When they got ashore they found themselves surrounded by the sights and sounds of the city, and they were so taken up with them that they could not say much to each other. Thompson kept close at Carl’s side all the way, for he was afraid that if he became separated from him he would get lost among the drays and pedestrians. Carl knew right where he was going, and in process of time reached the bank. He entered as though he had a perfect right there, and once on the inside he found himself confronted by a long line of men who had come there on business—brokers’ clerks who had come there to get their boxes, and others to get their checks cashed—and, standing his friends up against a desk, fell into the rear and patiently waited until his turn came. Then he handed out the letter he had found in his father’s will and inquired if Mr. Morphy was anywhere about.

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“Yes, sir,” said the cashier. “He is in his private office.”

“Will you be kind enough to send that letter in to him?” said Carl; and then he left the line and took his stand beside his companions. “When he comes out and asks me in I want you to go with me,” he said to them in a low tone.

Carl saw the clerk who had the letter in his possession vanish through a rear door, and while he was thinking about it Mr. Morphy came out. He glanced hastily at the men, and then advanced and took Carl by the hand.

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Preston,” said he, with a touch of sadness in his tones. “I am sorry that your father is not here with you. Come into the office.”

“I shall have to ask these men to go also,” said Carl.

“Certainly. Bring them right along.”

When he got into the office he put out chairs for them, but every thing was so neat and elegant that Thompson did not want to sit down; but he kept a close watch of Carl, Page 272 and seeing that the latter promptly seated himself, he finally followed his example.

“I have not read your father’s letter yet,” said the president, “and if you will excuse me I will do it now. I have only read that he is dead, but I can hardly realize it. Did he die suddenly?”

“It was sudden enough when it came, but I suppose he lingered along as all men do who are suffering from that disease,” answered Carl. “It seems he thought that the letter would tell who I was.”

“Oh, I would have known you anyway. If I see a man’s face once, I can always remember him.”

The president then went on reading the letter, and when he got through he was ready for business.

“I suppose you want some money,” he said briskly. “Make out a check for what you want and you can have it.”

Carl took the paper and the pen that were passed over to him and speedily made out his check for ten thousand dollars. The president looked at it to make sure that it was all Page 273 right, and went into the room where the cashier was. When he came out he had a big roll of bills in his hands.

“I suppose you want to pay the terms of the will with this, and so I have got it in small bills,” said he.

“That is all right,” said Carl. “Thank you, I don’t want to go over it. I wish you would count out fifteen hundred dollars and give it to my cousin here, Claude Preston. He comes in for one share.”

The president complied, and when Claude had taken the money (he never said “Thank you!” for it, either) Carl turned to Thompson.

“I want you to make room about your clothes to stow this money in,” said he. “Then I shall feel safe.”

Thompson, without saying a word, got upon his feet, and thrusting his hands one after the other into the inside pockets of his coat, brought out two big navy revolvers, which he laid upon the desk. Mr. Morphy looked on with surprise and remarked that Carl intended to have his money defended, at any rate.

“Yes; the people here in St. Louis are all Page 274 strangers to me, and I shall feel a good deal safer when I get back to my ranch,” said Carl, rising to his feet. “One does not know when he is safe.”

“That is a fact,” said Mr. Morphy; “and let me tell you one thing right here: Don’t make any friends at all. If a man comes to you and appears cordial and inquires after your health, go away from him and let him entirely alone. He is friendly to your money, but he is not at all friendly to you.”

“I’ll bear that in mind,” said Carl, for he was not very well posted in regard to all the tricks that sharpers make use of to trap innocent victims. “We thank you for your kindness.”

Mr. Morphy bowed, accompanied them to the front door, and saw them start toward their boat. Claude said nothing at all, for he was almost overwhelmed by the sight of the eight thousand dollars that Thompson had in his bosom. He saw that his shirt stuck out until a person would think he was wonderfully developed about the chest. He imagined how he would feel if that money was his own.

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“I wish I had some place to carry these revolvers,” said the foreman anxiously. “I have got to carry them in my hip pockets, and every one who comes up behind me can see them.”

“That shows that you are ready to defend what you have in your shirt,” said Carl with a laugh. “But that is all in your favor. There is a law against carrying concealed weapons, but yours are not concealed. Every one who looks at you knows that you have them.”

At this moment, as if to show that Carl was right in his surmises, a policeman came along, and after taking a look at Thompson, turned and gave him another look as he passed. He saw the butts of the navy revolvers sticking out of his pockets, and then smiled at Carl and passed on as if he thought it was all right.

“There, Thompson, that cop saw your pistols and never said a word to you,” said he.

“What cop?” asked Thompson in surprise.

“Why, that policeman. Your revolvers are not concealed, and so he took no notice of it.”

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“Then I am all right,” said the foreman, immensely relieved. “I supposed that he would arrest me for having those weapons about me. Oh, yes, I am all right.”

“Well, boys, here is your boat, and I presume you will go aboard of her,” said Claude, as they arrived upon the levee. “I believe I will take leave of you right here.”

“What are you going to do with that money you have in your pocket?” asked Carl. “You ought to put it in the bank, where it will be safe.”

“I will attend to that the first thing I do. I will bet you that nobody will get it out of me. Good-by.”

Thompson drew a long breath of relief, while Carl held out his hand to his cousin. He did not say that he was sorry to have him go away where he might never see him again, because he wasn’t. He hoped that, Claude having got away from the ranch, things would go on as smoothly as they had done before he came there. But Claude, although he shook his cousin’s hand heartily, was not yet done with him by any means. He had his eye on Page 277 that wad of money that Thompson carried in his shirt, and he did not intend to see the last of Carl until he had the handling of some of it.

“If you are going away before I have time to show you some of the sights of the city, I don’t know but I might as well bid you go............