The Jungle Fugitives: A Tale of Life and Adventure in India<br />Including also Many Stories of Amer by Ellis (ebook reader play store .TXT) 📗

had counted on the pride and happiness that would be his when he walked into the house and tossed the whole eighteen dollars in his mother's lap. How her eyes would sparkle, and how proud he would be!

"Lemme see," said the skinflint, when settling day arrived; "I was to give you four dollars a month, warn't I?"

"It was six," replied Bush, respectfully.

"That warn't my understanding, but we'll let it go at that; I've allers been too gin'rous, and my heart's too big for my pocket. Lemme see."

He uttered the last words thoughtfully, as he took his small account-book from his pocket, and began figuring with the stub of a pencil. "Three months at six dollars will be eighteen dollars."

"Yes, sir; that's right."

"Don't interrupt me, young man," sternly remarked the farmer, frowning at him over his spectacles. "The full amount is eighteen dollars—Kerrect—L—em—m—e see; you have et seven breakfasts here; at fifty cents apiece that is three dollars and a half. Then, l—em—m—e see; you was late eleven times, and I've docked you twenty-five cents for each time; that makes two dollars and seventy-five cents."

Inasmuch as Bush's wages amounted hardly to twenty-five cents a day, it must be admitted that this was drawing it rather strong.

"L—em—m—e see," continued Mr. Ashton, wetting the pencil stub between his lips, and resuming his figuring; "your board amounts to three dollars and a half; your loss of time to two seventy-five; that makes six and a quarter, which bein' took from eighteen dollars, leaves 'leven seventy-five. There you are!"

As he spoke, he extended his hand, picked up a small canvas bag from the top of his old-fashioned writing-desk, and tossed it to the dumfounded boy. The latter heard the coins inside jingle, as it fell in his lap, and, as soon as he could command his voice, he swallowed the lump in his throat, and faintly asked:

"Is that—is that right, Mr. Ashton?"

"Count it and see for yourself," was the curt response.

This was not exactly what Bush meant, but he mechanically unfastened the cord around the throat of the little bag, tumbled the coins out in his hat and slowly counted them. They footed up exactly eleven dollars and seventy-five cents, proving that Mr. Ashton's figuring was altogether unnecessary, and that he had arranged the business beforehand.

While Bush was examining the coins, his heart gave a sudden quick throb. He repressed all signs of the excitement he felt, however.

"How do you find it?" asked the man, who had never removed his eyes from him, "Them coins have been in the house more'n fifty year—that is, some of 'em have, but they're as good as if they's just from the mint, and bein' all coin, you can never lose anything by the bank bustin'."

"It is correct," said Bush.

"Ar' you satisfied?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then sign this receipt, and we're square."

The lad sat down at the desk and attached his name in a neat round hand to the declaration that he had received payment in full for his services from Mr. Zephaniah Ashton, up to the first of September of the current year.

"This is all mine, Mr. Ashton?"

"Of course—what do you mean by axin' that?"

"Nothing; good-day."

"Good-day," grunted the miser, turning his back, as a hint for him to leave—a hint which Bush did not need, for he was in a tumult of excitement.

"That is the queerest thing that ever happened," he said to himself when he reached the public highway, and began hurrying along the road in the direction of Newark. "If he had paid me my full wages I would have told him, but all these are mine, and I shall sell them; won't Professor Hartranft be delighted, but not half as much as mother and I will be."

That evening Mr. Ashton and his wife had just finished their supper when Professor Hartranft, a pleasant, refined-looking gentleman, knocked at their door.

"I wish to inquire," said he, after courteously saluting the couple, "whether you have any old coins in the house."

"No," was the surly response of the farmer, "we don't keep 'em."

"But you had quite a collection."

"I had 'leven dollars and seventy-five cents' worth, but I paid 'em out this mornin'."

"To a boy named Bushrod Wyckoff?"

"Yas."

"They were given to him unreservedly?—that is, you renounce all claim upon them?"

"What the blazes ar' you drivin' at?" demanded the angry farmer. "I owed him 'leven dollars and seventy-five cents for wages, and I paid him purcisely that amount, and have his receipt in full. I'd like to know what business it is of yours anyway."

Now came the professor's triumph.

"Young Wyckoff called at my office this afternoon, and I bought a number of the coins from him."

"What!" exclaimed the amazed farmer, "you didn't pay him nothin' extra for that rusty old money, did you? You must be crazy."

"I did, and shall make a handsome thing of it. For instance, among the coins which you gave him was a copper penny, with a liberty cap, of 1793; I paid Bush three dollars for that; I gave him twenty-five dollars for a half dime coined in 1802; twenty dollars for a quarter dollar of 1827; the same sum for a half dollar, fillet head, of 1796; and, what caps all, five hundred dollars for a silver dollar of 1804. There are only five or six of the latter in existence, and I shall sell this specimen for at least eight hundred dollars. Mr. Ashton, sometimes a mean man overreaches himself, and it looks as though you had made a mistake. I bid you good-day, sir."

The numismatist spoke the truth; and when the miserly old farmer realized how completely he had turned the tables on himself, it is enough to say that his feelings may be "better imagined than described."