Kitabı oku: «Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience», sayfa 5

CHAPTER XIII
AN UNEQUAL CONTEST

Carl walked on slowly. He felt encouraged by the prospect of work, for he was sure that Mr. Jennings would make a place for him, if possible.

“He is evidently a kind-hearted man,” Carl reflected. “Besides, he has been poor himself, and he can sympathize with me. The wages may be small, but I won’t mind that, if I only support myself economically, and get on.” To most boys brought up in comfort, not to say luxury, the prospect of working hard for small pay would not have seemed inviting. But Carl was essentially manly, and had sensible ideas about labor. It was no sacrifice or humiliation to him to become a working boy, for he had never considered himself superior to working boys, as many boys in his position would have done.

He walked on in a leisurely manner, and at the end of ten minutes thought he had better sit down and wait for Mr. Jennings. But he was destined to receive a shock. There, under the tree which seemed to offer the most inviting shelter, reclined a figure only too well-known.

It was the tramp who the day before had compelled him to surrender the ten-dollar bill.

The ill-looking fellow glanced up, and when his gaze rested upon Carl, his face beamed with savage joy.

“So it’s you, is it?” he said, rising from his seat.

“Yes,” answered Carl, doubtfully.

“Do you remember me?”

“Yes.”

“I have cause to remember you, my chicken. That was a mean trick you played upon me,” and he nodded his head significantly.

“I should think it was you that played the trick on me.”

“How do you make that out?” growled the tramp.

“You took my money.”

“So I did, and much good it did me.”

Carl was silent.

“You know why, don’t you?”

Carl might have denied that he knew the character of the bill which was stolen from him, but I am glad to say that it would have come from him with a very ill grace, for he was accustomed to tell the truth under all circumstances.

“You knew that the bill was counterfeit, didn’t you?” demanded the tramp, fiercely.

“I was told so at the hotel where I offered it in payment for my bill.”

“Yet you passed it on me!”

“I didn’t pass it on you. You took it from me,” retorted Carl, with spirit.

“That makes no difference.”

“I think it does. I wouldn’t have offered it to anyone in payment of an honest bill.”

“Humph! you thought because I was poor and unfortunate you could pass it off on me!”

This seemed so grotesque that Carl found it difficult not to laugh.

“Do you know it nearly got me into trouble?” went on the tramp.

“How was that?”

“I stopped at a baker’s shop to get a lunch. When I got through I offered the bill. The old Dutchman put on his spectacles, and he looked first at the bill, then at me. Then he threatened to have me arrested for passing bad money. I told him I’d go out in the back yard and settle it with him. I tell you, boy, I’d have knocked him out in one round, and he knew it, so he bade me be gone and never darken his door again. Where did you get it?”

“It was passed on me by a man I was traveling with.”

“How much other money have you got?” asked the tramp.

“Very little.”

“Give it to me, whatever it is.”

This was a little too much for Carl’s patience.

“I have no money to spare,” he said, shortly.

“Say that over again!” said the tramp, menacingly.

“If you don’t understand me, I will. I have no money to spare.”

“You’ll spare it to me, I reckon.”

“Look here,” said Carl, slowly backing. “You’ve robbed me of ten dollars. You’ll have to be satisfied with that.”

“It was no good. It might have sent me to prison. If I was nicely dressed I might pass it, but when a chap like me offers a ten-dollar bill it’s sure to be looked at sharply. I haven’t a cent, and I’ll trouble you to hand over all you’ve got.”

“Why don’t you work for a living? You are a strong, able-bodied man.”

“You’ll find I am if you give me any more of your palaver.”

Carl saw that the time of negotiation was past, and that active hostilities were about to commence. Accordingly he turned and ran, not forward, but in the reverse direction, hoping in this way to meet with Mr. Jennings.

“Ah, that’s your game, is it?” growled the tramp. “You needn’t expect to escape, for I’ll overhaul you in two minutes.”

So Carl ran, and his rough acquaintance ran after him.

It could hardly be expected that a boy of sixteen, though stout and strong, could get away from a tall, powerful man like the tramp.

Looking back over his shoulder, Carl saw that the tramp was but three feet behind, and almost able to lay his hand upon his shoulder.

He dodged dexterously, and in trying to do the same the tramp nearly fell to the ground. Naturally, this did not sweeten his temper.

“I’ll half murder you when I get hold of you,” he growled, in a tone that bodied ill for Carl.

The latter began to pant, and felt that he could not hold out much longer. Should he surrender at discretion?

“If some one would only come along,” was his inward aspiration. “This man will take my money and beat me, too.”

As if in reply to his fervent prayer the small figure of Mr. Jennings appeared suddenly, rounding a curve in the road.

“Save me, save me, Mr. Jennings!” cried Carl, running up to the little man for protection.

“What is the matter? Who is this fellow?” asked Mr. Jennings, in a deep voice for so small a man.

“That tramp wants to rob me.”

“Don’t trouble yourself! He won’t do it,” said Jennings, calmly.

CHAPTER XIV
CARL ARRIVES IN MILFORD

The tramp stopped short, and eyed Carl’s small defender, first with curious surprise, and then with derision.

“Out of my way, you midget!” he cried, “or ‘ll hurt you.”

“Try it!” said the little man, showing no sign of fear.

“Why, you’re no bigger than a kid. I can upset you with one finger.”

He advanced contemptuously, and laid his hand on the shoulder of the dwarf. In an instant Jennings had swung his flail-like arms, and before the tramp understood what was happening he was lying flat on his back, as much to Carl’s amazement as his own.

He leaped to his feet with an execration, and advanced again to the attack. To be upset by such a pigmy was the height of mortification.

“I’m going to crush you, you mannikin!” he threatened.

Jennings put himself on guard. Like many small men, he was very powerful, as his broad shoulders and sinewy arms would have made evident to a teacher of gymnastics. He clearly understood that this opponent was in deadly earnest, and he put out all the strength which he possessed. The result was that his large-framed antagonist went down once more, striking his head with a force that nearly stunned him.

It so happened that at this juncture reinforcements arrived. A sheriff and his deputy drove up in an open buggy, and, on witnessing the encounter, halted their carriage and sprang to the ground.

“What is the matter, Mr. Jennings?” asked the sheriff, respectfully, for the little man was a person of importance in that vicinity.

“That gentleman is trying to extort a forced loan, Mr. Cunningham.”

“Ha! a footpad?”

“Yes.”

The sheriff sprang to the side of the tramp, who was trying to rise, and in a trice his wrists were confined by handcuffs.

“I think I know you, Mike Frost,” he said. “You are up to your old tricks. When did you come out of Sing Sing?”

“Three weeks since,” answered the tramp, sullenly.

“They want you back there. Come along with me!”

He was assisted into the buggy, and spent that night in the lockup.

“Did he take anything from you, Carl?” asked Mr. Jennings.

“No, sir; but I was in considerable danger. How strong you are!” he added, admiringly.

“Strength isn’t always according to size!” said the little man, quietly. “Nature gave me a powerful, though small, frame, and I have increased my strength by gymnastic exercise.”

Mr. Jennings did not show the least excitement after his desperate contest. He had attended to it as a matter of business, and when over he suffered it to pass out of his mind. He took out his watch and noted the time.

“It is later than I thought,” he said. “I think I shall have to give up my plan of walking the rest of the way.”

“Then I shall be left alone,” thought Carl regretfully.

Just then a man overtook them in a carriage.

He greeted Mr. Jennings respectfully.

“Are you out for a long walk?” he said.

“Yes, but I find time is passing too rapidly with me. Are you going to Milford?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you take two passengers?”

“You and the boy?”

“Yes; of course I will see that you don’t lose by it.”

“I ought not to charge you anything, Mr. Jennings. Several times you have done me favors.”

“And I hope to again, but this is business. If a dollar will pay you, the boy and I will ride with you.”

“It will be so much gain, as I don’t go out of my way.”

“You can take the back seat, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “I will sit with Mr. Leach.”

They were soon seated and on their way.

“Relative of yours, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach, with a backward glance at Carl.

Like most country folks, he was curious about people. Those who live in cities meet too many of their kind to feel an interest in strangers.

“No; a young friend,” answered Jennings, briefly.

“Goin’ to visit you?”

“Yes, I think he will stay with me for a time.”

Then the conversation touched upon Milford matters in which at present Carl was not interested.

After his fatiguing walk our hero enjoyed the sensation of riding. The road was a pleasant one, the day was bright with sunshine and the air vocal with the songs of birds. For a time houses were met at rare intervals, but after a while it became evident that they were approaching a town of considerable size.

“Is this Milford, Mr. Jennings?” asked Carl.

“Yes,” answered the little man, turning with a pleasant smile.

“How large is it?”

“I think there are twelve thousand inhabitants. It is what Western people call a ‘right smart place.’ It has been my home for twenty years, and I am much attached to it.”

“And it to you, Mr. Jennings,” put in the driver.

“That is pleasant to hear,” said Jennings, with a smile.

“It is true. There are few people here whom you have not befriended.”

“That is what we are here for, is it not?”

“I wish all were of your opinion. Why, Mr. Jennings, when we get a city charter I think I know who will be the first mayor.”

“Not I, Mr. Leach. My own business is all I can well attend to. Thank you for your compliment, though. Carl, do you see yonder building?”

He pointed to a three-story structure, a frame building, occupying a prominent position.

“Yes, sir.”

“That is my manufactory. What do you think of it?”

“I shouldn’t think a town of this size would require so large an establishment,” answered Carl.

Mr. Jennings laughed.

“You are right,” he said. “If I depended on Milford trade, a very small building would be sufficient. My trade is outside. I supply many dealers in New York City and at the West. My retail trade is small. If any of my neighbors want furniture they naturally come to me, and I favor them as to price out of friendly feeling, but I am a manufacturer and wholesale dealer.”

“I see, sir.”

“Shall I take you to your house, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach.

“Yes, if you please.”

Leach drove on till he reached a two-story building of Quaker-like simplicity but with a large, pleasant yard in front, with here and there a bed of flowers. Here he stopped his horse.

“We have reached our destination, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “You are active. Jump out and I will follow.”

Carl needed no second invitation. He sprang from the carriage and went forward to help Mr. Jennings out.

“No, thank you, Carl,” said the little man. “I am more active than you think. Here we are!”

He descended nimbly to the ground, and, drawing a one-dollar bill from his pocket, handed it to the driver.

“I don’t like to take it, Mr. Jennings,” said Mr. Leach.

“Why not? The laborer is worthy of his hire. Now, Carl, let us go into the house.”

CHAPTER XV
Mr. JENNINGS AT HOME

Mr. Jennings did not need to open the door. He had scarcely set foot on the front step when it was opened from inside, and Carl found a fresh surprise in store for him. A woman, apparently six feet in height, stood on the threshold. Her figure was spare and ungainly, and her face singularly homely, but the absence of beauty was partially made up by a kindly expression. She looked with some surprise at Carl.

“This is a young friend of mine, Hannah,” said her master. “Welcome him for my sake.”

“I am glad to see you,” said Hannah, in a voice that was another amazement. It was deeper than that of most men.

As she spoke, she held out a large masculine hand, which Carl took, as seemed to be expected.

“Thank you,” said Carl.

“What am I to call you?” asked Hannah.

“Carl Crawford.”

“That’s a strange name.”

“It is not common, I believe.”

“You two will get acquainted by and by,” said Mr. Jennings. “The most interesting question at present is, when will dinner be ready?”

“In ten minutes,” answered Hannah, promptly.

“Carl and I are both famished. We have had considerable exercise,” here he nodded at Carl with a comical look, and Carl understood that he referred in part to his contest with the tramp.

Hannah disappeared into the kitchen, and Mr. Jennings said: “Come upstairs, Carl. I will show you your room.”

Up an old-fashioned stairway Carl followed his host, and the latter opened the door of a side room on the first landing. It was not large, but was neat and comfortable. There was a cottage bedstead, a washstand, a small bureau and a couple of chairs.

“I hope you will come to feel at home here,” said Mr. Jennings, kindly.

“Thank you, sir. I am sure I shall,” Carl responded, gratefully.

“There are some nails to hang your clothing on,” went on Mr. Jennings, and then he stopped short, for it was clear that Carl’s small gripsack could not contain an extra suit, and he felt delicate at calling up in the boy’s mind the thought of his poverty.

“Thank you, sir,” said Carl. “I left my trunk at the house of a friend, and if you should succeed in finding me a place, I will send for it.”

“That is well!” returned Mr. Jennings, looking relieved. “Now I will leave you for a few moments. You will find water and towels, in case you wish to wash before dinner.”

Carl was glad of the opportunity. He was particular about his personal appearance, and he felt hot and dusty. He bathed his face and hands, carefully dusted his suit, brushed his hair, and was ready to descend when he heard the tinkling of a small bell at the foot of the front stairs.

He readily found his way into the neat dining-room at the rear of the parlor. Mr. Jennings sat at the head of the table, a little giant, diminutive in stature, but with broad shoulders, a large head, and a powerful frame. Opposite him sat Hannah, tall, stiff and upright as a grenadier. She formed a strange contrast to her employer.

“I wonder what made him hire such a tall woman?” thought Carl. “Being so small himself, her size makes him look smaller.”

There was a chair at one side, placed for Carl.

“Sit down there, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “I won’t keep you waiting any longer than I can help. What have you given us to-day, Hannah?”

“Roast beef,” answered Hannah in her deep tones.

“There is nothing better.”

The host cut off a liberal slice for Carl, and passed the plate to Hannah, who supplied potatoes, peas and squash. Carl’s mouth fairly watered as he watched the hospitable preparations for his refreshment.

“I never trouble myself about what we are to have on the table,” said Mr. Jennings. “Hannah always sees to that. She’s knows just what I want. She is a capital cook, too, Hannah is.”

Hannah looked pleased at this compliment.

“You are easily pleased, master,” she said.

“I should be hard to suit if I were not pleased with your cooking. You don’t know so well Carl’s taste, but if there is anything he likes particularly he can tell you.”

“You are very kind, sir,” said Carl.

“There are not many men who would treat a poor boy so considerately,” he thought. “He makes me an honored guest.”

When dinner was over, Mr. Jennings invited Carl to accompany him on a walk. They passed along the principal street, nearly every person they met giving the little man a cordial greeting.

“He seems to be very popular,” thought Carl.

At length they reached the manufactory. Mr. Jennings went into the office, followed by Carl.

A slender, dark-complexioned man, about thirty-five years of age, sat on a stool at a high desk. He was evidently the bookkeeper.

“Any letters, Mr. Gibbon?” asked Mr. Jennings.

“Yes, sir; here are four.”

“Where are they from?”

“From New York, Chicago, Pittsburg and New Haven.”

“What do they relate to?”

“Orders. I have handed them to Mr. Potter.”

Potter, as Carl afterwards learned, was superintendent of the manufactory, and had full charge of practical details.

“Is there anything requiring my personal attention?”

“No, sir; I don’t think so.”

“By the way, Mr. Gibbon, let me introduce you to a young friend of mine—Carl Crawford.”

The bookkeeper rapidly scanned Carl’s face and figure. It seemed to Carl that the scrutiny was not a friendly one.

“I am glad to see you,” said Mr. Gibbon, coldly.

“Thank you, sir.”

“By the way, Mr. Jennings,” said the bookkeeper, “I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Go on, Mr. Gibbon,” rejoined his employer, in a cordial tone.

“Two months since you gave my nephew, Leonard Craig, a place in the factory.”

“Yes; I remember.”

“I don’t think the work agrees with him.”

“He seemed a strong, healthy boy.”

“He has never been used to confinement, and it affects him unpleasantly.”

“Does he wish to resign his place?”

“I have been wondering whether you would not be willing to transfer him to the office. I could send him on errands, to the post office, and make him useful in various ways.”

“I had not supposed an office boy was needed. Still, if you desire it, I will try your nephew in the place.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I am bound to tell you, however, that his present place is a better one. He is learning a good trade, which, if he masters it, will always give him a livelihood. I learned a trade, and owe all I have to that.”

“True, Mr. Jennings, but there are other ways of earning a living.”

“Certainly.”

“And I thought of giving Leonard evening instruction in bookkeeping.”

“That alters the case. Good bookkeepers are always in demand. I have no objection to your trying the experiment.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Have you mentioned the matter to your nephew?”

“I just suggested that I would ask you, but could not say what answer you would give.”

“It would have been better not to mention the matter at all till you could tell him definitely that he could change his place.”

“I don’t know but you are right, sir. However, it is all right now.”

“Now, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings, “I will take you into the workroom.”

CHAPTER XVI
CARL GETS A PLACE

“I suppose that is the bookkeeper,” said Carl.

“Yes. He has been with me three years. He understands his business well. You heard what he said about his nephew?”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is his sister’s son—a boy of about your own age. I think he is making a mistake in leaving the factory, and going into the office. He will have little to do, and that not of a character to give him knowledge of business.”

“Still, if he takes lessons in bookkeeping–”

Mr. Jennings smiled.

“The boy will never make a bookkeeper,” he said. “His reason for desiring the change is because he is indolent. The world has no room for lazy people.”

“I wonder, sir, that you have had a chance to find him out.”

“Little things betray a boy’s nature, or a man’s, for that matter. When I have visited the workroom I have noticed Leonard, and formed my conclusions. He is not a boy whom I would select for my service, but I have taken him as a favor to his uncle. I presume he is without means, and it is desirable that he should pay his uncle something in return for the home which he gives him.”

“How much do you pay him, sir, if it is not a secret?”

“Oh, no; he receives five dollars a week to begin with. I will pay him the same in the office. And that reminds me; how would you like to have a situation in the factory? Would you like to take Leonard’s place?”

“Yes, sir, if you think I would do.”

“I feel quite sure of it. Have you ever done any manual labor?”

“No, sir.”

“I suppose you have always been to school.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You are a gentleman’s son,” proceeded Mr. Jennings, eying Carl attentively. “How will it suit you to become a working boy?”

“I shall like it,” answered Carl, promptly.

“Don’t be too sure! You can tell better after a week in the factory. Those in my employ work ten hours a day. Leonard Craig doesn’t like it.”

“All I ask, Mr. Jennings, is that you give me a trial.”

“That is fair,” responded the little man, looking pleased. “I will tell you now that, not knowing of any vacancy in the factory, I had intended to give you the place in the office which Mr. Gibbon has asked for his nephew. It would have been a good deal easier work.”

“I shall be quite satisfied to take my place in the factory.”

“Come in, then, and see your future scene of employment.”

They entered a large room, occupying nearly an entire floor of the building. Part of the space was filled by machinery. The number employed Carl estimated roughly at twenty-five.

Quite near the door was a boy, who bore some personal resemblance to the bookkeeper. Carl concluded that it must be Leonard Craig. The boy looked round as Mr. Jennings entered, and eyed Carl sharply.

“How are you getting on, Leonard?” Mr. Jennings asked.

“Pretty well, sir; but the machinery makes my head ache.”

“Your uncle tells me that your employment does not agree with you.”

“No, sir; I don’t think it does.”

“He would like to have you in the office with him. Would you like it, also?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Leonard, eagerly.

“Very well. You may report for duty at the office to-morrow morning. This boy will take your place here.”

Leonard eyed Carl curiously, not cordially.

“I hope you’ll like it,” he said.

“I think I shall.”

“You two boys must get acquainted,” said Mr. Jennings. “Leonard, this is Carl Crawford.”

“Glad to know you,” said Leonard, coldly.

“I don’t think I shall like that boy,” thought Carl, as he followed Mr. Jennings to another part of the room.