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Robert Coverdale's Struggle; or, On The Wave Of Success, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 6. Man Against Boy |
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_ 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 same manner, but the search was equally unavailing. "You needn't search, for I haven't got the money," said Robert. "Then where is it?" "It is safe." "Did he give it to you, Jane?" demanded the fisherman, turning to his wife. "No." "Do you know where it is?" "No." "Boy, where is that money?" demanded Trafton, his face flushed. "Go and get it directly!" "I can't. It isn't in the house." "Where is it then?" "I hid it." "Where did you hide it?" "I dug a hole and put it in." "What made you do that?" "Because I was afraid you would get hold of it." "You were right enough there," said John Trafton grimly, "for I will get hold of it. Get right up and find it and bring it to me." Here Mrs. Trafton again interposed. "How can you ask such a thing, John?" she said. "The night is as dark as a pocket. How do you expect Robert is going to find the money in the dark?" Though John Trafton was a good deal under the influence of liquor, he was not wholly deaf to reason and he saw the force of his wife's remark. In fact, he had himself found sorry trouble in getting home from the tavern, familiar as the path was to him, on account of the intense darkness. "Well, I guess it'll do to-morrow morning," he said. "I must have it then, for I've promised to pay Jones a dollar on account. I said I would, and I've got to keep my promise. Do you hear that, you young rascal?" "Yes, I hear it." "Then mind you don't forget it. That's all I've got to say." And the fisherman staggered into the adjoining room, and, without taking the trouble of removing his garments, threw himself on the bed and in five minutes was breathing loud in a drunken stupor. Mrs. Trafton did not immediately go to bed. She was troubled in mind, for she foresaw that there was only a truce and not a cessation of hostilities. In the morning her husband would renew his demand upon Robert, and, should the latter continue to refuse to comply, she was afraid there would be violence. When her husband's heavy breathing showed that he was insensible to anything that was said, she began. "I don't know but you'd better give up that money to your uncle," she said. "How can you advise me to do that, aunt?" asked Robert in surprise. "Because I'm afraid you'll make him angry if you refuse." "I can't help it if he is angry," answered Robert. "He has no right to be. Don't you know what he said--that he wanted to pay a dollar to the tavern keeper?" "Yes." "Mr. Jones shall never get a cent of that money," said Robert firmly. "But, Robert," said his aunt nervously, "your uncle may beat you." "Then I'll keep my distance from him." "I would rather he would have the money than that you should get hurt, Robert." "Aunt Jane, I am going to take the risk of that. Though he is my uncle and your husband, there's one thing I can't help saying: It is a contemptibly mean thing not only to use all his own earnings for drink, but to try to get hold of what little I get for the same purpose." "I don't deny it, Robert. I don't pretend to defend my husband. Once he was different, but drink has changed his whole nature. I never had any reason to complain before he took to drink." "No doubt of it, aunt, but that don't alter present circumstances. I have no respect for my uncle when he acts as he has to-night. Come what may, there's one thing I am determined upon--he shan't have the money." "You'll be prudent, Robert, for my sake?" entreated Mrs. Trafton. "Yes, I'll be prudent. To-morrow morning I will get up early and be out of the way till after uncle is gone. There is no chance of his getting up early and going a-fishing." The deep and noisy breathing made it probable that the fisherman would awaken at a late hour, as both Robert and his aunt knew. She was reassured by his promise and prepared to go to bed. Soon all three inmates of the little cabin were sleeping soundly. _ |
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