Alger Horatio Jr.
Walter Sherwood's Probation
CHAPTER VII
WALTER’S EXPERIMENT BEGINS
After a conference between Walter and his guardian it was decided that he should wait till the first of September before seeking for any business position. Walter, who was somewhat impulsive, was disposed to start at once, but Doctor Mack said: “No, you are entitled to a vacation. When your class resumes study at Euclid, it will be time for you to begin to earn your living.”
“I am not sure that I deserve a vacation,” said Walter frankly. “I have not studied as hard at I ought.”
“Very probably. You have not been in earnest. You are a year older now, and you have a better understanding of your position.”
“You are very charitable, my dear guardian,” said Walter.
Doctor Mack smiled.
“I am quite aware,” he said, “that old heads are not often to be found on young shoulders.”
“Then you think it will be right for me to enjoy myself this summer?”
“I want you to do so.”
“One of my college friends, Frank Clifford, has invited me to pass a month with him in the Adirondacks. The Cliffords have a lodge not far from Blue Mountain Lake. Frank’s mother and sisters will be abroad, and he wants me to keep him company.”
“I can think of no objection. How shall you spend your time?”
“In hunting and fishing. There are splendid chances for both up there, so Clifford says.”
“Go and have your good time. When you come back we will talk of your future plans.”
Walter’s stay was prolonged to eight weeks, and when he returned it was already nearing the end of August. He was browned by exposure, and looked the picture of health.
“Now I am ready to go to work, Doctor Mack,” he said. “Have you any plans for me?”
“How would you like to go into a drug-store? I have a college classmate who is a very successful druggist in Syracuse.”
Walter shrugged his shoulders.
“I don’t believe I have a taste for making pills,” he said.
“I thought not. What do you think of entering a dry-goods store? I am acquainted with the head of a prominent establishment in New York.”
“It is a very respectable position, but I should feel cabined, cribbed, confined in it.”
“I am at the end of my tether. Have you formed any plans of your own?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“But you have thought somewhat on the subject?”
“Yes,” answered Walter.
“If at all possible, I shall let you have your own way.”
“You may think me foolish,” said Walter hesitatingly.
“I don’t know. Let me hear what you have to propose.”
“I thought,” said Walter eagerly, “I would like to go out West.”
“What would you do when you got there?”
“There must be lots of things to do.”
“Very likely. You might buy an ax and clear the virgin forests.”
“I am afraid I wouldn’t be a success at that.”
“You have no definite idea as to what you would do?”
“No. I could tell better when I got out there.”
“Now, about the expense. How much money would you need? You would require to live till you begin to earn something.”
“How much will it cost me to get to Chicago?”
“Say about twenty-five dollars.”
“I think, guardian, if you will advance me a hundred dollars, that will be sufficient.”
“For how long a time?”
“For a year. You see, I expect to earn my own living by the time I have spent fifty dollars in all. I should go to a cheap boarding-place, of course. I should be able to pay my way.”
“You will be content, then, with a hundred dollars, Walter?”
“Yes; perhaps I could make it do on less.”
“No; you shall have a hundred. If absolutely necessary, you can send for more.”
“No,” said Walter confidently; “I won’t do that. I shall get along somehow. I want to make a man of myself.”
“That is a commendable ambition. Still, sometimes a young man finds it hard to obtain employment. If you had a trade, now, it might be different. Suppose, for instance, you were a journeyman tailor, you could readily find a place in Chicago or any good-sized city.”
“I shouldn’t care to be a tailor.”
“I shouldn’t care to employ you if you were,” said his guardian, smiling. “One thing I would like to guard you against. Don’t be too particular about what you take up. With so small an outfit as you have stipulated for, you will have to go to work at something soon. Then, again, you won’t be able to live as well as you have been accustomed to do here and in college.”
“I understand that, and am prepared for it. I want to rough it.”
“Possibly you will have your wish granted. I don’t want to discourage you, Walter. I only want to prepare you for what may, and probably will, come.”
“Do you know any one in Chicago, Doctor Mack? I might find it pleasant to have an acquaintance.”
“Yes, I know a retired merchant named Archer. He lives on Indiana Avenue. I don’t remember the number, but you can easily find his name in the directory. His name is Allen Archer.”
Walter noted the name in a new memorandum book which he had purchased.
“Where would you advise me to put up on my arrival in Chicago?” he asked.
“There are several good houses—the Sherman, Tremont, Palmer House; but they will be beyond your means. Indeed, any hotel will be. Still you might go to some good house for a day. That will give you time to hunt up a modest boarding-house.”
“An excellent plan!” said Walter, in a tone of satisfaction. “Do you know, my dear guardian, I shall go out in the best of spirits. I feel—in Shakespeare’s words—that the world is mine oyster.”
“I hope you will be able to open it, Walter. You have my best wishes. Don’t forget that you will have to depend on yourself.”
“I won’t forget it. I wish it was time for me to start.”
“It will come soon enough. You had better get out your clothes, and get them mended, if necessary, and put in order. Nancy will do all she can for you, and the tailor will do the rest. Better not take much with you. When you get settled I will forward your trunk by express.”
When Nancy Sprague heard of Walter’s plans she was much disturbed.
“Oh, Master Walter,” she said, in a tragic tone, “is it true that you’ve lost all your money and have got to go out into the cold world to make a living?”
“I believe I have lost some money, Nancy, but I rather like the idea of working for my living.”
“Oh, you poor child, you little know what it is. I can’t bear to think of it. I can’t see how Doctor Mack can let you go.”
“I should be very sorry if he refused. It isn’t so bad, to work for a living. Haven’t you always done it?”
“Yes, but that’s different. I was always poor, and I am used to it.”
“I’m going to get used to it.”
“Walter—don’t tell your guardian what I am saying—but I’ve got two hundred dollars in the savings bank, and I shall be very glad to give you some of it. You will take it, now, won’t you? I can get it out to-morrow.”
“Nancy, you are a true friend,” said Walter, really moved by the unselfish devotion of the house-keeper; “but I sha’n’t need it. I shall take a hundred dollars with me, and long before it is gone I shall be earning my living.”
“You’ll send for it if you need it?”
“Yes; if I find I am very hard up, and there is no other way, I will send for it.”
Nancy brightened up, much pleased and relieved by this assurance.
“I couldn’t bear to think of your suffering for a meal of victuals when we have so much in the house. I don’t see why you can’t stay at home and get a place in the village.”
Walter laughed.
“It wouldn’t suit me at all, Nancy. I am going West to grow up with the country.”
“I wish I could be somewhere near, to look after you.”
“It would be of no use, Nancy. Women are in great demand out there—at any rate in Dakota—and you’d be married in less than no time, if you went.”
“You are only joking now, Master Walter.”
“Not at all! I read the other day that of ten schoolma’ams who went out to Dakota last fall, eight were married within three months.”
“Nobody could marry me against my will,” said Nancy resolutely.
“Perhaps he would find a way of overcoming your objections,” said Walter, laughing. “But I am afraid Doctor Mack couldn’t do without you. He couldn’t spare you and me both.”
“That’s true,” assented Nancy, who had not been so much alarmed at the matrimonial dangers hinted at by Walter as might have been anticipated. Had a good opportunity offered, I am inclined to think Nancy would have been willing to change her name. After all, she was only forty-nine, and I have known more than one to surrender single blessedness with all its charms at and beyond that age.
At last the day of departure came. Valise in hand, Walter jumped aboard the stage that was to convey him to the railroad-station. He shook hands with his guardian and Nancy, the driver whipped up his horses, and a new period in Walter’s life had commenced.
“I wonder how he’ll come out?” mused Doctor Mack thoughtfully. “Have I acted for the best in letting him go? Well, time alone can tell.”
CHAPTER VIII
WALTER BUYS A WATCH
Walter was tempted to stop over at Niagara, as his ticket would have allowed him to do, but he was also very anxious to reach Chicago and get to work. “I can visit Niagara some other time,” he reflected. “Now I can spare neither the money nor the time.”
Hour after hour sped by, until with a little thrill of excitement Walter learned by consulting his railroad guide that he was within fifty miles of Chicago. He looked out of the car window, and surveyed with interest the country through which they were speeding at the rate of thirty-five miles an hour. His attention was drawn from the panorama outside by a voice:
“Is this seat engaged?”
Walter looked up, and his glance rested on a man of perhaps thirty-five, dressed in a light suit, and wearing a tall white hat.
“No, sir,” answered Walter politely, removing his gripsack from the seat.
“I don’t want to incommode you,” said the stranger, as he took the place thus vacated.
“You don’t in the least,” said Walter.
“I suppose you are going to Chicago?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you going farther—out to Dakota, for instance?”
“No, sir. Chicago is far enough west for me at present.”
“I live in Dakota. I have a long journey to make after we reach Chicago.”
“I don’t know about Dakota. Is it a good place for business?”
“It is going to be. Yes, Dakota has a bright future. I have a pleasant little home out there. I had to go East on business, and stayed a little longer than I intended. In fact I spent more money than I anticipated, and that makes me a little short.”
It struck Walter that his new acquaintance for a stranger was very confidential.
“Is it possible he will propose to borrow money of me?” he asked himself. He did not quite know what to say, but politeness required him to say something.
“I am sorry,” he replied, in a sympathizing tone.
“I should like to take a train this evening for my home,” continued the stranger.
“I hope you will be able to do so.”
“Well, there’s one drawback. I haven’t got money enough to buy a through ticket. Under these circumstances I am going to offer you a bargain.”
Walter looked surprised and expectant. The stranger drew a gold watch from his pocket—a very handsome gold watch, which looked valuable.
“You see that watch?” he said. “How much do you think it is worth?”
“It looks like a nice watch. I am no judge of values.”
“It cost me ninety dollars six months since. Now I need the money, and I will sell it to you for twenty-five.”
“But that would be a great sacrifice.”
“So it would, but I need the money. Of course, if you haven’t got the money—”
“I have that amount of money,” said Walter, “but I haven’t got it to spare. I might need it.”
“Then all you need to do is to sell the watch or pawn it. You could sell it for fifty dollars without trouble.”
“Why don’t you do that?” asked Walter shrewdly.
“Because I haven’t the time. I want, if possible, to go on to-night. If you had a wife and two children waiting for you, whom you had not seen for two months, you wouldn’t mind losing a few dollars for the sake of seeing them a little sooner.”
“Very likely,” answered Walter, to whom his companion’s explanation seemed plausible.
Walter was tempted, but he reflected that twenty-five dollars represented a third of the money he had with him, so he put away the temptation, but with reluctance. He had a silver watch, bought for him, when he entered college, at a cost of fifteen dollars, and like the majority of boys of his age he felt that he should much prefer to carry a gold one. Still he must be prudent.
“No,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t think I had better buy the watch. I presume you will find some one else on the train who would be glad of the bargain.”
“Very likely, but we are near Chicago, and I haven’t time to look around. Come, I’ll make you a still better offer, though I ought not to do so. You may have the watch for twenty dollars. That money will get me through, and I won’t haggle about five dollars.”
“Twenty dollars!” repeated Walter thoughtfully.
“Yes, look at the watch. Isn’t it a beauty?”
“Yes; I like the appearance of it very much.”
“If you get out of money, you can easily pawn it for more than the sum I ask for it.”
Certainly this was an important consideration. Walter felt that he would be foolish to lose so good a chance. It was a pity that the stranger should be forced to make such a sacrifice, yet it really seemed that he would be doing him a favor, as well as benefiting himself, by accepting his proposition.
“You will guarantee it to be solid gold?” he said, with momentary suspicion.
“Certainly. You will see that it is an Elgin watch. Of course you know the reputation of that make. They don’t make any sham watches at their factory.”
“I thought the case might be gilt,” said Walter, half ashamed of his suspicions.
“You do well to be cautious, but I will guarantee the watch to be all I represent it. I only wish you were a jeweler. Then you could judge for yourself.”
It sounded very plausible. Then, the watch was a very handsome one.
“Let me open it and show you the works.”
The stranger did so. Walter was no judge of the mechanism of a watch, but what he saw impressed him favorably. The stranger seemed very frank and fair-spoken. Walter knew, of course, that in traveling one was likely to meet with sharpers, but that did not justify him in suspecting everybody he met.
“It would look very nice at the end of my chain,” he thought. “I suppose I cannot afford it; but, as he says, I can raise money on it at any time.”
“Well, young man, what is your decision? You must excuse me for hurrying, but we are not far from Chicago, and I want to make sure that I can continue my journey to-night. I shall telegraph to my wife that I am coming.”
“I will take the watch,” said Walter. “There doesn’t seem to be much risk in doing so.”
“Bosh! I should say not. Young man, I congratulate you. You have made the best bargain of your life. Have you got the money handy?”
Walter took out two ten-dollar bills and handed them to his companion, receiving the watch in exchange.
“Well, that settles my mind,” said the stranger, in a tone of satisfaction. “I shall see the old woman and the kids very soon, thanks to your kindness.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Walter complacently. “I feel indebted to you, rather, as you have given me much more than an equivalent for my money.”
“That is true, but under present circumstances money is worth a good deal to me. Now, if you don’t mind I will go into the smoking-car and have a little smoke before we arrive. Will you join me?”
“No, sir, thank you; I don’t smoke.”
“Good-day, then. Hope we shall meet again.”
Walter responded politely, and the stranger, rising, walked forward to the front part of the car and disappeared.
Walter detached the silver watch from the plated chain to which it was attached, substituted the new gold watch, and put the silver watch in his pocket. It occurred to him that if he should really need money it might be better for him to sell the silver watch and retain the gold one.
“I have made thirty dollars at the very least on my purchase,” he reflected, “for I am sure I can sell the watch for fifty dollars if I wish to do so. This is a white day for me, as the Romans used to say. I accept it as a good omen of success. I wish Doctor Mack and Nancy were here to see it. I think the doctor would give me credit for a little shrewdness.”
The car sped on perhaps a dozen miles farther, when the door opened and the conductor entered, followed by a stout man of perhaps fifty years of age, who looked flushed and excited.
“This gentleman has been robbed of his gold watch,” explained the conductor. “He is convinced that some one on the train has taken it. Of course, no one of you is suspected, but I will trouble you to show me your watches.”
As Walter heard these words a terrible fear assailed him. Had he bought a stolen watch?
CHAPTER IX
AN INGENIOUS SCHEME
The passengers, though somewhat surprised, generally showed their watches with a good grace. One old man produced a silver watch fifty years old.
“That watch belonged to my grandfather,” he said. “You don’t claim that, do you?”
“Wouldn’t take it as a gift,” said the loser crustily.
“You couldn’t get it in exchange for yours!” retorted the owner.
Presently they came to Walter. If he had not attached the gold watch to his chain, instead of his old silver one, he would have been tempted to leave it in his pocket and produce the less valuable one. But he was saved from the temptation, as this would now have been impossible. Besides, had the gold watch been found on him afterward it would have looked very suspicious.
“Well, youngster,” said the stout man, “show us your watch.”
With a flushed face and an uneasy feeling Walter drew out the gold timepiece.
“Is that your watch?” he said.
“Yes!” almost shouted the stout passenger, fiercely. “So you are the thief?”
“No, sir,” answered Walter, pale but firm. “I am not the thief.”
“Where did you get it, then?”
“I bought it.”
“You bought it? That’s a likely story.”
“Why, it was taken from me this very afternoon.”
“That may be, but I bought it, all the same.”
The owner was about to protest, when the conductor said quietly: “Listen to the young fellow’s explanation.”
Walter proceeded:
“A man came to my seat and told me he wanted to raise enough money to get to Dakota. He offered me the watch for twenty-five dollars, though he said it cost him ninety six months ago.”
“And you paid him twenty-five dollars?”
“No; I had no money to spare, but when he offered it for twenty, and told me I could more than get my money back either by pawning or selling it, I made up my mind to purchase, and did so.”
“Where is this man?” asked the conductor.
“He said he was going into the smoking-car.”
“That’s a likely story,” sneered the stout gentleman.
“Do you charge me with taking the watch?” demanded Walter hotly. “I have never left this car. Have you seen me before?”
“No; but you are probably a confederate of the man from whom you got it. But I am not sure if there was any such man.”
“I will describe him,” said Walter.
As he did so, the conductor said: “There was such a man on the train. He got off at the last station.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” said the claimant; “but I’ll trouble you, young man, for that watch.”
“Will you return me the twenty dollars I gave for it?” asked Walter.
“Of course not. I don’t propose to buy back my own watch.”
An elderly gentleman who sat just behind Walter spoke up here.
“It is rather hard on the boy,” he said. “I can confirm his story about the purchase of the watch. I heard the bargaining and saw the purchase-money paid.”
“That makes no difference to me,” said the claimant. “I’ve identified the watch and I want it.”
Walter removed it from his chain and was about to hand it to the claimant, when a quiet-looking man, dressed in a drab suit, rose from a seat farther down the car and came forward. He was a small man, not over five feet five inches in height, and he would not have weighed over one hundred and twenty pounds, but there was a look of authority on his face and an accent of command in his voice.
“You needn’t give up the watch, my boy,” he said.
Walter drew back his hand and turned round in surprise. The claimant uttered an angry exclamation, and said testily: “By what right do you interfere?”
“The watch isn’t yours,” said the small man nonchalantly.
“It isn’t, hey? Well, of all the impertinent—”
“Stop there, Jim Beckwith! You see I know you”—as the stout man turned pale and clutched at the side of the seat.
“Who are you?” he demanded hoarsely.
“Detective Green!”
The claimant lost all his braggadocio air, and stared at the detective with a terrified look.
“That isn’t my name,” he managed to ejaculate.
“Very likely not,” said the detective calmly, “but it is one of your names. It is a very clever game that you and your confederate are playing. He sells the watch, and you demand it, claiming that it has been stolen from you. I was present when the watch was sold, and the reason I did not interfere was because I was waiting for the sequel. How many times have you played this game?”
“There’s some mistake,” gasped the other.
“Perhaps so, but I have some doubts whether you came by it honestly.”
“I assure you it is my watch,” cried the other, uneasily.
“How much did you pay for it, young man?” asked the detective.
“Twenty dollars.”
“Very well, sir; give the boy twenty dollars, and I shall advise him to give the watch back to you, as it may be stolen property, which he would not like to have found in his possession.”
“But that will be paying twenty dollars for my own property. It was not to me he paid the money.”
“You will have to look to your confederate for that. I am not sure but I ought to make you give twenty-five dollars.”
This hint led to the stout man’s hastily producing two ten-dollar bills, which he tendered to Walter.
“It’s an outrage,” he said, “making a man pay for his own property!”
“Are you sure that your statements in regard to this man are true?” asked an important-looking individual on the opposite side of the car. “To my mind your interference is unwarrantable, not to say outrageous. Justice has been trampled upon.”
The detective looked round sharply.
“Do you know the man?” he asked.
“No.”
“Well, I do. I first made his acquaintance at Joliet prison, where he served a term of years for robbing a bank. Is that true or not, Jim Beckwith?”
The man known as Beckwith had already started to leave the car, but, although he heard the question, he didn’t come back to answer it.
“I generally know what I’m about,” continued the detective, pointedly, “as those who are unwise enough to criticise my actions find out, sooner or later.”
The important gentleman did not reply, but covered his confusion by appearing to be absorbed in a daily paper, which he held up before his face.
“You let him off easy,” said the gentleman in the rear seat. “You allowed him to take the watch. I was surprised at that.”
“Yes; for, strange as it may seem, it was probably his, though the money with which he bought it may have been stolen. That watch has been probably sold a dozen times and recovered the same way. Were it a stolen watch, the risk would be too great. As it is I had no pretext for arresting him.”
“Was it really a ninety-dollar watch?” asked Walter, with interest.
“No. I know something about watches, as I find the knowledge useful in my official capacity. The watch would be a fair bargain at forty-five dollars, but it is showy, and would readily be taken for one worth seventy-five or even ninety dollars.”
“I shouldn’t think the trick would pay,” said the gentleman in the rear seat.
“Why not?”
“Twenty dollars isn’t a large sum to be divided between two persons, especially when there’s money to be paid for car fare.”
“Sometimes the watch is sold for more—generally, I fancy—but the price was reduced because the purchaser was a boy. Besides, these men doubtless have other ways of making money. They are well-known confidence men. If I hadn’t been on board the train our young friend would have lost his twenty dollars.”
“It would have been a great loss to me,” said Walter. “I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Green.”
“Ah, you remember my name. Let me give you my card. Some time you may get into difficulty and want to consult me. Boys of your age are not a match for an experienced swindler.”
He handed Walter a card bearing the name:
SILAS GREEN, 97 H Street.
Walter put it into his pocket with a polite expression of thanks.
Meanwhile, of course, the cars were steadily approaching Chicago. At length they entered the great Union Depot, and with the rest of the passengers Walter alighted carrying his valise in his hand.
A few feet in front of him walked Jim Beckwith, but Walter did not care to join him. He half turned, and as his glance fell on Walter he said, with a scowl: “If you ever meet me again you’ll know me.”
“Yes, I shall!” answered Walter, with emphasis.
