CHAPTER V.LEAVING HOME.
On the following morning Oliver found his father somewhat recovered from the rude shock he had received. Of course the man was unable to move from the couch upon which he rested, but he was able to sit up and converse without, apparently, more than an occasional dull pain.
Mr. Bright was, however, much worried over the disarrangement of his plans, sighing out continually his disappointment at not being able to leave on a tour of discovery. To all this Oliver made no reply, saving to urge his parent not to worry, as all would yet turn out right.
During the day, the boy managed, by skillful questioning, to gain all the additional information that was to be had. In the afternoon he attended Sunday-school, the last time, he thought, for many weeks and perhaps months to come.
In the class with Oliver was Gus Gregory, his chum, a short and exceedingly stout youth, with a freckled but not unpleasant face. At the close of the service he and Oliver left together.
“Well, how did you make out over our fun at the doctor’s?” was Gus’s first question.
Oliver told him.
“My, but you got off easier than I did!” exclaimed the stout youth. “Didn’t pop give it to me though! I haven’t been able to sit down with any kind of comfort since.”
Oliver did not reply. He was silent for a moment, and then laid his hand on his chum’s shoulder.
“Say, Gus,” he said, “will you keep a secret if I tell it to you?”
“Why, of course, Olly,” was the prompt reply. “Did I ever let out anything I shouldn’t?”
“Well, then, I’m going away.”
“Going away? Where?”
“To California.”
“Phew! you don’t mean it!”
“Yes, I do. I’m going to start to-morrow morning first thing. I thought I’d tell you and say good-by.”
“Does your father know?”
“No. Only Mrs. Hanson, and now you.”
“What are you going for? just to run away? I thought you said your father didn’t touch you for the trouble we got into.”
“Neither did he. I’m going on business. Come, let us sit under that tree, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
And seated under a stately elm that grew by the roadside, Oliver related all there was in his mind.
Gus Gregory was deeply interested.
“I hope you’ll succeed,” he said. “My, how I wish I was going along! Nothing would suit me better.”
“And nothing would suit me better than to have you,” replied Oliver; “but that can’t be thought of.”
“Which way are you going?”
“By the way of Panama.”
“It will cost quite a bit.”
“Something less than a hundred dollars.”
“That is quite a sum, but not so much as I thought. Have you got your ticket yet?”
“No; I intend to get that in New York to-morrow. The steamer sails for Aspinwall on Wednesday.”
The two boys talked the matter over for some time. Gus was intensely interested.
“Well, I hope you’ll meet with success,” he said on parting. “I think it is a big undertaking for a boy, but I wish it was I instead of you.”
The remainder of the Sunday passed quickly. In the evening Oliver spent another pleasant hour with his father.
When the time came for parting, the boy could hardly keep back the tears. Who knew how long it would be before he should see his father again? He was almost tempted to tell all, but the fear of being told to give up the project kept back the words.
Oliver slept but little that night, and he was up at early dawn. Making a hasty toilet, he took up his valise and stole down-stairs. Mrs. Hanson had anticipated him, and a warm breakfast stood ready to which he did but scant justice.
Half an hour later he was off, the housekeeper wishing him Godspeed. The railroad station was half a mile distant; but it took the boy scarcely any time to cover that distance, so fearful was he of being discovered and told to return.
Rockvale was a town of considerable size, situated some forty miles from the metropolis. There were over a dozen trains daily to Jersey City, the first at half-past six in the morning. This was the one Oliver had calculated on taking, and buying a ticket, he waited a few moments, and then, as the train came rolling in, got aboard.
There was a sudden jerk, and the train started and rolled out away from the station. Oliver Bright was off on his strange quest at last.
He felt queer as he settled back in his seat which he occupied alone. What would the outcome of his trip be? Would he succeed or fail?
The run to Jersey City was an uneventful one. Oliver had taken it a great number of times, so it was no novelty, and he occupied the time in studying a guide-book he had purchased at the news-stand.When they arrived at the ferry he followed the stream of people on to the boat, and off again at the other side.
“New York!” he thought to himself as he passed up Liberty Street. “Now to sell or pawn the watch and the pin, and then I will go to the steamship ticket-office and engage a berth.”
Before leaving home, the boy had cut from the metropolitan paper Mr. Bright was in the habit of taking the names and addresses of several pawnbrokers, and toward one of these Oliver now bent his steps.
He much preferred pawning the articles to selling them, as both the watch and the diamond scarf-pin were gifts from his father, and he wanted the chance to recover them.
Entering the establishment, he drew out the gold watch, and passing it over to the clerk, asked how much would be allowed upon it.
“Your own?” was the first question.
“Yes, sir; a birthday gift.”
The clerk sent the watch to the back part of the store for examination.
“Fifty dollars,” he said upon his return.
“Fifty dollars!” exclaimed Oliver, in some dismay. “I thought I could get more! The watch cost over a hundred.”
“That is all we can allow.”
“I cannot let it go for that;” and Oliver slipped the timepiece in his pocket.
The clerk paid another visit to the office.
“We will make that sixty dollars,” he said, coming back. “You will not get more anywhere.”
“I shall try,” replied Oliver.
Another establishment was close at hand. But here the proprietor would not go above fifty dollars; so Oliver went back to the first place.
“I guess I’ll take that sixty dollars,” he said.
“Told you you couldn’t get any more,” returned the clerk coolly, as he made out the ticket and handed over the money.
“And now how much will you allow me for this pin?” asked Oliver, as he drew it from his wallet. “It is a pure diamond.”
“Is this also a gift?”
“Yes, sir.”
The clerk took it back to the private office. When he returned he told Oliver to go back, as the proprietor would like to see him.
Oliver did so, and found himself face to face with a thin, sharp nosed individual.
“Where did you get that pin?” was the man’s question.
“My father gave it to me on Christmas, two years ago.”
“Rather a fine Christmas gift.”
“It was, sir.”
“What is your name and address, please?” And the man prepared to write it down.
Oliver told him.
“And you are sure your father gave you this pin for Christmas?”
“Certainly I am,” replied the boy, flushing. “I hope you don’t think I—”
“I have nothing to say, excepting that a gold watch and a diamond pin were stolen from a boarding-house in Twenty-fourth Street last evening.”
“And you think—” began Oliver, his heart rising in his throat.
“Never mind what I think, young man. Of course you may be innocent. But we must always be on our guard. I have sent my clerk around to the police precinct close by. You will please remain here until he returns.”