Richard Dares Venture | Page 6

was quite dark in
the room. Richard approached the bed and grasped his father's hand.
"Is it you, Richard?" questioned the sufferer.

"Yes, father."
"I'm glad you've come. I want to talk to you."
"But it may hurt you to talk too much," said the boy feelingly.
"Never mind. It will all be over soon," replied Mr. Dare with a heavy
cough. "I suppose the doctor has told you. He said he would."
The boy nodded his head.
"It is God's will, and we must bow to His judgment," continued the
injured man. "But I want to talk to you about what to do when I am
gone."
"Oh, father!"
"Hush! I feel that I am sinking, even faster than Dr. Melvin thinks.
Listen then to what I have to say."
"I am listening."
"When I'm gone, Richard, you will have to take my place. Your mother
is strong, and can do much; but she is a woman, and she, as well as
your sisters, will need your help."
"They shall have all that I can possibly give them. I will work, and do
all I can."
"I know you will, Richard. You have always been a good boy. I am
sorry that I cannot leave you all better off than I'm doing."
"Never mind, father; we will get along."
"I suppose I might have done so if I'd had the courage to strike out,"
continued Mr. Dare, with a sigh. "I always calculated to do something
for myself, but that's all over now. But you take after your mother, the
same as your sister Grace, and if you make the right start I feel you will
succeed."

"I shall remember what you say."
"Do so. But remember also to be always sober, industrious, and
considerate of those around you. Be true to yourself, and to every one
with whom you have dealings. You may not get along so fast, but
people will respect you more, and your success will be ten times
sweeter than it would have been had you risen by pushing others
down."
"I shall try to deserve success, even if I don't rise very high, father."
"That's right." Mr. Dare paused for a moment. "I'm sorry that I cannot
leave you more of a capital upon which to start in life."
"Never mind; I have a common school education and my health. What
more can a boy wish?"
"It is as much as I had upon which to start. But I might have left you
more. I deserve a pension as a soldier."
"You never pushed your claim, did you?"
"Yes, once. But I never told any of you, for fear of raising false hopes. I
did apply, and it was all straight, but at the last moment the Department
decided that I must have another witness to prove my identity, and this
I could not get."
"You had one witness, then?"
"Yes. A man named Crawford, who was in our regiment. He was
appointed an officer on the same day I was shot; but, as he was
appointed after the occurrence they held that his single witnessing was
not enough, and so I had to hunt for another."
"And you never found the other?"
"No, though I hunted high and low. Some who saw the affair must be
still living, but I have not their addresses, nor do I know how to find
them."

"Did you ever advertise in the papers?"
"Yes; I spent fifty dollars in the columns of the leading dailies, but
without success."
"You have all the papers in the case?"
"They are in the trunk upstairs. If you can ever push the claim do
so--for the others' sake as well as your own."
"I will, father."
"How much it will be worth I do not know, but it may be several
thousands of dollars, and that, along with this house, which is free and
clear, may suffice to keep the family many a year."
At this juncture a violent fit of coughing seized Mr. Dare, and by the
time he had recovered, his wife and the three girls entered.
CHAPTER III.
PREPARING TO START.
Two days later the blinds of the little cottage were closed, and crape
hung in solemn black upon the front door. The neighbors, and indeed
the whole population of the village, came and went continually--some
few with genuine grief and sympathy, and the many others to satisfy a
morbid curiosity regarding the man whose life had so suddenly ended.
It was a dismal enough time for the inmates. Richard did all a brave
boy can do to comfort his mother and sisters, but he himself needed
consolation fully as much as any of them. He had thought much of his
father, and the cold form lying in the draped coffin