Alger Horatio Jr.
From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience
CHAPTER XIII
A SWINDLE EXPOSED
When Nat came back from lunch he was introduced to Harry Bray, and Hamilton Dart brought forth several packages of old bills and letters and also a couple of cheap blank books.
"I want these things sorted out," said he. "Enter all names in the books, and file them away according to date."
This seemed easy work, and both of the young clerks said they understood what was wanted. Then Hamilton Dart put on his hat and left the office.
"I won't be back this afternoon," he said. "Lock up at five o'clock, and you, Bray, can take the key."
"Yes, sir," answered Harry Bray.
"This isn't very hard," was Nat's comment, when he was left alone with his fellow clerk.
"It is about as easy a job as I ever struck," answered Harry Bray.
"It's queer there are no customers coming in," said Nat, an hour later. "Mr. Dart must do most of his business outside."
"A good many brokers do, Nat. They have to hustle for business or they don't get any."
The afternoon passed, and at the proper time Nat left the office and went home.
"You've certainly struck a soft snap," said Dick, when the country boy had related his experience. "Wish I could strike a snap like that."
"Perhaps you will some day," answered Nat. "Come, I'll give you a lesson in writing and figures to-night," and he did. Dick was a bright scholar, so it proved a pleasure more than a task to teach him.
Promptly on time the following morning, Nat went to the office. At the door he met Harry Bray, who had just come in from his home on Staten Island. They opened up the office together, one doing the sweeping and the other the dusting.
"In most places like this, the office boy or the janitor does such work," said Harry.
"I don't mind it in the least," answered Nat.
"Oh, neither do I."
They began on their work where they had left off, and about an hour later their employer put in an appearance.
"Hard at it, eh?" he said, cheerily. "That's the way I like to see things move. Nat, I want you to go to the post office again."
"Yes, sir."
In a few minutes our hero had departed, and then Hamilton Dart turned to Harry Bray.
"Bray, here is an important document to deliver to a party living near Central Park," said he. "Deliver it, and get a receipt."
"I will, sir," answered Harry Bray, and in a minute more he, too, was gone.
An hour later there was a knock on the door, and the sick man, who had called the day before, came in.
"Is that situation still open?" he questioned, anxiously.
"Why do you ask?" demanded Hamilton Dart, abruptly.
"I was going to say that I borrowed that money from my sister."
"Oh! Have you it with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, if you wish the job, you can take it right now. Another man is coming to see me about it in an hour."
"I'll take the job," said Oliver Ripple, quickly, and brought forth his money. Hamilton Dart took it, and gave his usual receipt.
"What interest do I get on this?" asked the new clerk, anxiously.
"Six per cent."
"Thank you. I told my sister I thought as much. She had the money in the bank, but that only paid her three per cent. Six per cent. will be twice as good."
"You may come to work to-morrow morning at nine," said Hamilton Dart.
"I'll go to work to-day, if you say so, Mr. Dart."
"No, my other clerks can take care of the work to-day. Both of them are now out on errands."
When Oliver Ripple was gone, Hamilton Dart smiled broadly to himself.
"Three of them," he murmured. "That's not so bad, after all. I wonder if that chap who was to come at half-past ten will show up?"
When Nat left the post office he found no letters for Samuel Barrows.
"Mr. Dart will be disappointed again," he thought. "But it is not my fault."
The afternoon passed quietly. Only one man called at the office, and when he found Hamilton Dart was not in he disappeared immediately.
That evening Nat gave Dick another lesson, for which the newsboy was very grateful.
"No wonder you got that job," said Dick. "You can figure like lightning, and write fine, too."
"I don't have to figure much at the office."
"How do you like your boss?"
"I haven't really seen enough of him to make up my mind."
"He must be full of business."
"I suppose that is so."
When Nat went to the office on the following day he again met Harry Bray at the entrance. They went upstairs together, and found two men standing in the hallway, near the door of the office. As soon as they entered the place the men followed them.
"Neither of these young chaps is the man," said one of the newcomers, in a low voice.
"Where is Mr. Hamilton Dart?" asked the other.
"I can't say, sir," answered Harry Bray. "He may be here shortly."
"Are you a partner in this concern?"
"No, sir. I am a clerk."
"Are you a clerk, too?" asked the man, turning to Nat.
"Yes, sir. Is there anything we can do for you?"
"Don't know as there is, young man," was the short answer. "We'll wait here for Mr. Dart."
A half-hour passed and Oliver Ripple put in an appearance.
"Where is Mr. Dart?" he asked, gazing around.
"He is not here yet," answered Nat.
"I am his new clerk. He engaged me yesterday, and told me to come to work this morning."
At this speech the two men who had come in gazed at the sick man curiously.
"So you were engaged yesterday?" asked one in a low tone.
"Yes."
"Excuse me, but I'd like to know if you put up any money as security?"
"I did—a hundred dollars."
"Ah!" And each of the two men looked at his companion significantly.
"Do you know Mr. Dart?" asked the sick man.
"We know of him."
"He does quite a business, doesn't he?"
"He does—in his own way," was the suggestive answer.
At that moment came a tramping on the stairs. Then the office door was thrown open, and Hamilton Dart appeared.
"There he is!" cried one of the men. "Just as I thought!"
He started for the doorway, but Hamilton Dart was too quick for him. He backed away, leaped for the stairs, and went down flight after flight, four and five steps at a time. Both men gave chase, but by the time they reached the sidewalk the swindler had disappeared.
"Hullo! what can this mean?" cried Nat, in quick alarm. "I must say I don't like this."
"Those men are after Mr. Dart," came from Harry Bray.
"You mind the office—I'll see what is up," went on Nat, and followed down the stairs.
"He is gone, Parsons," said one of the men.
"You are sure it was our man?"
"Yes, confound the luck. He got away like a slippery eel."
"Did Mr. Dart run away from you?" asked Nat.
"That's what he did, young man."
"What did he run for?"
"Perhaps you know as well as I do."
"No, I don't."
"How long have you worked for that man?"
"Only a few days."
"What about that other chap upstairs?"
"He came to work about the time I did."
"And that pale-looking man, too?"
"I don't know any more about him than you do."
"Did you place any money in your employer's hands?"
"Yes, a hundred dollars. And Harry Bray, the other clerk, put up the same amount."
"Humph! I reckon you've seen the last of your cash."
"What!" cried Nat, aghast. "Do you mean that?"
"I sure do."
"But—but–" Our hero was so staggered he could not continue for the moment.
"This Hamilton Dart—or whatever he calls himself—is a first-class swindler."
"A swindler!" Nat fell up against the doorway. "I—I—then my money is gone?"
"More than likely."
"Oh, what a fool I've been! And I thought he was such a gentleman."
"He has fooled lots of folks besides you, young man," said one of the men, kindly, for he saw that Nat was hard hit.
"He isn't a business man at all?"
"He is a confidence man from Chicago."
By this time, feeling certain something was wrong, Harry Bray and Oliver Ripple came below.
"What do you mean by confidence man?" asked Nat, doubtfully.
"He is a swindler; one of the kind that can tell a good story in order to get your money."
"Who is a swindler?" demanded Harry Bray.
"Our employer," cried Nat. "He has run away with our money."
"Has Mr. Dart run away?" asked the sick man, nervously.
"Yes."
"Oh! And to think I borrowed that money from my poor sister!" came with a cry of anguish, and then the sick man sank on the hallway stairs, thoroughly overcome.
CHAPTER XIV
NAT OBTAINS ANOTHER SITUATION
"How is it that you know so much about this man?" asked Nat, after he had collected his thoughts.
"I am a police official from Chicago," answered one of the two men who had tried to catch Hamilton Dart. "We have been on this rascal's trail for some time."
"Is Hamilton Dart his real name?"
"No; his real name is Nick Smithers. He is a sly rogue."
"Do you think there is any chance of catching him?" asked Harry Bray. "I cannot afford to lose my money."
"Nor I," added our hero.
"I must have my money back!" groaned the sick man. "What will my sister say? She got it out of the bank only yesterday!"
"I wish I could help you," said the Chicago police official. "We'll do what we can."
All went back to the office, and the janitor of the building was called in.
"Sure, an' Mr. Dart has had the office only about a week," said the janitor. "He hasn't paid the rent yet. He said he was in the habit of payin' in the middle of the month."
"Then the owner of this building is out of pocket, too," said one of the men from the West.
An examination was made of the desk used by the swindler, but nothing of value was found. The letters and bills were of no consequence, and the blank books were not worth twenty-five cents each.
"Let us go to the police station," said the men, and they went off, followed by the sick man.
"This is the worst yet," remarked Nat, as he dropped into the one easy chair of which the office boasted. "And I thought I was so smart. I'm a regular greeny, if ever there was one!" And he shook his head bitterly.
"I'm in the same boat," responded his fellow victim. "My father will be pretty mad when he hears of this. He lent me the money, and I assured him it would be perfectly safe."
"I used my own money, but it was almost the last dollar I had," said our hero, soberly. At that moment his heart felt like a lump of lead in his bosom.
"What do you suppose we can do about it?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Do you know where this Hamilton Dart, alias Nick Smithers, lived?"
"No."
"To look for him in a big city like this will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."
"More than likely he won't stay in this city. He may be miles away already. He didn't want to see those men from Chicago."
They talked the matter over for an hour, at the end of which time a detective from headquarters came to interview them. The detective took charge of the office, and that seemed to be the end of the affair.
"Give me your addresses," said the detective to Nat and his fellow clerk. "If we hear anything we will let you know," and so it was arranged.
Nat felt very much downcast when he arrived at his boarding house that evening. Mrs. Talcott was not long in noticing it.
"You seem to be in trouble, Nat," said she kindly, for she had taken quite a fancy to the country lad. "Can I help you in any way?"
"I don't know," he answered, bluntly. "I've gone and made a big fool of myself."
"In what way?" asked she in astonishment.
"I thought I was smart, but I'm a regular country greeny. I let a man swindle me out of nearly every dollar I possessed."
"That is certainly too bad, Nat. How did it happen?"
For answer our hero made a clean breast of the whole matter. While he was telling his tale, Dick came in, and he was likewise told.
"And you mean to say that you lost the whole hundred dollars!" ejaculated the newsboy. "That's awful, Nat!"
"I wish I could get hold of that Nick Smithers. I'd—I'd wring his neck for him!"
"It won't do any good to look for him. I know his kind. He's here to-day and gone to-morrow. Those chaps work their schemes all over the States."
Nat was in no humor to eat supper, and scarcely touched a mouthful. Mrs. Talcott and Dick did all they could to cheer him up.
"Make the best of it," said the newsboy. "You'll be sure to strike something good sooner or later."
"I guess I'm too much of a greeny to do that," answered Nat.
That night when our hero went to bed he could not sleep. His ready money was running low, and how to turn he did not know. Bitterly he upbraided himself for having trusted Nick Smithers, but this did no good. His money was gone, and it was doubtful if he would ever see a cent of it again.
"I ought to go back on the farm where I belong," he muttered. "I'm not smart enough to get along in a city like New York."
But by morning his thoughts took a turn, and at breakfast his eyes were as bright and expectant as ever.
"I'm going out and get something to do," he said firmly. "And I'm not going to let anybody get the best of me again."
"Do not worry," said Mrs. Talcott. "You can stay here, even if you don't get anything right away. I'll trust you for the board."
"You are very kind," answered Nat, gratefully. "But I can't stand it to do nothing."
All of that day he tramped up one street and down another looking for a situation, but without success.
He could have had one job as an errand boy, but the wages offered were but two dollars per week.
"I can't take that," he said. "I've got to support myself even if I can't do better."
On the next day it rained, but he went out, nevertheless, with an umbrella which Mrs. Talcott loaned him.
He had several advertisements, taken from the morning papers, and lost no time in applying at first one place and then another.
The third place offered on his list was in a big office building down near the corner of Broadway and Park Row. When Nat arrived there he found half a dozen young fellows ahead of him.
"You will all have to wait until Mr. Garwell arrives," said a clerk to the crowd. "I expect him any moment."
"Hope he don't keep us too long," grumbled one of those who were waiting. "I don't want to lose the chance of another job if I can't get this."
"You need not wait at all if you don't care to," said the clerk.
Two others came in, and the outer office was comfortably filled, when a stout gentleman walked in quickly, and gave a glance around.
"Hum!" said he, when his eyes fell upon Nat, and he looked at our hero more closely. Nat at once recognized the newcomer as the gentleman he had met on the Brooklyn Bridge.
"How are you, young man," said the gentleman.
"Very well, sir," answered Nat.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see about the position that was advertised."
"Ah, indeed!" The gentleman gave Nat another look. "Come inside."
"Yes, sir," and our hero quickly followed him to an inner office. Here the gentleman hung up his hat, and sank down in an easy chair at a desk. "Take a seat. I suppose you remember meeting me?" This was said with a little smile.
"Oh, yes, sir; on the bridge."
"You did me a good turn, and I've not forgotten it. So you want a job, eh? What's your name, and where are you from?"
Nat told him, and also told the gentleman some of his experiences since arriving in the metropolis. John Garwell listened with interest.
"I fancy I can give you an opening," said he. "Here, write a few lines on this sheet of paper." Nat did so. "A very good hand. How much do you want to start on?"
"Enough to support myself, Mr. Garwell."
"That's a fair answer. Can you live on seven dollars a week?"
"I can live on less than that."
"Some young men want a fortune to start on. Yesterday a young man called here for an opening. He had had no experience, yet he wanted not less than twenty dollars a week."
"I guess you didn't engage him," said Nat, with a smile.
"I did not. Well, I'll give you a trial, at seven dollars a week. If you prove satisfactory I'll give you eight dollars at the end of three months, and ten dollars at the end of the first year."
"Thank you, very much."
"You can go to work at once." Mr. Garwell touched a push-button on his desk, and a clerk appeared. "Wilson, this is the new clerk, Nat Nason. You can show him his duties. And tell those others that are waiting that the position is filled."
"Yes, sir."
"Wait a minute, Nason. Wilson, you can go."
The clerk disappeared, closing the door behind him.
"I just wished to say a word about what you did for me the other day."
"Oh, that's all right."
"Here is a five-dollar bill for a reward."
"But I don't want any reward, Mr. Garwell. It was nice of you to give me the position."
"Didn't you just own up that you were short of funds?"
"Yes, sir, but–"
"That's all right. Take the money. And now let me tell you something as a friend."
"Yes, sir."
"I like my clerks to look neat and clean at all times. It pays to look that way. Never come down to the office with a dirty collar, or with dirty shoes."
"I'll remember that."
"I don't ask you to dress in the topmost style, or be a dude. But keep yourself neat and clean."
"I will, sir."
"Then that is all. If anything doesn't go right in the office don't hesitate to let me know."
CHAPTER XV
ABNER AND THE WIDOW GUFF
It was with a light heart that Nat went to work for Mr. John Garwell. He felt that his employer was a man to be trusted, and one who would do the best he could for those under him.
"It was a lucky thing for me that I took that walk on the Brooklyn Bridge," he reasoned. "Perhaps I shouldn't have gotten the job otherwise."
The clerk, Wilson, proved kind and considerate, and under him our hero learned rapidly.
"Didn't I tell you that you'd strike luck," said Dick. "Now, all you've got to do is to nurse that job carefully, and you'll be at the top of the firm some day."
"Well, I am going to nurse it as carefully as I can," laughed Nat.
When our hero had time he went to the police headquarters to see if anything had been learned of Nick Smithers.
"Nothing yet," said the officer in charge. "But I think he'll be run down sooner or later."
"I'd like to run him down myself."
"I've no doubt you would."
Nat had been working for Mr. Garwell about a week when he received another letter from Sam Price. Sam wrote, in part, as follows:
"Since I sent my last letter, there have been great changes at your uncle's farm. He has discharged the housekeeper, and some say he is courting the Widow Guff. For all I know they'll be married pretty soon. More than that, I heard somebody say that he was thinking of coming to New York to look for you."
Nat read this communication with close attention. He knew the Widow Guff as a person who took boarders in the town where he had sold his cow. She had three children, and had the reputation of being a rather tart and self-willed woman.
"I shouldn't think Uncle Abner would want to marry that widow," thought Nat. "Wonder what put it into his head? And what put it into his head to come to New York to look for me? I'd rather he would keep his distance."
Nat did not know that for the past few months the Widow Guff had had a hard time of it with a number of her boarders, and could scarcely make both ends meet, yet such was a fact.
One day the widow called on a friend, and from this friend learned that Abner Balberry had discharged his housekeeper, and was keeping house by himself.
"It's a shame for him to be all alone," thought the widow. "And with that nephew of his away, too! Some good woman ought to be keeping house for him."
The widow had long had her eye on Abner Balberry, whom she knew fairly well. She knew Abner was well-to-do, and keeping a boarding house seemed of a sudden a great burden to her.
"Wish I could make Abner propose," she said to herself. "He just ought to have a wife."
So the widow kept on thinking, and by and by her face brightened. She had an idea, which she resolved to put into execution the very first opportunity.
"Fred," said she to her son, a tall gawk of a boy, "I want you to go to Mr. Abner Balberry's house, and ask him if he will stop in and see me the first time he comes to town."
"Wot do yer want, ma?" drawled Fred.
"Never mind, Fred. Just ask him to call. Say I'd like a little advice from him."
Fred shuffled off on his errand, and found Nat's uncle down in the henhouse, searching for eggs.
"Ma wants you to come and see her," said the youth.
"Wants me to come an' see her?" queried Nat's uncle.
"Yep."
"What for?"
"Dunno. Said she'd like some advice."
"All right; I'll come," said Abner.
That afternoon, after milking, he arrayed himself in his best, and drove over to the widow's boarding house. He was glad to make the visit, for since discharging his housekeeper he had found life on the farm rather lonely.
The widow greeted him warmly, and asked him into her parlor, closing the doors, so that nobody might interrupt them. She seemed somewhat embarrassed.
"Fred told me that you would like to see me," commenced Nat's uncle.
"Yes, Abner, I do; but I'm afraid you'll think it strange of me—at least of what I have to say to you."
"Oh, that's all right, Lucy; you know you kin trust me," he replied.
"Suppose,"—the widow cast down her eyes,—"mind, I am only supposing a case—suppose a person should find a pot full of gold pieces in an old well, would the law have a right to touch it, or would it belong to the finder?"
At the mention of a pot of gold, Abner Balberry became exceedingly interested. As we know, he was very miserly, and he realized that a pot of gold would be worth a good deal of money.
"A pot of gold, Lucy," he said. "Why, unquestionably, the law would have nothing to do with it."
"Could the one who had owned the house years before, or lived in the place, come forward and claim it?"
"No, Lucy; I think not."
"Thank you, very much, Abner, for your advice. The—er—question just came into my—er—mind, and I wanted to satisfy myself; that's all."
"Certainly, widow, certainly," answered Nat's uncle. He wanted to ask some questions, but did not dare.
"Now you are here, you must take supper with me," went on the Widow Guff.
"Thank you, Lucy, you are very kind–"
"I know you haven't any housekeeper any more, and nobody to cook for you. Yes, stay by all means."
The widow was a fairly good cook, and Nat's uncle ate with a relish all that was offered to him, ending with a piece of berry pie which was particularly fine. He spent a social hour after the meal, and then drove home in a thoughtful mood.
"Is it possible that the widow really found a pot of gold in the well?" he thought. "She didn't really say so, but it was mighty odd for her to ask me such questions. I'll have to look into this a bit." And then he got to thinking that the widow was not such a bad-looking woman after all, and a wife with a pot of gold would be a very nice thing to possess.
About a week later Abner Balberry had occasion to go to town, to draw a little money from the bank, with which to pay for a cow he had purchased. He was passing the widow's home when she came out on the piazza and nodded to him.
"Good-morning," she said.
"Good-morning," he returned, and stopped for a chat. During the course of the conversation he mentioned his errand, and she said she was going to the bank too. He asked her to ride to the institution, and she accepted the invitation. When they arrived there he told her he would wait until she was through. Then he went around to a side window of the bank, where he might hear what took place.
The widow tripped up to the window.
"Can you give me change for a ten-dollar gold piece?" she asked.
"With pleasure, Mrs. Guff," was the answer, and the change for the gold piece was immediately forthcoming.
"By the way," went on the widow, "the bank is in quite a flourishing condition, is it not?"
"We are doing finely, yes."
"And you receive deposits, do you not?"
"Of course."
"Do you receive as high as—as five thousand dollars?"
"No," answered the cashier, in some surprise. "Three thousand dollars from one depositor is our limit. Do you know of anybody who–"
"It's of no consequence," interrupted the widow, hurriedly. "I only asked out of curiosity. How much interest do you pay?"
"Four per cent. on the first thousand and three per cent. on the remainder."
"Thank you, and much obliged for the change. Good-morning," and the Widow Guff tripped out lightly and hurried up the street.
Abner Balberry had overheard every word and his face was a study as he went into the bank to draw what he wanted, thirty dollars.
"Jest had the Widow Guff here, didn't you?" he said, lightly.
"Yes, Mr. Balberry." The cashier paused. "Do you know if anybody has left her money lately?" he continued.
"Not that I know on? Why?"
"Oh, she was asking what rate of interest we paid, and if we took as high as five thousand dollars."
"I see. Well, I don't know nothin' about it," and Abner Balberry pocketed his money and his bank book, and walked out after the widow.
If he had been in deep thought before he was more so now. Was it possible that the widow had found five thousand dollars?
"She changed a ten-dollar piece," he reasoned. "I reckon I kin see through a millstone when there's a hole through it. Tell ye what, a widder with five thousand in gold ain't to be sneezed at! I wonder if anybody else knows o' this? Hope they don't!"
That evening the farmer sat up till late, thinking the situation over. He did not wish for a wife so much, but he did wish to get his hands on that pot of gold.
"If I want her I'll have to propose before some other feller hears o' this," he told himself.
The farmer made it his business to go to town two days later, and drove past the widow's house very slowly. She saw him from a window, and nodded and smiled.
This was encouraging, and on returning from his errand, he tied up in front of the place, and rang the bell.
"Oh, Abner, I am delighted to see you!" said the widow, on coming to the door. "Come in."
"Thank you, Lucy," he answered, and entered the parlor.
"It was so good of you to come," she simpered. "I wanted somebody to talk to."
"Anything special?" he asked, curiously.
"I have received notice to leave this house. I guess Mr. Haskell, the owner, wishes it for himself." She did not add that her rent was about due, and she did not know how to meet the payment.
"Where do you think of going, widow?"
"I'm sure I don't know, Abner. I haven't a single place. You know I'm all alone in the world."
She looked at him fondly, and he at once fell into the trap.
"Better come an' live with me, Lucy."
"Oh, Abner! What do you mean?"
"I mean that I think a heap o' you, Lucy, an' I'd like you fer my wife. I know as how we could git along fine together," answered Nat's uncle, earnestly. Just then that pot of gold seemed almost within his reach.
The widow blushed, and pretended to be greatly surprised.
"I—I never dreamed of this, Abner!" she whispered. "It's—it's so sudden."
"But you ain't goin' to say no, are you?"
"Well, I—I–" She blushed again. "I must say I like you a great deal, Abner."
"Then say yes."
"Well, I will," declared the widow, and then she allowed him to kiss her. Abner felt very happy, and asked her to set the day at once.
"Bein' as you're to git out o' this house, you might as well give up the boarders, an' come to my house at once," he said.
The widow consented, and said she would marry him in ten days. He drove home almost in a dream, and at once had the house put in order, and actually bought himself a new suit of clothes and a new hat.
"It's a good bit o' money to spend," he reasoned. "But I've got to do the proper thing, or she won't feel like lettin' go o' that gold."
When the time came, they were married in the local church, and then he drove her home. Her furniture had already arrived. She at once took possession of the place, and began to set things to rights.
"I won't ask her about that pot o' gold jest yet," mused Abner. "I'll have to wait a few days at least."
