Weekly Expositor

BENELA BEN.
BY STEPHEN B. ROSS.

One evening, while walking down one of the streets of Benela, in company with my young friend, Sam Parker, I suddenly inquired:

"Who is that slender, dark-eyed youth, crossing the street on our left?"

"What! Don't know Benela Ben?" exclaimed my companion, in evident astonishment.

I confessed that such was the case, and expressed my willingness to learn something of the handsome young fellow who had just passed.

"Well, here we are at the office. Walk in, and I'll tell you how the youth who so quickly attracted your attention came by his name.

"It was in March, 1859, that the merchants of this place, and all the farmers for miles around resolved to sell their cotton.

"They had held it all winter for better prices, and, now that the rise had come, a general feeling of good cheer pervaded town and country.

"There were many who had lived very close for months, depriving themselves of every luxury that they might hold their crops; and then, just as the knowledge that they must sell was forced upon them by pressing need, prices went up like a flash.

"Brokers, with their steamboats, came up the river, and for three days all was hard work and confusion.

"Then, on the evening of the third day, as the last boat, heavily loaded with the fleecy staple, was preparing to leave, the committee of merchants appointed to conduct the sale were called into the cabin and paid $190,000.

"The money was to be given to those to whom it belonged the following day, and farmers from miles around were expected in Benela, with their laborers, early in the morning, as it was well known the latter class had been clamoring for a settlement for the past several months.

"Although the amount paid into their hands was enormous and the salvation of the entire county depended upon its safe keeping, the thought that a robbery might be attempted that night never occurred to the committee; and after some discussion, it was decided that Major Garvin, the chairman, should deposit it in his great safe until the hour for distribution arrived.

"Ben Gilmore, Major Garvin's bookkeeper, invariably slept in the small room back of the store where the safe stood, and after the money had been deposited, Major Garvin turned to him and said:

"Ben, as a matter of precaution, we have changed the combination to 'Benela,' and as you will have to open the safe at closing time, you will please remember the new combination.

"Yes, sir!" answered the youth.

And as he glanced up from his books, he observed a tall well built man, apparently about 40 years of age, standing immediately in front of the door directly behind his employer.

A half concealed expression of triumph shone in the fellow's eyes, but quickly noting the inquiring look of the young bookkeeper he walked away.

"Who can that be?" asked Major Garvin, turning just in time to catch a glimpse of the retreating figure.

"His name is Rose, so he informed me," answered Mr. Ford, a member of the committee.

"And glad of an opportunity to satisfy the curiosity of his companions, he continued:

"This Mr. Rose and his two friends came in yesterday, and have spent the time since their arrival in looking at some of the timber lands in this locality. They contemplate purchasing several thousand acres, and intend erecting a monster sawmill on the river a few miles below.

"After a few comments on the new enterprise, the committee of merchants adjourned to their homes, and Gilmore was left alone with his ledgers.

The office stood some 15 feet back from the store, with a narrow hallway connecting the two, and when the clerks had handed in their note books, and returned to their own sleeping rooms in the rear of the larger building, Ben knew he would see no more of them until morning.

After depositing the receipts for the day in the safe, he closed it, and, drawing his chair near the fire, attempted to read.

It was useless, however, as the cunning face of the man who had glanced in while the committee were present kept passing through his mind.

"He evidently heard Major Garvin mention the combination," mused Ben, as the man's face once more appeared to stare at him from the paper he was reading.

Then, after a few moments' silence, he muttered:

"Starvation and untold misery would be the portion of these people were that money stolen. I am going to change the combination again."

With that he left his seat, and walking to the huge safe, knelt before it.

Just as he completed his task, and was about to rise, a cold draught of wind fanned his cheeks, and he turned toward the door with the knowledge that it was open.