CHAPTER II
THE TINKER BOY
"You had better hurry over here quick, if you want to get away from thatman," said Frank, coming out from cover.
"Yes, I will," responded the boy up in the tree.
He threw to the ground a flat stone he had been resting in the crotch ofthe tree, his only weapon of defense, dropped nimbly down after it, andstarted for the water.
"Hold on," directed Frank; "there's a crossing plank a little way fartherdown the stream."
"I'm wet, anyway," explained the boy, dashing into the water, and he cameup to Frank, dripping to the waist.
"Don't be scared," said Frank, as his companion looked in a worried way inthe direction the tramp had taken. "That fellow will be too busy with thosehornets for some time to come, I'm thinking, to mind us."
"Oh, I hope so," said the lad with a shudder. "He's a terrible man. I mustget away from here at once."
As he spoke the boy ran to where the wagon stood and climbed upon its frontseat. As Frank, keeping up with his pace, neared the vehicle, he noticedacross its box top the words: _"Saws, knives, scissors and toolssharpened scientifically."_
"I wish you would stay with me until I get to town," remarked the boy,seizing the lines with many a timid look back of him.
"Oh, you want to get to town, do you?" observed Frank. "All right, I'll beglad to show you the road."
The boy started up the horse with a sharp snap of the lines. The animal wasold and lazy, however, and could not go beyond a very slow trot.
"Turn at that point in the rise," directed Frank, pointing ahead a littledistance, "and it will be a shorter cut to town."
"Yes, yes. I want to get away from here," said Ned Foreman anxiously. "Oh,there he is again!"
Frank followed the glance of his frightened companion to observe the trampin among the brush. He was slapping his face and body as if he had not yetgotten rid of all the hornets, but he was certainly headed in the directionof the wagon.
"Your horse won't go fast enough to keep ahead of that fellow," remarkedFrank. "Don't tremble so. He shan't bother you again if I can help it. Keepon driving."
Frank leaped to the road. Keeping up a running pace with the wagon, hestooped twice to pick up two pieces of wood of cudgel shape and size, andthen regained his seat.
"Now, then," he said, "drive on as fast as you can. It's less than aquarter of a mile to houses. If that man overtakes us you must help me beathim off. If we can't make it together, I'll pester him and keep him backwhile you run ahead for help."
"I'd hate to leave you--he's a cruel man," said the lad, "but I've gotquite an amount of money, and it doesn't belong to me."
"Aha!" exclaimed Frank suddenly. "There's no need of our doing anything.I'll settle that tramp now."
From the cut in the road ahead they were making for, a light gig had justcome into view. On its seat was a single passenger, with a silver badge onthe breast of his coat and wearing a gold-braided cap.
"It's Mr. Houston, the town marshal," explained Frank, and his companionuttered a great sigh of relief. "Stop till he passes us. Oh, Mr. Houston,"called out Frank to the approaching rig, "there's a man over yonderannoying this boy and trying to rob him."
"Is, eh?" cried the officer. "Whoa!" and he arose in the seat to get a goodview of the spot toward which Frank pointed. "I reckon he's seen me, forhe's making back his trail licketty-switch."
"Keep your eye on him so he won't follow us, will you, Mr. Houston?"pressed Frank.
"I'll do just that," assented the marshal pleasantly. "I'm after thesetramps. There's a gang of them been hanging around Tipton the last day ortwo, begging, and stealing what they could get their hands on, and I'mbound to rout them out."
"There's your chance, then," said Frank, "for, from what this boy tells me,that fellow yonder is as bad as they make them."
The officer drove on slowly, keeping an eye out for the tramp. Frank'scompanion urged up his laggard horse. His face had cleared, and he actedpleased and relieved as they got within the limits of the town.
"Any place in particular you're bound for?" inquired Frank.
"Yes."
"Where is that?"
"I'm due at the town square."
"Then keep right on this road," said Frank, and within five minutes theyarrived and halted on the shady side of a little park surrounded by theprincipal stores.
"I expect some one will be here to see me soon," said the lad. "I don'tknow how to thank you for all you've done for me. If that man had got holdof me he would have robbed me of every cent I had. I've been trying to keepaway from him, fearing he might be looking for me and come across meaccidentally. Now I'm safe."
"Won't he hang around and try it again when you leave town?" questionedFrank.
"But I'm not going to leave town," explained Ned Foreman, "that is, not onthis wagon. I've been working for a man who runs half a dozen of thesescissors grinders over the country. At Tipton here another employe willrelieve me. I give him what I have taken in the last week, and he pays memy wages out of it. I'm going to give up this job now."
"Don't you like it, then?" asked the interested Frank.
"Well enough--yes, it isn't unpleasant; but I've an ambition to get aneducation, and have been working to that end," said Ned in a serious waythat won Frank's respect. "I want to go to school. I have saved up a littlemoney, and I shall start in right away."
"That's good," said Frank. "I'm only hoping to get away to school myselfsoon. Say, what kind of a traveling caravan is this, anyway?"
"I'll show you," said Ned promptly, and as both got to the ground hetouched a bolt and the back of the wagon came down, forming steps. Reachingin he moved a bracket, and a section of the side of the wagon slid back,letting light into the vehicle. Frank noticed a sort of a bench, a lathe,and some small pieces of machinery.
Ned Foreman got up the steps and touched something. There was a click and aspark of light. He pulled a wheel around and then there was achug-chug-chug.
"Now, what's that?" asked the curious Frank.
"It's a little gasoline motor," explained Ned. "Step in and see what afamous tinkering shop on wheels we've got."
"Why, this is just grand!" declared Frank, as he glanced around theinterior of the wagon in an admiring way.
"Yes, it's clean, attractive and made up to date," said Ned. "The man whoowns these outfits is working up some good routes. If you have anything tosharpen, now, I'll show you the kind of work we do."
Frank whipped out his pocket knife in a jiffy. Ned touched a lever near themotor, and things went whirring. There was a busy hum that made the placedelightful to Frank. He was astonished and pleased to observe how deftlyhis companion handled the knife, putting it through a dozen operations,from grinding to stropping and polishing. Then he adjusted a little drillto a handle and said:
"I'll put your name on the handle, if you like."
"All right," assented Frank with satisfaction. "It's Frank Jordan."
"There you are," said Ned a minute later, handing the knife back to Frank."You'll find a blade there that will cut a hair."
"Yes, that's fine work," declared Frank, looking over the knife in agratified way. "You've got quite a trade, haven't you?"
"Oh, sort of," answered Ned carelessly, "and the knack of doing things likethis comes in handy for a fellow who has to work and wants to work. There'smy man," he added suddenly, as there was a hail outside, and Frank observeda middle-aged man, with a tool-kit satchel extending from his shoulder,approaching the wagon.
"Well, good-by, and glad I met you," said Frank, shaking hands with Ned.
"Lucky for me I met you," retorted the tinker boy gratefully. "I hope I'llmeet you again some time, but I don't suppose I'll ever be in this townagain."
"If you ever do--" Frank paused, and then added quickly: "why, hunt me up."
He had an impulse to invite his new acquaintance up to the house, butsuddenly thought of his aunt and changed his mind. Nothing would havedelighted him mo
re than to have Ned Foreman tell him about his travels andadventures, for they must have been many.
Frank strolled homeward, trying his knife on a piece of willow and shapingout a whistle. As he came up the walk to the house he heard voices inside.His aunt was speaking in her sharp, strident tones, a little more excitedlythan usual.
A gruff, masculine voice responded, and Frank, wondering who the ownermight be, stepped into the hall and peered into the reception-room.
"Aha!" instantly greeted him, as a man there sprang to his feet. "Here isthat precious nephew of yours, Miss Brown. I say, Frank Jordan, what haveyou done with my diamond bracelet?"
The Boys of Bellwood School; Or, Frank Jordan's Triumph Page 2
