Kitabı oku: «Out For Business or Robert Frost's Strange Career», sayfa 11

CHAPTER XXX.
ANOTHER PLOT AGAINST ROBERT

Robert enjoyed his sleep, and did not awaken until after the Arrow had tied up at the dock in Muskegon. He was just finishing his toilet when Mr. Porter opened his eyes.

"Ah, so you are ahead of me!" cried the hardware dealer, springing up. "Have we arrived?"

"I believe we have," answered Robert.

"May I ask where you are bound?"

"For the depot. I am going to take a train for Timberville."

"I know the place and the route well. You cannot get a train for Timberville until eleven o'clock. Here is a time-table." And selecting one of several from his pocket, Mr. Porter passed it over.

A short examination showed Robert that his friend was right.

"It's a long wait," he said.

"It will give you time for breakfast and a chance to look around. Supposing we dine together?"

"Thank you! that will suit me first-rate."

In less than half an hour they had left the boat, and were walking up the main street of Muskegon. The gentleman knew the place well, and led the way to a substantial restaurant where a good meal could be had at a reasonable figure.

Hammerditch and Le Fevre had followed the youth, and now came to a halt outside of the eating resort.

"He seems to have picked up a friend," said the Englishman. "That will make our task so much harder."

"Perhaps ze man vill not remain wid heem," suggested Le Fevre.

Satisfied that Robert and his companion would not come out immediately, the pair went to another restaurant and procured a hasty breakfast.

Mr. Porter expected to do considerable business in Muskegon, and breakfast over, he shook Robert by the hand cordially.

"We must part now," he said. "I am glad to have met you, and trust we shall meet again."

"The same to you, Mr. Porter," replied our hero. "I wish you were going to Timberville with me."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't do much there. There is only one small store and two or three sawmills. Of course, they use some hardware, but not a great deal."

And thus they parted.

By consulting a clock Robert found he had still two hours to wait before the departure of the train. Looking at the clock reminded him of his lost watch, and he had remembered how Andy Cross had said that Jim Huskin had left Chicago for Muskegon.

"I would just like to land on that fellow," he said to himself. "He deserves to be in prison quite as much as Cross does."

Walking around to the depot, Robert purchased a ticket for Timberville, made sure that he was right about the train, and had his valise checked straight through.

Although he was not aware of it, his movements were shadowed by Hammerditch and Le Fevre.

"He has checked the bag," said the Englishman. "I wonder if we can get at it through the baggage master?"

"It ees not likely," said the French Canadian. "Za are verra particular here about baggage. If ve can get ze check ve be all right."

"Let us follow him and see if anything turns up in our favor."

So the two rascals followed Robert in his walk about the town.

All unconscious of the nearness of his enemies, our hero sauntered from street to street.

His eyes were wide open for some glimpse of Jim Huskin, and it must be confessed that he never gave a thought to being attacked from behind.

Having traveled the main thoroughfares of Muskegon, the youth commenced a tour of the streets of lesser importance.

One street, near the docks, was lined with saloons, and here the worst element of the town appeared to be congregated.

"Set 'em up, lad," cried one 'longshoreman, as he bumped up against Robert.

"Thanks, I don't drink," answered Robert, coolly.

"Don't drink?" cried the man. "Wot yer doin' down here, then?"

"That is my business."

"Don't yer git uppish about it."

"Make him treat, Mike," put in another man, whose nose showed that strong drink and he were no strangers.

"Come on an' have jess one glass," went on the man who had first addressed Robert.

As he spoke he caught Robert by the shoulder.

Our hero shook him off.

"Don't you dare to touch me," he said sharply. "If you do you will be laying up a good bit of trouble for yourself."

"In fightin' trim, hey?"

"I can defend myself, and more, if I am called upon to do it."

The 'longshoreman leered at Robert for a moment.

"Yer too soft," he sneered, and aimed a blow for Robert's head.

As quick as a flash our hero ducked, and hit out in return. The blow caught the tippler on the chin, and made him stagger up against the saloon window.

"Now I guess you'll leave me alone," remarked the boy. And then he walked on, but kept glancing behind him, to be prepared for another attack.

"Phew, he's a fighter, Mike," said the second man.

"Dat's wot he is," grumbled Mike, rubbing his chin, where the blow had landed. "He must be wot da call a scientific boxer, hey?"

"Are yer goin' ter drop him?"

"Wot shall I do?"

"Make him treat or lick him."

"Maybe you want ter lick him," suggested Mike.

"I kin if I set out fer ter do it."

"Then pitch in, Pat."

But Pat hesitated about going ahead. Robert looked strong, and he felt that the youth could not be easily intimidated.

"We kin do it tergether," he ventured.

While the two roughs were conversing Hammerditch and Le Fevre drew near.

They had seen the short encounter and saw how angry were the men who wanted to be treated.

"Got the best of you, did he?" said Hammerditch.

"You mind your own business," growled Mike, crossly.

"Why didn't you pitch into him?" went on the Englishman. "I would have done so."

"Dat's wot I'm a-tellin' him," put in Pat.

"He's a boy zat wants taking down," said Le Fevre.

The two roughs looked at the newcomers curiously.

"Do yer know de boy?" demanded Mike.

"Yes, I know him, and I would like to see him get a sound thrashing," answered Hammerditch.

"Gif him what he deserves and ve vill pay you vell for eet," added the French Canadian.

"Wot yer down on him fer?" questioned Pat.

"He stole a baggage check from me," said Hammerditch, promptly. "Of course, he claims the check, but it is mine."

"I see. Do yer want ter git the check away from him?"

"I do."

"Where is it?"

"In his trousers' pocket."

"An' if we git it fer yer, wot will yer give us?" asked Pat.

"Five dollars," quickly answered Hammerditch.

To these roughs, who had not done a full day's work for a long time, five dollars appeared quite a sum of money.

"We'll go yer," said Pat promptly. "Aint dat right, Mike?"

"If you'll work wid me," answered Mike.

"All right; I'll follow you up for the check," said Hammerditch. "And here is the five dollars." And he showed the bill, so that they might know that he meant what he said.

In a few minutes more the two roughs had laid their plans and were stealing after Robert.

"We can git dat check an' his money too," said Mike, and Pat agreed with him.

CHAPTER XXXI.
THE MISSING BAGGAGE CHECK

All unconscious of the plot being hatched out against him, Robert walked on along the docks.

At one point he saw a large lake steamer at anchor, and thought to walk out to the craft to inspect her.

The way took him past a large quantity of merchandise piled high on the rear end of the dock.

He was just passing around the merchandise when he found himself suddenly seized from behind.

He tried to cry out, but before he could do so a dirty hand was clapped over his mouth.

He struggled to free himself, but soon found that two men were holding him. At last he managed to turn partly around and saw that the men were the two roughs who had wanted him to treat.

"Let me go!" he managed to say at last.

"Hold him, Mike," cried Pat, and slipped his hand into Robert's trousers' pocket.

Robert struggled, but before he could break away Pat had secured not only the baggage check, but also some loose change amounting to about a dollar.

"Now his udder pockets, Pat," panted Mike heavily. "Hurry up, I can't hold him much longer."

"You scoundrels!" exclaimed our hero, and breaking away at last, he dealt Mike a staggering blow in the chest.

But as the rough tumbled he caught the boy by the arm, and both fell, Robert on top.

"Help me, Pat!" roared Mike, seeing he was getting the worst of the encounter.

Pat started to jump in, but then thought better of it. As Robert leaped up with fire in his clear eyes, the man began to run.

"Stop, you thief!" yelled the boy, and made after him. Left to himself, Mike also got up and limped away, his nose bleeding, and suffering from a bruised rib, where Robert had stepped upon him.

"Dat boy is a reg'lar lion," he murmured. "We was fools ter tackle him."

Pat ran as he had never ran before, and coming to an alleyway, darted to the lower end and hid behind some empty barrels.

Robert ran past and then Pat came out again.

"Only a dollar," he said to himself, as he sized up his dishonest haul. "Well, wid that five I'm ter git fer de check it will be six. Dat aint bad."

Pat was no particular friend to Mike, and speedily resolved to keep the haul for himself.

"I'll tell Mike I didn't git no check and dat dere was only twenty cents in de pocket," he reasoned. He was willing to allow Mike ten cents for his share in the work, and no more.

The roughs had agreed to meet Hammerditch on a certain corner, and to this spot Pat made his way with all possible speed.

"Come in out of sight!" said the rough, and motioned the way to a nearby saloon. He was afraid Mike would come up before the transfer of the check could be made.

They went inside and ordered some drinks, and then Pat turned the baggage check over to the Englishman, and received the five dollars reward.

"I'll bet yer goin' ter make a fortune out of dat check," observed Pat.

"Not at all," answered Hammerditch. "The check is of little value really. But I was bound to have it."

Afraid that Robert would hurry to the railroad station as soon as the loss of the check was discovered, the Englishman did not remain in the drinking place long. At a hotel several squares away he met Le Fevre.

"You haf eem?" queried the French Canadian anxiously.

"I have, Jean. Come."

"Ve vill haf von drink first," was the reply, and they went to the barroom. Here they met several lumbermen they knew, and in consequence it was some time before they could get away from the hotel.

One of the lumbermen knew about the Amberton land claim, and thought that it would be a hard matter to dispossess the present incumbent.

"Ve vill do eet," grinned Le Fevre. "Ve hold ze vinning cards—not so, Hammerditch?"

"That is so," answered Hammerditch.

The lumbermen wanted to know the particulars, but the others were not willing to disclose all of their secrets.

In the meantime Robert was hunting around for the rough called Pat.

Mike he did not care so much about, since it had been Pat who had made off with his belongings.

"He didn't get much money," he mused. "But he got that baggage check, and I don't want to lose that."

At first he thought to inform the police of what had occurred.

He was making for a policeman when he saw Pat coming out of the saloon. The rough had had half a dozen glasses of liquor, and he was in consequence quite hazy in his mind.

"You rascal!" cried our hero, catching him by the shoulder. "Give me back what you stole from me."

"That's all right, boss—didn't steal nothin'," mumbled Pat.

"I say you did—a baggage check and about a dollar in change. Give them up or I'll have you arrested."

"Aint got no check," hiccoughed Pat. "An' the money is spent."

"Then you come with me."

At this the tough grew alarmed, and at last he broke down and confessed that he had got the check for another party who had given him five dollars for it. He had part of the five dollars left, and out of this he gave Robert a sum equal to that which had been stolen.

"Who took that check?" demanded our hero, a sudden suspicion crossing his mind.

As well as he was able Pat described Hammerditch.

"He's goin' ter git sumthin' on de check," he added.

"Not if I can prevent it," answered Robert. "He wants to steal my valise. You come with me."

"I aint goin' ter!" roared Pat, and breaking away, he started on a clumsy run. Robert could readily have caught him, but concluded not to waste the time.

"Hammerditch will be hot-footed after my bag," he thought. "He expects to get that map."

He looked around, and espying a hack standing near, leaped in, and ordered the driver to get him to the depot with all possible speed.

Pat ran for fully six blocks, and then sank down on a pile of lumber, panting for breath.

"I'm in fer it," he groaned, expecting that Robert was at his heels.

But the boy was nowhere to be seen, and at once his courage arose, and he concluded that Robert had given up the chase. He counted his money and found that he had exactly a dollar and ten cents left. The balance of the cash had been paid over to the saloon keeper and to Robert.

"I guess I'll git anudder drink," he murmured, and rolled over to the nearest dive. Here in less than half an hour every cent that had been left was spent, and then Pat started for home. He could not walk straight, and frequently bumped up against those he passed. He had passed less than three blocks when he espied Mike coming toward him.

"Bedad, I can't let him see me!" he reasoned, and tried to steer out of sight. But Mike was too quick for him, and the pair confronted each other at the entrance to a lumber yard.

"Well, how much did yer git?" was Mike's first question.

"Didn't git nuthin," answered Pat boldly.

"Yer got a whole handful of money," retorted Mike. "I want half, do yer mind dat?"

"I ain't got nuthin," was all Pat could answer.

A wordy quarrel followed, and then the two roughs came to blows. They were encouraged to fight by the by-standers, who loved nothing better than to witness a "scrap," and it was not until a policeman came up that the encounter came to an end. Each contestant had a bloody nose, and their eyes were so swollen they could scarcely see out of them.

"You're both good for sixty days in jail," said the officer of the law, and marched them to headquarters. Instead of sixty, each got ninety days, and I think my readers will agree with me that they richly deserved their sentences.

CHAPTER XXXII.
ROBERT DELIVERS THE PRECIOUS MAP

"There aint no train now, boss," said the hack driver, after receiving his directions from Robert.

"I don't want to catch a train; I want to catch a couple of thieves who want to make off with my valise," answered our hero.

"Did you forget the valise?"

"No, they have stolen my baggage check."

"Oh, that's it! Well, I'll get you to the depot in short order."

Away went the hack at a rate of speed which was far from agreeable so far as riding was concerned.

But, disagreeable as it was, it pleased Robert, and soon the railroad station came in sight.

"There are the fellows who are after my bag!" cried our hero, as the hack came to a halt. He had espied Hammerditch and Le Fevre making their way to the baggage room.

"You are certain they are after the valise? Perhaps you may be mistaken," went on the driver, who was a rather elderly man and cautious.

"I'll watch them and make sure," said Robert.

Taking his station behind the baggage room door, our hero saw the Englishman and the French Canadian approach the baggage master.

"I am after my valise," said the Englishman, producing Robert's check. "My son left it here a few hours ago. I have concluded to remain in Muskegon over night."

"All right, sir," answered the baggage master, taking the check. He glanced at the piles of baggage which littered the room. "What kind of a looking bag was it?"

For the minute Hammerditch was nonplussed, as he did not remember Robert's bag very well.

"It was—er—a tan-colored bag, not very large," he stammered. "I just bought it, so I don't remember it—er—very well."

"I reckon this is it," said the baggage master, after a short hunt. "Check 432,—that's right."

Hammerditch was about to take the valise when Robert came up and seized it.

"No, you don't, you thief!" he exclaimed. "Your little game is nipped in the bud."

The Englishman turned and his face fell, and Le Fevre was also discomfited.

"What's the trouble?" asked the baggage master, in astonishment.

"This rascal was about to steal my bag."

"Your bag?"

"Yes, my bag. Don't you remember my leaving it here a couple of hours ago?"

"I do."

"He got a tough to steal my check, and he would have had the bag if I hadn't got here just in time."

"He said you were his son."

"I wouldn't have him for a relative," cried Robert. "Mr. Hammerditch, you are a thorough-paced scoundrel," he went on, facing the Englishman.

"What, this to me!" gasped the schemer.

"Yes, that to you. You are a would-be thief, and I reckon your companion is little better."

"Boy, boy! I vill haf ze law on you!" howled the French Canadian.

"And I will have the law on you," retorted Robert. "You wanted to steal that map. You need not deny it."

"The bag is mine," said Hammerditch boldly. "This is a plot to get me into trouble."

"I reckon I can prove my property," said Robert. "Have you the key that will unlock the bag?"

"Never mind about that."

"I have the key," went on our hero. He produced it and opened the bag. "I wish you to bear witness that this bag contains my wearing apparel," he said to the baggage master.

"Yes, that must be your stuff," was the answer.

"Here are my initials, R.F. My name is Robert Frost, while his name is Oscar Hammerditch. There isn't a single thing here that belongs to him, or that would fit him."

"What did you say about a map?" went on the baggage man.

"I have a map that he wants to steal, in order to lay claim to certain lumber lands located near Timberville."

"But I see no map."

"The map is in my pocket, here," and Robert produced the document.

If ever Hammerditch had looked sheepish it was now. He realized that even if he had obtained the valise he would have been outwitted. Plainly this American lad was too smart for him.

"I'll see you about this later," he howled, and started to back out.

"Wait a minute, I want to give you a bit of advice," said Robert, catching him by the arm. "If I wanted to I could have you arrested on the spot. But I am not going to take that trouble. But this baggage man is a witness to the fact that you tried to steal my valise, and if you or that Frenchman ever bother me again, I'll have you locked up on the charge, and I'll see that you go to prison for it. Now you can clear out."

For the moment Hammerditch was speechless. He wanted to flare up, but the words would not come. He grated his teeth, turned on his heel and almost ran from the baggage room. With him went Jean Le Fevre; and it may be added right here that that was the last Robert ever saw of the dishonest pair.

After the pair were gone Robert gave the baggage man the particulars of what had occurred, so that he might remember, in case the affair came up later.

"I thought it was queer he couldn't remember how his bag looked," said the baggage master. "I reckon, however, they won't bother you again in a hurry."

It was now nearly train time, and Robert remained in the depot. Presently the train came in and he got on board, and the journey to Timberville was continued.

"I'll not forget my stop-off at Muskegon," he mused, as he sped on his way.

The remainder of the journey passed without special incident. Hammerditch and Le Fevre had expected to take this same train, but could not screw up the necessary courage to do so.

Timberville was reached about three o'clock, and our hero alighted at the depot, which was little better than a shed. As Mr. Porter had said the village was small and looked almost deserted.

"I wish to get to Mr. Felix Amberton's place," he said to the station master. "How can I best reach it?"

"It's several miles from here," was the reply. "Guess Joe Bandy will take you along in his rig."

Joe Bandy proved to be the mail carrier, who drove a two horse wagon through the lumber region of the vicinity. He agreed to take Robert along for the usual fare, thirty-five cents. Soon they were on the way.

"Come out to try your luck?" questioned the mail carrier, with a grin.

"No, I came out on business."

"Say, you can't be the lawyer Mr. Marden is expectin'," went on the mail carrier, with a look at the valise.

"No, I'm no lawyer," laughed Robert. "But I am a friend to Mr. Marden. How is Mr. Amberton?"

"Doin' poorly. Those land sharks are worrying him to death. They want to take his timber from him," answered Bandy.

They passed over several hills and through a heavy forest, and then made a sharp turn to the left. Presently a well-built cabin came into sight.

"There is Amberton's hang-out," said the driver, and drew up.

"Hullo, Robert!" came a voice from behind some trees, and Dick Marden rushed forth. His face wore a broad smile and he almost broke the bones of Robert's fingers, so hearty was his hand shake. "How are you, lad—well? And did you get that map?"

"Yes, I'm well, and the map is safe in my pocket," answered Robert, and then they walked to the cabin, while the mail carrier proceeded on his way.

Once inside of the place Robert was introduced to Dick Marden's uncle, who sat in an old-fashioned easy chair by one of the little windows of which the cabin boasted. Mr. Amberton seemed weak and careworn.

"Dick has been telling me about you," he said, in a low voice. "He felt sure you would manage to get the map."

There was of course nothing for Robert to do but to tell his story from beginning to end, and this he did without delay, Dick Marden in the meantime ordering the negro servant to cook a good dinner for the youth.

"Well, you outwitted Hammerditch and Le Fevre nicely," cried the miner. "I would like to have seen them at the railroad station. They must have felt cheap and no mistake."

"They are rascals, and I always knew it," said Felix Amberton. "But now we have a hold upon them, for through Robert we can show up their true characters, if it becomes necessary."

The map was examined with care, and Dick Marden announced that it was just what was wanted.

"They can't go behind this," he said. "Robert, I think you have saved the estate for my uncle."

"I think so myself," came from Felix Amberton. "But I am afraid I am in for a long lawsuit, nevertheless."

Inside of an hour a hot dinner awaited our hero, to which he, as was usual with him, did full justice.

The balance of the day passed quietly, and on the day following Dick Marden took the boy over the timber lands.

"Would you like it out here?" asked the miner.

"I don't believe I would," answered Robert promptly. "I much prefer city life."

"Honestly spoken," cried Marden. "Now with me it is just the opposite. I can remain in the city a couple of weeks, or possibly a month, and then I feel that I must get somewhere where there is lots of elbow room."

Two days later a lawyer arrived—the one sent for by Marden and Felix Amberton.

"The claim is all right," said the legal gentleman. "This map is good proof, too. If they want to fight let them. You will surely come out on top."

This was cheering news, and its effect upon Amberton was soon visible.

"When it is settled I shall not forget you," he said to Robert.

"Thank you," replied the boy, "but I am glad to have been of service to you and Mr. Marden, my best friend. He helped me, you know, when I actually did not know how to turn myself."

On Monday of the week following Dick Marden announced his intention of going to Chicago on business, and as there was nothing to keep Robert in the lumber camp, he decided to accompany his friend back to the great city by the lakes.