by Quincy Allen
CHAPTER II.
THE JOURNEY.
The train was now increasing its speed and swept swiftly past the cityblocks, and then with a groan darted into the long tunnel. The rumblebecame a roar, and as the boys were convinced that the missing Bob hadbeen left behind, they glanced about the car at their travellingcompanions.
Apparently every berth had been taken, and it was evident from thefishing rods that could be seen that many besides themselves hadstarted for the great river. There were young people and old, andlittle children who already were rubbing their sleepy eyes, unable toremain awake longer, in spite of the noise of the fast-flying cars andthe roar of the train in the tunnel.
Soon the sounds changed, and all knew that they had passed through theunderground way, and the scattered lights of the streets could be seenagain. As the boys turned once more to glance behind them, Jockemitted a shout; for there, standing quietly in the aisle, was themissing member of the band, Bob Darnell himself.
"Where did you come from, Bob?" shouted Jock, delightedly, as hegrasped his friend's hand. "We thought we'd lost you."
"It's mighty easy to get lost in this town of yours. Who would want tolive in such a place?" replied Bob, quietly.
"But where were you? How did you get aboard? We waited and waited foryou, but you didn't come. Tell us about it," exclaimed the eager boys,as they made room for their friend to take the vacant seat.
"You might have known I'd be here. You needn't have wasted yourprecious thoughts on me."
"I know it, Bob, but I don't see how you got here," said Jock.
"You city chaps don't understand, and you never will," replied Bob."You always rush around as if you hadn't a minute to spare. What's thegood of it, I'd like to know?"
"Not much good, if we could only be as sure of being on time as youare, Bob," said Bert. "Why don't you tell us how you did it?"
"There isn't anything to tell. My train got in about an hour ago, andI went up on Madison Avenue to Jock's house. They told me he'd gone tothe station with you fellows, and they all seemed to be very muchexcited about it, too. All they could say to me was: 'Hurry up. Makehaste, or you'll be left.' Queer folks, these New Yorkers."
"Well, you did almost get left, didn't you?"
"Left? Not a bit of it. It's true they had closed the door, and thegateman didn't want to let me pass, especially when I didn't have anyticket. But after a little argument he relented, and I went down tothe platform. There I had a tussle with the porter, for he was justgetting aboard the train, and had taken in his steps. He, too, wantedto see my ticket, but I didn't have time to stop and talk much withhim, so I just climbed in after him. I found I was on the last car, soI had to travel all through the train to find you. You ought not tohave made me do that, fellows; it's too much of an exertion," he addedregretfully.
The boys all laughed, and their evident unconsciousness of thepresence of the others in the car, and their light-hearted and merryvoices, soon drew the attention of their travelling companions. Oldmen glanced at them with a softened expression on their countenances,as if the sight of young life and care-free lads reminded them of daysin their own lives now far away and dim in the years that were gone.Old ladies watched them and smiled, without understanding what it wasthat made their eyes light up as they listened to the contagiouslaughter of the happy-hearted boys. Little children came tottering andstaggering down the swaying aisle, and stopped before them, peeringwonderingly at the band as if they knew they must be having a goodtime, and would like to join in it themselves. Jock passed pieces ofcandy to the little ones, and the enjoyment of the boys became keeneras they watched the children thrust the sweetmeats into their mouths,and then go staggering back to their mothers, and, climbing into theirlaps, point gleefully to the group which had treated them so well.
Indeed, the very presence of the boys seemed to create a differentatmosphere in the car, and in whatever direction they looked, theywere sure to be met with smiling glances. Certainly, thoughts ofpossible evil days to come did not disturb them; the burdens of lifewere all for others, and as far as our four friends were concerned,life itself was colored with a halo of the brightness which not onlywas theirs by right, but was increased by the anticipation of daysthat were soon to come in the camp on Pine Tree Island.
"I haven't bothered my head much about the details of this thing,"said Bob, "but I'd like to know how much work we've got to doto-morrow."
"No work at all, Bob," said Jock, laughing. "I wouldn't dare lay sucha contract as that on your delicate shoulders."
"That's kind of you," replied Bob, shrugging those same shoulders,which certainly to the ordinary observer gave no symptoms of delicacy."But I was thinking about the camp, you know. Some tent or some thingor other has to be set up, I suppose. Who's to do that, I'd like toknow?"
"That's all been done," said Jock, laughingly. "My father wrote EthanBarnes last week--he's to be our guide, you know, or rather one ofthem, for his son is to be there too. Everything has been sent onahead and probably by this time Ethan's got everything all ready forus. You see, my father used to live in that part of the world when hewas a boy, and he and Ethan were old school friends. They used to sittogether on the same bench, I believe. Father says the old redschoolhouse is still standing, and he'd like to have me go over theresome day. He says I'd find his initials cut in the seat with the firstjack-knife he ever owned. There's one thing you'll have to do though,Bob."
"What's that?"
"You'll have to reel in your own fish when you get a strike."
"Strike? What's a strike? Do I have to do the striking?"
"No, no. When a bass swallows your hook they call it a 'strike.'"
"Who calls it a strike, the bass?"
"No, everybody calls it that."
"Well, all I can say, I don't blame a bass for striking then. I'dstrike, too, if I was in his place."
"You? not much, you'd never strike. You'd just wait till somebody camealong and took the hook out of your mouth," was Ben's merry comment.
"How do you do the fishing?" inquired Bob, apparently unmoved.
"Why, we go out in boats, you know. Skiffs. Those St. Lawrence skiffsare beauties too, let me tell you," said Jock.
"But how do the skiffs go?" persisted Bob. "By steam?"
"No, no. We'll have boatmen. Ethan will pull one and his son theother, and two of us will go in each. It's great sport."
"It must be. You don't know what a load you've lifted from me. Ialmost gave up when I thought I'd have to work. It doesn't agree withme. Never did. My mother has noticed it ever since I was born. Butshe's the only one who understands me. Hello, here's the mogul!"
The boys looked up as he spoke, and saw the conductor and the porternear them. As their tickets were taken and the berths assigned, Bobsaid:--
"Jock, you say you'll take the berth in the next section. There won'tbe any room left for you, I'm thinking. That's all spoken for now."
For the first time Jock noticed who was seated in the adjoiningsection. A woman was there, but never in all his life had he seen oneso stout. It almost seemed as if she completely filled the seat, andit was evident from her manner that she was far from feeling at herease. She glanced nervously about the car, and not for a momentrelaxed her grasp on the seat. Her eyes, too, betrayed her alarm, andit was plain that the experience she was then undergoing was a new andnot altogether pleasurable one.
As the boys glanced at her, her fear seemed to increase. She rose fromthe seat, but a sudden lurch of the car sent her back again with anexclamation of anger which could be heard by all.
"Here, you!" she called. "I say, mister, come here!"
It was the colored porter to whom she was speaking, and as he turnedback respectfully to listen to what she had to say, his face beamedwith good nature and amusement.
"What is it, madam?" he said kindly.
"I thought they told me this was a sleepin' car."
"So it is."
"It is, is it? Well, where do folks sleep, I'
d like to know?"
"Why, in the beds."
"I don't see no beds," she replied angrily, as she looked about thecar.
"Why, madam, these seats are the beds."
"The seats are the beds? Humph, pretty beds they are! Do you expect_me_ to lie down on 'em?"
"They are changed and made up. I'm the porter and I'll make up yourberth whenever you want it."
"You're the porter, be ye? Well, I thought you was one o' theVanderbilts, with all yer gold buttons and fine clothes. Well, ye jestmake up mine now."
"I'll be back in a minute and fix you up all right, madam. You'regoing to Philadelphia, aren't you?"
"Yes, I am. I'm goin' to Philadelphy, an' the sooner I get there thebetter."
As the porter turned away to complete his collection of tickets, Jockturned to his companions and said: "That woman has made a mistake. Shesays she's going to Philadelphia, and she's got on the wrong train, assure's you live. I'm going to tell her."
Leaving his seat, Jock approached the troubled passenger and said,"Did I understand you to say you were going to Philadelphia?"
"Hey? Yes, I'm goin' to Philadelphy, but I don't see how that concernsyou, Bub," and as she spoke she hurriedly felt in her pocket as if sheexpected the stranger who had dared to address her was one of thelight-fingered gentry who she had been informed infested the city andwere wont to take advantage of innocent and unsuspecting strangers.
Jock's face flushed as he heard himself addressed as "Bub," and hisconfusion was increased as he saw an expression of amusement creepover the faces of his companions; but he was too polite to heed now,and was determined to assist the old lady in what was her evidentconfusion and mistake.
"All I wanted to say, madam," he continued, again speaking to thetroubled woman, "was that I fear you have made a mistake. If youwanted to go to Philadelphia you ought to have gone on thePennsylvania road, not on the New York Central; this train doesn't goto Philadelphia."
"Hey? What's that ye say?" exclaimed the startled woman. "Got thewrong keers, have I? Here you, Mr. Porter," she shouted, standing withdifficulty and shaking a huge cotton umbrella at that officer. "Comehere, come here!" she called in increasing excitement.
As the porter hastened toward her, the eyes of all in the car wereturned upon her. Some of the passengers were evidently amused, andsome were sympathizing with her in her trouble.
"What is it, madam, what is it?" inquired the colored man, politely.
"This boy says this isn't the train for Philadelphy," she exclaimedwrathfully. "What d'ye put me on this keer for, I'd like to know?" Shewas grasping her pocket with one hand and waving her cotton umbrellafrantically in her excitement with the other. "Ye jest meant to robme!" she continued. "I know ye. Ye knew I had six dollars andseventeen cents in my pocket. Ye shan't get it, that's what yeshan't!"
"But, madam, this train does go to Philadelphia."
"Hey? it does, does it? What d'ye mean, then?" she demanded, turningagain upon Jock. "Then it was you that wanted to rob me! I'll turnyou over to the police, I vum I will!"
It was some time before it was explained that there was a littlejunction not far from the St. Lawrence which rejoiced in the same nameas its larger sister in the adjacent state; but at last all was madeplain, and covered with confusion Jock took his seat once more, hardlydaring to look around upon his fellow-travellers, who evidently hadbeen hugely enjoying the scene.
But the troubles were not yet ended. As the porter volunteered to makeready the old lady's berth at once, the boys vacated their seats fortheir neighbor, who watched with evident consternation thepreparations for the night.
The berths were speedily prepared, and then the porter said, "I'lltake your tickets, madam, and you can retire when you please." As hetook the slip the porter glanced once more at her in amusement as hesaid: "Yours is the upper berth, madam. Wait a moment and I'll get thesteps for you."
"What!" exclaimed the excited woman. "Up there in that garret? Me?well, I guess not. Jerushy Jenkins don't climb up into any sech holeas that! Not much; I'll ride on yer old cow-catcher afore I'll dothat."
"You may have the lower berth, madam," said Jock, quickly. "I'll beglad to give it up to you."
"Ye will, will ye?" said Jerusha, suspiciously. "Well, I don't knowwhether ye will or not. Do ye think it's safe, perfectly safe?" sheinquired of the porter.
"Yes, madam."
At last the trembling traveller was mollified, and soon afterward allin the car were asleep. With the coming of the dawn our boys hastilydressed and soon were gazing out of the windows at the silver-likestrips which here and there could be seen in the distance, and in amoment knew that they were drawing near to the waters of the majesticriver, which already were reflecting the light of the coming day.
