Cringle and cross-tree

by Oliver Optic

"Don't think of it any more, Mr. Lamar."

"But he offers to sell it to me for half its value, for he is going to leave the country—"

"For his country's good," I suggested.

"That may be; but he wants the money."

I inquired into the matter a little more closely, and found the land was that which had ruined Mr. Charles Whippleton, and which he had deeded to Mr. Collingsby in settlement for the deficiencies in his accounts. It was a fraud on the face of it, and I explained the matter to Mr. Lamar so far as I understood it; but I could not see myself in what manner Waterford expected to convey the property, since he had already deeded it to Whippleton. The two speculators had owned the land together, but Waterford had conveyed his share to Whippleton, who was to pay ten thousand dollars from his ill-gotten gains for the deed, when they ran away together. I had prevented them from running away together, and Mr. Whippleton from running away at all; consequently, the ten thousand dollars had never been paid, though the deed had been duly signed and recorded. The property had since been mortgaged to Mr. Collingsby, who held it at the present time.

It appeared that Waterford had given the deed, but had not received the payment. He was sore on the point, and claimed that the deed for his share of the land was null and void, and that he had a right to sell it again. He had borrowed the money to enable him to purchase it, and the debts thus contracted had caused his failure. But I do not propose to follow Waterford in his land speculations, and I need only say that he was engaged in an attempt to swindle my friend. My statement opened the eyes of Mr. Lamar, and he investigated the matter. Once more I was a stumbling-block in the path of Ben Waterford.

On the day the steamer in which I had engaged my passage to Pittsburg was to sail, I called upon Mr. Lamar again; for I was curious to know the result of the business. Waterford had been to see him again, and the negotiation had been summarily closed. I was thankful for the opportunity of saving one of my friends from loss; for Waterford was a very plausible man, and had grown reckless by misfortune. I had no doubt Mr. Whippleton, who was now in business in Cincinnati, was concerned in the affair.

I bade adieu to all my friends in St. Louis. Mrs. Greenough cried heartily when I took leave of her, and declared that she never expected to see me again, I was going away so many thousand miles. My father went with me to the steamer, and gave me much good advice, which I gratefully treasured up. I found my state-room, and having placed my trunk in it, I spent my last hour in St. Louis in talking with my father. I hoped to bring my mother there in a few months. With a hearty shake of the hand we parted, when the steamer backed out from the levee.

I went to my room then, for I wanted to be alone. I was going away on a long journey, and upon my mission seemed to hang all the joys of life. I prayed to God for strength to be true to the principles in which I had been so faithfully instructed, and that our little family might soon be reunited, after a separation of about sixteen years. I thought of the past, and recalled all the friends who had been kind to me. The Gracewoods were uppermost in my thoughts; for they were among the first who had loved me. To Mr. Gracewood I owed my education, and he had taken pains to give me high principles, upon which to found my life-structure. Ella Gracewood, whom I had saved from the Indians, was an angel in my thoughts. She was beautiful to look upon, though it was four years since I had seen her. She was seventeen now, and my imagination was active in picturing her as she had become during this long absence.

Ella Gracewood was something more than a dream to me; she was a reality. I had the pleasant satisfaction of knowing that she had not forgotten me; for I had received an occasional letter from her, in which she reviewed the stirring scenes of the past, and spoke hopefully of meeting me again at no distant period in the future. I took from my pocket a letter which had come to me from her father only a few days before, and which had given direction, in part, to my thoughts at the present time. The family had passed the winter in Rome, and intended to sail for home about the last of April. Mr. Gracewood had a friend who was in command of a ship which was to sail for New York at this time from Messina, and he had decided to come with him. The ship was the Bayard, Captain Allyn.