Alger Horatio Jr.
The Young Adventurer: or, Tom's Trip Across the Plains
CHAPTER XIII.
GRAHAM'S DISAPPOINTMENT
Milton Graham, on reaching a place where he could do so unobserved, drew from his pocket the roll of bills, with a smile of exultation. But the smile faded, and was succeeded by a look of dismay, when he recognized the worthlessness of his booty. An oath rose to his lips, and he thrust the roll back into his pocket, as he noticed the approach of a passenger.
"It's a cursed imposition!" he muttered to himself, and he really felt that he had been wronged by Mr. Waterbury.
"What are you doing out here, Graham?" asked Vincent, for it was his confederate who approached.
"Nothing in particular. Why?" responded Graham.
"What makes you look so glum?"
"Do I look glum?"
"You look as if you had but one friend in the world, and were about to lose him."
"That may be true enough," muttered Graham.
"Come, man, don't look so downcast."
"I'm out of luck, and out of cash, Vincent."
"We're both in the same boat, as far as that goes; but that isn't going to last. How about our stout friend? Can't we make him contribute to our necessities?"
"I don't believe he's got any money."
"No? Why, I heard him tell the boy he had six hundred dollars."
"Where does he keep it?"
"In his pocketbook probably."
"Will you oblige me by stating how we are going to get hold of it?"
"I look to you for that."
"He's too careful. I leave you to try your hand."
"Let me go in to breakfast. There's nothing like a full stomach to suggest ideas."
So the two went to the breakfast table, and Graham, in spite of his disappointment, managed to eat a hearty meal.
An hour later Mr. Waterbury and Tom were standing on deck, conversing with Jennie Watson and her mother, when Graham and Vincent approached arm in arm. As soon as they were within hearing distance Mr. Waterbury purposely remarked, "By the way, Mrs. Watson, I met with a loss last night."
"Indeed!" returned the lady.
Graham was about to push on, not wishing Vincent to hear the disclosure, as it might awaken his suspicions; but the latter's curiosity was aroused.
"Wait, Graham," he said; and Graham, against his will, was compelled to slacken his pace.
"A man entered my stateroom during the night, and stole a wallet from my coat pocket."
Graham changed color a little, and Vincent seemed amazed.
"Did you hear that, Graham?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What does it mean?"
"How can I tell?"
"I hope you did not lose much," said Mrs. Watson, in a tone of sympathy.
"I lost the wallet," said Mr. Waterbury, laughing.
"Was there nothing in it?"
"It was full of bills."
Vincent looked at Graham with new-born suspicion, but Graham looked indifferent.
"It appears to me that you take the loss cheerfully," said Mrs. Watson, puzzled.
"I have reason to. The fact is, I was prepared for the visit, and had filled the wallet with bogus bills. I fancy they won't do my visitor much good."
The lady smiled.
"You were fortunate, Mr. Waterbury," said she. "Do you suspect any one of the theft?"
"I know pretty well who robbed me," returned Mr. Waterbury, and he suffered his glance to rest on Graham, who seemed in a hurry to get away.
"Come along, Vincent," he said sharply.
Vincent obeyed. Light dawned upon him, and he determined to verify his suspicions.
"Graham," said he, in a low voice, "you did this."
"Did what?"
"You got that wallet."
Graham concluded that he might as well make a clean breast of it, since it had become a matter of necessity.
"Well," said he, "suppose I did?"
"You were not going to let me know of it," said Vincent suspiciously.
"That is true. I was ashamed of having been imposed upon."
"When did you find out that the money was bogus?"
"Immediately."
"If it had been good, would you have shared with me honorably?"
"Of course. What do you take me for?"
Vincent was silent. He did not believe his companion. He suspected that the latter had intended to steal a march on him.
"You might have told me of it," he continued, in a tone of dissatisfaction.
"There was no need to say anything, as there was nothing to divide."
"Have you got the wallet with you now?"
"No; I threw it overboard."
"And the bills?"
"You may have them all, if you like."
"Come into the stateroom, where we can be unobserved, and show them to me."
Graham complied with his suggestion.
"It would have been a good haul if they had been genuine," said Vincent, as he unfolded the roll.
"Yes, but they are not; worse luck!"
"I didn't give the old fellow credit for being so sharp."
"Nor I. There's more in him than I supposed there was."
"Well, what is to be done?"
"Nothing. The old man is on his guard, and, besides, he suspects me. He was probably awake when I entered the stateroom. He and the boy have probably laughed over it together. I hate that boy."
"Why?"
"Because he is a green country boy, and yet he has succeeded in thwarting me. I am ashamed whenever I think of it."
"Would you like to play a trick on him in turn?"
"Yes."
"Then give me this roll of bills."
"What do you want to do with them?"
"Put them in his pocket."
"Can you do it unobserved?"
"Yes. The fact is, Graham, I served an apprenticeship as a pickpocket, and flatter myself I still have some dexterity in that line."
"Very well, it will be some satisfaction, and if the old man didn't see me enter the stateroom, he may be brought to believe that the boy robbed him. If that could be, I should feel partly compensated for my disappointment. I should like to get that boy into trouble."
"Consider it done, so far as I am concerned. Now let us separate, so as to avoid suspicion."
Vincent began to pace the deck in a leisurely manner, in each case passing near Tom, who was still engaged in conversation with Jennie Watson and her mother. For a time he was unable to effect his purpose, as our hero was sitting down. But after a while Tom rose, and stood with his back to Vincent. He wore a sack coat, with side pockets. This was favorable to Vincent, who, as he passed, adroitly slipped the bills into one of them, without attracting the attention of our hero.
Presently Tom thrust his hand into his pocket mechanically. They encountered the bills. In surprise he drew them out, and looked at them in amazement.
"What's that, Tom?" asked Jennie, with great curiosity.
"It looks like money," answered Tom, not yet understanding what had happened.
"You seem to be rich."
"By gracious! – it's Mr. Waterbury's money," exclaimed Tom. Then he colored, as it flashed upon him that its presence in his pocket might arouse suspicion. "I don't see how it got there," he continued, in a bewildered way.
Just then Mr. Waterbury came up, and was made acquainted with the discovery.
"I don't know what you'll think, Mr. Waterbury," said Tom, coloring; "I haven't the slightest idea how the money came in my pocket."
"I have," said Mr. Waterbury quietly.
Tom looked at him, to discover whether he was under suspicion.
"The companion of your friend Graham slipped it into your pocket. He was very quick and adroit, but I detected him. He wanted to throw suspicion upon you."
"It is lucky you saw him, sir."
"Why?"
"You might have suspected me."
"My dear boy, don't trouble yourself about that. No circumstantial evidence will shake my confidence in your integrity."
"Thank you, sir," said Tom gratefully.
"What a wicked man to play a trick on you, Tom!" exclaimed Jennie indignantly.
"I see there is somebody else who has confidence in you, Tom," said Mr. Waterbury, smiling; "I'd like to give him a piece of my mind."
"I am ready to forgive him," said Mr. Waterbury, "as he has restored the money. It will do as a bait for the next thief."
CHAPTER XIV.
COMING TO AN UNDERSTANDING
"I believe, Tom," said Mr. Waterbury, "that I will come to an understanding with these officious acquaintances of yours. I will intimate to them that their persecution must cease."
"Will they mind what you say, sir?"
"I think they will," answered his friend quietly.
Graham and Vincent were standing together, and apart from the rest of the passengers, when Mr. Waterbury approached them.
"A word with you, gentlemen," said he gravely.
"I don't know you, sir," blustered Vincent.
"Perhaps not. Permit me to remark that I have no special desire for your acquaintance."
"Then why do you take the liberty of addressing me?"
"I rather admire the fellow's impudence," said Mr. Waterbury to himself.
"Are you associated with this gentleman?" he asked, indicating Graham.
"We are friends."
"Then I will address an inquiry to him. I am not in the habit of receiving calls in my stateroom during the hours of sleep."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Milton Graham, with hauteur.
"Oh, yes, you do, unless your memory is singularly defective. Our staterooms are close together. You entered mine last night."
"You must have been dreaming."
"If so, I was dreaming with my eyes open. Perhaps it was in my dreams that I saw you extract a wallet from my coat pocket."
"Do you mean to insult me, sir?" demanded Graham.
"Really, sir, your remarks are rather extraordinary," chimed in Vincent.
"Do you mean to say that I robbed you?" demanded Graham, confident in the knowledge that the booty was not on his person.
"I find a wallet missing. That speaks for itself."
"Let me suggest that your roommate probably took it," said Vincent.
"Extremely probable," said Graham. "He roomed with me in Pittsburg, and I caught him at my pockets during the night."
"Did you ever hear the fable of the wolf and the lamb, Mr. Graham?" asked Mr. Waterbury.
"Can't say I have."
"It's of no consequence. I am reminded of it, however."
"Come to think of it," said Vincent, "I saw the boy with a roll of bills. You had better search him. If he is innocent, he can't object."
"I see your drift," returned Mr. Waterbury, after a pause. "I saw you thrust the bills into his pocket, as he stood with his back turned, conversing with one of the passengers. It was very skilfully done, but I saw it."
Vincent started, for he had supposed himself unobserved.
"I see you are determined to insult us," he said. "I will charitably conclude that you are drunk."
"I can't be so charitable with you, sir. I believe you are a pair of precious scoundrels, who, if you had your deserts, would be in the penitentiary instead of at large."
"I have a mind to knock you down," said Vincent angrily.
As Vincent was several inches shorter and much slighter than the person whom he threatened, this menace sounded rather ridiculous.
"You are at liberty to try it," said the latter, smiling. "First, however, let me warn you that, if you continue to annoy us, it will be at your peril. If you remain quiet I shall leave you alone. Otherwise I will make known your true character to the captain and passengers, and you will undoubtedly be set ashore when we reach the next landing. I have the honor to wish you good morning."
"It strikes me, Graham," said Vincent, as Mr. Waterbury left them, "that we have tackled the wrong passenger."
"I believe you are right," said Graham. "Just my luck."
"There isn't much use in staying on the boat. He will keep a good lookout for us."
"True; but I don't want to give up the boy."
"He is under the guardianship of this determined old party."
"They will separate at Cincinnati."
"Well?"
"He has money enough to take him to California. He is worth following up."
"Then you are in favor of going on to Cincinnati?"
"By all means."
"Very well. There are always chances of making an honest penny in a large city."
"Money or no money, I want to get even with the boy."
So the worthy pair decided to go on to Cincinnati.
CHAPTER XV.
THE ALLEGHANY HOUSE
It was a bright, sunny morning when the River Belle touched her pier at Cincinnati. The passengers gathered on deck, and discussed their plans. In one group were Tom, Mr. Waterbury, Jennie Watson, and her mother.
"I am sorry you are going to leave us, Tom," said Jennie; "I shall feel awfully lonely."
"So shall I," said Tom.
"What's the use of going to that hateful California? Why can't you stay here with us?"
"Business before pleasure, Jennie," said her mother. "You mustn't forget that Tom has his fortune to make."
"I wish he could make it in Cincinnati, mother."
"So do I; but I must admit that California presents a better prospect just at present. You are both young, and I hope we may meet Tom in after years."
"When I have made my pile," suggested Tom.
"Precisely."
"You won't go right on, Tom, will you?" asked Jennie. "You'll stay here a day or two."
"Yes; I should like to see something of Cincinnati."
"And you'll call on us?"
"I shall be very happy to do so. Where are you going to stay?"
"At the Burnet House. Won't you come there, too?"
"Is it a high-priced hotel?"
"I believe it is."
"Then I can't afford to stay there; but I can call on you all the same."
"Stay there as my guest, Tom," said Mr. Waterbury cordially. "It shall not cost you anything."
"Thank you, sir. You are very kind, but I don't like to accept unnecessary favors. I will put up at some cheap hotel, and call upon you both."
"You would be heartily welcome, my boy," said Mr. Waterbury.
"I don't doubt it, sir, and the time may come when I will gladly accept your kindness," replied Tom.
"But now you mean to have your own way; is that it, Tom."
"You won't be offended, sir?"
"On the contrary, I respect you for your manly independence. You won't forget that I am your friend?"
"I don't want to forget that, sir."
So it happened that while Mrs. Watson, Jennie, and Mr. Waterbury registered at the Burnet House, Tom, carpetbag in hand, walked through the streets till he came to a plain inn, bearing the name Alleghany House. It is not now in existence, having given way to an imposing business block.
"That looks as if it might suit my purse," thought Tom.
He walked in, and, approaching the desk, inquired: "How much do you charge at this hotel?"
"A dollar a day," answered the clerk. "Will you have a room?"
"Yes, sir."
"Please register your name." Tom did so.
"Cato," called the clerk – summoning a colored boy, about Tom's size – "take this young man to No. 18."
"All right, sar," said Cato, showing his ivories.
"When do you have dinner?" asked Tom.
"One o'clock."
Preceded by Cato, Tom walked up-stairs, and was ushered into a small, dingy room on the second floor. There was a single window, looking through dingy panes upon a back yard. There was a general air of cheerlessness and discomfort, but at any rate it was larger than the stateroom on the River Belle.
"Is this the best room you have?" asked Tom, not very favorably impressed.
"Oh, no, sar," answered Cato. "If your wife was with you, sar, we'd give you a scrumptious room, 'bout twice as big."
"I didn't bring my wife along, Cato," said Tom, amused. "Are you married?"
"Not yet, sar," answered his colored guide, with a grin.
"I think we can wait till we are a little older."
"Reckon so, sar."
"Just bring up a little water, Cato. I feel in need of washing."
"Dirt don't show on me," said Cato, with a guffaw.
"I suppose you do wash, now and then, don't you?"
"Yes, sar, sometimes," answered Cato equivocally.
When Tom had completed his toilet he found that it was but ten o'clock. He accordingly went down-stairs, intending to see a little of the city before dinner.
CHAPTER XVI.
THE EVENTS OF A MORNING
Graham and Vincent had kept quiet during the latter part of the voyage. They had a wholesome fear of Mr. Waterbury, and kept aloof from him and Tom. They even exchanged their stateroom for one at a different part of the boat. All was satisfactory to Tom and his companion.
When the worthy pair reached Cincinnati they were hard up. Their united funds amounted to but seven dollars, and it seemed quite necessary that they should find the means of replenishing their purses somewhere. They managed to ascertain that Tom and his friend were going to separate, and this afforded them satisfaction, since it made their designs upon our hero more feasible. At a distance they followed Tom to the Alleghany House, and themselves took lodgings at a small, cheap tavern near-by. Like Tom, they set out soon after their arrival in quest of adventure.
"We must strike a vein soon, Graham," said Vincent, "or we shall be in a tight place."
"That's so," answered Graham.
"Thus far our trip hasn't paid very well. It's been all outgo and no income."
"You're right, partner; but don't give up the ship," responded Graham, whose spirits returned, now that he was on dry land. "I've been in the same straits about once a month for the last five years."
"I've known you for three years, Graham, and, so far as my knowledge extends, I can attest the truth of what you say. By the way, you never say anything of your life before that date."
A shadow passed over Graham's face.
"Because I don't care to think of it; I never talk of it," he said.
"Pshaw, man, we all of us have some ugly secrets. Suppose we confide in each other. Tell me your story, and I will tell you mine. It won't change my opinion of you."
"Probably not," said Graham. "Well, there is no use in holding back. For this once I will go back to the past. Five years ago I was a favorite in society. One day an acquaintance introduced me into a gambling house, and I tried my hand successfully. I went out with fifty dollars more than I brought in. It was an unlucky success, for it made me a frequent visitor. All my surplus cash found a market there, and when that was exhausted I borrowed from my employer."
"Without his knowledge?"
"Of course. For six months I evaded discovery. Then I was detected. My friends interceded, and saved me from the penitentiary, but I lost my situation, and was required to leave the city. I went to New York, tried to obtain a situation there, failed, and then adopted my present profession. I need not tell you the rest."
"My dear friend, I think I know the rest pretty well. But don't look sober. A fig for the past. What's the odds, as long as you're happy?"
"Are you happy?" inquired Graham.
"As long as I'm flush," answered Vincent, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm nearly dead-broke now, and of course I am miserable. However, my story comes next in order. I was a bank teller, appropriated part of the funds of the bank, fled with it, spent it, and then became an ornament to our common profession."
"Where was the bank?"
"In Canada. I haven't been there since. The climate don't suit me. It's bleak, but I fear it might prove too hot for me. Now we know each other."
"You don't allow it to worry you, Vincent," said Graham.
"No, I don't. Why should I? I let the dead past bury its dead, as Longfellow says, and act in the living present. That reminds me, we ought to be at work. I have a proposal to make. We won't hunt in couples, but separate, and each will try to bring home something to help the common fund. Is it agreed?"
"Yes."
"Au revoir, then!"
"That fellow has no conscience," thought Graham. "Mine is callous, but he goes beyond me. Perhaps he is the better off."
Graham shook off his transient dull spirits, and walked on, keeping a sharp lookout for a chance to fleece somebody. In front of a railroad ticket office he espied a stolid-looking German, who was trying to read the placard in the window.
Graham approached him, and said politely, "My friend, perhaps I can help you. Are you thinking of buying a railroad ticket?"
The German turned, and his confidence was inspired by the friendly interest of Graham's manner.
"I go to Minnesota," he said, "where my brother live."
"Exactly, and you want a ticket to go there?"
"Yes, I want a ticket. Do they sell him here?"
"No," said Graham. "That is, they do sell tickets here; but they ask too much."
"I will not pay too much," said the German, shaking his head decisively.
"Of course not; I will take you to a cheaper place."
"That is good," said the German, well pleased. "It is luck I meet mit a friend like you."
"Yes," said Graham, linking his arm in that of his new acquaintance. "I don't like to see a worthy man cheated. Come with me. How much money have you?"
This inquiry ought to have excited the suspicions of the German; but he was trustful, and answered promptly, "Two hundred dollar."
Graham's eyes sparkled.
"If I could only get the whole of it," he thought. But that didn't seem easy.
They walked through street after street till Graham stopped in front of an office.
"Now," said he, "give me your money, and I will buy the ticket."
"How much money?" asked his new acquaintance.
"I don't know exactly," said Graham carelessly. "Just hand me your pocketbook, and I will pay what is needed."
But here the German's characteristic caution came in.
"I will go with you," he said.
"If you do, I can't get the tickets so cheap. The agent is a friend of mine, and if he thinks it is for me he will give it to me for less. Don't give me all your money. Fifty dollars will do. I will buy the ticket, and bring you the rest of the money."
This seemed plausible enough, and Graham would have got what he asked for, but for the interference of Tom, who had come up just in time to hear Graham's proposal. He had no difficulty in comprehending his purpose.
"Don't give him the money," he said. "He will cheat you."
Both Graham and his intended victim wheeled round, and looked at our hero.
"Clear out of here, you young vagabond!" said Graham angrily.
"This man wants to cheat you," persisted Tom. "Don't give him your money."
The bewildered foreigner looked from one to the other.
"This is no ticket office," said Tom. "I will lead you to one, and you shall buy a ticket for yourself."
"He wants to swindle you," said Graham quickly.
"You shall keep your money in your own hands," said Tom. "I don't want it."
"I go with you, my young friend," said the German, convinced by Tom's honest face. "The other man may be all right, but I go with you."
Graham protested in vain. His victim went off with Tom, who saw that he was provided with the ticket he wanted. His new friend tried to force a dollar upon him; but this Tom steadily refused.
"I'll get even with you yet!" said Graham furiously; but our hero was not disturbed by this menace.
Vincent, meantime, was making a tour of observation, ready for any adventure that might put an honest or dishonest penny into his pocket. About half an hour later he found himself on the leading retail street in Cincinnati. In front of him walked a lady, fashionably attired, holding a mother-of-pearl portemonnaie carelessly in her hand. He brushed by her, and at the same moment the pocketbook was snatched from her hand.
The lady screamed, and instinctively clutched Vincent by the arm.
"This man has robbed me, I think," she said. The crowd began to gather about Vincent, and he saw that he was cornered. Among the crowd, unluckily for himself, was Tom. By a skilful movement Vincent thrust the portemonnaie into our hero's pocket.
"You are mistaken, madam," he said coolly; "I saw that boy take your money."
Instantly two men seized Tom.
"Search him," said Vincent, "and see it I am not right."
The portemonnaie was taken from Tom's pocket, amid the hootings of the crowd.
"So young, and yet so wicked!" said the lady regretfully.
"I didn't take the money, madam," protested Tom, his face scarlet with surprise and mortification.
"Don't believe him, ma'am. I saw him take it," said Vincent virtuously.
Poor Tom looked from one to another; but all faces were unfriendly. It was a critical time for him.
