Democratic Sentinel, Volume 17, Number 13, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 14 April 1893 — MY BURGLARY. [ARTICLE]

MY BURGLARY.

The bugle was placed in the bolder the horses made a graceful turn and we checked up in frout of “The .Nugget,” the leadiug hotel of Goldtown, a mining cam]) at an altitude of some seven thousand feet in the heart of the Rockies, and seventy miles by the nearest stage route from a railroad. After a supper of mountain trout and game I felt rested. I had come to Goldtown in response to Mr. Furber, the proprietor of the general store of the camp. He wanted a bookkeeper and I had answered his advertisement. My references pleased him; he said “come,” and I did so. Mr. Furber called the evening of my arrival. I found him a thorough business man and a gentleman, and to this writing, now more than seventeen years later, I have never had occasion to change my impression. He briefly outlined my responsibilities and placed a comfortably-furnished room over the store at my disposal; thus I was a room ahead, and the store had a night guard. The day following my arrival I began active duty. The work was abundant, but the associations were pleasant and the mountain air exhilarating; so on the whole I was contented. January the first soon came, and with it a handsome increase of salary. Other Januarys followed with greater cares aud liberal remuneration. I made friends, was trusted and was saving money. Mr. Furber consulted me regarding various ventures, aud seemed to value my opinions. More than four years of devotion to my employer’s interests had passed,when I was informed that I should take entire charge of the financial affairs of the house, involving the managership. “I have been on the lookout for some time," said Mr. Furber to me, “for some investment for you, William, that would he safe and net large returns. I think 1 can recommend the ‘Turkey-point’ mine. I was under the ground yesterday and I find good showings for a wonderful future; they are on a vein now that will assay fully twenty ounces of silver and four and a fraction ounces of gold. There is some hook stock yet; I will take all that is left unless you want some of it.” I had implicit confidence in the business sagacity and honor of my employer, and on his recommendation I placed s6,ooo—all my savings—in the “Turkeypoint.” or three dividends were paid, then the mine “went blind;” the vein was only a pocket of ore that was soon exhausted.

As I was making up the cash one night —several thousand dollars, mostly in gold dust, but some coin—the wealth before me called to mind a rejxjrt 1 had read that morning of an express messenger who took some $30,000 from Wells, Fargo & Co. I weighed the gold dust, counted the coin and placed it in the safe, thinking all the while about the express messenger, tracing him to remote parts and imagining him living in luxury. As I was closing the vault-door a * mine-owner came in. “Wait a minute,” said he; “here is some gold I want to deposit.” I weighed it. “I'll make you a receipt,” i said. “I don’t want your receipt, William,” and he was away. His in tuner and tone so expressive of confidence, made mo dislike my thoughts of the moment before. I meditated. “Am I too honest to be tempted? Why was I thinking of the express messenger?” I tried not toI went to my room by the only stairs that led to the story above, the foot of which began not three feet from the vaults. My room was iu the rear, and below my window flowed a mountain stream, at that season, when the snow was melting off the mountain, swelled to some magnitude. “That skiff,” I thought, while watching the waters, “is the only one in camp. It is less thau forty miles to where the railroad crosses this stream. By horseback the same point cannot be reacned under sixty miles.” I checked my thoughts in horror; what was I thinking of? 1 flung myself in a chair and closed mv eyes to evade my invisible companion, the express messenger; but he seemed inseparable. I took a book and tried to read. My eyes alone traced the words; my thoughts ran on; “Furber introduced me into that ‘Turkey-point’ mine. I lost all I had—his fault. He owes me something.” Then I began to count the dust we were sto. ng for miue owners. “'lhe Crystal Ilock” has about eight thousand. “Yellow Dirt” about five thousand, the “Silver Moon ” between nine and ten; the house owns over twenty thousaud, besides the small deposits.” Was I turning thief? Why I was fighting against my thoughts? Do what I would ®7 mind continued to plan. Many saloons, blacksmith's shops and swalt mines deposited in the Furber

vaults; they were the only secure deposits in the camp. The store of R. I, Furber sold everything from whiskey to mining engines, Insides accepting deposits and doing a kind of banking business. I found, as several days passed, that I was ridiculing the notion of becoming a robber, and at times disgusted with my self for permitting the idea. Then I would think, “Where would have been my destination?*’" During such speculations! found myself figuring on railroad connections and the number of hours’ start I would liuve, wholly unconscious of the accurate preparations I was completing. When in my mind I was lost to my pursuers in India, I must have experienced some of the true sensations of a criminal. I had calculated minutely my disguises, aliases and business enterprises when far away. Toward the latter part of July, after business hours one evening, I carefully removed the contents of the grip that had accompanied me to Goldtown and with it in hand crept on tiptoe downstairs. I felt that I was acting like a sneak, and stepped more firmly; tny foot touched tho broom, it fell and I jumped. The noise of a mouse gnawing made me pause and listen. I crept back up stairs and looked out of my window. The skiff was in its place.

Five minutes later and the well-hung vault door swung noiselessly open. I entered, satchel in hand. I was nervous. I turned the combination too far. I tried again successfully. The match I hold burned my fingers. No matter, I knew every jiole and corner in the safe, and its’ contents were soon transferred to my satchel. I locked the safe and closed the vault door, thinking, “The fewer signs I leave behind the more start I’ll have.” I put the now valuable satchel on the floor and went to my room to take a last look out and see if the way was clear. I heard a sound below like breaking in a window. I stood frightened. Voices were whispering. I staid motionless at the top of the stairs. I could hear footsteps ascending the stairs. I went to my bed aud sat on the edge. Two forms were dimly visible passing mv window; then the light of a dark lantern appeared and I was commanded to throw up my bauds. The gleam of a pistol made mo obey. I was told to come down stairs and open the door or he shot. I walked in front, each arm firmly grasped and the pistol at my head. The meagre contents of the safe angered them; they swore and threatened and finally hound me hand and foot, leaving me on the office floor, where by painful contortions I succeeded in getting my knife from my jxieket aud releasing myself. My first move after gaining my feet was to place every grain of gold and coin hack in the proper place. The following morning the story I felt justified in telling to hide my guilt made me a hero. 1 simply related how I cleaned out two burglars single handed.

In the hour of silent reflection after the attempted burglary I awoke to the awful crime I had nearly accomplished. The next evening I sat moodily tliiuking, alone in my room, when Mr. Furber knocked. He brought his chair beside me aud said: “William, it was my fault that you lost your money in ‘Turkeypoint,’l induced you to go into it. Now I want you to accept au interest in the store. I will feel then that you have been paid.” * * * * My benefactor has not given much attention to business for some years. Goldtown has grown to a booming city aud has two railroads. The general store is a thing of the past. Furber & Company have developed into a hanking concern. The president’s work consists of driving down to the hank on pleasant afternoons at about 4. JO with his daughter—she’s my wife—and our children. lie devotes considerable time telling his grandchildren stories of early times in the Rockies, one of which is how their papa, all alone, kept two robbers from stealing all grandpapa's money.—["Kate Field's Washington.