The Edward S. Ellis Megapack

by Edward S. Ellis

  Billy Waylett, being the youngest, needed some coaching, but he was tractable, and the lads were fortunate enough to escape the sharks that are always waiting in the large cities for just such prey as they would have proved.

  The only thing that worried Tommy Wagstaff was the fact that he did not know how to find Snakeroot Sam. That worthy had been told of the intended start for the West, but, of course, the leader could not give him the precise date of their departure. It was known, however, that he spent a good deal of his time in New York city, and the leader of the party instructed his companions to keep a sharp lookout for him. They did so, but though they pointed out several persons who answered his description, none of them proved to be the individual they were so anxious to meet, and who, doubtless, would have blessed his lucky stars could he have met them.

  Tommy Wagstaff was satisfied that the crisis in their enterprise would come when they reached the ferry to buy their railway tickets. Officers would be on the watch for them, and if the three should present themselves at the office and pay their fare to Chicago or some other Western point, they were quite sure to be stopped and compelled to give an account of themselves.

  Accordingly, he arranged the matter with the shrewdness he had shown from the first. They separated at the foot of Cortlandt Street and made their way into the railway office, as though they were strangers to each other. Billy had enough money to buy a ticket to New Brunswick, and Jimmy to procure one to Trenton, while Tommy, who had taken charge of the entire funds, paid his fare to Philadelphia. Then they passed through the narrow gateway upon the ferryboat.

  The three were alarmed by the sight of a blue-coated policeman, standing at the broad entrance to the ferry, and who scrutinized them sharply as they joined the swarm hurrying upon the boat. The officer followed Billy with his eyes, and seemed on the point of starting after him. The youngster’s heart was in his throat, and he wished that something would blow up and scatter everybody so far apart that no policeman could see him.

  So guarded were the boys they did not speak to each other while crossing the ferry, indulging in only an occasional sly glance, as they stepped off the boat and passed up the slip.

  Here they were startled again, for the big policeman near the passageway to the trains, after one keen look at Billy, asked him where he was going.

  “To New Brunswick,” was the slightly tremulous reply.

  “Let me see your ticket,” was the gruff command.

  Billy fished out the pasteboard and showed it to the terrible fellow, who was not yet satisfied.

  “What are you doing in New York?”

  “I aint in New York; I am in Jersey City.”

  The officer smiled at the manner in which he had tripped, and asked:

  “Where are the other two boys that came with you?”

  Billy came nigh breaking down. He saw Tommy and Jimmy watching him from a little way, and his naturally quick wit came to his relief.

  “What two boys are you talking ’bout? Don’t you see there’s nobody with me, and if you keep me much longer, I’ll miss the train, and father will be mad, ’cause he expects me to be home as soon as I can get there.”

  The urchin made as if to move forward, and the officer, satisfied he was not the one for whom he was looking, allowed him to pass on.

  After entering the car, Tommy Wagstaff saw no risk in their companionship. Since the train was not crowded, he and Billy sat together, while Jimmy McGovern placed himself on the seat in front, where no one shared it with him.

  There was a bustle and novelty about this business which kept the boys in such a constant state of excitement that they had felt nothing as yet like homesickness. In fact, they were eager to get forward, and though there was much to see that was new and strange, they would have been glad could the cars have traveled with double the speed.

  “The way I figure it out,” said the leader, feeling now that he could talk freely, since they were well under way, “is that we shall reach Philadelphia before noon. Jiminy! but that is traveling fast; shall we get off there and stay over till tomorrow?”

  “What would we do that for?” demanded young McGovern.

  “There’s so much to see that I didn’t know but what you would like to stop and look around.”

  “Not much,” replied Jimmy, with a disgusted shake of his head; “we can’t get out West soon enough to suit me; I feel hungry for Injins and grizzly bears: how is it with you, Billy?”

  “That’s me, clear through; you know we’ve got to get a Winchester apiece, and then we’ll be ready to begin popping over Injins; that’ll be more fun than anything else in the world, and what do I care for all the cities and strange things that’s between us and the West?”

  Tommy laughed, for he was pleased.

  “That’s just the way I feel, but I didn’t know whether you two was right up to the handle yet; I’m glad you are; it proves that we are bound to win, like real brave American boys.”

  All three smiled approvingly on each other, and, glancing out of the window, wished the cars would run at the rate of two miles a minute, for the rest of the distance.

  The conductor came through, punched the tickets, and took up Billy’s, because it entitled him to ride only to New Brunswick. He intended to slip off there and buy one to Philadelphia, while Jimmy would do the same at Trenton. If the Quaker City were reached without mishap, they would conclude that all danger of being stopped was over, and from that point would travel openly and without fear.

  The little party chatted and discussed their plans, sometimes speaking so loud in their ardor that the gentleman sitting just across the aisle overhead their words and looked curiously at them more than once, over the top of his paper.

  Just before reaching the long trestle-work which spans the Raritan, Billy said:

  “We must be pretty near New Brunswick, Tom, and I guess you had better give me enough money to buy a ticket: how much will it be?”

  “I don’t know; I s’pose two or three dollars; you ought to travel on half fare, but it aint worth bothering about; we’ll gather in all the funds we want in Chicago.”

  “It strikes me,” remarked McGovern, “that we might as well divide up the money, so that if any one loses his share, we won’t be in a bad fix.”

  “I guess that would be a good plan,” replied Tommy, who reached in his trousers pocket for the roll of bills which he had placed there.

  He started and turned pale the next moment, and hurriedly ran his hand in his other pocket. Then he sprang to his feet and frantically searched the pockets of his coat and vest.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Jimmy, with a sinking of the heart.

  “The money is gone!” was the alarming answer.

  “No; that can’t be!” faintly exclaimed Billy; “it must be somewhere about you.”

  “I put the roll in that, pocket,” replied Tommy, who kept up his search, through all the receptacles, again and again. Then he stooped down, and hunted under the seats with a nervous distress which was fully shared by his companions.

  Finally he straightened up and said, despairingly:

  “My pocket has been picked, and we haven’t a dollar among us.”

  He spoke the truth.

  CHAPTER V

  THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR

  Three more miserable lads could not be imagined than our young friends when the train stopped at the station in New Brunswick, and they knew that the total amount of their joint funds was less than a dollar.

  No one spoke, but they sat pale, woebegone and staring helplessly at each other, undecided what to do.

  The conductor, who was an alert official, said to Billy:

  “This is where you get off; come, step lively.”

  The lad rose to his feet without a word, and started down the aisle for the door. His companions glanced at him, and, feeling that it would not do for them to separate, also rose by common impulse and followed him out on the platform, where they stood silent and wretched until
the train left.

  Jimmy McGovern was the first to speak, and it was with the deepest sigh he ever drew:

  “Well, boys, what’s to be done?”

  “Let’s go back home,” said Billy, “and get the jewelry under the stump, sell that and start over again; I guess we’ll know enough to take care of our money next time.”

  “But we haven’t enough to pay our fare,” remarked Tommy.

  “We can walk to Jersey City; we’ve got a little money, and we’ll sell a revolver there: that will take one of us to Ashton, and he can get the jewelry.”

  It was a most repellent course, and they spent a half-hour in discussing it; but it really seemed that nothing else was possible, and the proceeding was agreed upon.

  Few words were spoken as they walked down the slope from the station, made their way to the bridge a short distance below the trestle-work, and walked across to the other side. Inquiry showed them that they had almost thirty miles to walk to Jersey City, and since the forenoon was well advanced, they could not expect to reach their destination before the morrow.

  But it was the spring of the year, the weather was mild, and they concluded they could beg something to eat. If the farmers refused them permission to sleep in their houses, they could take refuge in some barn, after the manner of ordinary tramps.

  But an unexpected series of adventures was before them.

  After crossing the Raritan and walking a short distance, they turned into a stretch of woods, where they sat down to discuss further what ought to be done. With the elastic spirits of childhood, all had rallied somewhat from the extreme depression following the discovery of the loss of their funds. The leader was especially hopeful.

  “I don’t know but what it is best this happened,” said he, “for we hadn’t enough money to see us through, and one of us might have to come back after we got to Chicago, and that would have been bad.”

  “But we expected to get money there,” said Jimmy.

  “I don’t believe it would be as easy as we thought; now I will leave you two in New York, after we reach there, go back to Ashton, get the jewelry and bring it with me. We can sell it for two or three thousand dollars, and we’ll be fixed.”

  The others caught the infection of hope and rose to their feet, eager to reach the metropolis as soon as possible.

  They were about to resume their journey, when they heard voices near them. Looking around, two frowzy men were observed walking slowly toward them. One was munching a sandwich, while the other had a short black pipe between his teeth.

  The reader may not know that the woods, on the northern bank of the Raritan, is the spot where the numerous tramps of New Jersey have their general rendezvous. Several hundred of these nuisances are sometimes gathered there, and they are held in great dread by the neighbors, for they are lazy, thievish, and lawless, and have perpetrated so many outrages that more than one descent has been made upon their camp by the authorities, while the law-abiding citizens have been on the point, at times, of taking severe measure against them.

  Unsuspicious of the fact, the boys had approached close to the camp of the tramps.

  The two tousled specimens caught sight of the boys at the same moment that the latter discovered them. The one munching a sandwich stopped, stared a second, and then, speaking as well as he could, with his mouth full of food, exclaimed:

  “Well, I’ll be shot if this doesn’t beat the bugs!”

  “Why, Snakeroot Sam!” called the delighted Tommy Wagstaff, “if this isn’t the luckiest thing that could happen!”

  “Where did you come from?” asked that worthy, swallowing what was in his mouth, and indulging in a grin which disclosed a double row of large black teeth. His companion pulled his pipe and looked on in silence.

  “Why, didn’t I tell you we was going to start for the West about this time?” asked the happy leader of the little party.

  “So you did; I jotted it down in my notebook, but seein’ as how you didn’t give me the percise date, I couldn’t be on hand to wish you good-bye; but what are you doin’ here?”

  “We’ve had bad luck,” was the disconsolate reply; “we’ve been robbed of all our money.”

  “And are goin’ to hoof it back?”

  “That’s what we’ll have to do, but we mean to take a new start.”

  “How did this unfortinit misfortune come to overtake ye?”

  Tommy gave the history of their mishap, the two tramps listening with much interest.

  “This is my friend, Ragged Jim,” said Sam, when the narrative was finished, “and he’s true blue.”

  Ragged Jim nodded his head and grunted, without taking the black clay pipe from between his teeth, while Snakeroot Sam munched his sandwich at intervals.

  “So you’ve no money with you?”

  “Not a dollar,” replied Tommy.

  “How ’bout your shootin’ irons?”

  “They’re all right; we’ve got a good revolver.”

  “Let me look at ’em; I’d like to be sure that they’re the right kind to plug redskins with.”

  The boys promptly produced their weapons, and passed them over to Sam, who examined each in turn, and then handed a couple to his companion.

  “I obsarve a watch-chain onto ye,” continued Sam; “I hope you aint so dishonorable es to carry a chain without a watch at t’other end to sorter balance it.”

  “I’ve got my father’s time-piece with me,” replied Tommy, producing the fine chronometer, and passing it to the tramp, who extended his hand for it.

  Sam turned it over in his hand with the same attentive interest he had shown in the case of the revolvers. The single weapon he had shoved in his hip-pocket. He held the timepiece to his ear, listened to its ticking, surveyed the face, and then deliberately slipped it into his trousers pocket, catching the chain in the hole through which he had previously run a ten-penny nail to give his garments the right fit.

  “How does that look on me?” he asked, with a grin, of his friend.

  “It fits you bootiful,” replied Ragged Jim, “which the same is the case with these weapons and myself.”

  “Good-day, sonnies,” said Snakeroot Sam, doffing his dilapidated hat with mock courtesy.

  “But,” said the dismayed Tommy, “that’s my watch.”

  “Why, sonny, you shouldn’t tell a story; that’s wicked.”

  “But it is mine; I want it.”

  “Didn’t you just tell me it was your father’s?”

  “Yes—but I want it.”

  “Give my lovin’ respects to your governor, and tell him when I come his way I’ll stop and pass it over to him.”

  With tears in his eyes, Tommy rushed forward as the tramp began moving off, and caught his arm.

  “Sam, you must let me have that!”

  “What! are you goin’ to commit highway robbery?” he demanded, as if frightened: “do you want it bad?”

  “Of course I do, and I mean to get it.”

  “All right.”

  Snakeroot Sam turned about, seized the boy by the nape of his coat, and delivered a kick which sent sent him several paces and caused him to fall on his face. Then he wheeled as if to serve Jimmy and Billy in the same manner, but they eluded him by running out of the woods to the highway. Ragged Jim stood laughing at the scene, and Sam made again for Tommy; but he had leaped to his feet and hurried after his companions.

  “By-by,” called Sam; “when you get that money call on me again and I’ll take charge of it.”

  When the three came together in the road, each was crying. Tommy suffered from the pain of his ill-usage, while all were in despair. Neither could say a word to comfort the others, and they tramped wearily along, beginning to feel for the first time that their good fortune had deserted them at last.

  Not one would confess it, but he would have given anything at command could he have been safely at home at that moment, with the deeds of the past few days wiped out and undone forever.

  The sky, which had
been sunshiny in the morning, was now overcast, and they had not gone far when drops of rain began falling.

  “We’re going to get wet,” ventured Billy Waylett.

  “I don’t care,” replied Tommy, “I can’t feel any worse than I do now.”

  A few minutes later a drizzling rain began falling, but, although they passed a house near the road, they did not stop, and kept on until their clothing was saturated. They were cold, chilly, and hungry, for noon had gone and all ate lightly in the morning.

  “I’m tired out,” said Billy, at last; “let’s stop yonder and warm ourselves; maybe the folks will give us something to eat.”

  The dwelling stood a little way from the road, with which it communicated by means of a lane lined on both sides with tall trees. No one was visible around it, but they turned through the broad gate and hurried through the rain, which was still falling, with its cold, dismal patter, every drop of which seemed to force its way through the clothing to their bodies.

  About half the distance was passed when Tommy, who was slightly in advance of his companions, wheeled about and dashed for the highway again.

  “There’s a dog coming!” was his exclamation.

  The others heard the threatening growl, and descried an immense canine coming down the lane like a runaway steam engine.

  Nothing but a hurried flight was left to them, and they ran with the desperation of despair. Billy, being the younger and shorter, was unable to keep up with the others. His dumpy legs worked fast, but he fell behind, and his terrified yells a moment later announced that the dog had overtaken him and was attending to business.

  His horrified companions stopped to give what help they could, but the dog, having extracted a goodly piece from Billy’s garments, was satisfied to turn about and trot back to the house to receive the commendation of his master, who was standing on the porch and viewing the proceedings with much complacency.

  An examination of Billy, who was still crying, showed that the skin had only been scratched, though his trousers had suffered frightfully. All had received such a scare that they determined to apply to no more houses for relief, even if the rain descended in torrents and they were starving.