CHAPTER IV FUNDS FOR THE ENTERPRISE
Ben’s first impulse was to go home and change his clothes, which showed the contact of dust and soot; but it was past three o’clock and he was afraid if he did not make haste he would not see the proper authorities.
He stopped at Hodges’ shop to wash his face and hands.
Mr. Hodges was fitting a key to a metal box.
“Hello!” he remarked as Ben hurried past him to the rear of the shop. “You look as if you’d found your fortune already.”
“Maybe I have,” Ben replied. “I’ll let you know when I’ve verified the find.”
Mr. Hodge stared. He had a lurking suspicion that he was being made game of.
“A young feller always knows it all,” he commented. “He’s always so cocksure.”
“Wonder if I am that way,” thought Ben, as he pursued his way down the street. “Anyway, I’d rather fail than never have been through it. There’s something doing, and I’m in it!”
He was so preoccupied as he hurried along that once he narrowly escaped being run down by a whizzing electric car.
The prospect opening before him fairly made him dizzy with delight. He felt that he had suddenly become a man, and dimly wondered how it was possible that a month before he had played “shinny” and “pee-wee” with the other boys, as if there were nothing else to live for. And now—he had gone into business! He would succeed—he must succeed!
Mingled with his delight at his sudden good luck, there was a feeling of relief that he had resisted the temptation to go into debt.
At length he came in sight of the Custom House, a dilapidated brick building, the first floor of which was used as the main post-office. Ben slowly climbed the winding stone stairs. He suddenly wanted more time than the elevator would allow to think of how he should tell his story.
After a short delay he was ushered into the presence of the Collector of the Port. Ben explained his plan and his accidental discovery of the opium.
He fancied that the official and a gentleman who was sitting in the room seemed to be much more interested in his scheme to work over the bricks and rubbish of the old Smelting Works for gold, than they were in the discovery of the opium.
He noted that the visitor was addressed as “Mr. Hale,” and he wondered if he were the well-known lawyer of whom he had heard. This gentleman asked Ben several questions in relation to his plan; and although his eyes and voice were kind, the boy’s sensitive spirit shrank under the tone of the questioner. The amusement in his eyes seemed to foretell the failure of the venture.
The attention of the chief being called to other matters, he sent for a deputy to whom he referred Ben’s case. This official, also, appeared to be much interested in Ben’s private affairs, and plied him with questions, some of which were, apparently, irrelevant.
Nettled, he knew not why, by the man’s manner and questions, Ben finally asserted himself.
“I bought the property to work over for what I could get out of it,” he said. “By accident I found a lot of opium hidden on the premises, and I expect to get the thirty-three per cent. which the law allows.” The look which accompanied this speech said plainer than words, “Now, what are you going to do about it?”
Mr. Cutter meditatively regarded the speaker. “We’ll set a watch there to-night and catch some of the gang if we can,” he finally remarked. “You’re a pretty smart boy,”—he brought his hand down on Ben’s shoulder,—“can you keep a secret?”
Ben nodded.
“See that you do, then. And caution the friend who was with you to tell no one,—absolutely no one. Such news goes like wildfire.”
“We wouldn’t be apt to tell and run the risk of losing the reward.”
“Umph! Some folks couldn’t keep a secret if their lives depended upon it. That’s all,” he curtly added. “When I want you I’ll send for you.”
Without knowing why, Ben mistrusted this man. “Cutter is your name, and I sha’n’t forget you,” he said to himself, as he retraced his steps to North Beach.
Mundon was anxiously awaiting his return.
“Did they snub you? Did you see the head?” he asked.
Ben related his experience.
“You were in luck to see the Collector,” commented Mundon.
“My belief is that the chief’s all right in such cases,—a big man who won’t stoop to no dirty business and who’ll listen to a feller’s story and treat him fair. He’s got a sense of what he’s ben put in office for, by the people, to serve the people. But a smarty clerk who takes delight in snubbing the people who really give him his bread and butter—deliver me from him! He’s gen’rally a failure, a ne’er-do-well, who’s got his place through his second cousin’s husband havin’ a pull, and because he couldn’t support himself and had to be taken care of by his family,—and he just thinks he runs this whole government.”
“They’ll be here about dark, I suppose,” Ben remarked. “I’m going to watch, too.”
“Well, I think I’ll be excused,” Mundon remarked. “In my opinion, there ain’t one chance in a hundred of their catchin’ ’em.”
“Why shouldn’t they catch them if they come back here for the opium?” Ben innocently inquired.
“Why, boy, there’s more plaguey ramifications to a gang like that. From what you’ve told me, it wouldn’t surprise me to find that this man Cutter’s in it himself. Most likely every move you’ve made has ben known to ’em; and they’d hev taken the stuff away if they’d got a chance.”
All that night the Custom House men kept a watch at the Works.
Ben watched with them, looking off on the waters of the bay and listening for the dip of muffled oars. More than once he fancied he heard the smugglers approaching, and his heart beat fast as he waited to be sure before calling the men.
He felt a great distaste for his position, and correctly attributed Mundon’s refusal to join in the watch to the same reason. When morning dawned he experienced a distinct relief that nothing had occurred during the night to place him in the position of an informer.