 | Centeola |  |
THE COUNTERFEITER
Fifty years ago no name occupied a larger space in the
minds of the masses of the more northerly states of
New England than that of Stephen Burroughs, the notorious
counterfeiter. This famous personage was the son
of a worthy minister of the Gospel who trained him under
the closest religious discipline, gave him an excellent
education and commended him to the public for the high position
in life which, it was supposed, his education and
great native talent, would enable him easily to achieve.
But instead of turning these advantages to any good account,
this perverse son of a good father, soon commenced
prostituting his knowledge and talents to the worst of
purposes. Now engaging as a teacher and retaining his
post a few months, and till he was deprived of it for the
commission of some pitiful trick or other misdoing; and
now, having transferred himself to a distant locality, palming
himself off as a preacher, and taking advantage of his
position to commit moral outrages on the females of his
flock; and now again appearing in another place to obtain
money on false pretences, or engage in some scheme of
with deeds of wrong, from seduction to swindling, and
from swindling to theft and forgery. But evading the
meshes of the law with wonderful cunning and skill, he
defiantly continued his wicked courses for years, and it
was not till he had been several times imprisoned, as many
times broken jail, become an outlaw, and so well known
as to make him conscious that all his adroitness and ingenuity
would fail to shield him from punishment much
longer, that he fled for refuge into Canada. Here breathing
fierce hate against the people of the States, and quite
as much with a view of doing them great mischief as of
making money for himself, he soon got up an establishment
for counterfeiting the coin and bank note currency of his
native country. And here too, for the next dozen years,
he maintained, in wonderful secrecy, a school of counterfeiting,
from which, in the persons of his skillfully selected
and carefully trained pupils and agents, he kept constantly
scattered over the northern states, a band of more cunning
and successful adepts in that line of knavery, than
were ever before or since let loose on a suffering public.
From among the hundred stories related of the feats of
these adepts, in the Protean shape which their villainy
was made to assume, we select the following for the entertainment
of the reader:—
In a central part of the Green Mountains there is a
deep valley, nearly a mile long, and secluded from the
end. The eastern part of this valley is covered by a
pond, — a beautiful sheet of mountain waters about a
quarter of a mile wide, and extending almost the whole
length of the valley. Along the western borders of this
pond runs a road of considerable travel; while about sixty
rods still further back westward from the pond rises a
high, precipitous, ledgy hill, which only falls off at the
southern extremity of the valley, where opens a deep,
wooded gorge, running up obliquely from the road some
distance in the rear of this long, wall-like eminence. On
the road about mid-way of the valley, stands a comfortable
looking farming establishment, the owner's farm being
the long strip of land lying between the pond and the
hill, which was too steep and rocky to produce anything
but briars and a few stunted poplars.
The owner of this establishment, whose name was Joseph
Bidwell, was a middle aged farmer with a hungry,
eager look, and other tokens of the avaricious, selfish disposition
which he possessed, and which, rather than any
intelligence and sound calculation, had enabled him to become
the proprietor of this farm, and another small one,
outside the valley, that he had recently sold for a thousand
dollars — all cash in hand and now hoarded in the house,
awaiting some lucky investment. The other members of
the family were the wife, a very common-place, negative
sort of a woman, — a son of about twenty, whom they called
bearing the looks and general character of his mother,
and lastly, a daughter of eighteen, badly cross-eyed, but
quite pretty; while the keen, discriminating glances,
which she was occasionally seen to throw from her straight
eye, showed that Kate, for so they called her, was, to use
a common cant phrase, nobody's fool.
It was a warm summer evening; and farmer Bidwell,
the supper having been partaken, had drawn out a chair
and taken a seat out-side the door, to enjoy the coolness
of the evening and ponder over his half-formed
schemes for investing his money. Tom, who had that
afternoon been down to the store and tavern, situated on
the road, some three miles to the south, came out also,
and took a seat on a log near his father, and taking out
his jack-knife began industriously to whittle a stick.
“Father,” said the son, after a while, “I heard a dum
curious story down at the tavern this afternoon.”
“What was it, Tom?” asked the other with some interest.
“Why, there was a traveler there from the west side
of the mountains, who said a man had lately come among
them there to hunt for buried money; and his story was
that, in the old French wars, a company of four men had
come from Mexico with a large lot of silver dollars; and
being on their way to Canada had found themselves about
to be waylaid, when about mid-length of lake Champlain,
struck off directly east, in the line of the tallest mountain
in sight, and on beyond in the line of the tallest peak
in the Eastern range in order to reach Connecticut river.
But on the way somewhere between these two mountains,
they discovered they were dogged, and so, fixing a trail to
mislead the pursuers, they buried their money at the foot
of a small mountain near a pond.”
“Now that is a likely story! why did not those men
go back and carry off their money if they buried any,
which I don't believe.”
“Because, as the story went, they were pursued into
Canada, where they agreed to wait till the dangerous times
were over, when they further agreed they would all go
together and not go till they all could so go, and get the
money. They then scattered, and they all died or were
lost, but one, who waited so long for the others to come
that he got too old to go; so describing the route and place
to his son, he sent him for the money; and this son was
the man the traveler said was now on the hunt for the
buried money, but could not find any place that answered
the description.”
“That first tall monntain that they steered for, when
they struck off from the lake, must have been Camel's
Hump; but where do you suppose the other was, Tom?”
“Well, I've been thinking of that, and made up my
mind it was the high peak about fifteen miles easterly of
winter, and when we got to the top, we plainly saw that it
was the highest in the whole range. Why! we could
look down on the whole country round here; and I am
quite sure I made out the very mountain that rises here
by this pond, and if I did, this and the other two all lie
in almost an exact line.”
“Who was present when the man told the story, Tom?”
“O there were several when he began it, but before he
began to point out the route the men with the money took,
a horse and wagon in the yard broke away and all hands
run out but me and the man, who after inquiring where I
lived, then went on with the story for me alone, and when
the rest got back, the man had gone on his journey, and
his story seemed to have been forgotten.”
“But did you then tell them that part they did not
hear themselves?”
“No, I didn't; for, thinks I, who knows but I may
some day take it into my head to look for this buried money
myself, and if so, I should have the advantage of all
others.”
“There you were right,” said the father, who had been
listening to Tom's account with more interest than his
words might seem to imply — “yes, that was right, for
if such a story got round here, half the town would be
digging over my land, which you know runs back to the
foot of the other side of the mountain, and though there
land dug over, we will keep the matter to ourselves.”
It was too late, however, to have that matter kept
wholly to themselves. One ear had caught the whole of
it; and that was the ear of the shrewd and prying Kate.
She had accidentally heard Tom announce that he had heard
a curious story, and she stepped behind the door, as it
stood ajar, and listened through the crevice thus made,
till she heard the whole story, and laid it away in a corner
of her mind for future use, if such use should ever
come in play.
About one week after the little incident just narrated,
as Bidwell, the elder, was again sitting before his door
cogitating on money matters, and more especially on the
story Tom had told him, which had so stirred up his greed
of gain that he could not keep his mind from the subject,
a foot traveler, approaching along the road from the North,
came up and meekly asked if he could obtain lodgings
there for the night. Bidwell did not immediately reply,
but fell to scanning the stranger closely. The latter was
a youngerly man, respectably dressed, good looking, but
seemingly rather bashful, and assumed to be what would
be called green in the ways of the world.
“There is a tavern about three miles ahead,” suggested
Bidwell, after he had closed his scrutiny, making up
his mind evidently that the traveler was some simple and
moneyless fellow, who was trying to obtain lodgings for
little or nothing.
“Yes, so they told me along back,” replied the stranger,
“and I supposed I should be able to reach there to-night.
But one of my ancles failed me awhile ago — kind 'o
sprained I am 'fraid — and I feel as if I couldn't go any
further. So I hope you will let me stay. I have money
enough, I guess, to pay well for all the trouble I shall
make.”
“Well, I don't know but I must, then,” remarked
Bidwell as the word “money” and “pay” fell on his
ear. “Yes, we will keep you. You have had no supper,
I suppose?”
“No, sir.”
“Then the women folks will get you up something.
Wife! — no, she and Tom hav'nt got back from the store
yet — Kate, here is a traveler who is going to stay all
night, and he would like some supper.”
“I can get him some,” responded the girl coming to
the door, “I can get him some, if I can know what he
would like, and we have it.”
“O, bread and milk, cold victuals or anything you have
handy,” said the traveller.
Kate now disappeared; but in a short time came to
the door again, and said that the gentleman's meal was
ready.
The stranger now took his seat at the table, and Kate
seating herself at a distance on the opposite side and sufficiently
in front of him to give her a fair view of his face,
seemed to become conscious that he was the object of her
scrutiny, and he several times lifted his eyes to her face,
but owing to her cross eyes, he mistook the direction of
her glances, every time he looked up, and finished his
meal without any further marks of uneasiness.
The wife and her son Tom, having arrived, in the meantime,
now came in and took their turn in looking at the
stranger, and glancing from him to Bidwell, seemed tacitly
to be asking, who the former was, and what was his
name and business? and the latter taking the hint, began
in a round about way to question the other on these points.
In answer to the implied or direct questions of the farmer,
the stranger said his name was John Gale — wa'n't ashamed
to own that anywhere, — that he lived a day's journey or
more to the north-west, and that he had come into this
section to see how he liked the looks of the farming lands,
being desirous of buying a small farm, if he could do so
“part pay on trust, and part down pay,” to which his father,
he added, had promised to help him, soon in case he
succeeded in suiting himself in a purchase. This mainly
closed the conversation for the evening. But just as the
family were on the point of retiring, Bidwell turned
partly to his son, and asked with a knowing wink.
“Say, Tom — did'nt learn anything more of what we
were talking about, did you, down there, this afternoon?”
“No, not a word,” replied Tom with an equally knowing
look.
The stranger, Gale, slightly started at this question of
the father, and sent a keen, searching glance at the face
of the farmer and then to that of the son as the question
was being asked and answered, and then instantly reassumed
his former simple, half stolid look. But this, as
slily as it was done, was not managed slily enough to escape
one watchful eye; and that again was the sharp eye
of the vigilant Kate. She had detected in Gale, the sudden
start and change that came over his countenance at
her father's question, which she was at no loss to understand
herself, had noted his keen and eager look of inquiry,
and his sudden relapse into indifference; and it all
set her to thinking and speculating.
The next morning Gale rose lamer than ever, and asserting
that it was impossible for him to travel, sought
and obtained leave to remain where he was a few days, or
until his ancle was better. He spent most of his time in
hobbling round with a stout cane after Bidwell, who was
at work near the house, inquiring the localities and prices
of lands in that section, asking the advice of the latter
about purchasing, and then striking off in a sociable strain
on other subjects, and in all showing the most flattering
deference to the other's opinions; so that by night the two
had apparently become the best of friends.
“Tom, what do you think of this Mr. Gale?” asked
Kate as the two sat near each other milking the yarded
cows that evening.
“Why, he is a right down clever fellow, I think, don't
you, Kate?”
“No. I don't.”
“Why now what's the reason?”
“No matter, I don't like him.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't.'
“O well, it is gal's natur, I s'pose. You have got hitched
to one fellow that fills your eye, and can't see nothing
that is quite right and agreeable in any other. That is
the reason of it, I guess, Kate.”
“Now I say it is no such thing, Tom. But I am not
obliged to tell you all my thoughts, nor whys and wherefores.
So we'll let it drop.”
Tom had not hit the mark exactly; but he might have
shot more widely from the truth than he did. Kate's conduct
and feelings were indeed influenced by the circumstance
to which he had alluded, but not in the manner he
had hinted. She was engaged to be married to a young
man in the vicinity; and the young couple were anxious
to marry the ensuing winter. But the young man's
means were very limited. He had a small farm and
house, which he had barely paid for, but had not a dollar
left to stock it and commence operations; so it became evident
that the marriage must be postponed another year,
unless Kate's father would give her a portion sufficient to
help them out of the difficulty, and she had appealed
then refused her on the ground that he had no ready money,
and had no means of getting any. He however soon
unexpectedly found a cash sale for his other farm, as he
called it, which deprived him of his old excuse for not
helping her. And she appealed to him again with redoubled
earnestness and determination. But here, again,
he put her off with evasive answers; while all the time
he, selfish and hypocritical even towards his own family,
was secretly casting about him for an opportunity of investing
all his money, so as to put it out of his power to
comply with her wishes. This she shrewdly suspected;
and she resolved she would thwart his purposes, and try
some means or other, so to manage as to compel him to do
her what she believed to be an act of simple justice; for
should he give her the whole thousand dollars, instead of
the half which she asked for, even then, the bulk of the
property would be left for the eventual inheritance of her
brother Tom.
With such thoughts and feelings prevailing in her mind,
it was no wonder that she keenly watched all, who, whatever
their pretences, approached her father, as we have
seen her in the case of the newly arrived stranger. She
had disliked his appearance from the first, thinking she
saw in him a sort of affected humility, and a simplicity of
demeanor, which she inferred must be assumed to cover
some secret design; and the sensation and look she detected
matter which they had reason to believe was only known
between themselves, more than confirmed her suspicions.
It was the third morning after the arrival of Gale, that
the latter went into the yard, and, taking a seat on a
log near where Bidwell was at work repairing a farming
tool, sat some minutes in an apparent study, and without
speaking a word.
“Say, Mr. Bidwell,” at length said Gale addressing
the other with a tone of confident familiarity, which implied
that the two had by this time become intimate
friends — “Say, Mr. Bidwell, what is your belief about
dreams?”
“Well,” returned the other indifferently, “being never
much troubled with them, I never bothered my head with
them any way — about their ever being fulfilled, I suppose
you mean?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then I can't say exactly what I do believe. I have
heard tell of cases where they strangely came out true
just as they were dreamed. But where there is one case
where they come out so, and mean something, no doubt
there are ten thousand that come out false, and have no
meaning at all. Don't you think so, Gale?”
“Yes, — I have not the least faith in dreams.”
“Nor can I say I have generally. But what made you
ask my opinion about the matter?”
“Because, I had a very curious dream myself last
night, which seemed so clear and real, and left such a
strong impression on my mind after I was awake, that I
could'nt help recalling it, and had just been doing so, when
I asked you the question.”
“Why, what was it, Gale? What kind of a dream
could it be, which left such an impression on your mind?”
“Well, I don't know about repeating the absurd thing.
I thought at first, I would not, for fear of being laughed
at.”
“O, no danger of that, so out with it, Gale. I begin
now to feel kind of curious to hear it.”
“Well, as the matter has gone so far between us perhaps
I may as well tell it to you — that is, if you will
not laugh at me yourself, nor tell it to your women folks
and Tom, so they can run a rig on me, as they would be
likely to do, if they knew it.”
“Go on.”
“I will. The dream was this — I remember it all distinctly.
I thought I was walking along down a road, that
seemed some like this — water on one side and hills on
the other, though I don't remember so particularly about
the road and appearances round it, as I do about the appearance
of things I soon after met with. Well, after
walking along the road awhile, I thought I came to a
piece of woods, where a woody valley opened on the right-where
something induced me to turn off from the road and
out from behind the high hills I had been passing when
coming down the road. As I passed up this valley, I took
notice of all the objects I encountered on the way, and remember
how the hills looked, here shutting down close
to my path, and there setting some ways back — how the
trees looked, and everything looked on the way. And
seeming to feel that some great good fortune awaited me
ahead, I continued to press forward till I came to a rather
dark looking spot, when that same something — what it
was, or whether it was a spirit or not, I did'nt know, —
that same something that had moved me to come there,
made me to understand I was to dig down near the
roots of a large, old, bulging tree. I did so, and soon
came to a thin flat rock, which I soon succeeded in raising
up on one edge; when, in a small, stoned-up inclosure
beneath, I beheld to my great surprise and delight, a large
lot, — nearly a peck it seemed to me, — of silver dollars!
The unexpected sight made me, I thought, almost crazy
with joy. I leaped up to hurra over my good fortune,
and in the seeming effort, I suddenly awoke.”
“There, Mr. Bidwell, you have all the substance of
my dream. Now was it not a curious one?”
“Well — yes — perhaps so,” replied Bidwell, who had
been listening to what he had heard with the most eager
interest, which now, however, he seemed trying to conceal;
“yes, curious enough,” he continued, with an assumed
true. But should you know the place if you could see
it?”
“To be sure I should — that is if there was really and
such place, and I could see it,” said Gale carelessly.
“But you don't believe in dreams, I think you said?”
rejoined the other.
“No; — they ar'n't any of them worth minding. But
the puzzle with me is to think what could have put such
a regularly built up piece of nonsense into my head.”
“Well, it was strange, seeing there was no cause for it.”
And Bidwell resumed his work with great industry,
and kept silent some time; when, suddenly starting up,
he said “There now! I had entirely forgot I promised
to meet my neighbor next north here, about this hour, to
agree where to place a division line fence we are contemplating;
so I must be off, leaving your company for the
women, or, if you prefer, to go a fishing with Tom, who is
fixing to go out on the pond, I see. Now let me see,
what tools shall I want? He will have an axe, and as
we may have to dig a few post holes, I will take a spade.”
So saying Bidwell took the tool he had named, and hurried
away in the indicated direction, leaving Gale, who
seemed to read the motives that were actuating him,
glancing after him with a sly look of scorn and triumph.
On reaching the woods, at the north end of the valley,
he, instead of going forward on his pretended business,
the hill, here only of moderate ascent. When he had
reached the summit, and paused a few minutes to take
breath, he turned short to the left and again struck off in
a southerly direction along the westerly slope of the here
heavily wooded mountain towards the head of the valley,
which we have before described, and which he had at once
unhesitatingly decided to be the locality of Gale's dream.
And he not only felt confident of this; but, coupling that
dream with the story Tom had heard about the former
burying of money in the rear of a small mountain, of
which this so well answered the description; he as confidently
believed in the dream itself, having, in his avaricious
blindness, no doubt but it truly indicated the exact
spot where that old treasure lay concealed. All this had
flashed through his mind almost as soon as Gale had finished
relating his dream, but he carefully kept his
thoughts to himself; and he felt thankful that Gale had
not the same reason to believe in the dream as he had,
for had the dreamer known anything about the old treasure,
he would either have never told the dream and gone and
got all the treasure; or, if he had told it, and they had
gone together and found it, he would have claimed at
least half for himself. “But now,” thought the mean and
blinded schemer, “I will have it all to myself, and let
the simpleton continue to flout his dream, as he appears
to do now; and the more he flouts it the better.”
And chuckling to himself over these thoughts, and
thrown completely off his guard against any deceptive
scheme in anybody else, Bidwell confidently descended
into the valley and eagerly pressed forward till he thought
he must have reached the locality which Gale had described
as the spot of the buried money. But he soon
found that the description he had received was altogether
too indefinite to prove any regular guide to his search.
There were a great many dark and shaded spots, and a
great many rough looking old trees, but which was the
right spot, and which was the right tree where he should
dig for the money, he felt utterly unable to determine.
Indeed, after wandering about awhile, he could feel no assurance
that he could hit within half of a mile of the
spot he would find. But though greatly discouraged, he
yet determined he would not leave the place without making
some effort, and so, for the next hour or two, he went
round thrusting his spade down near every old tree in the
vicinity of the different shaded places; but always striking
into strong roots or gravelly hard pan which he knew could
never have been dug up for burying anything, he reluctantly
gave up the chase and bent his steps homeward,
muttering to himself as he went, “It's no use hunting
any more. I must take him along with me to find the
place, if I do have to go halves with him. Yes, it must
be done, and we will be at it to-morrow morning.”
Wishing for a little more time to think over his newly
them into execution, he did not broach the subject to
Gale that night; but the next morning following him out
into the yard, he soon introduced it by carelessly saying,
“I have been thinking over what you told me yesterday
morning, Gale, and —”
“Told you about what, Mr. Bidwell?'
“About your singular dream.”
“My dream! Why, it had entirely passed out of my
mind. But what about it?”
“Well, though I did not at first attach much consoquence
to it, yet in thinking it over in my absence yesterday
afternoon, and after I went to bed, I began to feel as
though it must mean something.”
“You did? Well, that goes beyond me. But are you
really beginning to have faith in dreams?”
“No, not in them generally; but you was so clear and
rational, that it has struck me it might be one of those
which they say people sometimes have to put them on the
track of something important for them to know. And I
have been thinking I would propose to you to go with me,
to-day, and see what discoveries we can make in the matter.”
“Go where? Do you know of any such place as I
saw in the dream?”
“On reflection last night I felt confident I did!”
“Where?'
“Nearer than you would suspect. I will lead you to
it if you will go with me, this forenoon. What say you,
Gale?”
“Why, it will be nothing but a wild goose chase. Besides,
as my ancle is now nearly well, I was thinking of
starting on my journey to-day.”
“O don't be in a hurry about that. You can at least
stay another day.”
“Yes, I suppose I might. I am willing to do almost
anything to oblige you, Mr. Bidwell; and if you really
wish it, I will go with you — that is, if we can go and
come without its being known to your folks; for I can't
bear being laughed at.”
“I will manage that, Gale: for whether our jaunt
amounts to anything or not, I am as anxious to have it
kept dark as you are. So I'll fix matters, and will be off
at once.” With this Bidwell went into the house, gave
Tom his task in hoeing for the day, and told his wife and
Kate that he was going a few miles down towards the store
and tavern, with Mr. Gale, to look at some land he had
been recommending him to purchase. He then came out,
slily put a spade under the long smock-frock he wore,
joined his companion, and the two leisurely took their
way down the road. When they reached the woods, Bidwell
soon came to a halt, and pointing up the valley,
opening, as we have before said, near this place, looked
sharply to the other and said —
“There, Gale! Do you remember ever seeing that
place before?”
Gale hesitated some time, then began to look bewildered,
then surprised, and finally replied —
“It does seem as if I had seen such a place as the one
you have pointed out. But how could I? I have never
been here before in my life.”
“Except in your dream, Gale.
“My dream! O yes, — yes, — Well, now, who knows
what this business is coming to, after all? But let us
push on up the valley, I can soon tell whether this is going
to prove the place I saw in my dream.”
They now hurried forward up the gently ascending
slope of the wooded valley, Gale every few rods pausing
to point out objects he professed to recognize as those
seen in his dream, and growing continually more confident
and animated as he went. When they reached that
part of the valley which Bidwell had vainly explored the
day before, the latter slackened his pace, and peering backward
and forward, asked —
“Is not the place somewhere round here?”
“No, no,” promptly replied Gale — “further up —
further up the valley. But we will soon be there now —
so courage and forward, is the word.”
Bidwell's countenance, which, from the remembrance
of his own vain search yesterday, had thus far worn a
doubtful expression, now visibly brightened, and he followed
came near the head of the valley, which, at this point,
spread out to nearly double its previous width — a place
that Bidwell had, the day before passed on one side and,
without pausing to examine, feeling sure from the description
which Gale had artfully given, that the spot in
quest must be at least a quarter of a mile below.
“There!” said Gale, pausing and turning towards the
southerly side of the valley, “this must be very near the
spot, — yes, it is, — it certainly is, Mr. Bidwell. You see
that thick clump of trees about ten rods in front of me?
Well, they stand near the place, and now for the old bulged
tree — O, there it is, a few rods beyond! We have it —
we have it, Mr. Bidwell, as sure as a gun — come on, sir
come on!”
So saying he bounded forward, shouting, to the designated
spot where Bidwell, the next moment coming up,
found him standing near the roots of the tree in question,
gleefully snapping the fingers of one hand above his head,
and with the other significantly pointing downward
“About there,” he said, in a low exulting tone as he lowered
his pointing finger nearly to the ground, “about
down there, — a little more than a foot below the surface.”
Bidwell needed no further incitement to action; but
grasping his spade and hurriedly scraping away the old
leaves and rotten twigs over the space of a yard square, he
commenced, with trembling eagerness, throwing out the
out with his cane. After excavating this space evenly to
the depth of nearly a foot, he struck down his spade in
the centre, but some unseen obstruction prevented it from
entering but a few inches. “There is nothing but stones
down there,” he said with an air of disappointment.
“Why, aint it the rock? said Gale — “the thin flat
rock, which, as I told you, I found in my dream, laid over
the money? Don't be discouraged, but strike down again
stiffly, and see if it don't jar and give out a hollow
sound?”
It was done; and the jar, indicating a thin, loose rock,
and the hollow sound, indicating the cavity under it, instantly
followed the blow.
“There, I told you so!” exclaimed Gale exultingly.
“Now clean off the dirt from that rock, clear to the edges;
so that we can raise it.”
This was speedily accomplished also; and the two men
quickly reached down, and seizing one side of the rock,
brought it with a sudden effort, to an upright position;
when eagerly peering over it, they beheld, with greedy
and wildly flashing eyes, the identical pile of dollars,
which Gale had described as having found in his dream.
“O, by the living Job!” exclaimed Gale in a seeming
ecstacy of delight. “Now who would have expected this?
Why, my share, — for we shall go shares of course, — will
be enough to buy me a farm and pay all down for it on the
“Hush! hush! your noise may attract somebody to the
spot,” said Bidwell, while he and Gale simultaneously
reached down, and each clutched up a handful of the dollars.
“Why, how rusty they all are — what makes them so
rusty?” said Gale.
“Reason enough for that, — they have been buried
here more than fifty years, — that is, if —” and Bidwell
here checked himself; for believing he only was master
of the secret of the Spanish party burying treasure in
this vicinity, as he made it out; and believing, also, that
there must be more of it concealed somewhere near, he
meant to secure all these advantages to himself.
“These are Spanish coins, and of an old date, too,” remarked
Gale, scrutinizing one of the dollars, without appearing
to hear what the other had been saying.
“Yes, — I expected that too; for —” and Bidwell
again checked himself.
“Well, Mr. Bidwell,” now remarked Gale, still apparrently
oblivious of what the other had said, “Well, sir,
what is to be done with this in the first place?”
“Why, take it out and fill up the hole as we found it,”
replied the other. Then, as I have strings in my pocket,
I will take off my frock, make it to serve as a bag, and
put the money into it, so that it can be carried off without
secret, for the present.”
“Yes, but where do you propose to carry the money,
then. You will let your family know it of course, if you
carry the money home.”
“But I don't propose to carry it home. I know of a
safe place where we can deposit it without being seen by
any of my folks at the house, whom I have my reasons for
keeping in entire ignorance about our good fortune.”
A short time sufficed to transfer the newly found treasure
to the frock, fashioned into a bag for the purpose as
before proposed, fill up the hole and make everything
ready for leaving the place. Bidwell then raised the
treasure burden, and, balancing it on his shoulder, like a
bag of grain on the back of a horse, led the way down
the valley, followed by Gale, with a sly, exultant look,
which told how well he was satisfied with the manner in
which everything was working for the furtherance of his
schemes. After passing out of the valley, they struck
into the road, and, with quickened steps, proceeded along
up it homewards, about a quarter of a mile, or about half
way between the woods and the house; when, reaching a
long narrow swell which here shot out from the hill transversely
across the road, of elevation sufficient to cut off all
view of the house from those approaching it from the
south, Bidwell, significantly pointing towards the hill,
struck off into the field on his left, and proceeded stealthily
standing near the point where the swell was merged in
the steep sides of the long mountain barrier, walling in
the valley as already described.
“There, Gale, is the place for our money, for the present,”
said Bidwell, stepping behind some tall bushes that
screened him from the road, and pointing to what appeared
to be an excavation into the side of the hill, which had
been pieced out in front by embanking, with the entrance
closed by a rude plank door. “It is a sort of hill-side
cellar-hole, which I built for storing my surplus potatoes.
It is clean and empty, except the straw left there;
and as it is hidden from the road and field by the bushes,
our money might lie there six months before any body
would find it; so let us go in and conceal it.”
They then, after throwing open the door, peering in,
and finding everything as expected, entered, cleaned off a
small spot in a corner, poured down their dollars and carefully
covered them with straw.
“It is now about noon, I suppose,” said Bidwell putting
on his frock; “so let us now go home to dinner;
and in the afternoon we will come back here, and count
and divide the money.”
They then, after ascertaining that no one was passing
in the road, went along leisurly homeward, congratulating
themselves, not only on their wondrous haul of money,
but that nobody could have suspected it, and no eye could
their treasure.
But in this they counted without their host. One
mind had suspected the business in which they had been
engaged that forenoon, and one eye had seen them approach
from the woods; cross over into the field, bearing
something heavy, concealed in her father's frock, as she
judged by his being in his shirt sleeves; enter the old potato
cellar, and then come out without their load. And
that mind and eye were once more those of the keen
witted, and keenly interested, Kate Bidwell. She had noticed
her father's departure the previous afternoon, and,
after learning his pretended business to their next neighbor
about a division line, which she knew was a false excuse
as that neighbor had been several days absent from
home, she at once suspected he was gone on a money diging
excursion on the other side the mountain; though, not
knowing the extent of his meanness and duplicity, she
could not conceive why he did not take Gale along with
him. She had seen them both depart that morning, after
detecting her father stealthily putting his spade under his
frock, and, notwithstanding their pretence of land-looking,
she felt very confident they had gone by another
route to the other side of the mountain with the same object.
And having, in search of berries, before that time,
discovered an easy way of passing obliquely up the almost
perpendicular ledge against the house, to a certain
commanded a clear view of the road south and everything
between it and the hill as far as the woods including the
mouth of the gorge, she, after they had left, by way of
testing her suspicions, ran to the hill and clambered up
to her lofty look-out, from which she watched the objects
of her suspicion till they reached the woods, and then
saw them leave the road and turn up the valley. Being
thus confirmed, as it drew towards noon, when they might
be expected to be making their appearance on their return
home, she went up the ledge again to see if she could
make any more discoveries, and it was then, that she saw
them approaching with a burden, enter the old cellar, and
soon come forth without it. All this she had seen, drawn
her own inferences, and got down unobserved into the
house before they reached it for their dinner.
During the repast that now followed, the men did not
seem inclined to talk much, but Kate easily detected an
expression of unusual satisfaction in the countenance of
her father, and one of sly triumph in that of Gale.
After dinner the two men, this time forgetting in their
eagerness to be fingering their treasure, to invent any
new excuse for a renewed absence, again took their way
down the road. Kate, to fortify her conclusions deemed
it expedient again to watch them; and such was the celerity
of her movements, that they had barely passed out
sight of the house before she was at her old perch on the
field beyond the swell, approach and enter the old cellar;
when she musingly returned to the house.
We will now return to the treasure finders, who were,
by this time, intently engaged in counting and laying out
in separate piles their rusty dollars.
“There!” said Gale, whose fingers had moved more
nimbly than those of his companion. “I have counted
out into my pile just one clean thousand dollars — how
many have you got? — O, you aint through yet — I'll
help you out,” he added, suiting the action to the word,
and assisting till the remainder of the pile was disposed of.
“And mine, too, now,” returned Bidwell as he took up
the last dollar, “mine, too, amounts to the same sum, and
two or three dollars, I think, to spare.”
“All right then — I thought there must be somewhere
in the neighborhood of two thousand dollars in the whole
— a fine sum for each of us. But what do you propose to
do with your share, Bidwell?”
“Keep it, Gale — keep it for the present, and everything
connected with it, a profound secret. What are
you going to do with yours?”
“Lay it out for a farm — that is, I should, if I had it
where I happened to make the purchase. But I have
been thinking how I should get it away. With my still
weak ancle, it will be as much as I can do to carry my
pack as it was; and if I put in this heavy load, I could
shall I do?— Can't I get this specie changed into good
bank notes down there at the store, do you suppose?”
“Well, I should doubt whether they would have bank
bills enough on hand to exchange for all your silver — and
if they should, I hope you will not think of making such
an exchange there,” responded Bidwell deprecatingly.
“I should like to know why not?” said Gale, with affected
surprise.
“Because they will soon find out where you got the
money; and then it will set the whole country around
agog in a useless search for buried treasures, and especially
on my land, to its injury; and I wont have it.”
“Yes, but what am I to do?”
“Well, I will tell you what can be done. I have a
thousand dollars now in my house in bank money, which I
took for an extra farm I lately sold,” said Bidwell, after
some hesitation.
“You have?” exclaimed Gale, feigning surprise on being
told what he well knew from the first.
“Yes, and I don't know but I had better let you have
it for your share of the silver. I have some family reasons
for putting all my money into specie; for then I can
say I have invested it, which will put an end to the troublesome
teasings I should otherwise have to endure from
a certain quarter.”
“But are you sure all your bank bills are good, correct
money?”
“Every one of them.”
“It is a bargain, then — at least on my part.”
“Well, I guess I will say on my part also; and you
shall have your money to-night, or before you wish to
start in the morning.”
Kate, in the meanwhile, having contented herself with
household duties several hours after seeing her father
and Gale enter the old cellar the last time, thought she
would go up once more to her look-out, thinking that, by
this time they would soon be coming out, and that, in so
doing, she might, perhaps, make some additional discoveries.
But lest she should be detained in accomplishing
her object, she took the precaution of carrying a small
basket, and telling her mother she perhaps might find
some raspberries for supper. Thus prepared, she once
more ascended to the cliff, and seating herself under a
screening bush, and keeping her eyes on the old cellar,
patiently awaited the result. Within a half hour, her
patience was rewarded. She saw her father and Gale issue
from their concealment, move along under the swell
stealthily as before, till they got over into the road, and
then, assuming their usual gate, leisurely proceed homeward.
It was evident to her that they had brought out
nothing with them from the cellar. And whatever was
the object there which had been engaging their attention
so long, it must still remain there. What could it be,
which should require such secrecy and care for concealment?
It was not her father's paper money she was convinced;
for she knew where he kept it. She had seen him, when
he first brought it home in a compact thick package, deposit
and lock it up in a small trunk before containing
only a few light, loose papers. By lifting and raising one
end of this trunk, her ear would plainly detect the presence
of this package by its tumbling about within. She
had almost daily given the trunk this inspection, especially
every time, and soon after, her father had left home
under whatever pretense he might have gone; and that
afternoon, after he and Gale left, she had been to the
trunk, and, in the way we have just named, had fully ascertained
that the package was still lying safely and untouched
within. The money in the old cellar then must
be, as she had before concluded, hard money. But was
it good or was it bad money? She could not believe it
to be good; and if not, what else could it be but counterfeit
hard dollars? Were this so, what would she not give
to know it? It would furnish her such power over her
father to compel him to grant her request; and especially
ly it would afford such certain means of punishing Gale for
attempting, as she still feared he would do in some way,
to defraud her father out of his good money, or if not, to
entrap him into crime. And why could she not know it?
And as she reached this point in the current of thought
that had been thus rapidly flashing over her busy brain,
she suddenly formed a bold resolution.
All along the foot of this steep, ledgy hill, ran a narrow
belt of thick copsewood, extending from a point some
distance north of the house all the way to the old cellar,
and in pursuance of the resolution just formed, the sly
and determined girl quickly descended from her look-out,
without coming out so as to be seen from the house or the
road, turned to the south, and, carefully keeping within
the bushes, she ran, or rather flew, like a retreating bird
on half wing, rapidly threading her way among the obstructing
trees and brush, until she reached the place for
which she had started. Here pausing a moment to peer
out towards the road, she hurried down into the old cellar,
and commenced turning over the straw on the floor in full
confidence of soon finding what she sought, and she was
not to be disappointed. In a few minutes while removing a
pile of carefully laid straw she suddenly came upon the
very pile of dollars of which she was in search. Without
pausing longer than to note the general appearance of the
dollars, she caught up two of them, taken at random
from different parts of the pile, and transferred them to
her pocket; when, carefully replacing the straw, she hurried
out, and regaining the copse, made her way back homeward
as fast as she came. But, by way of precaution,
she kept within the bushes some little distance north of
the house, when she emerged into the field, and leisurely
approaching, entered the room, where her father and Gale
were unsuspectingly sitting, with the careless remark, as
she put away her basket, that “the berries were all gone.”
That night after Kate had retired to her sleeping
apartment, she took out one of the suspected dollars, examined
its rusted and discolored sides closely, and passed
her tongue several times over it with the view of wetting
it and then trying to rub off the rust and stains; when
she thought the coin imparted a remarkably saltish taste.
But not succeeding to her mind by rubbing it, she had
recourse to some soap and water she had in the room,
which she soon saw was having the desired effect, and by dint
of further washing and scouring, she, after a while, reduced
it to a clean, palely bright dollar, the hue of which at
once reminded her of a counterfeit coin, that on some previous
occasion, she had seen tested. Here she paused a
moment to account for the saltish taste the coin had so
strongly left on her tongue; when the truth quickly
flashed over her mind — that whole pile of dollars had
been artificially rusted with salt and water for the purpose
of deception. But there were other tests that, it
now occurred to her, could be applied, and she fell to paring
and scraping one edge of the coin with the sharp
blades of her scissors, which process soon cut away what
was evidently a thin, specious looking plating, and disclosed
another kind of metal which she knew was anything
but pure silver. This with her, fully settled the question,
and she went to bed, exulting in the power she now
held, when the occasion should arrive for her to use it,
which she did not then suppose would very immediately
least several days longer. But that occasion was to arrive
much sooner than she supposed.
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Bidwell
and Gale went out, and after some sauntering movements
about the yard, intended to put those off their guard
who might be watching them, they entered the barn and
remained together there nearly an hour. This was noticed
by the observant Kate with considerable uneasiness,
which was at length greatly increased by their long continued
delay in making their appearance, and she was beginning
to contrive some way by which, unseen, she could
reach a position behind the barn, where she could peep
through a crevice and see what they were about; when
her cogitations were cut short by their, at that moment,
unexpected entrance into the house, and their no less unexpected
announcement that Gale was about to take his
leave of them, and to resume his journey. Kate was not
prepared for this announcement, and it considerably non-plused
her; for she had not made up her mind in what
manner she would exercise her newly obtained power over
her father and Gale; and she had, till this moment, supposed
the latter would remain long enough to enable her
to come to a decision. What should she do? Boldly declare
her discoveries to them, and tell her father that his
supposed treasure was but a worthless mass of counterfeit
dollars? No; for he, under the sanguine belief in buied
had heard, coupled with the representations Gale must
have made, or the artifices he must have practised, had become
so infatuated and bat-blind, that he could not for
some days be brought to believe the truth; and before he
would be convinced, the man by whom he had been duped,
taking warning in season, would doubtless flee from that
part of the country; — No, that would never do. And
so, like many others whose first impulses have been checked
by suddenly occurring doubts, she did nothing.
In a short time, Gale completed the few preparations
he had to make for his journey; when he strapped on his
pack, bid the family good bye, and departed down the road
to the south; while Bidwell, after despatching Tom to do
some suddenly remembered job south of the swell, so that
his presence would prevent Gale from returning to carry
off any of the treasure, if disposed to do so — Bidwell
saddled his horse, and informing his family of his destination,
rode off to attend to some neglected business in the
north part of the town.
Soon after Bidwell left, Kate began to regain her scattered
wits; when all at once, she gave a wild start, and
exclaimed to herself,
“Stupid! after knowing they were so long in the barn
together in such a secret manner, stupid! stupid! that I
had not thought to go and see to this before.”
And with this she, with a startled look, ran to the
sound or movement such as had rewarded all her previous
tests of the kind, were perceptible from within. O madness!
the package of money was gone! and how gone,
and to whom, she was now no longer at a loss to understand.
For a moment she stood mute with consternation.
But she soon aroused herself for action; for she
clearly saw that if this great swindle, which must prove so
great a calamity to her father, and, indirectly, a worse
one to herself, was not to be tamely submitted to, something
must be done, and that promptly. But what should
that something be? To follow her father, — even if he
could be overtaken in time to avail anything, — declare
to him the fraud and try to induce him to return to pursue
the perpetrator and compel restitution, at least, would
be open to some of the same objections which had prevented
her from declaring to him her discoveries in Gale's
presence; and besides, she felt very reluctant to let him
know, as she must, that she had so often been to his money
trunk, or to the old cellar, in the manner which she had,
and with motives that had actuated her; or, in short, that she
had been such a spy on his actions. This brought her to
the other and only alternative, which was to follow Gale.
But who should do it? Tom? No, he would accomplish
nothing. Her lover, John Perley? He would
manage the business rightly, no doubt, but he lived miles
away over the other side of the pond, and before he could
reach. No, she must go herself; and in full confidence in
her courage, and in her sagacity to conduct the affair as
well, and, in the danger that her father, whom she would
shield, would be implicated, even better than any one else.
She firmly resolved she would go, and be immediately on
the way. And no sooner had she formed her bold resolution
than she went to her mother, whom she did not wish
to make a confidant in the case, and, on pretence of securing
a calico apron from a piece, which she was afraid
would be gone, if she delayed going for it longer, made
known her intention of walking that day down to the store.
Meeting here with no serious objection, she hurried to her
room, quickly changed her dress, and, within five minutes,
was rapidly making her way down the road on her adventurous
purpose.
After walking between two and three miles, at a pace
which fëw ordinary pedestrians would have equalled,
she arrived at a small house, situated close by the
road side, about a half mile from the little village, or
small collection of buildings scattered round the store
and tavern. This house being occupied by a seamstress
who, in summer was always found at her work at an open
window, Kate, mindful of this fact and feeling somewhat
acquainted with the occupant, concluded to call, and,
while resting herself a little, ascertain how long it had
been since Gale had passed by the house. But in reply
she described, the woman assured her that no such traveler,
nor any other foot traveler had passed by her house
that forenoon. This information disappointed, and greatly
perplexed the heroic girl. What could have become
of Gale? she mentally queried. He had not come this way,
it was clear; and there was no road that turned off from
her father's to this place. He must have then turned
somewhat aside into the woods. But where? Knowing
the character of the comparatively short reach of forest on
the road, she could think of no place where he would be
likely to do this but up the valley, which had been the
scene of the money digging. And had he not some secret
retreat back there in the widely extended forest which
she knew stretched back from the mountain westward —
a retreat which had been kept, in his absence, by some
such confederate as she had always suspected he had
somewhere in the vicinity? It must be so; and she now
recollected hearing her brother Tom, who had ranged all
the surrounding forests in fox-hunting, mention a solitary
log-house, standing, with a small patch of clearing around
it, in the midst of the woods; it having been erected a few
years before by a man who designed to settle there, but
for some reason soon relinquished his purpose, leaving the
place to be overrun with bushes and briers. Ah! that
was it — that must be the place, she thought, and though
she could not think of following up the villain into the
causing it to be done by other and more efficient agencies.
The sheriff of the county resided at this little village.
Kate had seen him at her father's house, where he had
once called to summon her father as a witness, and stopped
to dine; so that she felt somewhat acquainted with him,
and her newly formed purpose was to wait on this official,
at once, and lay before him the whole transaction. Accordingly,
bidding the woman good morning, she promptly
repaired to the residence of the sheriff, whom luckily she
found at home, and proceeded directly to disclose to him
the whole story, concluding by producing the two counterfeit
dollars.
“Ah! here may be something tangible,” exclaimed the
sheriff, who had been listening attentively, but doubtfully
to the story. “Yes, these are bogus enough I can plainly
see, though much art has been used to disguise them.
But can it be that all this has been detected and managed
so adroitly by you alone? Why, you must be a girl of
a thousand! It was a prodigious swindle, besides a clear
case of counterfeiting, and must be promptly seen to.
First, however, let me ask you a few questions. You say
this Gale, as he calls himself, turned off into the woods —
have you any idea where he may now be found?”
“I think I have,” replied Kate. “I have understood
there is a deserted log-house, with scarcely any clearing
around it, standing in the midst of the woods, about two
perhaps with him.”
“Very likely,” rejoined the sheriff. “These gentry
often hunt in couples. But who knows the way to this
place well enough to go to it, this afternoon, scout round
and ascertain whether the game is there? — You have a
brother, I believe?”
“Yes,” replied Kate, “and he is perfectly familiar
with the way; but it might be managed more prudently,
if some one went with him to take the lead — I have a
friend —”
“A friend — who is he?” asked the other with a
slightly amused look.
“John Perley,” returned the girl after a little hesitating
and blushing.
“John Perley? I know him well,” said the sheriff —
“a young man of sense and resolution — I am glad to
find you and he stand in the relation to each other in
which I perceive you do. I will be a friend to you both.
Now one question more — have you any personal interest
in the recovery of the money which has been so cunningly
swindled out of your father?”
Kate, encouraged by the sheriff's friendly manner,
frankly owned up all about this also, and made known the
consequence it would be to her and Perley if the money
was not recovered.
“I am glad you told me this, Kate; for that I think
have richly earned that money, and you shall yet have it.
I shall have the power to compel your father to relinquish
it to you.”
“But my father must not be hurt. I hope you won't
have him prosecuted,” responded Kate in a beseeching
tone.
“No, your father shall be spared — that is, if he will
do right by you. Probably a prosecution will not be much
pressed against him. If it is, we will make a State's evidence
of him, so he will go clear, of course. Now, my
brave girl, hurry home — send for Perley, and dispatch
him and your brother on their reconnoissance into the
woods, and tell them, that, after sending off men to watch
the roads on the west side of that wide forest, so as to secure
the rascal or rascals, if they come out in that direction,
I will come round and meet them at the edge of the
woods, bordering your farm.”
It was considerably past noon, when Kate, on her return,
reached the borders of her father's farm, and as she
did so, she was glad to perceive that her brother Tom had
just come back from his dinner to that part of the field.
south of the swell, in which he had been at work; for it
was not her wish to return to the house till she had secured
another object.
“Tom,” said she nimbly throwing herself over the
fence into the field, and approaching him, “Tom, where
is your boat left?”
“At the shore, right down against here — I have just
rowed it down coming from dinner, thinking I would fish
a little in this part of the pond towards night. Why,
did'nt you see me landing as you came out of the woods?”
“No, I did not happen to notice you till you was just
taking up your hoe to begin work; but I am glad the
boat is here.”
“Why are you glad, Kate? what are you driving at?”
“Well Tom, I must at least answer that question. I
want you should row me over to the landing, where the
old wood road comes down, leading to John Perley's
place.”
“Now I should like to know what that is for — what
can you be up to, Kate?”
“I want to see John immediately; and am going for
hat purpose. Will you row me over, Tom?”
“Yes, if you are in real earnest; but you have had no
dinner — you will go to the house first to get something
to eat, wont you?”
“No, I want none. Come, let us be off down to the
boat.”
“So be it then, come on yourself, and here is a
good plump biscuit I brought in my pocket for a luncheon
— take it, Kate, and be eating it while I am rowing
you over.”
In a few minutes more, Kate was seated on the bow of
the skiff, and the supple armed Tom was sending it surging
of less than a quarter of an hour brought them to the desired
landing; when the girl jumped on shore, leaving
the other hesitating and dallying with his oar on his seat.
“Stop! you look here, Kate,” he at length said.
“This queer wrinkle of yours coming over you so earnest
to go to see John, means something. Something or other
must have broke loose. Now I want you should tell me,
what it is. I can keep the secret, if it is one; but I
want you should tell me, at some rate.”
“I have been thinking about that while coming over,”
she responded after a hesitating pause, “and perhaps I
had better let you into a secret, which probably wont be
a secret twenty-four hours longer. Yes, I will; so come
ashore. We will take a seat on this log a little out of
sight, and I will tell you all.”
And this she did, to the utter amazement of Tom, who
as she concluded, leaped up, shook his doubled fist and exclaimed,
“Why, the infernal scoundrel! I will help follow
him as long as I would a fifty dollar black fox, but
what I will dog him to his hole and have his pelt, in the
shape of that money he stole. Yes, I'll help put this
through with a will. But look here, Kate, you are tired
enough without going after John. You stay here and I
will go; and I'll have John here within an hour.”
“Thank you, Tom,” said Kate, nodding assent to the
proposition.
“But one thing more.— The sheriff said I had earned
all that money, if we got it back, as certainly as father
had forfeited it. Now if we do get it back, and I have
it as the sheriff says I shall, I will give you a hundred
dollars.”
“Good! Well, now I am off,” responded Tom rapidly
hurrying away on his destination.
Tom was nearly as good as his word. In a little over
an hour, he re-appeared, accompanied by John Perley —
a fine, frank looking young man of twenty-five.
“Has Tom told you all?” asked Kate, after the lovers
had silently shaken hands.
“Yes, and I am proud of your sagacity and resolution,
Kate; but it is now time this business was taken off
your hands,” said Perley.
“But do you understand that you are only to spy him
out this afternoon, and then meet the sheriff at the edge
of the woods at sunset?” again interrupted Kate.
“We do,” replied the other, “Tom knows the way to
the place where you suspect he is, like a book, and if he,
whether alone or with an accomplice, is in the old log
house, we will ascertain it — if not we may push on further;
for Tom is as keen in finding and following up a
trail as a blood hound.”
The party, by common consent now entered the boat,
and were soon at the opposite shore; when Kate, feeling
greatly relieved from having seen the enterprise on hand
her way to the house; while the young men proceeded at
once to the woods, and quickly disappeared within their
dark recesses.
Slowly, full slowly, to the greatly exercised Kate, lingered
the long hours of that weary afternoon. So painfully
oppressive was the suspense to her feelings; and so
intense was her anxiety for the result of the measures
she had inaugurated for the recovery of the money, and
the punishment of the villain, who had so wickedly obtained
it, that she could scarcely contain herself. She
could neither work nor sit still — talk connectedly, nor
entertain herself with any object which had usually been
sufficient to fix her attention. But with moving restlessly
about, going first to one window to gaze out vacantly a
moment, and then to another, sitting down one minute
and jumping up the next, or suddenly hastening out into
the yard to return as suddenly, and through the whole of
this unconscious routine, often glancing up at the declining
sun to note his tardy progress towards the mountains
of the west, she made shift to wear out the remaining
hours of this seemingly interminable day, until she had
seen the lengthening shadows of the hill covering all the
open fields and shooting out far on the gleaming waters of
the pond. She then could restrain her impatience no
longer; but seizing her berry-basket to signify her old excuse
appointed rendezvous at the border of the forest.
When she reached there, she was gratified to find the
sheriff, with two assistants, already on the ground, but
disappointed in finding that her brother and Perley were
still absent.
“We must wait,” said the sheriff, to whom she betrayed
her disappointment, which was evidently not unmingled
with concern for the safety of the two delinquents,
“we must wait patiently. We shall probably hear from
them soon, since, according to your account you succeeded
in getting them off on their mission so early in the afternoon.
Yes, whether successful in making discoveries or
not, they will be here soon; and in the meantime, my
brave girl, I want you should go with me and show me
that counterfeit money. It is my duty to take charge of
it at once. Besides, if the criminal is caught to-night,
it will be wanted at court to-morrow morning; and if he
is not, it will furnish good grounds for instituting a new
search for him to-morrow, not only in the woods but over
the country abroad.”
Kate promptly assenting to the proposal, the sheriff
brought up one of the buggy wagons, in which he and
his assistants had come, helped her in, and, following himself,
drove on to the swell; when, under her willing, guidance,
he proceeded to the old cellar, and, finding the bogus
dollars where she had seen them, transferred them all
in the small bags he had brought for the purpose, to the
left his assistants; and the next hour was spent by them
all in silently waiting, and anxiously listening for the approach
of the absent party from the woods. But no
sound of footsteps reached their ears, and nothing save an
occasional low, short trill of the retreating wood bird,
was heard from any quarter of the now fast darkening
forest; and they were about relinquishing all hope of the
anxiously expected arrival that night, when the loud report
of a pistol bursting suddenly upon the stillness of the
night air, from some point not over a quarter of a mile
distant, came sharply echoing down the valley, and a prolonged,
far-reaching halloo! as if earnestly invoking help,
almost immediately followed.
“It is John's voice — it is John Perley's voice. I
know it is! Run! run! — let us all run to his assistance,”
almost frantically exclaimed Kate, starting eagerly
forwards into the woods in the direction of those signficant
sounds.
“She is right,” said the sheriff, turning to his assistants.
“There may be trouble there, and the sooner we
can be on hand the better, but with your matches, light
the lanterns, which we shall need, and with them and the
hand-cuffs you will find in my wagon, follow me up as
close as you can.”
“Hold up, Mr. Sheriff,” cried one of the assistants.
“While a desperate criminal is ahead with fire arms in
be dashing forward alone?”
“I shall hardly stop to listen to lessons of prudence,
with the example of that girl before me tearing through
the bushes at such a rate for the spot,” replied the sheriff,
quickening his pace to come up with the half distracted
but determined Kate.
But with all his exertions he did not come fully up
with her, till having proceeded several furlongs up the
valley she had paused to listen.
“Do you hear anything?” asked the sheriff.
“Yes,” replied Kate, as soon as she could control her
agitation sufficiently to speak, “yes — a rustling among
the bushes near that dark place under the hill on our left,
a dozen rods ahead — I think they may be there. But I
would call out for John.”
“Halloo!” accordingly exclaimed the sheriff in a
measured, low, but distinct tone, “halloo, I say — John
Perley, where are you?”
“Here! at the foot of the hill,” promptly came the response.
“Is all safe?”
“The chief criminal is safe at least.”
`Good! good! we will soon all be there.”
The two assistants, by this time, came hurrying up with
the lighted lanterns, the hand-cuffs and strong cords to
secure the prisoner; when the whole party unshrinkingly
the scene of action. As they passed round a thick clump
of bushes, the light of the lanterns suddenly disclosed a
scene as picturesque as it was startling. John Perley,
with a face bathed with fresh blood, was crouching over
the writhing, prostrate form of the swindler Gale, with
one knee firmly planted on his breast and one hand desperately
grasping his throat.
“Are you much hurt, John?” anxiously inquired
Kate.
“Stay a moment Kate — let me secure the murderous
villain first, and then I will join you in the inquiry,”
interposed the sheriff, now coming forward with his manacles
and securely fixing them on the wrists of the passive
prisoner. “There, Perley, you can now release your
gripe; for I see, by the wretch's exhaustion and panting,
that he would not give us much trouble, even without
the hand-cuffs. So now for your answer to Kate's inquiry.
Your's, though it has cost you some blood as I see, it is
only a flesh wound, I conclude?”
“Yes, only that,” responded Perley rising and wiping
the blood from his face, “only that. The bullet which
the scoundrel, as I here overhauled him, intended for my
head, only made a furrow along the outside of my cheek.”
“A lucky escape indeed; but now tell us briefly how
all this came about so different from the programme?”
Perley then proceeded to relate how he and Tom, having
round several hours before they could feel fully satisfied
that there was anybody within, though they noticed several
indications that led them to believe so. But climbing
a thickly foliaged tree, standing but a short distance
from the house, and peering out, they at length obtained
a view of the interior; when they discovered not only
Gale, but a confederate, just rising from a sort of bough
bed, where they had evidently been taking a long nap, preparatory,
as it was inferred, to a night march and consequent
escape from the country; and in this conclusion,
Perley and his young associate were soon confirmed by
seeing the two confederates make up their packs and set
them near the door, and then produce some kind of victuals
and begin to eat. The two former then cautiously
descended to the ground, and, retiring to a thicket near
by, held a hurried consultation, and coming to the natural
conclusion that the criminals would inevitably escape
before they should have time to return and get the sheriff
on to the ground, they formed the bold resolution to undertake
the capture themselves. Accordingly, with their
heavy beechen cudgels in hand, after creeping noiselessly
along to the last covert next the house, they made a sudden
rush in upon the confederates, who, taken wholly by
surprise, and cowering under the uplifted clubs of the determined
assailants, at once yielded themselves up as prisoners.
They were then ordered to deliver up their arms;
over to Perley a dirk, while the other passed to Tom a
loaded pistol, which they solemnly asserted were the only
arms they had. The package of bank bills swindled out of
Bidwell, was next sternly demanded, with an intimation that,
as they were now known as counterfeiters, the case of
Gale at least might be materially benefited by a prompt
restitution. And the latter, after considerable wrangling,
reluctantly consented, and gave up the package, which
had not been opened, to Perley. As it was now sunset,
the prisoners were at once put on the march back towards
the head of the valley. But the latter had scarcely got
fairly into the dense woods, before they, in spite of all that
could be done to prevent, suddenly bolted aside into the
bushes, and, after making several quick tacks to confuse
their pursuers, fled off with desperate speed in opposite directions,
Gale, making towards the east, and his confederate,
towards the west. While Tom, with his pistol in hand,
put himself on the trail of the latter, Perley pursued
Gale, who, however, had gained so much the start, that
he could not be overtaken till he had passed more than
half way down the valley; when the fugitive, with the
evident object of avoiding being driven out into the road
below, took a sudden turn, and attempted to climb the
hill so as to escape into the broad forest on the south.
This movement being detected by the pursuer, he turned
across the angle thus made by the pursued, and came up
pistol shot there received, he bounded on the other with
the leap of a tiger, and soon succeeded in pommeling and
throttling him into submission.
Matters having been brought to this issue, the whole of
the triumphant party, with the sadly disabled and sullen
prisoner in their midst, proceeded at once out to the road;
when with one wagon devoted to the use of the sheriff
and his prisoner, and the other to the use of Perley,
who wished to get his wound dressed that night, and the
loving and anxious Kate, who would not consent to be
separated from him, while the two assistants volunteered
to follow on foot, the whole company moved down the
road to the tavern, to obtain accommodations for the night,
and be on hand for the trial next morning.
By nine o'clock next morning — so swiftly flies the intelligence
of any new and startling event, even among
the widely scattered inhabitants of a country town — by
nine o'clock, a large crowd had assembled at the tavern to
witness the proceedings of the trial. The officers had
been active through the morning. The sheriff had gone
up, and, under a mere summons, so worded as to pass
for an order of arrest, brought down the miserable Bidwell;
who, on being informed of what had happened, was
utterly confounded, and swore revenge on Gale for so
swindling him; but who, on being further given to understand
he had implicated himself by having the counterfeit
and alarm. A deputy sheriff, who had been stationedon
the road on the west side of the great forest, had just
arrived with Tom and the prisoner, whom he had run down,
captured and delivered over to that officer at a late hour
the preceding evening. The magistrate and prosecuting
attorney had also arrived, and all was ready for trial.
The Court of Inquiry, which was now open, was held
in the largest room of the tavern. Behind a long table
placed near one of the walls of the apartment, sat the
magistrate; while facing him, on the opposite side, was
calmly seated the State's attorney, with two three law
books before him. At one end of the table were placed
the two sullen and crest-fallen prisoners, between two
sheriff's assistants; and at the other end sat Perley, with
a look of triumphant gratification, which the large patch
on his wounded and somewhat swollen cheek, did not at all
disguise. By his side sat Kate, glancing sharply around
on the assembled company, though no one could tell, at
any time, to what particular person her glances were directed.
And next sat the nonchalant Tom, coolly chewing
spruce gum, — these three persons being the only witnesses
whom it had as yet been decided to use on the trial.
Tom, Kate and Perley were then successively called to
the stand; but as their testimony disclosed nothing of importance,
which has not been made known to the reader
in describing the separate or united parts taken by them,
Tom's evidence which went to identify his prisoner as the
man who, about a fortnight before, had related to him the
story respecting the treasure once buried somewhere
among these mountains by the party fleeing from Mexico.
“Have the prisoners any counsel?” asked the magistrate,
glancing to Gale.
“No,” replied the latter morosely. “No, and don't
want any. You have proved nothing against me except
firing a pistol, which was done in self-defence. Even that
squinting spy, with all her long story about counterfeit
money, has wholly failed to show any such money in my
possession, and much less my trying to pass any.”
“Some things which this prisoner has said in his defence,
as rough and improper as has been his manner of
speaking in court, cannot be wholly gainsaid,” remarked
the magistrate, thoughtfully. “In prosecutions of this
kind, the accused must be shown either as passing, or attempting
to pass, counterfeit coin, or as having it in possession.
Has either of these been quite satisfactorily
shown? Are there any more witnesses to be offered on
the part of the prosecution?”
“We may have, — will the court suspend a moment,”
replied the attorney, rising and taking the sheriff aside,
and holding with him a brief whispered consultation.
This over, the former returned to the table, wrote a few
lines, signed the paper and handed it to the sheriff, who
room where Bidwell had been requested to remain until
called for.
“Now Bidwell,” said the officer closing the door after
him as he entered the room, “I have come to decide what
is to be done with you.”
“With me?” exclaimed Bidwell, trembling with alarm.
“They don't think of touching me, do they? Why
don't they condemn Gale, the only guilty one, and not try
to drag me into the scrape, who had not the least thought
I was doing anything wrong?”
“I am inclined to believe you innocent of any intention
of committing any crime,” replied the sheriff.
“But that may not be enough to protect you. As the
testimony now stands, the case looks quite as much against
you as against Gale. The Court has decided that to convict
a man it must be shown either that he has passed
counterfeit money, or has had it in his possession. Neither
of these facts has been proved against Gale; while you,
it is clearly seen, have been in possession of such money.
This is shown by the evidence of your daughter Kate.”
“Then I am gone!” groaned Bidwell, “while the
only guilty one will escape; and think! to be sent to the
State's prison by the testimony of my own daughter, who
must be meanly prying into the business!”
“And supposing your daughter, whom I will not hear
blamed, and whom you, yourself, should be proud of, instead
of bringing this sly and wicked plot of that consummate
villain to light, would not you soon have begun to pass
that counterfeit money, and thus made out your own passport
to the State's prison; while he would have long before
escaped the country with all the good money out of
which he swindled you?”
“It might have been so, possibly, but now she has
made it certain.”
“That don't necessarily follow, Bidwell; for if you are
saved, she is the one who havs done it. She has already
earnestly interceded with the authorities in your behalf.”
“She has? that's kind, — good girl, — good girl! But
after all, that wont cure it. No, no, I am ruined — O,
I am ruined!”
“The case certainly looks bad enough; but what would
you give, Bidwell, to have a way proposed to save you?”
“Give? Why, I would give half I am worth in a
minute.”
“Well, perhaps you can get it arranged at an easier
rate. Now suppose the money you got swindled out of,
can be recovered, will you freely consent to have it given
to your daughter?”
“Yes, yes, I will, — I will bind myself to do it. Now
what is it you propose, to save me?”
“To make you a State's evidence — to have you go immediately
into court and tell your whole story, which will
that he had the bogus coin in possession, and that he also
passed it to you.”
“I can, — and will. But what guarantee am I to have
that I shall not be prosecuted on my own testimony?”
“This,” said the sheriff, handing him the paper made
out by the State's attorney.
“All right,” responded Bidwell, with brightening look —
“All right, I am safe; and now they shall have my
whole story. So now for the court room. Lead on, lead
on, Mr. Sheriff.”
The request was promptly complied with; and the next
moment the sheriff ushered the new-made witness into the
court room, and led him forward to the spot nearly in
front of the magistrate, recently occupied by the other
witnesses.
Gale turned pale when he saw his late infatuated dupe
brought on to the stand, but soon rallying, tried to intimidate
him by turning on him looks of savage ferocity and
menace. Bidwell, however, in the consciousness of his
own safety, and under the sense of the outrageous fraud
that had been inflicted on him, proceeded, in a firm, determined
tone, with a minute and truthful detail of all
that had taken place in his intercourse with the prisoner
And notwithstanding the desperate attempts of Gale to
brow-beat and confuse him, and notwithstanding he was
compelled to admit that every movement in relation to the
himself; yet the court, and all present, could not fail to see
through the whole of the nefarious scheme; and that Bidwell,
from first to last, had been made the complete dupe
of the artful knave, into whose hands he had so blindly
and lucklessly fallen.
As Bidwell concluded his testimony the State's attorney
was rising to speak; when the magistrate interposed
and said: —
“Not a word, Mr. Attorney. It is needless to speak
when you have got your case without it; for this disciple
of Stephen Burroughs has done, in this transaction, too
good justice to the school of devilish cunning in which
he was evidently educated, to leave in the mind of any
rational man, who has heard the testimony, one single
doubt of his guilt. He is, consequently, to be held for
trial at our county court now in session. And though not
much has been proved against the other prisoner, yet the
presumption of his being an accessory in this scheme of
passing or selling counterfeit money is, I think, strong
enough to warrant his being placed in the same category,
for the present. You will, therefore, Mr. Sheriff, have
them both, as soon as may be, on the road to the county
jail.”
“Within this very hour it shall be done, your honor,”
promptly responded the sheriff, taking up his hat, and,
after whispering in Perley's ear to meet him with Kate
a few minutes Perley and Kate, to whom he in turn had
whispered a word, also departed, and at once repaired to
the indicated room, which was the one that had been occupied
by Bidwell, but was now empty. Here they were
soon joined by the sheriff, who, advancing, and seizing a
hand of each of the young couple, cheerily exclaimed —
“Now God bless you, my young friends! I sincerely
congratulate you on this signal triumph over wickedness
and wrong, which you have been the main instruments in
accomplishing; and here is your reward,” he continued,
drawing forth the recovered package of money, which
Perley had put in his hands for safe keeping the evening
before, and placing it in the hands of the gratified Kate.
“It is all right, I have examined it and there is not a
dollar missing.”
“And what is to be your reward, Mr. Sheriff?” asked
Kate playfully.
“Why, my brave girl, if it is to be more than will be
afforded me by the consciousness of having served the
ends of public justice, then let it be the privilege of partaking
with you both, say about next Thanksgiving day
night, your wedding supper.”
“Granted, sir,” said Kate with a blushing laugh
“Ay, and a thousand thanks besides,” added Perley.
The action of our story has now been brought to a
close; and one brief paragraph more need only be added
in the mind of the reader respecting the after fates and
fortunes of some of the personages we have introduced.
As before intimated, the county court, at its Grand
Jury term was in session at the time as a Court of Inquiry;
and before night, on the same day, the prisoners
had reached the seat of justice, and their case been laid
before the Jury, who, on the testimony of the sheriff alone,
it being understood there was to be no defence attempted,
the next day brought in their indictment against both;
when the accused, being brought into court and pleading
guilty, were convicted and sentenced, — Gale to ten years,
and the other to two years' imprisonment, and before
Saturday night, the same week, they were safely lodged in
the State's prison. Bidwell became a wiser and better
man, completely cured of all disposition to listen to any
more stories or dreams of buried treasure. Tom stuck
by, and finally inherited the homestead. And the sheriff
had the pleasure, the next Thanksgiving night, of sitting
down, with other invited guests, to the bountiful wedding
supper of Perley and Kate; who, through the means they
had received, through the court, as we have described,
together with their own united industry and good management,
became in the process of time, not only one of the
most respected, but one of the very wealthiest families in
all that part of the country.
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