George at the Wheel

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Castlemon Harry. George at the Wheel

CHAPTER I. UNCLE JOHN AND NED

CHAPTER II. A SURPRISE

CHAPTER III. THE CONTRA-GUERRILLAS

CHAPTER IV. MORE ABOUT SILK STOCKING

CHAPTER V "HOLD UP THERE, SILVER BUTTONS!"

CHAPTER VI. GEORGE PROVES AN ALIBI

CHAPTER VII. A STORMY INTERVIEW

CHAPTER VIII. LIFE IN THE PILOT-HOUSE

CHAPTER IX. THE PILOT'S GRATITUDE

CHAPTER X. TONY RICHARDSON

CHAPTER XI. DOWN THE RIVER ON A COAL-BARGE

CHAPTER XII. TONY FINDS A FRIEND

CHAPTER XIII. ON BOARD THE PRINCETON

CHAPTER XIV. TONY MAKES ANOTHER BREAK

CHAPTER XV. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE

CHAPTER XVI. WALKER DISCOVERS SOMETHING

CHAPTER XVII. THE KEY OF THE SAFE

CHAPTER XVIII. CONCLUSION

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The settlement in which Uncle John and Ned lived was composed of two classes of men, the farmers and the ranchemen. The former devoted themselves to tilling the soil, and the ranchemen to raising cattle for market. The ranchemen did not like their neighbors, for every farm that was located and fenced in took away just so many acres of their pasture, and the farmers did not like the ranchemen, because their cattle broke down the fences and destroyed the crops. The little difficulties that were constantly arising between these two classes of men gradually gave way to greater ones, until at last the farmers began shooting the stock that broke into their fields, and the ranchemen revenged themselves by shooting the farmers. This led to a state of affairs that can hardly be described; but the troubles had all been satisfactorily settled, and would, perhaps, never have been thought of again if Ned Ackerman's evil genius had not put it into his idle brain to raise another "neighborhood row," as he called it, just to be revenged upon the settlers for paying so little attention to him. His Cousin George urged him to abandon the idea, telling him in so many words that, if he persisted, the country would be made too hot to hold him; but Ned would not listen. He and Gus Robbins shot the cattle, as we have described, and their punishment followed close upon the heels of it.

George Ackerman was unlike his Cousin Ned in every respect. He was industrious and saving, and by his own unaided efforts he had accumulated property in stock worth six thousand dollars. He spent almost all his time in company with his herdsman, Zeke, in taking care of these cattle. He preferred living in camp to living at the rancho, for the old house did not seem like home to him any longer, and neither did his relatives act as though they wanted him there. The truth of the matter was they did not want him there, and they had not been long at the rancho before they began laying plans to drive him away. In order to accomplish this, Ned urged his father to take George's herd of cattle away from him, believing that if it were done, George would be too badly discouraged to raise another, and that he would go off somewhere to seek his fortune, leaving him and his father to manage the estate as they saw fit. But George positively refused to surrender the herd for which he had worked so long and faithfully, and said, more by his manner than by words, that if Uncle John attempted to take it from him by force, he and Zeke would make a most desperate resistance.

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A bed which consists simply of a blanket and saddle is quickly made up, and George, who had not yet recovered from the fatigue of his five days' journey on foot, fell fast asleep almost as soon as he took possession of it. When he awoke at daylight he was not a little astonished at what he saw. The rooms opening off the court-yard, which had been so silent and apparently deserted when he rode into the rancho had, during his sleep, given up a most unexpected tenantry – men, women, children, goats and dogs, so many, in fact, that it was a wonder where they all came from. A confused babel of voices saluted his ears, and finally awoke his captors, who made no effort to restrain him when he put on his sombrero and walked out into the courtyard.

Having heard some astonishing stories told of the almost regal state maintained by wealthy Mexican rancheros before the war, George looked about him with the greatest interest. On every side he saw the lingering remains of departed grandeur. In the centre of the court-yard was a ruined fountain, and beyond it was a long column of fluted pillars, with gaily-carved capitals. In front of these pillars were the remains of a garden, now trodden hard with the pressure of many feet, but still affording a little sustenance to a few flowerless shrubs and one or two sickly orange and fig trees. Upon the broad stone verandah on the other side of the fluted columns the master of the house had doubtless feasted his guests, or smoked and dozed away the time in his hammock, while the fountain played merrily and the air was redolent of the perfume of flowers. Now slouching figures, clad in rusty leather trowsers and velvet jackets, and smoking villainous cigarettes, swaggered through the court-yard, and from the adjoining rooms, with their tessellated floors and frescoed ceilings, came the impatient calls of hungry cattle and horses, which were growing tired of waiting for their breakfast.

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