CHAPTER VI
THE LOST RECEIPT

"I can't understand this," said Mrs. Burton, beginning to be troubled. "My poor husband had made all arrangements for paying his interest on the day of his death. When he left the house, he spoke of it. Do you mean to say he did not call at your office?"

If Aaron Wolverton had dared, he would have denied this, but Mr. Burton had been seen to enter the office, and so that he would not do him any good.

"He did call upon me, Mrs. Burton."

"And said nothing about the interest?"

"He said this, that he would pay me the coming week."

"He said that, when he had the money in his pocket?" said Mrs. Burton, incredulously.

"Of course I didn't know that he had the money with him. He probably thought of another way in which he wanted to use a part or all of it."

"I don't believe it. He never mentioned any other use for it, and he was not owing any one except you. Mr. Wolverton, I don't like to say it, but I think he paid you the interest."

"Do you doubt my word?" demanded Wolverton, with assumed indignation.

"Suppose I say that you have forgotten it."

"I would not forget anything of that kind. You are very unjust, Mrs. Burton, but I will attribute that to your disappointment. Let me suggest one thing, however. If your husband had paid me, he would have been sure to take a receipt. If you have his wallet here – I happen to know that he was in the habit of carrying a wallet – and you doubt my word, examine the wallet and see if you can find the receipt."

Mrs. Burton thought this a good suggestion, and went up-stairs for the wallet. She opened it, but, as Wolverton had good reason to know would be the case, failed to find the important paper.

"I can't find it," she said, as she re-entered the room.

"Did I not tell you so?" returned Wolverton, triumphantly. "Doesn't that settle it? Wasn't your husband a good enough business man to require a receipt for money paid?"

"Yes, yes," murmured the widow. "Mr. Wolverton, if you are right it arouses in my mind a terrible suspicion. Could my husband have been waylaid, murdered, and robbed?"

"No, I don't think so. His death was evidently the result of accident – the upset of his team."

"What then became of the money – the hundred and fifty dollars which he carried with him?"

"There, my dear lady, you ask me a question which I cannot answer. I am as much in the dark as you are."

"If this story is true, then we are one hundred and fifty dollars poorer than we supposed. It will be bad news for Robert."

"It need not be bad news for you, Mrs. Burton," said Wolverton, in an insinuating tone, shoving his chair a little nearer that occupied by the widow.

Mrs. Burton looked up in surprise.

"How can it fail to be bad news for me?" she asked. "A loss like that I cannot help feeling."

"Do you think I would be hard on you, Mrs. Burton?" asked Wolverton, in the same soft voice.

"If you are disposed to wait for the money, or relinquish a part under the circumstances, Robert and I will feel very grateful to you, Mr. Wolverton."

"I might, upon conditions," said the agent, furtively shoving his chair a little nearer.

"What conditions?" asked Mrs. Burton, suspiciously.

"I will tell you, if you won't be offended. Mrs. Burton – Mary – you can't have forgotten the early days in which I declared my love for you. I – I love you still. If you will only promise to marry me – after a while – all shall be easy with you. I am a rich man – richer than people think, and can surround you with luxuries. I will be a father to that boy of yours, and try to like him for your sake. Only tell me that you will be mine!"

Mrs. Burton had been so filled with indignation that she let him run on, quite unable to command her voice sufficiently to stem the torrent of his words. As he concluded, she rose to her feet, her eyes flashing, and her voice tremulous with anger, and said: "Mr. Wolverton, are you aware that my poor husband has been dead but a month?"

"I am perfectly aware of it, Mary."

"Don't address me so familiarly, sir."

"Mrs. Burton, then, I am perfectly acquainted with that fact, and would not have spoken now, but I saw you were anxious about the future, and I wished to reassure you. Of course I wouldn't hurry you; I only meant to get some kind of an answer that I might depend upon."

"And you thought that, after loving such a man as Richard Burton, I would be satisfied to take such a man as you?" said the widow, with stinging sarcasm.

"Richard Burton was not an angel," said Wolverton, harshly, for his pride was touched by the contempt which she made no effort to conceal.

"Don't dare to say anything against him!" said the widow, her eyes flashing ominously.

"Well, then, he was an angel," said Wolverton, sulkily; "but he's dead, and you will need to look to another protector."

"My son will protect me," said Mrs. Burton, proudly.

"That boy?" said Wolverton, contemptuously. "But I make allowance for a mother's feelings. Once more, Mary, I make you the offer. Remember that I am a rich man, and can surround you with luxuries."

"I would rather live in a log house on a crust, than to marry you, Mr. Wolverton," she said, impetuously. "If you were the only man in the world, I would go unmarried to my grave rather than wed you!"

Wolverton rose, white with wrath.

"You are tolerably explicit, madam," he said. "I can't charge you with beating round the bush. But let me tell you, ma'am, that you have done the unwisest act of your life in making me your enemy."

"I did not mean to make you an enemy," said Mrs. Burton, softening. "I suppose I ought to acknowledge the compliment you have paid me, but I must decline, once for all, and request you never again to mention the subject."

Aaron Wolverton was not so easily appeased.

"I do not care to stay any longer," he said. "You had better mention to your son about the interest."

Mrs. Burton had an opportunity to do this almost immediately, for Bob and Clip entered the house just as Wolverton was leaving it.

"What have you done to Mr. Wolverton, mother?" asked Bob. "He looked savage enough to bite my head off, and wouldn't even speak to me."

"Robert, I have some bad news to tell you. Mr. Wolverton tells me that your father didn't pay him the interest on the day of his death."

"I believe he tells a falsehood," said Bob, quickly.

"But he says, with some show of reason, if the interest was paid, why didn't your father take a receipt?"

"Can no receipt be found?"

"No; I searched your father's wallet in vain."

"What is a receipt, missis?" asked Clip.

"It's a piece of paper with writing on it, Clip," said the widow, adjusting her explanations to Clip's intelligence.

"Golly! I saw de old man take a piece of paper from Massa Burton's pocket after he was dead – when he was a-lyin' on the ground."

"Say that again, Clip," said Bob, eagerly.

Clip repeated it, and answered several questions put to him by Mrs. Burton and Bob.

"It's all clear, mother," said Bob. "That old rascal has got up a scheme to rob you. He thinks there isn't any proof of the payment. If he suspected that Clip had been a witness of his robbery he would have been more careful."

"What shall I do, Bob?"

"Wait a while. Let him show his hand, and then confront him with Clip's testimony. I wonder if he destroyed the receipt?"

"Probably he did so."

"If he didn't, I may get it through Sam. Don't be worried, mother. It'll all come out right."

One thing the widow did not venture to tell Bob – about Mr. Wolverton's matrimonial offer. It would have made him so angry that she feared he would act imprudently.

CHAPTER VII
WOLVERTON'S ADVENTURE WITH CLIP

Bob and his mother deliberated as to whether they should charge Mr. Wolverton openly with the theft of the receipt. On the whole, they decided to wait a while, and be guided by circumstances. If he took any measures to collect the money a second time, there would be sufficient reason to take the aggressive.

Bob had another reason for delay. He intended to acquaint Sam Wolverton with the matter, and request him to keep on the lookout for the receipt. Should he find it, he knew that Sam would gladly restore it to the rightful owner. He cautioned Clip not to say anything about what he saw on the day of his father's death, as it would put Wolverton on his guard, and lead him to destroy the receipt if still in his possession.

I must now relate a little incident in which Clip and Aaron Wolverton were the actors.

The creek on which Burton's Ranch was located was a quarter of a mile distant from the house. It was about a quarter of a mile wide. Over on the other side of the creek was the town of Martin, which was quite as large as Carver. In some respects it was a more enterprising place than Carver, and the stores were better stocked. For this reason there was considerable travel across the creek; but as there was no bridge, the passage must be made by boat.

Bob owned a good boat, which he and Clip used considerably. Both were good rowers, and during Mr. Burton's life they spent considerable time in rowing for pleasure. Now Bob's time was so occupied that the boat was employed only when there was an errand in the opposite village.

"Clip," said Bob, one morning, "I want you to go down to Martin."

"Yes, Massa Bob," said Clip, with alacrity, for he much preferred such a jaunt to working in the fields.

The errand was to obtain a hammer and a supply of nails at the variety store in Martin. Clip was rather given to blunder, but still there was no reason why he should not execute the errand satisfactorily.

Clip went down to the creek, and unfastened the boat. He jumped in, and began to paddle away, when he heard a voice calling him.

"Here, you Clip!"

Looking round, Clip recognized in the man hailing him Aaron Wolverton.

Mr. Wolverton did not own any boat himself, and when he had occasion to go across the river he generally managed to secure a free passage with some one who was going over. If absolutely necessary, he would pay a nickel; but he begrudged even this small sum, so mean was he.

Clip stopped paddling, and answered the call.

"Hi, Massa Wolverton; what's the matter?"

"Come back here."

"What fo'?"

"I want you to take me over to Martin."

Now Clip was naturally obliging, but he disliked Wolverton as much as one of his easy good nature could do. So he felt disposed to tantalize him.

"Can't do it, Massa Wolverton. I'm in a terrible hurry."

"It won't take you a minute to come back."

"Massa Bob will scold."

"You needn't mind that, boy. Come back, I say!"

"I dassn't."

"Don't be a fool, you little nigger. I'll pay you."

"What'll you give?" asked Clip, cautiously.

"I'll give you – a cent."

"Couldn't do it, nohow. What good's a cent to me?"

"A cent's a good deal of money. You can buy a stick of candy."

"'Tain't enough, Massa Wolverton. I ain't goin' to resk gettin' licked for a cent."

Cunning Clip knew that there was no danger of this, but he thought it would serve as an argument.

"I'll give you two cents," said Wolverton, impatiently.

"Couldn't do it," said Clip. "Ef it was five, now, I might 'sider it."

Finally Wolverton was obliged to accede to Clip's terms, and the colored boy pushed the boat to shore, and took in his passenger.

"Can you row good, Clip?" asked Wolverton, nervously, for he was very much afraid of the water, and he had never had Clip for a boatman before.

"You jes' bet I can, Massa Wolverton. I can row mos' as good as Massa Bob."

"Well, show it then; I am in a hurry to get over the creek."

Clip rowed to the middle of the creek, and then stopped paddling.

"I reckon you'd better pay me the money now, Massa Wolverton," he said.

"Why, you young rascal, are you afraid to trust me?"

"I dunno 'bout dat; but I wants my money."

"You haven't earned it yet. What are you afraid of?"

"You might forget to pay me, Massa Wolverton."

"No, I sha'n't. Push on."

"I'm goin' to sleep," said Clip, lying back in a lazy attitude.

"You young rascal! I've a good mind to fetch you a slap on the side of the head."

"Better not, Massa Wolverton," drawled Clip. "Might upset the boat."

"Give me the oars," said Wolverton, impatiently.

He took them; but he had never rowed in his life, and he almost immediately turned the boat around.

"Hi, yah!" laughed Clip, delighted. "Where was you raised, Massa Wolverton, not to understand rowin' no better dan dat?"

"Take the oars, you black scoundrel, and row me across, or I'll pitch you out of the boat!"

"Ef you do, what'll 'come of you, Massa Wolverton?" said Clip, not at all alarmed.

This was indeed an important consideration for a man so timid on the water as the real estate agent.

"You put me out of all patience," said Wolverton, furiously. "Are you going to row or are you not?"

"I want my money," said Clip.

Wolverton was compelled to hand over a nickel, but registered a vow that if ever he caught Clip on land, he would make him pay for his impudence.

Clip took the oars, and made very good progress till he was about fifty feet from the other side of the creek. Then he began to make the boat rock, stopping his rowing.

"What are you about?" shouted Wolverton, turning pale.

"It's good fun, ain't it, Massa Wolverton?" said Clip; laughing insolently.

"Stop, you little rascal! You'll upset the boat."

"Golly! ain't dis fun?" said Clip, continuing his rocking.

"I'll choke you, if you don't stop," screamed Wolverton.

He rose to catch hold of Clip. The boy jumped up, and ducked his head. The result of the combined motion was that the boat, which was flat-bottomed, capsized, and the two were thrown into the water.

There was no danger, for the water at this point was only four feet deep; and Clip could swim, while Aaron Wolverton was too tall to be drowned in that depth of water.

Wolverton was almost scared out of his wits. He cut such a ludicrous figure as he floundered in the water, that Clip screamed with delight. The black boy swam to the boat, and, managing to right her, got in again; but Wolverton waded to the shore, almost beside himself with rage.

"Is you wet, Massa Wolverton?" asked Clip, innocently, showing his white teeth.

"Come ashore, and I'll lick you!" shouted Wolverton, who had by this time landed, his clothes dripping wet.

"I reckon I'm too busy," answered Clip, with a grin. "I'm sorry you's wet, Massa Wolverton. Hi yah!"

"I'll wring your neck, you young tike!" said Wolverton, savagely.

"Dat old man's a hog," mused Clip. "Ain't much like my poor old gran'ther. He was always kin' an' good. I mind him sittin' in front of de ole cabin door down in Arkansaw. I 'spec' de old chap's done dead afore this," concluded Clip, with a sigh.

Clip kept at a safe distance from shore, and the agent was compelled to defer his vengeance, and go to the house of an acquaintance to borrow some dry clothes.

When he returned, it is needless to say that it was not in Clip's boat.

He opened his desk, to enter a business transaction in his account-book, when he made a startling discovery.

The receipt had disappeared!