CHAPTER XXXV. A TRAGEDY.

I have said that the passengers were astonished at discovering that the notorious road agent was their fellow-traveller. There were two, however, who were not wholly surprised—the miner who had related his cousin’s story and the farmer who had had a sharp colloquy with the black-eyed man.

For a minute no one moved or spoke.

“Come,” said Dike impatiently; “I have no time to waste. Give me your money.”

“Do you want mine?” asked Grant, who was entirely willing to give up the small amount of gold coin he had with him, if he could save the dust in his valise.

“No; I don’t care for the trifle you have, nor the other boy’s money, but those miners over there must give up their treasure, and my agricultural friends also.”

294“If you want my money, come and get it!” growled the miner already referred to.

“I say the same,” added the farmer.

“I will stand no nonsense,” said Stephen Dike.

“It’s hard luck,” grumbled the miner, “to give up all my hard earnings.”

“Give up your money, and grumble afterward,” rejoined Dike.

The miner thrust his hand into his pocket, and then, in an excited voice, exclaimed suddenly, as he peered out of the coach, “Ha, friends! there is help approaching. See!” And he pointed, with outstretched finger, beyond Stephen Dike.

The road agent, taken by surprise, turned quickly. The step was fatal to him. The miner, who had pulled a revolver from his pocket, fired without an instant’s delay, and Stephen Dike fell backward, instantly killed. The miner’s bullet had penetrated his temple. So unexpected was the assault that the road agent had not even time to discharge his own pistols. They fell upon the ground from his 295nerveless hands, and one of them accidentally went off, but did no harm.

The Road Agent meets his Match.

“My cousin is avenged!” exclaimed the miner grimly.

“Give me your hand, sir!” said the farmer. “You have saved us all, and rid the State of California of the most dangerous outlaw within its limits.”

“It seems hard to rejoice in the death of a fellow-being,” observed the teacher, “but no one can grieve over the taking off of such a man. Gentlemen, let us remove the body to some place less public.”

The passengers got out, and were joined by the driver.

“There is a reward of five thousand dollars offered by the authorities for the capture of Stephen Dike, dead or alive,” he said. “What gentleman killed him?”

“I did,” answered the miner; “but I want no reward. I should look upon it as blood money. What I did, I did in defence of my fellow-passengers and myself.”

Stephen Dike lay upon the ground, his 296features still wearing the cynical smile habitual to him. Death had come upon him so suddenly that there had not been time even to change the expression of his face.

“I suppose this man has committed many robberies?” said the teacher to the stage-driver.

“No one knows how many, but he has robbed my stage four times.”

“How did it happen that you did not recognize him when he booked as a passenger?”

“He has always worn a mask when I saw him before. This time he became bolder, and presented himself without disguise. I remember being struck by his appearance, and wondering whether I had not met him before, but it did not occur to me that it was the famous road agent, Stephen Dike.”

The passengers took the lifeless body, and drew it to one side of the road.

“Ought we not to bury it?” asked the teacher.

“I can’t bear to put beneath the sod a man who, but fifteen minutes since, was as full of life as we are. Let us leave that office to 297some one else. We can affix to the tree, beneath which he lies, a paper giving his name.”

This proposal was approved. One of the passengers produced a sheet of paper and a travelling inkstand, and this placard was affixed to the trunk of the tree:
This man is
STEPHEN DIKE,
THE ROAD AGENT.
Killed while attempting to rob the Sacramento coach.

“We ought, perhaps, to examine his pockets, and see if we can find anything to throw light on his career.”

This was the suggestion of one of the passengers.

“No,” said the miner; “leave that to the persons who may find him. If he has money about him, leave it to others. I have been the instrument of Heaven’s retribution. Should I take anything of value from him, I would be degraded to his own level.”

This remark seemed to voice the general sentiment, and, after an interval of only ten minutes, the stage was again on its way to San Francisco.

298Grant and Robert were strongly impressed by what had happened. Neither of them had ever seen a death by violence before.

“It’s awful!” said Robert, shuddering.

“But he deserved his fate,” returned Grant.

“So he did; but it is terrible to have death come so suddenly.”

“You are right, lad!” said the miner. “I feel entirely justified in what I did, but it was a fearful necessity. It is something I shall never be able to forget.”

There was no further adventure to record in the two days’ ride. Toward nightfall of the second day they reached the city of the Golden Gate, and the passengers separated. Grant regretted parting with Robert Campbell, to whom he had become warmly attached, but was glad to think they would have opportunities of meeting in San Francisco.

Before separating, he undeceived Robert as to his circumstances.

“I suppose,” he said, “you think me very poor?”

“I wouldn’t judge from your clothes that you were wealthy,” returned Robert, smiling.

299“That’s why I wear them. In this valise which I carry, I have about fifteen hundred dollars in gold-dust.”

“You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Robert in surprise.

“Yes; but only half of it belongs to me. I have more at the mines, however. I feared to be robbed, and so put on the appearance of a tramp. Now, I shall buy a respectable suit.”

“I am glad you are able to do so; but even in your poor clothes I was glad to have met you.”

“Thank you, Rob. We have known each other but two days, but I shall always look upon you as a friend.”

The two boys shook hands cordially, and Grant set out in the direction of the Alameda Hotel. Before he arrived there, he saw Mr. Crosmont walking thoughtfully through Kearney Street, with his eyes fixed upon the ground.

“Mr. Crosmont!” he exclaimed eagerly.

Giles Crosmont looked up quickly, and his face brightened as he recognized Grant.

“Grant Colburn!” he cried joyfully, seizing 300the boy by the hand. “I am, indeed, glad to see you. When did you arrive?”

“Just now, by stage from Sacramento.”

“And you are well? But I see you are. You don’t look prosperous; but that doesn’t matter. With me you will want for nothing.”

“Mr. Crosmont,” said Grant smiling, “you shouldn’t judge a man, or boy, by his clothes. Do you see this valise?”

“Well?”

“It contains fifteen hundred dollars’ worth of gold-dust.”

“Yours?”

“Half of it is mine. Half of it belongs to my partner. I wore old clothes, because I did not want to be thought rich.”

“Was there need of all this caution?”

“You shall judge for yourself. Our stage was held up by Stephen Dike.”

“The daring road agent? I have heard of him. Did he plunder the passengers?”

Grant explained the ruse by which Stephen Dike had lost his life.

“He was a scoundrel! I have no pity for him. And now come with me, and I will take 301you to my home. I have two rooms, and I shall install you in one of them.”

“How about my gold-dust?”

“As soon as you have washed, and are provided with a new suit, I will take you to a banker, who will weigh and allow you the market price for it.”

“But I shall have no money to pay for the suit till I have sold the dust.”

Mr. Crosmont smiled.

“The suit will be a present from me,” he said.

And no small present it proved to be, for clothing was very dear in San Francisco at that time, so that a ready-made suit, which could be bought in any Eastern city for twenty dollars, or less, cost ninety.

The gold-dust brought a trifle over fifteen hundred dollars, which was entered to Grant’s account on the books of the bank.

“Have you any letters for me, Mr. Crosmont?” asked Grant. “I haven’t heard from home for a long time.”

“Here is a letter which arrived by the last steamer.”

302Grant read it eagerly. It was from his mother, and contained important news. Instead of reproducing the letter, we will go back to Grant’s Iowa home, and let the reader know what happened there since he started for the land of gold.