Kitabı oku: «From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience», sayfa 9

CHAPTER XXV
BACK TO THE CITY

On the following day Nat arose at five o'clock, and put on an old suit of clothes. Slipping downstairs he hurried to the barn, where he fed the horses and then milked the cows. He was just finishing up when his uncle appeared.

"Well, I never!" ejaculated Abner Balberry. "Right back into harness ag'in, eh?"

"Yes, Uncle Abner; I thought I'd like a little taste of old times."

"You've done putty good to get through so quick, Nat. I wish Fred was such good help."

"Doesn't he help at all?"

"Not unless you drive him all the time. His mother gits after him, an' so do I, but it don't appear to do no good."

"He wants to go to the city and try his luck."

"Humph! He'd starve to death."

"Perhaps it might teach him a lesson."

"Well, he's got to do somethin' putty soon. I ain't goin' to support him if he won't work."

For the balance of the day Nat helped his uncle around the farm. It was rather hard work, but he did not complain, and Abner was greatly pleased.

"Nat, if you git tired o' the city, you come back here," said his uncle, on parting. "Remember, I'll make it right with you."

"I'll remember, Uncle Abner," responded Nat.

"Somehow, I guess I didn't use to understand you. You're a putty good boy after all."

"It's kind to say so."

"An' it wasn't right fer me to say you sot the barn afire," added Abner, earnestly.

"We'll let bygones be bygones," answered Nat, and then he shook hands with his uncle.

When Nat started back for New York, his Uncle Abner drove him to the railroad station at Brookville. Fred wanted to go for the ride, but his mother told him he must stay at the farm.

"You go and cut the wood," said she, sharply. "If you don't you'll get no supper to-night."

"I ain't goin' to cut no wood," growled Fred.

"Yes, you are—and do it right now, too."

"Hang the wood," muttered Fred, savagely. "I ain't going to stay on the farm. I'm going to New York, same as Nat."

At the depot Nat and his uncle parted on the best of terms.

"If you kin git off at Christmas, come an' see us," said Abner Balberry. "We'll have a good fat turkey for dinner, with all the fixin's."

"Thank you very much," said Nat. "Perhaps I'll come—if I can get away."

The run to Cleveland was quickly made, and here our hero found that he would have an hour to wait before the arrival of the train for New York. As his dress-suit case had been checked, he felt at liberty to walk around, to see the sights.

"How different matters are from when I first struck this city," he thought, as he walked along one of the streets. "Then I was a real greeny, but I didn't know it."

Nat was returning to the railroad station when he suddenly heard his name called, and turning, found himself confronted by Paul Hampton.

"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Hampton?" he cried, and shook hands. "I am real glad to see you."

"And I am glad to see you," answered the young man. "But how comes it you are in Cleveland. I thought you were in New York."

"I've been back to the farm for a couple of days—on business and pleasure combined. Aren't you in Buffalo and Niagara Falls any more?"

"Oh, yes, a law case brought me here. How are you doing?"

"Very well indeed."

"I am glad to hear it."

"You were awfully good to give me that hundred dollars," continued Nat, earnestly, "I never expected it."

"I hope it did you lots of good, Nat."

"It did and it didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"The money was stolen from me—or rather I was swindled out of it. That opened my eyes to the fact that I was not as smart as I had imagined myself to be." And then our hero related the experience he had had with Nick Smithers, alias Hamilton Dart.

"That was too bad," said Paul Hampton. "I trust you locate this Smithers some day."

"So do I."

"What are you doing?"

"I am with a real estate broker. I am learning shorthand and typewriting, and I am to become his private secretary."

"Then you are on the right road, and I congratulate you. The real estate business is an excellent one, especially in a large city like New York."

Paul Hampton walked to the depot with Nat and saw him on the cars. Soon our hero was off. The trip back to the metropolis was made without anything out of the ordinary happening.

"So you are back," said John Garwell, when our hero presented himself at the office. "I hope you enjoyed the trip."

"I did, very much, Mr. Garwell."

"How did your uncle treat you?"

"Finely, sir."

"Did you find any papers of value?" went on the real estate broker.

"I found half a dozen which I wish you would look over." And Nat brought forth the documents.

"I am anxious to close that real estate deal," went on John Garwell. "Others are getting wind of it, including that fellow Shanley from Brooklyn. He is doing his best to make me lose on the deal."

"Is Rufus Cameron in with him?"

"I believe he is. Both of them are very bitter."

"I suppose they are bitter against me too," observed Nat soberly.

"It is more than likely. But that can't be helped, Nat. In business a man is bound to make more or less of enemies."

John Garwell was very busy, and said he would look over the documents the next day. But on the following morning he was called out of town, so the documents were not examined until some days later.

As soon as he returned to the office, Nat went to work with vigor for over a week, to make up for the lost time. He had a great deal of writing on hand, and one evening he remained at the place until after nine o'clock.

As Nat had been indoors nearly all day, he resolved to walk home, just for the physical exercise and to get the fresh air. He started up Broadway, and was soon as far as Tenth Street. Here he attempted to cross the thoroughfare, but was stopped by a jam of cars and other vehicles.

"Let me alone!" he heard a boy not far off say. "Let me alone! I won't give you my money!"

"You've got to pay for the papers, country!" cried another boy. "Come, fork over the fifteen cents."

"It's all I've got."

"I don't care. Fork over, or I'll—I'll mash you!"

The voice of one of the boys sounded familiar, and stepping to a dark doorway, from whence the voices proceeded, Nat was amazed to find Fred Guff, and a New York newsboy who was a stranger.

"Fred!"

"Why, if it ain't Nat!" cried the farm boy. "Where did you spring from?"

"I think I had better ask you that question."

"I want me money!" came from the newsboy.

"Help me, Nat. He wants to get my money from me. It's the last fifteen cents I've got!" pleaded Fred.

"What do you want of the money?" demanded Nat, of the newsboy.

"Oh, it ain't none o' your business."

"I tried to help him sell papers," said Fred. "But I couldn't sell those he gave me, and now he wants me to pay for them, anyway."

"Did you agree to pay for them?"

"I said I'd pay for them if I sold them."

"Then you don't get any money," said Nat, sharply, to the newsboy. "Now let this boy alone, do you hear?"

"Ah! wait till I catch him alone," muttered the newsboy, and ran off around the corner.

CHAPTER XXVI
FRED GIVES UP CITY LIFE

"Now then, Fred, tell me how it is that you are in New York," said Nat, when the newsboy had departed.

"I—I ran away from home."

"Did you have the carfare to this city?"

"No, I stole a ride to Cleveland on a freight train, and then I stole another ride on two trains to New York. I was kicked off of one train."

"And what have you been doing since you landed here?"

"Selling papers, and doing odd jobs. I couldn't get anything steady."

"Did you try to find me?"

"No," and the gawk of a boy hung his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I—I wanted to make my own way, same as you are doing. But, oh, Nat, it's awfully hard."

"Where have you been staying nights?"

"One night I slept in a doorway, and last night I slept in a park until a policeman came and chased me away."

Fred looked so forlorn and hungry that Nat could not help but pity him. Coming to the city to earn his living had evidently hit Fred hard.

"Had any supper?" he asked, kindly.

"I had a—a bun."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"How much money have you?"

"Fifteen cents, and I wanted to make that last just as long as I could."

"Come with me, and I'll get you something to eat," said our hero.

Fred was willing enough, and seated at a table in a restaurant he fairly devoured the beef and beans, bread and coffee set before him.

"Have a piece of lemon pie?" asked Nat.

"Can you afford it, Nat?"

"I guess so," and our hero ordered the pie, and also ate a piece, and drank a glass of milk, to keep Fred company.

"It costs a terrible pile to live in the city," sighed Fred. "You've got to pay for everything. When I landed, a man made me pay ten cents for crossing a torn-up street."

"He swindled you, Fred."

"Maybe he did. I know he ran off as soon as he got the money."

"Where were you going to stop to-night?"

"I—I don't know."

"You had better come with me."

"I—I can't pay for regular lodging," and again the boy from the farm hung his head.

"Well, I'll do the paying."

"Will you?" Fred's face brightened. "Say, Nat, you're real good! I'm sorry I treated you so meanly when you paid us a visit."

"We'll let that pass. Now, you are here, the question is, what are you going to do?"

"Can't I find a job? I'm willing to do anything."

"We'll see about that."

They walked to Mrs. Talcott's place, and here Nat explained the situation, and Fred was placed in a room that chanced to be vacant. He was exceedingly tired and dropped to sleep almost instantly.

"I'm going to telegraph to Brookville that you are here and safe," said Nat, the next morning. "I don't want your mother to worry about you." And the telegram was sent off before our hero went to the office. Nat gave Fred a dollar, and told him to try his best that day to find something to do.

"I'll get something," said Fred, but that night he came back greatly disheartened.

"I couldn't get a thing," he declared. "I tried about fifty places. In one place a man kicked me out, and in another place a lot of boys called me 'Hayseed,' and threw lumps of dirt at me. I—I guess I'll go back to the farm."

"Don't you want to try it for another day?" asked Nat. "I'll pay your way." He knew the experience would do Fred good. The boy from the country consented; but at night he returned more discouraged than ever.

"I was a big fool to leave the farm," he sighed. "The city is no place for me. The noise makes my head ache, and I get lost every time I turn a corner. I wish I was back to Brookville."

"Very well, you shall start back to-morrow," answered Nat.

"But I ain't got the carfare, and I hate to try riding on the freight cars again."

"I'll get you a railroad ticket," answered Nat, and he did so, and also gave Fred some change for his meals. Fred was more than thankful, and actually cried on parting.

"You're the best boy in the world, Nat," he sobbed. "The very best! Just wait till you come back to the farm! I'll show you how I can treat you!" And then he was off for home, a sadder but a wiser youth.

"To go back to the farm was the best thing that fellow could do," was Dick's comment. "Why, he wouldn't amount to shucks here, even if he stayed a year."

"We can't all be city folks," said Mrs. Talcott. "Some men must remain farmers."

"The trouble with Fred is, he doesn't like to work," said Nat. "But this may teach him a lesson."

On the day that Fred left, Nat was called to the office by John Garwell.

"Nat, I want you to go to Springfield, Massachusetts, immediately," said the real estate broker. "See when you can catch a train."

"A train leaves the Grand Central Depot at eleven-thirty," was our hero's answer, after consulting a time-table.

"Then you have plenty of time. Take this document and turn it over to Mr. Perry Robertson."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't give it to anybody else."

"Shall I wait for Mr. Robertson, if he isn't in when I call?"

"Yes."

"All right, sir."

No more was said, and Nat prepared for the trip without further delay. He wished to ask his employer about the documents found in the trunk, but saw that Mr. Garwell was too busy to be interrupted.

Nat was getting used to taking short trips to various cities, so the ride to Springfield was no great novelty. He put in part of his time at reading a newspaper, and the balance at studying shorthand from a book which he carried with him.

Arriving at Springfield, Nat found he would have to wait until evening before he could see Mr. Perry Robertson. This made him stay in the city overnight, and he did not arrange to go back to New York until ten o'clock the next morning.

He had just paid his bill at the hotel, and was passing the smoking room, when he saw a man who looked familiar, get up from reading a newspaper, and walk toward him.

"Hamilton Dart!" gasped our hero, and rushing forward he caught the swindler by the arm.

CHAPTER XXVII
A SCENE AT THE HOTEL

The fellow who had posed as a broker and commission merchant was taken completely by surprise when confronted by Nat, and for the moment did not know what to say.

"I guess you didn't expect to see me again," said our hero, after a pause, during which Nick Smithers—to use his real name—glared fiercely at the youth.

"Excuse me, boy, but I don't know you!" said the swindler, at last. "You have made a strange mistake."

"Oh, no, I haven't," answered Nat. "You are Hamilton Dart, alias Nick Smithers."

"My dear young friend you are in error. My name is Josiah Garfield, and I am from Concord, Massachusetts."

"I am not mistaken. You are Nick Smithers, and you are the rascal who swindled me in New York City."

"Boy, you must be mad!" burst out Nick Smithers, in assumed indignation. "I a swindler! Preposterous!"

"It's the plain truth, and there is no use of your denying it."

By this time a small crowd was gathering around. Soon a clerk of the hotel came up hastily.

"What's the trouble here?" he questioned, anxiously.

"This boy is crazy," said Nick Smithers.

"No, I am not. This man is a swindler, and I want him arrested," came from Nat. He made up his mind, come what might, he would stand up for his rights.

"I am an honest man—well-known in Concord, where I keep a jewelry establishment," puffed Nick Smithers. "This is an insult to me." He turned to the hotel clerk. "I shall hold your hotel responsible for this."

"I—this looks as if you were making a mistake," said the clerk to Nat. "This gentleman has been stopping here for over a week. He is registered on our book as Josiah Garfield."

"He has half a dozen names," said Nat. "I tell you he is a swindler."

"And I say the boy is crazy. Boy, if you say another word, I'll have you locked up."

Nick Smithers thought Nat was so green that he would back down, but for once he made a mistake.

"Call a policeman, please," he said to the clerk. "We can talk this over when we get to the police headquarters."

"Are you sure of what you are doing?" asked the clerk.

"Yes, I am sure of it. I can prove beyond any doubt whatever that this fellow is a confidence man and a swindler. He swindled me out of a hundred dollars in New York, and he swindled several others out of the same amount. Just help me to lock him up and I'll get all the witnesses necessary."

"That's straight talk," came from a commercial traveler standing nearby. "If the boy can prove what he says this man ought to be arrested by all means."

"He can't prove a thing," answered Nick Smithers, but he began to grow hot and cold, for he realized that Nat meant business and was not to be overawed as easily as he had imagined.

"I'll call a cop!" piped in a newsboy who had drifted into the room. "I see one on de corner a minit ago," and away he ran to execute his errand.

"The police will have to settle this," said the hotel clerk. "If you are making a mistake it will cost you dear," he added, to Nat.

"I am making no mistake," answered our hero, firmly.

This reply set Nick Smithers to thinking. To try to bluff Nat was one thing; to prove his innocence at the police station might be quite another.

"I can't bother to go to the station—I've got to get a train for Boston!" he cried, and ran from the room with all of his speed.

"Stop him!" yelled Nat, and, began to give chase. "Stop him!"

The cry was taken up by several others, and all began to run after Nick Smithers.

"Keep my valise—I'll catch him if I can!" said Nat, to the hotel clerk, and off he sped, and was soon ahead of the others who had joined in the chase.

If there was one thing that Nick Smithers could do well, it was to run, and now he made the best possible use of his rather long legs. He darted out of a side door of the hotel, down the square, and around a corner leading into a back street lined with small shops and dwellings.

"The young fool!" he muttered, as he sped along. "Who would have dreamed of his turning up in such a place as this?"

At last the swindler turned into another street. A car was passing and he hopped aboard this. Not to be seen, he dropped into a seat and crouched down. He rode on the car a distance of a dozen squares and then left, and hurried to a small house setting far back, in a rather neglected garden. The house was to let, and he pretended to be looking it over, and thus passed to a back porch and out of sight.

Nat continued the hunt for the swindler for a good hour and then gave it up.

"Well, how did you make out?" asked the hotel clerk, upon his return.

"He got away from me."

"He put on a pretty good front, if he was a swindler."

"Yes—that's how he came to swindle me and several others," answered our hero.

"Did you report the case to the police?"

"There is no use of doing that."

"Why not? They'll help you all they can."

"That may be true. But by the time my report is in, that rascal will be miles and miles away."

Nevertheless, Nat was persuaded to report to the city authorities before he went to the railroad station. He had missed his train and so had to lay over until three hours later.

This was fortunate for him, for a little later came a telegram from John Garwell, which ran as follows:

"Go to Albany at once and get papers from Caswick & Sampson."

This made Nat change his plans, and he at once found out when a train could be had for Albany. Half an hour later he was aboard of the cars, little dreaming of the surprise in store for him.

CHAPTER XXVIII
A SUDDEN PROPOSAL

After the excitement of the chase was at an end, Nick Smithers had a chance to think matters over, and he concluded to get out of Springfield without delay.

He was much upset because of Nat's unexpected appearance, and the fact that his satchel and belongings were still at the hotel did not tend to add to his good humor.

"I can't go for those things, or send for them," he reasoned. "Confound that boy! Who would ever have dreamed that he would make such trouble for me? I took him for a regular country greeny. But he's as sharp as a razor!"

For a long time matters had been going illy with Nicholas Smithers, alias Hamilton Dart, alias half a dozen other names. He had tried to work one of his swindling schemes in Springfield, but nobody had taken his bait, and his ready funds were consequently running low. When he had money he lived extravagantly, so that his ill-gotten gains never lasted him any great length of time.

"Something must be done, and that pretty soon," he reasoned. "Wonder where I had best go next?"

Before going to Springfield he had had in mind to try Albany, and now he resolved to go to the latter-named city by the first train. This train was the very one upon which Nat was riding, but the swindler did not immediately discover this.

Some miles out of Springfield the train stopped at a small station. The only person in waiting was a young lady handsomely dressed, who did not appear to have any baggage. She got in, and as chance would have it, took a seat close to the swindler.

Nick Smithers had always interested himself in those around him, and he looked the young lady over carefully. She was certainly beautiful, and she appeared to be rich.

"Traveling all alone, eh?" mused the swindler. "And no doubt she has money. Wonder if I could get anything out of her?"

He watched his chance, and when she happened to drop her handkerchief, he promptly picked it up.

"Charming day," said he, with a smile.

"It is indeed beautiful," said the young lady, turning her dark, brilliant eyes full upon the rascal.

"Do you enjoy riding in the cars?" he went on, with another smile.

"I? Well—I—I—What will you say to me when I tell you that now, for the first time, I find myself in the cars?"

"For the first time?" repeated Nick Smithers, in astonishment.

"It is even so," said the young lady. "I do not wonder that you are surprised. I—I presume there are few cases like mine." And she heaved a long sigh.

"Here is certainly a mystery!" thought the confidence man. "Can she have lived all her life in the backwoods, or what? I must investigate this."

"You are surprised?" she said, softly.

"I must confess that I am, madam. Perhaps you have a dislike to cars?"

"No, not in the least."

"Then–" And Nick Smithers paused questioningly.

"I—I—perhaps I had better tell my story," faltered the young lady. "I need a confidant, and I need advice. Can I trust you, sir?"

"You assuredly can," said the swindler, instantly. "If I can be of any service whatever to you, command me."

The young lady glanced around shyly, to see that no other passengers were near.

"I presume I shall have to tell my whole story," went on the young lady. "It is rather long."

"Never mind—we have plenty of time," answered Nick Smithers.

"My father died when I, his only child, was very young. My mother was already dead. My father left a large fortune, estimated at that time, at about a hundred thousand dollars."

"That's some money," thought the swindler. "I hope she has some of it with her."

"Of course, it was necessary to leave me in charge of someone. For this trust my father's brother was selected. He was poor, never having met with the worldly success that crowned my father's efforts. The allowance he received for caring for me and my inheritance was liberal. Shortly after my father died my uncle moved to the town where I boarded the train, living in a house which was a part of my father's estate."

"I understand," said the swindler, nodding. "Go on."

"According to the terms of my father's will my uncle was to have sole charge of my property until I was twenty-five, unless I should before that time get—get married." The young lady blushed. "It was a stupid provision, in one way, for it made my uncle take me to that out-of-the-way place, and practically keep me buried alive, for fear I would get married before I was twenty-five."

"He wanted to hang on to a good thing," said Nick Smithers, with a laugh. "But please proceed."

"At first I did not understand my uncle's motive, but as I grew older my eyes were opened, and at last I resolved to—to—well, to get out of his power."

"And so you ran away, is that it?"

"Yes. This morning I succeeded in eluding my uncle's vigil, and here I am. I came away in such a hurry that I brought with me no extra baggage. No doubt you were surprised to see me enter without so much as an extra wrap."

"I thought you might be going only a short distance."

"I scarcely know where I am going."

"Then you have formed no plans?"

"None whatever. I have not had time, and I know so little of the world. All I care for now is, not to fall into the hands of my uncle until—until–"

"You are twenty-five or married," finished the swindler.

"Exactly."

"May I presume to ask you your present age?"

"Yesterday I was twenty-one."

"Then, legally, you ought to be your own mistress."

"So I thought. That is one thing which gave me the courage to run away."

There was a short spell of silence, during which Nick Smithers did some rapid thinking. He felt that here was a chance to make a round sum of money. If this young lady was rich, it would be a stroke of luck to get her in his power.

So far the swindler had never married. He had once proposed to a fine girl, but she had read him thoroughly, and rejected him. It might not be a bad scheme to propose to the girl before him. He could see that she was very romantic, and he was willing to do almost anything for money.

"I feel honored that you have taken me into your confidence," said he. "Permit me to introduce myself, Lancelot Powers, from Boston. I am traveling for my health."

"I am pleased to know you, Mr. Powers. My name is Clara Rosemead, and my father was Colonel Rosemead, of the International Cable Company."

"I shall consider it my duty to do all I can for you," went on Nick Smithers. "You—you—well, to tell the strict truth, you interest me mightily. In fact, Miss Rosemead, I can't help but love you."

"Oh!"

"I trust that you are not offended?" said the swindler, hastily.

"Oh, no, Mr. Powers. But—I didn't quite expect this. But I—I well, I like you, too." And again the girl bent her dark brilliant eyes on him.

"If you'd marry me you'd make me the happiest man in America!" went on Nick Smithers. "It would be so romantic!" he whispered. "Think of how we met on the cars, and fell in love at sight!"

"It would be romantic!" she clasped her hands together. "I'll do it!"

"Good! It will be a fine thing to outwit this uncle of yours."

"Yes! yes! We must outwit him by all means. If he should learn of what I am doing–"

"He can learn the truth—after we are married, Clara." And then Nick Smithers gave the girl's hand a tight squeeze. Had they been in a more secluded place he would have kissed her.

"I—I—am happy!" she said, softly.

"What do you say to getting married when we reach Albany?" went on the swindler. "Then we can return to your home and demand that your uncle make a settlement."

"I shall do as you think best, Lancelot. I know I can trust you," she answered.

"This is the safest snap yet!" thought Nick Smithers. "Once I get hold of her money I can hold her right under my thumb. She has been kept in such seclusion that she knows absolutely nothing of the world at large. And such a beauty, too! Nick, for once you have certainly struck it rich!"