Alger Horatio Jr.
Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck
CHAPTER VII
BLOWS AND KIND DEEDS
Several days passed and Joe went out half a dozen times on the lake with parties from the hotel. All whom he served were pleased with him and treated him so nicely that, for the time being, his past troubles were forgotten.
At the beginning of the week Ned Talmadge came to see him.
“I am going away to join the folks out West,” said Ned.
“I hope you will have a good time,” answered our hero.
“Oh, I’m sure to have that, Joe. By the way, you are nicely settled here, it would seem.”
“Yes, and I am thankful for it.”
“Mr. Mallison is a fine man to work for, so I have been told. You had better stick to him.”
“I shall—as long as the work holds out.”
“Maybe he will give you something else to do, after the boating season is over.”
A few more words passed, and then Ned took his departure. It was to be a long time before the two friends would meet again.
So far Joe had had no trouble with anybody around the hotel, but that evening, when he was cleaning out his boat, a man approached him and caught him rudely by the shoulder.
“So you’re the feller that’s took my job from me, eh?” snarled the newcomer.
Our hero looked up and recognized Sam Cullum, the boatman who had been discharged for drinking. Even now the boatman was more than half under the influence of intoxicants.
“I haven’t taken anybody’s job from him,” answered Joe.
“I say yer did!” growled Cullum. “It ain’t fair, nuther!”
To this our hero did not reply, but went on cleaning out his boat.
“Fer two pins I’d lick yer!” went on the tipsy boatman, lurching forward.
“See here, Sam Cullum, I want you to keep your distance,” said Joe, sharply. “Mr. Mallison discharged you for drinking. I had nothing to do with it.”
“I don’t drink; leastwise, I don’t drink no more’n I need.”
“Yes, you do. It would be the best thing in the world for you if you’d leave liquor alone entirely.”
“Humph! don’t you preach to me, you little imp!”
“Then leave me alone.”
“You stole the job from me an’ I’m going to lick you for it.”
“If you touch me you’ll get hurt,” said Joe, his eyes flashing. “Leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone.”
“Bah!” snarled the other, and struck out awkwardly. He wanted to hit Joe on the nose, but the boy dodged with ease, and Sam Cullum fell sprawling over the rowboat.
“Hi! what did ye trip me up for?” spluttered the half-intoxicated man, as he rose slowly. “Don’t you do that ag’in, do yer hear?”
“Then don’t try to strike me again.”
There was a moment of silence and then Sam Cullum gathered himself for another blow. By this time a small crowd of boys and hotel helpers began to collect.
“Sam Cullum’s going to fight Joe Bodley!”
“Sam’ll most kill Joe!”
With all his strength the man rushed at Joe. But the boy dodged again and put out his foot and the man went headlong.
“Now will you let me alone?” asked our hero, coolly.
“No, I won’t!” roared Sam Cullum. “Somebody give me a club! I’ll show him!”
Arising once more, he caught up an oar and launched a heavy blow at Joe’s head. For a third time our hero dodged, but the oar struck him on the arm, and the blow hurt not a little.
Joe was now angry and believed it was time to defend himself. He edged towards the end of the dock and Sam Cullum followed. Then, of a sudden the boy ducked under the man’s arm, turned, and gave him a quick shove that sent him with a splash into the lake.
“Hurrah! score one for Joe!”
“That will cool Sam Cullum’s temper.”
“Yes, and perhaps it will sober him a little,” came from a man standing by, who had witnessed the quarrel from the beginning. “He brought this on himself; the boy had nothing to do with it.”
Sam Cullum floundered around in the water like a whale cast up in the shallows. The lake at that point was not over four feet deep, but he did not know enough to stand upright.
“Save me!” he bellowed. “Save me! I don’t want to drown!”
“Swallow a little water, it will do you good!” said a bystander, with a laugh.
“Walk out and you’ll be all right,” added another.
At last Sam Cullum found his feet and walked around the side of the dock to the shore. A crowd followed him and kept him from going at Joe again.
“I’ll fix him another time,” growled the intoxicated one, and shuffled off, with some small boys jeering him.
“You treated him as he deserved,” said one of the other boatmen to Joe.
“I suppose he’ll try to square up another time,” answered our hero.
“Well, I wouldn’t take water for him, Joe.”
“I don’t intend to. If he attacks me I’ll do the best I can to defend myself.”
“He has made a nuisance of himself for a long time. It’s a wonder to me that Mr. Mallison put up with it so long.”
“He was short of help, that’s why. It isn’t so easy to get new help in the height of the summer season.”
“That is true.”
Joe expected to have more trouble with Sam Cullum the next day but it did not come. Then it leaked out that Cullum had gotten into a row with his wife and some of her relatives that night and was under arrest. When the boatman was brought up for trial the Judge sentenced him to six months’ imprisonment.
“And it serves him right,” said the man who brought the news to Joe.
“It must be hard on his wife.”
“Well, it is, Joe.”
“Have they any children?”
“Four—a boy of seven and three little girls.”
“Are they well off?”
“What, with such a father? No, they are very poor. She used to go out washing, but now she has to stay at home to take care of the baby. Sam was a brute to strike her. I don’t wonder the relatives took a hand.”
“Perhaps the relatives can help her.”
“They can’t do much, for they are all as poor as she is, and one of them is just getting over an operation at the hospital.”
“Where do the Cullums live?”
“Down on Railroad Alley, not far from the water tower. It’s a mite of a cottage.”
Joe said no more, but what he had been told him set him to thinking, and that evening, after his work was over, he took a walk through the town and in the direction of Railroad Alley.
Not far from the water station he found the Cullum homestead, a mite of a cottage, as the man had said, with a tumbled-down chimney and several broken-out windows. He looked in at one of the windows and by the light of a smoking kerosene lamp beheld a woman in a rocking-chair, rocking a baby to sleep. Three other youngsters were standing around, knowing not what to do. On a table were some dishes, all bare of food.
“Mamma, I want more bread,” one of the little ones was saying.
“You can have more in the morning, Johnny,” answered the mother.
“No, I want it now,” whimpered the youngster. “I’m hungry.”
“I’m hungry, too,” put in another little one.
“I can’t give you any more to-night, for I haven’t it,” said the mother, with a deep sigh. “Now, be still, or you’ll wake the baby.”
“Why don’t dad come home?” asked the boy of seven.
“He can’t come home, Bobby—he—had to go away,” faltered the mother. “Now all be still, and you shall have more bread in the morning.”
The children began to cry, and unable to stand the sight any longer Joe withdrew. Up the Alley was a grocery store and he almost ran to this.
“Give me some bread,” he said, “and some cake, and a pound of cheese, and some smoked beef, and a pound of good tea, and some sugar. Be quick, please.”
The goods were weighed out and wrapped up, and with his arms full he ran back to the cottage and kicked on the door.
“Who is there?” asked Mrs. Cullum, in alarm.
“Here are some groceries for you!” cried Joe. “All paid for!”
“Oh, look!” screamed the boy of seven. “Bread, and cheese!”
“And sugar!” came from one of the little girls.
“And tea! Mamma, just what you like!” said another.
“Where did this come from?” asked Mrs. Cullum.
“A friend,” answered Joe. “It’s all paid for.”
“I am very thankful.”
“Now we can have some bread, can’t we?” queried the boy.
“Yes, and a bit of smoked beef and cheese, too,” said the mother, and placing the sleeping baby on a bed, she proceeded to deal out the good things to her children.
CHAPTER VIII
THE TIMID MR. GUSSING
It was not until the children had been satisfied and put to bed that Joe had a chance to talk to Mrs. Cullum. She was greatly astonished when she learned who he was.
“I didn’t expect this kindness,” said she. “I understand that my husband treated you shamefully.”
“It was the liquor made him do it ma’am,” answered our hero. “I think he’d be all right if he’d leave drink alone.”
“Yes, I am sure of it!” She gave a long sigh. “He was very kind and true when we were first married. But then he got to using liquor and—and—this is the result.”
“Perhaps he will turn over a new leaf when he comes out of jail.”
“I hope he does. If he doesn’t, I don’t know what I am going to do.”
“Have you anything to do?”
“I used to wash for two families in town but they have regular hired help now.”
“Perhaps you can get more work, if you advertise. If you’ll allow me, I’ll put an advertisement in the Riverside News for you.”
“Thank you. I don’t see what makes you so kind.”
“Well, I have been down in the world myself, Mrs. Cullum, so I know how to feel for others.”
“Did you say you used to live with Bodley, the hermit?”
“Yes.”
“My folks used to know him. He was rather a strange man after he got shot by accident.”
“Yes, but he was kind.”
“Are you his son?”
“No. He said I was his nephew. But I never found out much about that.”
“Oh, yes, I remember something about that. He had a brother who lost his wife and several children. Are you that man’s son?”
“I believe I am.”
“And you have never heard from your father?”
“Not a word.”
“That is hard on you.”
“I am going to look for my father some day.”
“If so, I hope you will find him.”
“So do I.” Joe arose. “I must be going.” He paused. “Mrs. Cullum, will you let me help you?” he added, earnestly.
“Why, you have helped me a good deal already. Not one in a thousand would do what you have done—after the way my husband treated you.”
“I thought that you might be short of money.”
“I must confess I am.”
“I am not rich but, if you can use it, I can let you have five dollars.”
“I’ll accept it as a loan. I don’t want you to give me the money,” answered the poor woman. She thought of the things she absolutely needed, now that her husband was gone.
The money was handed over, and a few minutes later Joe took his departure. Somehow his heart felt very light because of his generosity. He had certainly played the part of a friend in need.
But he did not stop there. Early in the morning he sought out Andrew Mallison and told the hotel proprietor of Mrs. Cullum’s condition.
“I was thinking that you might be able to give her work in the hotel laundry,” he continued.
The hotel man called up the housekeeper and from her learned that another woman could be used to iron.
“You can let her come and we’ll give her a trial,” said he.
It did not take Joe long to communicate with the poor woman, and she was overjoyed to see work in sight, without waiting for an advertisement in the newspaper.
“I’ll go at once,” said she. “I’ll get a neighbor’s girl to mind the children.” And she was as good as her word. As it happened, she proved to be a good laundress, and Mr. Mallison gave her steady employment until her husband came from jail. Then, much to his wife’s satisfaction, Sam Cullum turned over a new leaf and became quite sober and industrious.
Joe was now becoming well acquainted around the hotel and took an interest in many of the boarders.
Among the number was a young man named Felix Gussing. He was a nice individual in his way, but had certain peculiarities. One was that he was exceedingly afraid of horses and at every possible opportunity he gave them as wide a berth as possible.
“Don’t like them at all, don’t you know,” he said, to Joe, during a boat ride. “Can’t understand them at all.”
“Oh, I think a good horse is very nice,” answered our hero.
“But they are so—so balkish—so full of kicking,” insisted Felix Gussing.
“Well, I admit some of them are,” answered Joe.
There were two young ladies stopping at the hotel and the young man had become quite well acquainted with both of them. One he thought was very beautiful and was half tempted to propose to her.
On the day after the boat ride with Joe, Felix Gussing took the ladies to have some ice cream, and during the conversation all spoke of a certain landmark of interest located about three miles from Riverside.
“I have seen it and it is—aw—very interesting,” drawled Felix.
“Then we must see it, Belle,” said one of the young ladies, to her companion.
“Oh, I’m not going to walk that far,” answered Belle, with a bewitching look at the young man.
“You might drive over,” suggested Felix, without stopping to think twice.
“Oh, yes, I love driving!” cried one of the girls.
“And so do I!” answered the other.
“I will find out what can be done about a conveyance,” answered Felix.
Being a good deal of a dude, and dressing very fastidiously, he did not much relish visiting the livery stable attached to the hotel. But, early on the following morning, he walked down to the place, and ordered a horse and carriage, to be ready at ten o’clock.
Now it must be known that Felix did not intend to drive the carriage. He thought the young ladies would drive for themselves, since both had said that they loved driving. Unfortunate man! he knew not the snare he had laid for himself!
Punctual to the minute the carriage drove up to the door.
Felix was on hand, standing on the steps, with politeness in his air, though with trembling in his heart because so near the horses. He assisted the ladies in. Then he handed the reins to Miss Belle.
“Do you wish me to hold the horses while you get in?” she asked sweetly.
“Till I get in!” ejaculated Felix, taken aback.
“Certainly! You don’t think we are going to drive ourselves, do you? Of course you are going with us.”
Poor Felix! He was “in for it” now, decidedly. It required a good deal of moral courage, a quality in which he was deficient, to resist a lady’s demand. His knees trembled with fear as he scrambled in. Joe, who was standing not far away, looked on with a quiet smile on his face. He realized what was passing in the dude’s mind.
“He’d give ten dollars to get out of it,” our hero told himself.
The boy who had brought the turnout around looked at Felix Gussing earnestly.
“Take care of that horse, mister,” said he, warningly. “He’s young and a little bit wild.”
“Wild?” gasped the dude. “I—I don’t want to drive a wild horse.”
“Oh, he’ll be all right if you keep an eye on him,” went on the stable boy.
“Young and a little bit wild!” thought Felix to himself. “Oh, dear, what in the world shall I do? I never drove a horse before. If I get back with less than a broken neck I’ll be lucky! I’d give a thousand to be out of this pickle.”
“Hadn’t we better start, Mr. Gussing?” asked one of the young ladies, after a pause.
“Oh, yes—certainly!” he stammered. “But—er—you can drive if you wish.”
“Thank you, but I would prefer that you drive.”
“Won’t you drive?” he asked of the other young lady.
“Oh, no, not to-day. But I’ll use the whip if you say so,” she answered.
“Not for the world!” cried the unhappy Felix. “He is a bit wild already and there is no telling what he’d do if he felt the whip.”
At last the carriage drove off. Joe gazed after it thoughtfully.
“Unless I miss my guess, there is going to be trouble before that drive is over,” he thought. And there was trouble, as we shall soon learn.
CHAPTER IX
AN UNFORTUNATE OUTING
Fortunately for the unhappy Felix the horse walked away from the hotel in an orderly fashion, and soon they gained the highway leading to the resort the party wished to visit.
Had the dude left the horse alone all might have gone well. But he deemed it necessary to pull on first one line and then the other, which kept the carriage in a meandering course.
“I don’t think, Mr. Gussing, that you can be much used to driving,” said one of the young ladies, presently.
“That’s a fact,” answered the dude.
“Why don’t you keep to the right of the road?”
“Well,—er—the fact is, this horse is a very difficult one to drive. I don’t believe I ever drove one which was more so.”
As this was the first horse Mr. Gussing had ever driven, this assertion was true in every particular.
“Oh, I can’t travel so slow!” cried one of the young ladies, and seized the whip, and before Felix could stop her, used it on the steed.
The effect was magical. The horse started up like a racer, and tore through the street as if trying to win a race for a thousand dollars.
The dude clung to the reins in the wildest terror. To his frenzied imagination it seemed that his final hour was approaching.
“Whoa!” he screamed, jerking on the lines. “Stop, you crazy beast! Stop, before we all get killed!”
But the horse only went the faster. And now, to increase his alarm, he saw a buggy approaching from the opposite direction. It contained one of the town lawyers, Silas Simms by name.
“We shall run into that buggy!” screamed the fair Belle. “Oh, Mr. Gussing, be careful!”
A moment later the two turnouts came together with a crash, and one wheel was torn from the buggy and the town lawyer pitched out headlong to the ground. Then on went the carriage with the dude and the two young ladies, at a faster pace than ever.
“Let me jump out!” screamed one of the ladies.
“No, not yet! You’ll be killed, Grace,” answered Belle.
“Then stop the carriage!”
Alas, the poor Felix was already doing his best to stop the horse. But his jerkings on the reins only added to the horse’s wildness.
Not far along the road was a good sized brook, spanned by a neat wooden bridge. As the carriage neared the bridge, Felix pulled on the wrong rein once again. The horse turned from the road proper, and descended full speed into the stream itself.
“Oh, now we’ll be drowned!” shrieked Grace.
But she was mistaken. The stream was easily fordable, so there was no danger on that score. But the rate at which they were impelled through the water naturally created no inconsiderable splashing, so that on emerging on the other side the dude, as well as the young ladies, were well drenched.
To the great joy of Felix the contact with the water cooled the ardor of the steed, so that he resumed the journey at a far more moderate rate of speed.
“Wasn’t it just glorious!” cried Belle, who, after the danger seemed past, grew enthusiastic. “What a noble animal!”
“Glorious?” echoed the dude. “I don’t care much about such glory. As for the noble animal—I—er—I wish he was hung! That’s the best he deserves.”
The dude spoke bitterly, for the spell of terror was still on him. Had he consulted his own wishes he would have leaped from the carriage and left the ladies to their fate.
But the thought of the bewitching Belle made him keep his seat, and he resolved that if he must die he would do it like a martyr.
The horse went on, and at last they neared the end of the short journey. But here a new obstacle presented itself. There was a big fence and a gate, and the gate was tight shut.
As they could not enter the grounds without opening the gate, the dude got down out of the carriage. He did not hand the reins to either of the ladies but laid them over the dashboard.
The instant the gate was swung open the steed darted forward, and brought up with a jerk against a post that happened to be in the way. Here he reared and plunged, causing the young ladies to scream “murder” at the top of their voices.
“Oh, my! Oh, dear me!” bawled Felix, and took refuge behind a neighboring hedge. “The horse has gone crazy! He’ll bite somebody next!”
The cries reached some men who were not far off, and they came running to the assistance of the party. One caught the steed by the bridle and soon had him quieted down.
“I’ll never drive that horse again!” said the dude. “Not for a million dollars!”
“How are we to get home?” queried Belle.
“I’ll drive you,” said one of the men. “I know this horse. He used to belong to Bill Perkins. I know how to handle him.”
“Then do so,” answered Felix, “and I’ll pay you two dollars.”
The man was as good as his word, and to Felix’s astonishment he made the horse go back to the hotel without the slightest mishap. Then the horse was put in the stable, the dude paid the bill, and the party separated.
“I shall never drive again, never!” declared the dude to himself, and it may be added that he kept his word.
“I hope you had a nice drive,” said Joe, when he met Felix that evening.
“It was beastly, don’t you know,” was the answer. “That horse was a terribly vicious creature.”
“He looked to be gentle enough when he started off.”
“I think he is a crazy horse.”
“By the way, Mr. Gussing, Mr. Silas Simms was looking for you.”
“You mean that lawyer who drives the spotted white horse?”
“Yes.”
Felix gave a groan.
“He says he wants damages.”
“It wasn’t my fault that the horse ran into him.”
“Well, he is very angry about it, anyway,” said our hero.
Early the next morning Felix Gussing received a communication from the lawyer. It was in the following terms:—
“MR. GUSSING. Sir:—In consequence of your reckless driving yesterday, I was thrown from my carriage, receiving a contusion on my shoulder and other injuries. My carriage was also nearly ruined. If you choose to make a race-course of the public highways you must abide the consequences. The damage I have sustained I cannot estimate at less than one hundred and fifty dollars. Indemnify me for that and I will go no further. Otherwise, I shall be compelled to resort to legal action.
“SILAS SIMMS, Atty.”
Felix read the letter several times and his knees shook visibly. He did not want to pay over such an amount, yet it struck him with terror when he thought he might possibly be arrested for fast driving. He went to see Mr. Silas Simms.
“I am very sorry,” he began.
“Have you come to pay?” demanded the attorney, curtly.
“Well—er—the fact is—don’t you think you are asking rather a stiff price, Mr. Simms?”
“Not at all! Not at all, sir! I ought to have placed the damages at three hundred!”
“I’ll give you fifty dollars and call it square.”
“No, sir, a hundred and fifty! Not a penny less, not one penny! Look at my nose, sir—all scratched! And my ear! Not a penny less than one hundred and fifty dollars!” And the lawyer pounded on his desk with his fist.
“All right then, I’ll pay you, but you must give me a receipt in full,” answered the dude.
He had to wait until the bank opened, that he might cash a check, and then he paid over the amount demanded. The lawyer drew up a legal paper discharging him from all further obligations. Felix read it with care and stowed it in his pocket.
“And now let me give you some advice, Mr. Gussing,” said the lawyer, after the transaction was concluded. “Don’t drive such a wild horse again.”
“Depend upon it, I never shall,” answered the dude. “It costs too much!” he added, with a faint smile.
“Are you well acquainted with horses?”
“No.”
“Then you had better leave them alone altogether.”
“I have already made up my mind to do so.”
