Argosy, Vol. 1 (1882) — page 359: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

35° killed. These ravings removed any possible suspicion that the conductor had intentionally caused the fatal wreck at Lonewood. How terrible had been his punishment, Dykeman thought, with tears in his eyes! Then how eagerly the young rail- roader treasured every word of the wan- dering mind as they gave hints of dis- saster at sea, gloomy prison walls, shac- kles, slavery, privations and perils! And how happy he was the day his pa- tient finally opened his eyes to con- sciousness, after a long and deep sleep, and asked: “Who are you? Where am I?” And he had replied: “Your son, and in good hands.” The sick man had not been startled by the announcement, but went off to sleep again almost immediately. CHAPTER XLIY. CONCLUSION. WHEN the patient awoke he was con- siderably stronger, and after admitting that his name was Basil -Orloff, he evinced much curiosity to hear how Dykeman had arrived at the conclusion that he was his father. As Dash told of the revelation, by which he learned that the elder Dyke- man, whom he had regarded as his grandfather, was not so in fact, and that he did not know his (Dash’s) real name, because his son had married a widow with one child, whose name he had never learned, the sick man’s face lighted up. And then when the young railroader told of the letter that had led him to St. Louis, to discover his own identity if possible, related the discoveries he had made at Mrs. Fedmore’s, and ex- hibited the locket and the old letter his mother had written so many years be- fore, tears came into the convalescent’s eyes, and he pressed Dash’s hand. “ Thank God, Dash! How mysteri- ous are the ways of Providence! If I THER ARGOSY. had known you were my boy at the time of the wreck at Lonewood, I shouldhaveclaimed you, no matter what was to be the result. Why didn’t I get that letter, or learn that I had a son when I went to Mrs. Fedmore’s? It was indeed strange I didn’t think it was odd she should ask about my son. But I was not myself, and no doubt sup- posed she was asking about you, whom she called my son, and answered as I did, without dreaming you really were my boy.” “These trials and separations, and our final reuniting in this way, must be for some good purpose, father,” com- mented Dash, tenderly. “No doubt of it, my boy,” said the father solemnly, and it was a grand thing for him to say, after all he had been through. Dash continued briefly, with a recital of his railroad ex >eriences, told of both of his encounters with the train robber, who had been called Orloff, the tragic death of the outlaw, and finally the part the two deeds had played in establish- ing Missouri Pete’s identity as Doro- thy’s uncle and possibly as his father. ‘And he was neither,” said his fa- ther, with considerable energy; “he was a lying impostor, whose right name it is not hard for me to guess. I had a lawyer, Peter Grimes by name, to at- tend to my business in St. Louis while I was abroad, and I have no doubt he assumed my name to get possession of the land covered by that deed, which he could do with safety, as I was no doubt supposed to have been lost at sea, and I really didn’t know the land had been re deeded back to me. I knew he was a cool, shrewd fellow, inclined to sharp practice, but I never dreamed he would develop into such a desperado. I am your father and Dorothy Orloff’s un- cle, if her father’s name was Oswald.” “It was,’ replied Dash, who had been told it, “and she remains my cousin after all.”’ * “ And I suppose you are not sorry, if she’s a pretty girl,”’ smiled the father. COMM — SlyOOKS=CorMn