The Haunted Mine

by Harry Castlemon

"'Honesty is the best policy,' is it?" mused Casper, watching Claus as he took up his stand in the door and looked away down the railroad. "Some people would believe him, but I have known him too long for that. I wish I knew what he has in his head. He is going to try to get his hands on that 'old horse'; and if he does, I hope he will fail, just as we have done. He need not think that I am going to hold fast to him. I have had one lesson through him, and that is enough."

Claus did not seem anxious to renew his conversation with Casper. He had heard all the latter's plans, as far as he had any, and now he wanted to think up some of his own. He walked up and down the platform with his hands behind his back, all the while keeping a bright lookout down the road for the train.

"I must go to Denver, because I shall want to make the acquaintance of some fellows there whom I know I can trust," soliloquized Claus. "I can get plenty of men in St. Louis, but they are not the ones I want. I must have some men who know all about mining, and perhaps I can get them to scrape an acquaintance with Julian. That will be all the better, for then I can find out what he is going to do. Well, we will see how it looks when I get home."

For half an hour Claus walked the platform occupied with such thoughts as these, and finally a big smoke down the track told him the train was coming. He stuck his head in at the door and informed Casper of the fact, and when the train came up he boarded one of the forward cars, leaving his companion to do as he pleased.

"You are going to shake me," thought Casper, as he stepped aboard the last car in the train. "Well, you might as well do it at one time as at another. I have all the money I can get out of you, but I am not square with you by any means. From this time forward I'll look out for myself."

And the longer Casper pondered upon this thought, the more heartily he wished he had never seen Claus in the first place. He did not sleep a wink during his ride to St. Louis, but got off the train when it reached its destination and took a straight course for his room. The apartment seemed cheerless after his experience on the train, but he closed the door, threw himself into a chair, and resumed his meditations, for thus far he had not been able to decide upon anything.

"I am hungry," thought he, at length, "and after I have satisfied my appetite I will do just what I told Claus—go around to the different stores and ask them if they want a boy. I tell you that will be a big come-down for me, but it serves me right for having anything to do with Claus."

We need not go with Casper any further. For three nights he returned from his long walks tired and hungry, and not a single storekeeper to whom he had applied wanted a boy for any purpose whatever. Sometimes he had sharp words to dishearten him. "No, no; get out of here—you are the fifth boy who has been at me this morning;" and Casper always went, for fear the man would lay violent hands on him. On the fourth night he came home feeling a little better than usual. He had been hired for a few days to act as porter in a wholesale dry-goods store, and he had enough money in his pocket to pay for a good supper. The wages he received were small—just about enough to pay for breakfast and supper; but when the few days were up the hurry was over, and Casper was once more a gentleman of leisure. And so it was during the rest of the summer and fall. He could not get anything to do steadily, his clothes were fast wearing out, and the landlord came down on him for his rent when he did not have a cent in his pocket. Utterly discouraged, at last he wrote to his mother for money to carry him to his home; and so he passes out of our sight.

As for Claus, we wish we could dispose of him in the same way; but unfortunately we cannot. Everybody was glad to see him when he entered the pool-room where he had been in the habit of playing, and more than one offered him a cigar. He told a long story about some business he had to attend to somewhere out West, and when he talked he looked up every time the door opened, as if fearful that Casper would come in to bother him for more money. But Casper was sick of Claus. The lesson he had received from him was enough.

Claus remained in St. Louis for two months; and he must have been successful, too, for the roll of bills he carried away with him was considerably larger than the one which Casper had seen. When he was ready to go he bade everybody good-bye, and this time he carried his trunk with him. He was going out West to attend to "some business," which meant that he was going to keep watch of Julian and Jack in some way, and be ready to pounce upon them when they worked their mine—that is, if they were successful with it.