Part 15 (1/2)
”That's what I thought, but I can't recall ever having been told.”
After seating ourselves in the restaurant, Hiram, his mind filled with many notions, began to talk.
”I never see a cargo of lumber go by that I don't think of it as something immensely valuable. I don't understand it, unless--well--of course, I can't figure out who is to blame, but do you realize I actually don't know what business my--I mean the Gold-Beater--is in? I never knew whether he ran a p.a.w.n-shop, a gambling-house, or a real business; my knowledge of his activities is limited to a vague impression I have, an indistinct memory of hearing him talk one night at our house with some man--and he was some man, too, if the Gold-Beater brought him home--about stumpage, stump land and market conditions. I don't recall much, for then I was about as much interested in it as I would now be in a divinity student's theory on Heaven and the other place.
”I don't know whether it's in my blood, but anyhow, a nice, newly sawed, clean board of timber looks better to me than anything--except a certain girl. I figured it out to-day, that she is the only one I don't want to disgrace. The Gold-Beater has nothing better coming to him--if I have to go to jail in the clean-up of this gang----”
”Come to the point, Hiram. You're wandering all around Robin Hood's barn,” said I laughingly.
”I know I'm long-winded, Ben, but I've got to speak my prologue, or you won't understand. You know I have stood on the dock day after day and have seen the river carry down big trees and big logs, some real saw-logs, some days lots of them, and to-day, up the river, I saw a great many floating along down stream. Some of the bayous are full of them. There's a ma.s.s of logs in that moat back of Becker's smell factory.”
”Well,--what is the answer?” I asked languidly.
”Here's what I propose: Arrest these fugitive logs, cut 'em into lumber and put 'em to work. I saw logs up the river that will make a thousand feet of lumber and they tell me even rough lumber is worth fifty dollars a thousand. It won't take many of them to amount to the hundred and twenty-five dollars per that I'm pulling down monthly from the railroad--eh? You know, just as soon as I get out of this I'm going to marry, and----”
”But they tell me those logs have been in the water so long they are dead sea fruit, rotten in the center?” I interposed.
”I noticed that in some of them, but many are first cla.s.s--you watch me after I get out. Do you know, I feel sure this river is going to make me some money. I'm going to be out to-night, down on the wharf. The packet men say that Becker's old tub, the one we met going up this afternoon,--called the _Turgia_--and she is well named--goes up there every afternoon and brings down a load in the night. I've got to find out where she lands and what she brings down. I forgot to tell you he gets dead animals from the city, in barges, and has to hire a tug to take them up. A good chance for a deal there, if we have a boat big enough to do his work, don't you think so?” he asked, pausing from his food.
”He seems to have an eye for bargains--why not in towing?” I agreed, much impressed with his determination, amounting to a mania.
”Now, there is another thing, Ben. Suppose this old half-starved geezer's story is right, and they owe him a lot of wages, and the boat is something we can use, isn't there some quick, legal way in which we can get possession of it?”
”He would be cla.s.sed as a seaman, with wages due, and I think there is a Federal statute to reach such a case quickly--I will find out, Hiram.”
”Do that, Ben, and if I don't show up in the morning you will know I got knocked in the head by the water-front gang, but I'm going to see what Becker sends down here in the night, or die in the attempt.”
CHAPTER XVIII
I HAD to be up that night too, and I had not been in long before he arrived--just before daylight.
”Ben--Ben, awake, and get up! I've got it--I've got it--see here!” he persisted, holding a piece of cardboard before my eyes now dazzled by the sudden light. ”Do you know what that is?” he roared, standing on tiptoes while I gazed at it. He was more energetic and enthusiastic than the night before, although he had not been to bed. His eyes appeared to be a bit bloodshot.
Raising up in bed, I took the piece of cardboard and sat blinking at it when, all of a sudden, Hiram lost patience.
”d.a.m.n it, Ben, can't you see what it is?--that's a piece of a ten-pound sausage carton, and it came from Becker's place. Now then, we've got 'em,” he said with suppressed voice. What he handed me was unquestionably a part of a folding box, one of the corner locks, and a part of the end on which there was tell-tale printing.
”You see, this sausage that was stolen was in ten-pound boxes, and this is part of one of them,” he insisted.
”Where did you get this, Hiram?” I finally managed to ask.
”I had to lie on one of the wharfs upstream until after midnight when Becker's _Turgid_ came slipping down the current, like a thief, and I had to leg it hard to keep up with her. About a mile below she slid in alongside a Mexican, bound for Vera Cruz, unloaded a hundred and fifteen tubs of something--it went down on the manifest as lard, and I guess it was grease, anyhow. On her deck there still remained five bales of something. I wanted to know what it was. The _Turgia_ then slid downstream to the Southern Pacific docks and unloaded there. They billed five bales of waste paper to New York. Yes, I got the name of the consignee--Ca.s.sinis & Ca.s.sinis, Water Street--but I wondered how Becker collected waste paper up there in that swamp and I didn't believe it was waste paper. It was covered with burlap and baled tight.
”Do you see what this crafty old crook has done? He took the sausage out of the folding boxes, which he laid out flat, then baled them carefully and is s.h.i.+pping them to New York to get the best price and put such evidence clear out of the way. Well, it cost me I don't know how many drinks of water-front whiskey to get those watchmen in condition--there were two of them--before I could dig into one of the bales for a sample.
I know it was tough on the watchmen, but there you are, and as sure as shooting Becker & Co. got the stolen sausages and we've got to get Becker before he has a chance to try to hang it on me, or some other b.o.o.b clerk.
”Ben, are you awake? do you understand what I am saying?” he asked, giving my shoulder a tap that made me sway as though kicked by a mule.
”Yes, Hiram, I understand. Was there a Southern Pacific s.h.i.+p at the dock?” I asked, rubbing my shoulder.