CHAPTER XI
ROY STOPS A RUNAWAY
With a companion who proved himself as interesting as did Mortimer DeRoyster, the time passed very quickly for Roy. Almost before he knewit the train was pulling into Chicago, where they changed cars.
He wanted to stop off and view the stock yards, but there was not timefor this. However he saw much of interest from the car windows, and DeRoyster pointed out various objects, explaining them as the expresspassed by.
"We'll soon be in New York now," said the well-dressed youth, as thetrain passed beyond the confines of the "Windy City."
"Is New York larger than Chicago?" asked Roy.
"Larger? Well, I guess, and it beats it every way."
"What's that you said, young man?" inquired an individual, seated backof Roy and his new friend.
"I said New York was larger and better in every way than Chicago, don'tyou know," replied De Royster, looking at the man through his singleeyeglass.
"You must hail from New York then?"
"I do."
"I thought so. You don't know Chicago, or you wouldn't say that.Chicago has New York beaten any way you look at it."
"Then I reckon you're from Chicago, stranger," put in Roy, who had theeasy and familiar manners which life in the west breeds.
"I am, and I don't believe I'm far wrong when I say you're from off aranch."
"I am," admitted Roy, wondering how the stranger had guessed so soon.
"Well, there's no use getting into a dispute over our respectivecities," went on the stranger. "Everyone thinks his home town is thebest. Are you two traveling far?"
Thus the conversation opened, and the three were soon chattingpleasantly together.
In due time the train arrived at Jersey City, just across the HudsonRiver from New York.
"Here we are!" exclaimed Mr. De Royster. "A short trip across theferry now, and we'll be in the biggest city in the Western hemisphere."
Roy followed his friend from the train, mingling with the crowd on theplatform under the big shed.
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Roy.
"What for?"
"I've got to see about my baggage. It's checked. I wonder if I canhire a pack mule, or get a stage driver to bring it up?"
"Pack mule?"
"Sure. That's how I got it from the ranch to the depot."
Mortimer De Royster laughed.
"I guess there isn't a pack mule within two thousand miles of here," hesaid. "Nor a stage either, unless it's the automobile ones on Fifthavenue. But I'll show you what to do. Wait a minute though. Youdon't know where you're going to stop, do you?"
"Not exactly."
"Then if you'll allow me, I'll pick out a good hotel for you."
"I'll leave it to you, pardner," said Roy, with a helpless feelingthat, however much he might know about ranch life, he was all at sea ina big city.
"All right. Then I'll give your checks to an expressman, and he'llbring the trunks to the hotel. Right over this way."
Mortimer De Royster led Roy through the crowd, to the express office.The matter of the baggage was soon attended to, and the agent promisedto have the trunk and large valise at the hotel before night. It wasnow four o'clock.
"Come on!" cried De Royster again, pushing his way through the crowd,with Roy who carried a small valise, containing a few clothes,following close after him.
"Wait a minute!" again called the boy from the ranch.
"What's the matter now?"
"I want to sort of get my bearings. This is a new trail to me, and I'dlike to get the lay of the land. Say, what's all the stampede about?These folks are milling, ain't they?"
"Stampede? This isn't a stampede. They're in a rush to get the ferryboat. What do you mean by milling?"
"Why they're like cattle going around and around, and they don't seemto be getting anywhere."
"Oh, that's it, eh, my dear chap. Well, they're all anxious to get toNew York, that's why they're rushing so. Come on or we'll miss theboat."
Mortimer De Royster led the way through the ferry house, and out on theboat. He took a seat in the ladies' cabin, and Roy sat down besidehim. The dude had bought a paper, which he was glancing over,momentarily paying no attention to Roy.
Suddenly the boy from the ranch, who was looking about him with curiouseyes, jumped up and exclaimed:
"Something's the matter. The depot has been cut loose!"
"Cut loose? What do you mean?"
"Why, we're afloat! There's water outside."
"Of course, my dear fellow. We're on the ferry boat, crossing to NewYork. What did yew think?"
"Are we on a boat?"
"Certainly. Where did you think you were?"
"I thought we were in the depot room, waiting for the boat to come in."
"Why, no. This is the boat. But of course the approach to it isthrough the depot, and it is hard to tell exactly where the dock leavesoff and the boat begins. I should have told you, but I got interestedin the paper."
"I was a little startled at first," admitted Roy with a smile. "Ithought something had happened."
Several passengers who had heard this exclamation, were also smiling,but Roy did not mind this. Everything was so strange and novel that hewanted to see it all at once. It was no wonder that he mistook theboat for the waiting room of the station, as the ferry boat was sobroad, and the cabin so large, that often strangers are deceived thatway.
De Royster soon took Roy out on the lower deck, and showed him NewYork, lying across the Hudson river, the sky-scrapers towering abovethe water line, the various boats plying to and fro, and the greatharbor.
"It's wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It'sdifferent from what I expected. I never even dreamed New York was likethis."
"Wait; you haven't begun to see it."
And, a little later, when they landed, and were crossing West street,with its congested traffic, Roy began to think his companion was right.
For a moment the noise and excitement confused the boy. There were twolong lines of vehicles, mostly great trucks and drays, going up anddown, for West street is on the water front, adjoining the docks wherethe steamships come in, and the wagons cart goods to and from them.
Then there was a big throng of people, hurrying to and from theferries, several of which came in close together. The people allseemed in a rush, a trait, which Roy was soon to discover, affectednearly every one in New York. He saw policemen standing on thecrossings, and, whenever the officer held up his hand, the travel ofthe vehicles stopped as if by magic, leaving a lane for pedestrians tocross.
"He's got them pretty well trained," observed Roy.
"Yes, he belongs to the traffic squad. Any driver who refused to do asthe officer says, will be arrested. But come on. I want to take youto your hotel."
Trying to see everything at once, Roy followed his new friend.Suddenly, as he was in the midst of a press of wagons, men and women,in the middle of the street, he heard a cry:
"Runaway! Runaway! Horse is coming! Look out!"
Instantly the policeman began shoving people to one side, to get themout of the path of the runaway. Truck drivers began pulling theirsteeds to either curb. Roy looked down the street and saw a horse,attached to a cab, coming on at a gallop. Thanks to the prompt actionof other drivers the runaway had a clear field.
"Look out!" shouted the officer. "Hey there, young man!" to Roy. "Gitout of the street!"
But Roy had other intentions. He handed his valise to De Royster, whowas vainly pulling him by the arm.
"Come on out of here!" cried De Royster. "You'll get run over."
"Take my satchel," said Roy.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to stop that horse!"
"You'll be killed!"
"Say, I guess I know how to handle horses. It won't be the first oneI've caught!"
Mortimer De Royster, giving one more look at the maddened animal, w
hichwas now close at hand, made a leap for the sidewalk. Roy looked up,gauged the distance, and, to his horror saw that the cab contained alady and a little girl. There was no driver on the seat.
"Look out! You'll be killed!" shouted several in the crowd.
"The boy's crazy!" muttered the policeman He took a step forward, as ifto drag Roy out of the way.
The next instant the boy had made a leap, just as the horse reachedhim. It was a leap to one side, but not to get out of the way. It wasonly to escape the flying hoofs, for, an instant later, Roy had theplunging horse by the bridle, and was hanging on for dear life.
Boy from the Ranch; Or, Roy Bradner's City Experiences Page 11
