Jr. Horatio Alger

“ There is a fatal fascination about danger. Just as the moth hovers persistently about the flame, to which in the end he falls a victim, so we are disposed to draw near dangers at which we shudder. We like to see it for ourselves, and, shuddering, to say: "Suppose I should fall in."
Our young hero was of a daring disposition. He had never been timid or nervous, inheriting his father's physical traits, not his mother's. So Sharpley's proposal struck him favorably, being an appeal to his courage. ”

“ Craven, with a glance at his wife, "Just now it would be a little inconvenient for me to leave my business."
"I fancy this young man would like to go," said Sharpley, turning to Frank.
"Indeed I should," said Frank, eagerly. "There is nothing in the world I should like better."
"Come, I have an idea to propose," said Sharpley, as if it had struck him; "if you'll let him go with me, I will look after him, and at the end of three months, or any other period you may name, I will put him on board a steamer bound for New York. It will do him an immense deal of good." ”

“ I have a presentiment that Frank is alive."
"I did not think you were so superstitious, my dear," said Mr. Craven.
"Call it superstition if you please. With me it is conviction."
Involuntarily the eyes of the two—Craven and Sharpley—met. There were irritation and perplexity in the expression of each. What could be done with such a perverse woman, so wholly inaccessible to reason?
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"Confound it!" thought Sharpley. "If I had foreseen all this trouble, I would have stayed and seen the brat under ground. Of all the unreasonable women I ever met, Mrs. Craven takes the palm." ”

“ Early on Wednesday morning, eleven days from the date of sailing, the good steamer which bore our hero as passenger, steamed into the harbor of Liverpool. As may readily be supposed, Frank was on deck, gazing with eager expectation at the great city before him, with its solid docks, and the indications of its wide-spreading commerce.
"Well, Frank, we are almost there," said Colonel Sharpley.
"Yes, sir. Isn't it glorious!" exclaimed our hero, with enthusiasm.
"I don't see anything glorious," said a voice at his side. ”

“ But, on the other hand, there came the shuddering thought that he had wrought the death of an unoffending boy, who had looked up to him as a guide and protector, but whom he had only lured to his ruin.
"Are accidents frequent among the mountains?" asked one of the guests, addressing Baptiste, the guide.
"No, monsieur; not in this part. When travelers are hurt or killed, it is because they are careless or go without guides."
"As I did," said Sharpley, who felt it would be polite to take upon himself this blame, and so skilfully evade suspicion of a graver fault. ”

“ High up among the Bernese Alps stands the Hotel du Glacier. It is a small hotel, of limited accommodations, but during the season it is generally full of visitors. The advantage is, that a comparatively short walk carries one to a point where he has a fine view of that mountain scenery which is the glory of Switzerland, and draws thither thousands of pilgrims annually.
In rustic chairs outside sat at eight o'clock in the morning our young hero, Frank Hunter, and his temporary guardian, Colonel Sharpley. In front a beautiful prospect spread out before the two travelers. ”

“ Had our hero been well provided with money, nothing could have been more agreeable than a pedestrian journey amid the beautiful scenery of the Alps. Even as it was, Frank felt the exhilarating influences of the fresh morning air and the grand scenery, visible on all sides, for he was hemmed in by mountains. ”

“ Hunter.
"But, setting aside my affection, think how much it will relieve you of care. Dear Mrs. Hunter, the care of your property and the [16] responsibility of educating and training your son is too much for a woman."
"Frank never gives me any trouble," said Mrs. Hunter. "He is a good boy."
"He is a disagreeable young scamp, in my opinion," thought Mr. Craven, but he said, unwittingly speaking the truth:
"He is indeed a noble boy, with excellent qualities, but you will soon be called upon to form plans for his future, and here you will need the assistance of a man." ”

“ Craven, "Frank may be alive."
"Impossible!" exclaimed Mr. Craven and Sharpley in unison.
"Why impossible?"
"The precipice was too high; it was absolutely impossible that any one could have fallen from such a height and not lose his life."
"But you did not find the body?"
"Because I started for home the very next day to let you know what had happened. I left directions with a guide to search for and bury the body when found. He has doubtless done it. A letter from him may be on the way to me now announcing his success." ”

“ He stopped short, and, with a look of triumphant malice, drew the pistol from his pocket. Pompey stood still, and looked up in his face.
"How can he shoot the poor creetur, and him lookin' up at him so innocent?" thought Katy. "What will I do? Oh, I know—I'll astonish him a little."
Mr. Craven was just pointing the pistol at Pompey, when Katy flung the tumbler with force against his hat, which rolled off. In his fright at the unexpected attack, the pistol went off, but its contents were lodged in a tree near by, and Pompey was unhurt. ”

“ Should he return to the Hotel du Glacier and place himself again in the clutches of his treacherous guardian? He felt that to be out of the question. Besides, he rightly conjectured that Sharpley had already left the hotel. No, he must detach himself wholly from his enemy. He must rely upon himself. He must get home the best way he could, and then expose the conspirators, for he was convinced that Mr. Craven was involved in it. ”

“ And he repeated his version of the accident with well-counterfeited emotion.
"Is there no hope?" asked Henry, with pale face.
Baptiste shook his head.
"I am afraid not," he said; "but I can tell better when I see the place."
"How can there be any hope?" asked Mr. Abercrombie.
"He might have fallen on the deep snow, or on some intermediate ledge, [216] and so saved his life."
"Good Heaven!" thought Sharpley, in dismay. "Suppose it should be so? Suppose he is alive, and should expose me? I should be ruined. But no! It cannot be. There is not one chance in a hundred. ”

“ You can't doubt Frank's death now?"
"I do."
"Good heavens! What do you mean?"
"I mean that I am confident that my boy is alive. No one can convince me to the contrary," and she rose and left the room.
"The woman is mad!" muttered Sharpley.
"So she is," said Craven, rubbing his hands, as an evil thought entered his mind. "She is the subject of a mad delusion. Now I see my way clear."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean this. I will obtain a certificate of her madness from two physicians, and have her confined in an asylum. Of course, a mad woman [324] cannot control property. ”

“ The landlord closely followed him, and addressed himself to Sharpley:
"Will not monsieur have a guide?" he asked.
"No," said Sharpley.
"My son, Baptiste, is an experienced guide, and can show monsieur and his young friend the finest prospects."
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"I shall need no guide," said Sharpley, impatiently. "Frank, come along."
"It will only be six francs," persisted the landlord, "and Baptiste—"
"I don't want Baptiste," said Sharpley, gruffly. "Plague take the man!" he muttered to himself. "He is making himself a regular nuisance." ”

“ They were now walking along a ledge scarcely more than six feet wide, terminating in a sheer precipice.
"I wonder if accidents often happen here?" suggested Frank.
"Such as what?" sharply interrogated his companion.
"I mean such as slipping over these cliffs."
"Not often, I presume," said Sharpley. "No one who exercises common prudence need fear slipping."
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His heart began to beat quicker, for he saw that the moment was approaching in which his fearful work was to be done.
"The dangers of the Alps are very greatly exaggerated," he said, indifferently.
"It looks dangerous," said Frank. ”

“ Frank was interested. He had read books of travels, and he had dreamed of visiting foreign lands. He had thought more than once how much he should enjoy roaming about in countries beyond the sea, but he had never, in his quiet country home, even met one who had made this journey, and he eagerly listened to what Colonel Sharpley had to tell him about these distant lands.
Here supper was announced, and the four sat down.
"Do you take your tea strong, Colonel Sharpley?" asked Mrs. Craven.
"As strong as you can make it. Tea is a favorite drink of mine. ”

“ He had not ceased to mourn for Frank. Still he felt in better spirits than usual, for he had had an interview with a wealthy American capitalist, who had looked into the merits of his plow, and half-promised that he would pay him ten thousand dollars for a half ownership of the patent. This would make Mr. Tarbox a man of great wealth in his native place (Squashboro', State o' Maine) , and enable him to triumph over his friends and relations, who had thought him a fool for going to the expense of a trip to Europe, when he might have invested the same sum in a small farm at home. ”

“ In fact, so far as hotel expenses go, two dollars a day in gold will be quite sufficient in the majority of cases. If meat is required for breakfast, that is additional.
"How good the coffee is," said Frank. "I never tasted it as good in America."
"They know how to make it here, but why didn't you order breakfast?"
"I thought they would supply meat without an order."
"I always want meat; I have got beyond my bread-and-butter days," said Sharpley, with a dash of sarcasm.
"I have not," said Frank, "especially when both are so good. What are your plans for the day, Colonel Sharpley?" ”

“ I'm your step-father," implored Craven. "If that man has attempted your life, I know nothing of it. Blame him; not me."
"Oh, that is your game," said Sharpley, "you cowardly hound! You want to sell me and go scot-free yourself. Then, gentlemen, it becomes my [332] duty to say that this man has no business here. At the time he married this boys mother he had a wife living in London."
"It's a lie!" faltered Craven.
"It's the truth. I saw her two months since, and so did the boy. You remember Mrs. Craven, whom you relieved?"
"Yes," said Frank, in astonishment.
"She is that man's wife." ”

“ She rose from her chair, and left the room.
"What do you think of that, Sharpley?" demanded Craven, when she was out of ear-shot. "Did I not tell you the truth?"
"Yes, your wife is the most perverse, unreasonable woman it was ever [320] my lot to encounter."
"You see the difficulty of our position, don't you?"
"As to the property?"
"Yes. Of course, that's all I care for. Believing, as she does, that Frank is alive, she won't have his property touched."
"It is a pity you are not the guardian, instead of your wife."
"It is a thousand pities. But what can we do? I want your advice." ”

“ As accidents are very apt to happen to careless travelers, let me request you to keep a good lookout for him, and not let him approach too near the edge of precipices, or clefts in the mountains. He might easily fall over, and I shudder, not only to think of his fate in that case, but of the grief which would overwhelm his mother and myself. I beg you will keep us apprised of his health, and should any accident happen, write at once."
Sharpley read over this passage with attention. Then he folded the letter, and muttered to himself:
"What a consummate hypocrite that villain Craven is! ”

“ One was Frank Hunter, our hero, sun-browned and healthy, heavier and taller, and more self-reliant than when, three months before, he sailed from the port of New York bound for Liverpool. The other no one can mistake. The blue coat and brass buttons, the tall and somewhat awkward form, the thin but shrewd and good-humored face, are those of Jonathan Tarbox, of Squashboro', State o' Maine. ”

“ I am an American."
"You are not traveling alone—at your age?" said the merchant, in surprise.
"I was not—that is, I came from America with another person, but I parted from him in Switzerland."
Frank refrained from explaining under what circumstances he parted from Sharpley, partly from a natural reluctance to revive so unpleasant a subject, partly because he did not like to trouble the Grosvenors with his affairs.
"It must be lonely traveling without friends," said Mr. Grosvenor. "My daughter and I would feel glad to have you join our party."
"Oh, yes, papa!" said Beatrice. ”

“ I shall soon be a man at any rate, and I am sure we can get along as well as we have done."
Mrs. Hunter was not a strong or a resolute woman, but even women of her type can be obstinate at times. She had convinced herself, chiefly through Mr. Craven's suggestion, that the step she was about to take was for Frank's interest, and the thought pleased her that she was sacrificing herself for him. The fact that she didn't fancy Mr. Craven, of course heightened the sacrifice, and so Frank found her far more difficult of persuasion than he anticipated. ”

“ Sharpley has surpassed himself. I didn't give the fellow credit for so much hypocrisy. So he's coming to America to give us a detailed account of this calamity, is he? I know why he's coming. It's to get pay for his share of the plot. Well, if all goes well, I can afford to pay him well, though I really think his price was too high. Now that the young one is out of the way, I must manage his mother, so as to get his property into my hands. Forty thousand dollars! It will relieve me from all money cares for the rest of my life. ”

“ Craven, in distress.
"You are a goose," said her husband, laughing softly. "Of course not. But then we are all mortal. Frank is strong, and will, I hope, live to smooth our dying pillows. But, of course, however improbable, the contingency is to be thought of."
"I believe the property comes to me in that case, but I am sure I should not live to enjoy it."
"My dear, don't make yourself miserable about nothing. Our boy is strong, and has every prospect of reaching old age. But it is best to understand clearly how matters stand. ”

“ Craven fixed his eyes upon the table, seriously disturbed.
"How much is the boy worth?" asked Sharpley, after a pause.
"Forty thousand dollars."
"Forty thousand dollars!" exclaimed Sharpley, his eyes sparkling with greed. "That's splendid."
"For him, yes. It doesn't do me any good."
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"Didn't you say, that in the event of his death the money would go to your wife?"
"Yes."
"He may die."
"So may we. That's more likely. He's a stout boy, as you must have observed, since you have met him."
"Life is uncertain. Suppose he should have a fever, or meet with an accident." ”

“ That would be dull."
"Confound the man's curiosity!" muttered Sharpley, to himself.
"I may wander about a little, but I shall make no excursion worth speaking of till to-morrow."
"Why can't we join company?" said Mr. Abercrombie, in a friendly manner. "Our young people are well acquainted, and we can keep each other company. Enlarge your plan a little, and take a guide."
"I wish the man was back in America," thought Sharpley. "Why won't he see that he's a bore?" ”