Walter Sherwood's Probation, Jr. Horatio Alger [best pdf reader for ebooks txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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There was no further interruption during their ride, and about ten o'clock they drew up in front of the hotel in Fremont. Rooms were secured, and both Walter and the professor retired to rest.
About seven o'clock the next morning there was a knock at Walter's door. He opened it, half dressed, and found a boy of sixteen with a note in his hand.
“A gentleman gave me this for you,” he said.
Walter opened the note and read these lines, which had been hastily scribbled:
“Give the bearer my revolver. I have a long journey before me and shall need it.
“YOU KNOW WHO.”“Where is the gentleman who gave you the note?” asked Walter.
“Down the road a piece. He asked me to be quick.”
“Tell him,” said Walter, putting the note in his vest pocket, “that he will have to come here himself.”
He finished his toilet and went down to breakfast, but the robber did not put in an appearance. He probably thought that Walter was laying a trap for him.
CHAPTER XXIV AN ATTEMPT TO RECOVER THE REVOLVER
As Walter had been brought up with a strict sense of honesty, he was somewhat in doubt whether he ought to keep the revolver, which was a handsome one, silver-mounted. He decided, however, that it would be quixotic to disarm himself and put the outlaw in a position to renew his attack, as he undoubtedly would, if only because he would wish to get even with the boy who had humiliated him. Walter had, to be sure, promised to give it up if the owner called for it, but he meant at the same time to secure his arrest.
He did not mention to the professor that he had received a letter from the owner of the weapon, as his employer would have insisted upon his giving it up. Professor Robinson was a timid man, and, though he was of stout build and possessed a fair measure of strength, he had not as much spirit as some boys of ten.
“What are you going to do with the revolver, Walter?” he asked uneasily, as they set out on their way from Fremont to Stilwell.
“I am going to carry it with me, professor.”
“Then you had better withdraw the charges.”
“Why should I?”
“The weapon might go off.”
“I mean that it shall if the owner makes another attack upon us.”
“You don't think he will?” asked the professor, nervously.
“I think it very probable.”
“I wish we had never met him,” said the unhappy professor.
“So do I; but as we have, we must make the best of it.”
“If you had only given him back the revolver we should have had no more trouble.”
“Pardon me, professor, I think we should have had a great deal of trouble. Once give the fellow his old advantage over us and he would use it.”
“I never had such an experience before,” complained the professor, looking at Walter reproachfully, as if he thought that somehow it was the fault of his young assistant.
Walter smiled.
“Do you know, professor,” he said, “your remark reminds me of a statement in an Irish paper to this effect: 'Several persons have died during the last year who never died before.'”
“I don't see the point,” said the professor, peevishly.
They were about half-way to the next town when Walter heard the sound of a galloping horse behind him.
Looking out of the side of the wagon, he saw the now familiar figure of the outlaw as he rode up alongside. He looked critically at Walter, and saw that the coveted revolver was in our hero's hand, ready for action.
“Why didn't you give the revolver to my messenger this morning, boy?” he demanded, with a frown.
“I didn't think it would be safe,” Walter answered significantly.
“Didn't you know it was my property?”
“I wasn't sure of it.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I didn't know whether you had paid for it.”
“You are impudent. Professor Robinson, will you make the boy give me back my revolver?”
“I have told him to,” answered the professor, in an apologetic tone, “but he won't obey me.”
“Then why don't you discharge him? I wouldn't keep a boy in my employ who disobeyed me.”
“I am well satisfied with him, except on this point.”
“I am ready to leave you, professor, if you say the word,” said Walter, and he made a motion as if to jump out of the wagon.
“No, no!” exclaimed the professor, in alarm. “I don't want you to leave me.”
“Then I won't. I think it might be bad for you if I did,” said Walter, with a significant look at the horseman.
“Well, boy,” said the outlaw, harshly, “I can't waste my time here. You sent me a message to come for my revolver myself if I wanted it.”
“Yes.”
“Well, here I am. Now give me the weapon.”
“I think I shall have to decline.”
“Are you going back on your word?” demanded the outlaw.
“Not exactly.”
“Then what do you propose to do?”
“Keep along with us till we reach Stilwell. Then we will go before a magistrate. You will make your demand for the weapon, and in his presence I will surrender it.”
“Do you take me for a fool?” thundered the robber.
“No, and I want you to understand that I am not a fool, either.”
“You are acting like a fool and a knave.”
“I should certainly be acting like a fool if I gave up the revolver, and had it immediately pointed at me or my companion, with a demand for our money.”
“But I gave you my word—”
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