“You asked me,” spoke Bob with a smile. “I’m sorry, but I had an important engagement just then and couldn’t spare the time to take you.”
“Hum! Yes, you’re the same chap,” said Mr. Beegle, looking critically at Bob. “I don’t blame you a bit. Business first always—that’s a good rule. I waited for one of them taxi fellers like you told me to, but they wanted ten dollars to take me to Storm Mountain. I said I wanted to hire one of their cars, not buy it, and they laughed at me.”
“Ten dollars was too much,” observed Bob, looking at his watch, and trying to decide if he could make the baseball park in time to see the end of the big game. He wanted to do the Samaritan act, also, in looking after this stranger, for he did not think it either kind or wise to let him go off by himself on the five mile tramp.
“It was about eight dollars too much,” said the old man. “I would be willing to pay two, but not ten. Well, I can walk it.”
“No,” said Bob, coming to a sudden decision, “I’ll take you. I have a car and I’ve got nothing important to do now.” He had a somewhat selfish motive in making this offer—he wanted to find out more about Hiram Beegle and about Rod Marbury. He wanted to know what valuables the box contained, and why the attack had been made.
“Well, it’s mighty decent of you to want to give me a lift,” said Mr. Beegle. “I take it right kind of you. But if you do take me to my cabin I want to pay you. I’ll give you two dollars.”
“I don’t want your money,” laughed Bob.
“Then I won’t ride with you!” The old man was very firm about this. “Hiram Beegle can pay his way—there are a few shots left in the locker yet, and if things go right I’ll be rich some day,” and he shook the brass-bound box, “I’ll pay you two dollars or I’ll walk!” he concluded with a shake of his grizzled head.
“Oh, well, have it your own way,” chuckled the lad. “I’m in neither the taxi nor jitney business, but I’ll take your money, though it won’t take that much gasolene or oil to put you in Storm Mountain. Where in the town do you live?”
“I don’t live in the town, exactly,” said the old man. “I live all alone in a log cabin up on the side of the mountain. It’s a fairly good road there, or I wouldn’t let you take your car up it.”