Haste and Waste Part 5

"Has he got a pilot?"

"Not that I know of."

"He can't get one at Port Henry," said the ferryman.

"I suppose he is going to pilot her himself."

"He will pilot her on the rocks, then. He don't know anything about Lake Champlain. Why don't you row up the lake till you meet the boat?"

"I was thinking of doing so, but I can't keep this money out of my mind."

"Why need you trouble yourself about that?" demanded the father impatiently.

"It was lost in your boat, and I am very anxious that it should be found. I'm sure Mr. Randall thinks you've got it."

"Well, he searched me, and found out that I hadn't got it--didn't he?" added Mr. Wilford, with a sickly smile.

"I don't like to have you suspected of such a thing, and for that reason I want to find the money."

"You can't find it, and I tell you he hasn't lost any money. He's going to cheat the bank or his creditors out of six thousand dollars."

"I don't believe he would do such a thing as that."

"We have looked everywhere for the money, and it can't be found.

It's no use to bother any more about the matter. It's gone, and that's the end of it--if he lost it at all. You have looked all over the ferry-boat, and it isn't there. If it had been floating in the lake, you couldn't help seeing it. Now, you better take your boat and row up the lake till you meet the steamer."

"I'm going pretty soon."

"Better go now. I'm going up after a drink of water. If you don't go pretty soon, you will be too late to do any good on board the steamer," said Mr. Wilford, hoping, if he left the spot, his son would depart also.

Lawry hauled in the rowboat, ready to embark; but, before he did so, he made one more search in the bateau for the pocketbook. The timbers of the ferry-boat were ceiled over on the bottom, leaving a s.p.a.ce for the leakage between the inner and the outer planking. Near the mast there was a well, from which, with a grain-shovel, the water was thrown out. Lawry examined this hole, feeling under the planks, and thrusting the shovel in as far as he could. This search was unavailing, and he gave it up in despair. As he stepped on sh.o.r.e, his curiosity prompted him to look under the platform outside of the boat.

The pocketbook was there!

In a s.p.a.ce between the planks, a foot above the surface of the water, and the same distance from the side, the pocketbook was thrust in. It could not be seen from the inside of the boat, nor from the platform; and it could not have got there of itself.

Lawry's face turned red, and his heart bounded with emotion, for the situation of the pocketbook pointed to but one conclusion. It had been placed there by his father, who had evidently taken it from the pocket of the coat, and concealed it, either before or after the garment had fallen into the water. He was appalled and horrified at the discovery. He knew that his father was discontented with his lot; that he was indolent and thriftless; but he did not think him capable of committing a crime.

He reached under the platform, and took the pocketbook from its hiding-place. It was perfectly dry; it had not been in the water.

John Wilford had probably taken it from the coat pocket, and after thrusting it into the aperture beneath the drop, had let the platform fall into the water for the purpose of dislodging the coat, and making it appear that the money had been lost in the lake.

The pocketbook seemed to burn in Lawry's fingers, and he returned it to the place where he had found it; for he was confused, and did not know what to do. He stood, with flushed face and beating heart, on the sh.o.r.e, considering what course he should take. He could not think of exposing his father's crime, on the one hand, or of permitting him to retain the money, on the other.

After long and painful deliberation, he decided to take the pocketbook, follow Mr. Randall, and return it to him, telling him that he had found it under the drop of the boat. He was about to adopt this course when his father came out of the house, and walked down to the ferry-boat.

"Not gone yet?" said Mr. Wilford.

"No, sir; that money has troubled me so much that I could not go,"

replied Lawry.

"What's the use of bothering your head about that any longer?" added the father petulantly.

"It troubles me terribly."

"Let it go; it can't be found, and that's the end of it."

"But it can be found."

"Why don't you find it, then?"

"I have found it, father!"

"What!"

"It's in a crack under the platform," replied Lawry.

"You don't mean so!" exclaimed the ferryman.

"It's no use to talk round the barn, father; the pocket-book is just where you put it."

"Where I put it? What do you mean, Lawry?"

"There it is in the crack under the drop, a foot above the water. It did not wash in there of itself. Oh, father!"

Lawry, unable longer to control his feelings, burst into tears.

"What are you crying about, Lawry? Do you think I hid the pocketbook?"

"I know you did, father," sobbed Lawry.

"Do you accuse me of stealing?" demanded Mr. Wilford, with a weak show of indignation.

"I don't accuse you of anything, father; but there it is."

"You mean to say that I stole it?"

"Oh, father!"

"Stop your whining, Lawry! What possessed you to poke round after what did not concern you? Now, shut up, and go off about your business."

"You will not keep it, father?"

"I haven't got it. If you have found it, I suppose there is time enough to think what is best to be done."

"I don't want any time to think of it," replied Lawry; and before his father could prevent him, he took the pocketbook from its place of concealment.

"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Mr. Wilford.