Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Cast Upon the Breakers by Jr. Horatio Alger (fun books to read for adults .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Cast Upon the Breakers by Jr. Horatio Alger (fun books to read for adults .TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
“What made me an outlaw you mean to ask?”
“Yes.”
“My nature, I suppose. I wasn’t cut out for sober, humdrum life.”
“Don’t you think you would have been happier?”
“No preaching, kid! I had enough of that when I used to go to church in my old home in Missouri. Here, Caesar!”
“Yes, massa.”
“You know Oreville?”
“Yes, massa.”
“Go over there and take this letter with you. Ask for Jefferson Pettigrew, and mind you don’t tell him where we live. Only if he asks about me and my pal say we are desperate men, have each killed a round dozen of fellows that stood in our way and will stick at nothing.”
“All right, massa,” said Caesar with an appreciative grin. “How shall I go, massa?”
“You can take the kid’s horse. Ride to within a mile of Oreville, then tether the horse where he won’t easily be found, and walk over to the mines. Do you understand?”
“Yes, massa.”
“He won’t probably give you any money, but he may give you a letter. Bring it safely to me.”
Caesar nodded and vanished.
For an hour the two men smoked their pipes and chatted. Then they rose, and the elder said: “We are going out, kid, for a couple of hours. Are you afraid to stay alone?”
“Why should I be?”
“That’s the way to talk. I won’t caution you not to escape, for it would take a smarter lad then you to do it. If you are tired you can lie down on the bed and rest.”
“All right!”
“I am sorry we haven’t got the morning paper for you to look over,” said his captor with a smile. “The carrier didn’t leave it this morning.”
“I can get along without it. I don’t feel much like reading.”
“You needn’t feel worried. You’ll be out of this tomorrow if Jefferson Pettigrew is as much your friend as you think he is.”
“The only thing that troubles me is the big price you charge at your hotel.”
“Good! The kid has a good wit of his own. After all, we wouldn’t mind keeping you with us. It might pay you better than working for Pettigrew.”
“I hope you’ll excuse my saying it, but I don’t like the business.”
“You may change your mind. At your age we wouldn’t either of us like the sort of life we are leading. Come, John.”
The two men went out but did not allow Rodney to accompany them to the place of exit.
Left to himself, Rodney could think soberly of his plight. He could not foresee whether his captivity would be brief or prolonged.
After a time the spirit of curiosity seized him. He felt tempted to explore the cavern in which he was confined. He took a lamp, and followed in a direction opposite to that taken by his captors.
The cave he found was divided into several irregularly shaped chambers. He walked slowly, holding up the lamp to examine the walls of the cavern. In one passage he stopped short, for something attracted his attention—something the sight of which made his heart beat quicker and filled him with excitement.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
RODNEY’S DISCOVERY.
There was a good reason for Rodney’s excitement. The walls of the subterranean passage revealed distinct and rich indications of gold. There was a time, and that not long before, when they would have revealed nothing to Rodney, but since his residence at Oreville he had more than once visited the mines and made himself familiar with surface indications of mineral deposit.
He stopped short and scanned attentively the walls of the passage.
“If I am not mistaken,” he said to himself, “this will make one of the richest mines in Montana. But after all what good will it do me? Here am I a prisoner, unable to leave the cave, or communicate with my friends. If Mr. Pettigrew knew what I do he would feel justified in paying the ransom these men want.”
Rodney wondered how these rich deposits had failed to attract the attention of his captors, but he soon settled upon the conclusion that they had no knowledge of mines or mining, and were ignorant of the riches that were almost in their grasp.
“Shall I enlighten them?” he asked himself.
It was a question which he could not immediately answer. He resolved to be guided by circumstances.
In order not to excite suspicion he retraced his steps to the apartment used by his captors as a common sitting room—carefully fixing in his mind the location of the gold ore.
We must now follow the messenger who had gone to Oreville with a letter from Rodney’s captors.
As instructed, he left his horse, or rather Rodney’s, tethered at some distance from the settlement and proceeded on foot to the Miners’ Rest. His strange appearance excited attention and curiosity. Both these feelings would have been magnified had it been known on what errand he came.
“Where can I find Mr. Jefferson Pettigrew?” he asked of a man whom he saw on the veranda.
“At the Griffin Mine,” answered the other, removing the pipe from his mouth.
“Where is that?”
“Over yonder. Are you a miner?”
“No. I know nothing about mines.”
“Then why do you want to see Jefferson? I thought you might want a chance to work in the mine.”
“No; I have other business with him—business of importance,” added the black dwarf emphatically.
“If that is the case I’ll take you to him. I am always glad to be of service to Jefferson.”
“Thank you. He will thank you, too.”
The man walked along with a long, swinging gait which made it difficult for Caesar to keep up with him.
“So you have business with Jefferson?” said the man with the pipe, whose curiosity had been excited.
“Yes.”
“Of what sort?”
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