Frank and Fearless - BestLightNovel.com
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"Where's the rest, then?"
"I am to collect some money before I return," answered Jasper, with a lucky thought.
Jack felt disappointed. The money Jasper was about to collect would do him no good, as, doubtless, the boy would take good care, if once released, not to be caught again.
"That's a miserable way of doing business," said Jack. "Suppose you shouldn't collect it?"
"Then I must write to the firm to send some money."
This gave Jack an idea, on which he afterward acted.
"But," continued Jasper, desirous of getting back some of the money in the pocket-book, "if you take away all my money I can't get to Plattville to make collections."
"Is that where you are to collect money?"
"Yes."
"Will you promise me the money after you have collected it?"
"No," answered Jasper.
"You won't, eh?"
"No; I have no right to. The money won't belong to me."
"That makes no difference."
"It makes a great deal of difference to me."
"Look here, boy," said Jack, frowning, "you evidently don't know the man you're talking to. You ain't going to bluff me off in that way," and he reinforced this declaration with an oath.
"I am trying to be faithful to my employer," said Jasper.
"You've got to be faithful to me."
"What claim have you on me?" asked Jasper.
"You're in my power--that's the claim I have. Do you understand that?"
"I understand what you mean," said Jasper.
"Then I've only to say that it'll be best for you to remember it."
"Tell me again what you want."
"What I did want was, that you should collect this money and bring it to me."
"I refuse."
"You needn't, for I don't intend to let you go out of my sight. I can't trust you. No; I have another plan in view."
Jasper did not ask what it was. He felt sure that it was nothing that he would be willing to do.
"What is the name of your employer?"
"Herman Fitch."
"Very good."
Jack drew from his pocket a small pocket-inkstand, a pen, and some paper.
"Now," said he, "I want you to write a letter."
"Write a letter! To whom?" inquired Jasper, in surprise.
"To this man Fitch, telling him that you have had your pocket picked and need some money. Tell him you will need at least seventy-five dollars, as you haven't been able to collect anything."
"I can't do it," said Jasper.
"Can't do it! What do you mean?"
"I mean that by such a letter I should deceive my employer and be obtaining money from him by false pretenses. I can't do it."
"Look here, boy," said Jack, sternly, "you don't know the man you are trifling with. I am a desperate man, and will stick at nothing. I have taken life before, and I am ready to do so again. Write this letter or I will kill you!"
Jasper listened with horror to this terrible confession and his equally terrible threat.
"Would you take my life for seventy-five dollars?" he said.
"Yes; your life is nothing to me, and I need the money. Quick, your answer!"
As he spoke he drew out a long, murderous-looking knife, and approached Jasper menacingly.
It was a terrible moment. Jack looked as if he fully intended to carry out his threat At any rate, there was danger of it. On the one side was death, on the other breach of trust.
Finally he decided.
"You may kill me if you will," he said at length, "but I won't write the letter."
Jack uttered an execration and raised the knife, but suddenly he uttered a stifled cry and fell to the ground, with blood spurting from a wound in his breast.
Jasper bounded to his feet in astonishment. He had shut his eyes, expecting death. His first glance was at the prostrate brigand. He saw that the wound was made by an arrow, which had penetrated the region of the heart. But who had sped the shaft? And was he also in danger? The question was soon answered.
Out from the underbrush emerged three figures. The foremost was the Indian maiden, Monima. Following her were two men of the same tribe. It was one of these who had shot at Jack.
"Is white boy hurt?" asked Monima, running to Jasper and surveying him anxiously.
"No," said Jasper. "Thank you, Monima."