CHAPTER IV
BOB DETERMINES TO BE HIS OWN MASTER
Fearing that if he hurried too fast through the dismal corridors of thecourt building he might arouse suspicion and get into more trouble, Bobrestrained his impulse to break into a run, and endeavored to walk asunconcernedly as possible. But it was with a feeling of vast relief thathe stepped forth from the stone portal and again breathed the free airof the street.
Once he had reached the sidewalk, not long did it take him to minglewith the throng of passersby.
Like a bad dream did the trying experiences through which he had passedseem, and he actually pinched himself to see if, after all, it might nothave been some sleep delusion. But the pain of the sharp nip he gavehimself satisfied him that he was indeed awake, and further evidence ofthe fact that his experiences had been all too real was given by thepresence of the five-dollar bill in his pocket.
His pace had been rapid, and he was within two blocks of his guardian'sstore, when he suddenly remembered that the basket full of groceries,which he had started out to deliver, had been left in the policestation.
That his employer would berate him sharply for their loss, he was aware,yet he dared not go for them in the fear that he might be subjected tofurther unpleasantness.
His steps, however, grew slower and slower as he approached the store,which had been the only home he had known for years. That his guardianknew of his arrest, the words of his champion to the magistrate had toldhim. How his guardian would take the double blow of the loss of thegroceries and his arrest, he did not know, but past experience told himthat he could expect no sympathy, and perhaps a beating, and he wassorely tempted not to return at all, but to strike out for the greatWest of his hopes and ambitions. In this moment of indecision, however,the admonition of the magistrate to return to his guardian recurred tohim, and he felt that he would not be entitled to keep the five dollarsdid he not obey.
To Bob's surprise, as he entered the store, not a soul was visible, butat the sound of his footsteps on the hard floor his guardian suddenlyappeared from his private office, his shrewd face suffused by theingratiating smirk he always put on when going to meet a prospectivecustomer. At the sight of his ward standing in the middle of the floor,however, he started, and then his face assumed a look of forbiddingseverity.
"What, you here!" the grocer exclaimed, as he regained control ofhimself. "I thought--that is, I was told--I mean, I heard that you hadbeen arrested, and I didn't expect to see you again for some time; thatis--I mean not here in the store. If you had been sent to prison Ishould, of course, have gone to see you."
Never before had Bob seen his guardian so ill at ease, and from hisknowledge of the man, he decided that his entrance must have interruptedhim when he was engaged at some unusual task. But how to meet thesituation, Bob did not know, and he was vainly striving to think of theright thing to say when their relations were brought back to theirnormal plane by his guardian snarling:
"What did you do with my delivery basket? Did you leave it with thegroceries, or didn't you even deliver them?"
The subtle cruelty of this remark stung Bob to the quick. It was thestraw that broke his endurance of the long term of abuse and harsh wordsto which he had been subjected.
"No, I didn't deliver the groceries," he flashed back. "I had to leavethe basket at the police station when they took me to court, and afterthe judge told me I could go, I didn't want to go back to the place forit."
"But there were three dollars worth of groceries in it," wailed hisguardian, wringing his hands. "Here, just because you didn't mind what Itold you about stopping to play on the way when you are deliveringorders, you get arrested and leave me here alone for almost four hours,without any one to deliver goods, and my customers all complainingbecause they don't get their orders. And as though that weren't enough,you deliberately abandon three dollars' worth of groceries. But you'llpay for them, young man! You'll pay for them! Never fear. I shall takethe two dollars you would have had coming to you to-night in partpayment, and then one dollar from your wages next Saturday night."
For an instant, Bob was tempted to produce the five dollars the kindlymagistrate had given him and pay for the groceries then and there. Butthere swept through his mind an idea fascinating in its boldness.
As he stood contemplating the thought which had occurred to him, hisguardian snarled:
"Don't stand there like a gawk! You've delayed my deliveries longenough. Take those two baskets," and he pointed to two bulging packagesresting on the counter, "and deliver them. On your way back, as youwill pass the police station, you can stop in and get the basket youleft. But I'll make you pay for the groceries just the same. It will bea good lesson for you."
If anything were needed to determine Bob to put his idea into action, itwas this command to go to the station, and he exclaimed:
"I won't go there to get your old basket! I won't pay for the groceries,and I won't deliver your old orders! I am going to leave you. I won'twork for you another minute," and without giving his amazed guardiantime to say anything, Bob darted away to the room at the back of thestore, in which he had been accustomed to sleep.
The plan he had decided upon was to get his ten dollars and enough moreof the money his father had left him to pay his fare to some town inOklahoma, where he could begin his long-dreamed-of life on a ranch. Hewould not be bothered with the packing of any clothes, for his guardianhad never allowed him any extra clothing, and he had nothing but thesuit upon his back; but he did have his money, and two letters which hehad hidden under a board in the floor that he had fixed so that he couldtake it up and put it back whenever he wished.
In the fear that his guardian might follow him to the room and discoverhim as he was procuring his money, Bob worked with feverish haste tolift the board, and so excited was he that it seemed as though he couldnever raise it. But at last he did so, secured possession of histreasures, and then put the board back, just as the grocer called to himfrom the doorway:
"What are you doing? What do you mean by saying you won't deliver mygroceries and do what I tell you?"
Panting with excitement, Bob stood like some animal at bay, his eyesflashing defiance, one hand tightly doubled up, the other clasping histreasures in the pocket where he had thrust them.
"I mean I am going West. I won't be treated as you have treated me anylonger."
For a moment, as he heard the amazing announcement of his ward, Mr.Dardus stood staring at him in silence, and then broke into a mockinglaugh.
"So you're going West, are you? That is a good one. Why, you couldn'teven get across the river to Jersey City. It takes money, money, my boy,to travel, and you haven't a cent. And yet you're going West! That _is_a good one. Do you think the trains will carry you for nothing, just forthe pleasure of having you travel on them?" and the grocer indulgedhimself in another burst of laughter at what he considered his keenwit.
But the next words of his ward soon drove all mirth from his soul.
"I expect you to give me enough money to carry me to Oklahoma City fromwhat my father left me. When I get settled out there, I will let youknow, and you can send me the rest of the money which was entrusted toyou for me. If I took it with me, I might get robbed."
When the merciless old man recovered his breath, he exclaimed:
"What do you mean about the money your father left for you? Don't youknow he didn't have a cent? Don't you know that if I hadn't taken pityon you, fool that I was--but your father did me a favor once, and so Ithought I could repay it by taking you--that you would have been sent toan orphan asylum? And this is the return I get. Here I've spent myhard-earned money for twelve years to buy you food and clothing, and yetyou dare to say that I have money for you which your father left. Inever heard of such ingratitude."
"I know that you are not telling the truth," retorted Bob. "I have aletter my father wrote, saying that I was to open it when I was tenyears old, in which he said that he had given you five thousand dollarsto have me educa
ted."
"What nonsense! What an outrage!" exclaimed the grocer, though Bob'sstatement had caused his face to become more than usually ashen-hued."I've a mind to thrash you for saying such a thing. Me have fivethousand dollars of yours! I never heard anything so preposterous!"
"I tell you, you have the money. Here's the letter that says so,"retorted Bob. And, as he spoke, he drew his hand from his pocket,disclosing to the uneasy gaze of his guardian an envelope yellow withage, worn and soiled from much handling, but upon which was the writingwhich he recognized, all too well, as that of Horace Chester, Bob'sfather.
For an instant the grocer glowered at the boy and the letter, and thenhis shrewd mind, suggesting a way out of the embarrassing predicament inwhich the boy had placed him, he exclaimed:
"Poor Horace! I had always hoped to keep from you the fact that he wasinsane at the time of his death, but this letter makes it impossible. Itwas while laboring under the delusion that he had money, that he wroteyou of this phantom bequest. Poor Horace! The sight of his writing movesme deeply, especially as I have to disabuse you of the delusion that Iam holding five thousand dollars in trust for you," and he held out hishand.
Had it not been for the look of cunning that appeared in his guardian'seyes as he uttered these words, which cast such a stigma upon the nameof the boy's dead father, Bob might have believed him, but he had beenwatching his guardian intently. He saw the look of cunning, and insteadof surrendering the letter, he hastily thrust it back into his pocket.
Forgetting all discretion, as he saw that his plot for obtainingpossession of the letter had failed, Len Dardus rushed upon the boy,with the evident purpose of obtaining it by force, exclaiming:
"You won't give it to me, eh? Well, I will take it, whether you want meto or not."
But Bob, in the flush of his youth, was quick and agile, and it was notask at all for him to dive under the arm stretched forth to seize him,and then to dash through the door and out onto the street.
Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to Riches Page 4
