would not admit it to my nephew," continued the sick man. "He would persecute me till I bought him off. Fortunately he thinks I am poor."

      "But," said Mark, "suppose he should come back. Would not your money be in danger?"

      "He would find none here. I do not keep any in this cabin. I did have some, but it is in your hands."

      "Shall I not return it to you, sir?"

      "No; I prefer that you should keep it. You will be using money for me daily, and for the present you shall be my treasurer."

      "I am very much obliged to you for reposing so much confidence in me," said Mark.

      "I trust you entirely. You have an honest face."

      "Thank you, sir. I will endeavor to deserve your confidence."

      It was past four o'clock when Mark left the cabin and started on his way homeward. He walked along thoughtfully, carrying his gun over his shoulder.

      "It seems I have a near friend," he reflected; "and one who may be of service to me. Now that the shop is no longer running full time, it will be convenient to earn a little extra money, old Anthony must be rich, judging from what he said about his success in California."

      Mark could not help wondering where the hermit kept his money. But for Anthony's positive assurance, he would have conjectured that he kept it somewhere concealed about the cabin, but that being left out of the question he was at a loss to fix upon any probable place of deposit.

      Leaving Mark for a brief time; we go back to the other two young hunters, from whom he had separated two hours before.

      "I don't like that boy," said James Collins. "He puts on too many airs for a poor boy. I suppose he will be crowing over his successful shot."

      "Very likely," chimed in his companion, who made it a point to flatter James by agreeing with everything he said.

      "It was only a lucky accident," continued James. "He couldn't do it СКАЧАТЬ