CHAPTER XVIII
A MEETING ON THE RIVER
Two weeks passed and Randy felt quite at home on board of the steamboat. He had learned his duties fully and was giving satisfaction to Captain Hadley and Pat Malloy.
His only enemy seemed to be Polk the purser, who was as disagreeable as possible. Our hero did his best to steer clear of the fellow, and in a measure succeeded.
One evening, while the boat was tied up at the dock in New York Randy chanced to look ashore when he saw Rose Clare motioning to him. He at once joined the girl.
"I came down to tell you that Bill Hosker was around yesterday," said the girl to our hero.
"Is he around now?" questioned Randy, quickly.
"No, he went away yesterday evening. He was only around about two hours."
"I wish I had seen him."
"I thought you'd like to know about it. I came down last night, but a man here told me you were at Albany."
"Yes, we come to New York every other night, not counting Sundays."
"I think Bill Hosker will come again soon. I suppose he thinks you have given up trying to find him."
"Well, I haven't given it up, Rose. How are things going with yourself and your mother?"
"Not very good."
"Can't she get much sewing to do?"
"She and I made only five dollars and a quarter last week."
"And what rent do you pay?"
"Six dollars a month for just the one room."
"That is certainly hard. I wish I could help you, but I can't—at least, not now."
"We wouldn't want help, if only we could get more sewing."
"I'll ask Captain Hadley about it. He has a wife and a family of girls."
Randy was as good as his word. He met the captain the next day, when the officer appeared to have little to do.
"Captain, may I speak to you a moment?" he asked, respectfully, and at the same time tipping his cap.
"What is it, Randy?"
"I know a poor lady in New York who does sewing for a living. She is anxious to get more work and I am anxious to help her, if I possibly can. Do you know of anybody who would like some sewing done—your wife or anybody else?"
"Hm! I don't know," answered the steamboat captain. "I'll remember what you say and see. Is that all?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where does the poor woman live?"
"Not far from our landing place in New York." He gave the street and number. "It isn't a nice neighborhood, but it is the best the woman can afford," he added.
"Yes, I know many folks in New York who live in bad neighborhoods simply because they cannot afford something better. I will speak to my wife about this."
The captain did as he had promised. Mrs. Hadley was going to New York the next day and said she would call upon Mrs. Clare. The family lived in Albany, so that the captain was home every other night.
Mrs. Hadley was as good as her word. She was a Christian woman, a worker in the church, and she became at once interested in Mrs. Clare and her daughter Rose.
"This is no place for Rose," said she. "This foul air is bad for her."
"I know it—but I do not see how I can turn myself," said Mrs. Clare, with a sigh. Poverty had completely broken her spirit.
The captain's wife looked over some of the sewing that Mrs. Clare had done and soon learned that the woman was a clever seamstress. Then she made an offer.
"If you wish, you can come to my home with me," she said. "You can sew for me, and Rose can go to school and also help around the house. I will give you five dollars a week and your board."
"I will accept gladly!" cried the poor woman, and burst into tears of gratitude.
It was arranged that Mrs. Clare should leave New York on the following Saturday. She was to sell off the most of her things—alas! there were not many articles to dispose of! and the others were to be transferred to Albany on the boat.
"My cousin, Mr. Polk, will be surprised to learn of this move," said Mrs. Clare to the captain's wife.
"What, is he your cousin?" queried Mrs. Hadley.
"Yes, by marriage," and then Mrs. Clare told her tale of suffering, to which the captain's wife gave a willing ear.
"I must speak of this to my husband," said Mrs. Hadley. "I do not think he likes Mr. Polk very much."
On Saturday Randy was moving some baggage from one side of the lower deck to the other when Peter Polk came along. As luck would have it, some trunks were in the way, so that the purser could not pass.
"Look here, you blockhead, why don't you keep this gangway clear?" he roared to Randy.
"I am trying to clear it now," answered our hero, as calmly as he could.
"It ought to be kept clear always. Who ordered this stuff here, anyway?"
"Mr. Malloy."
"He had no business to do it."
"Why didn't I, I'd like to be after knowin'?" came in a voice from behind the purser, and the head deckhand appeared on the scene.
"Oh, so you're here, are you?" sneered Peter Polk.
"I am that, Mr. Polk. I ordered thim trunks there. Have ye anything against it?" demanded Malloy, boldly. "If ye have, report to the captain."
"You're blocking the whole gangway."
"Thim trunks had to be shifted, an' Thompson is shiftin' 'em."
"Humph!"
"I know me juty on this boat, Mr. Polk."
"Well—er—hurry up then and clear this gangway," grumbled the purser, and walked away. Malloy closed one eye and looked at Randy suggestively with the other.
"He knew he had no right to interfere—it's not his line o' juty," said the head deckhand.
Randy completed his work and then went to one of the upper decks, to fix some of the awnings. To his surprise he found Mrs. Clare and Rose there, in conversation with Peter Polk.
"Going to Albany?" the purser was saying. "What for?"
"I have a situation there, and Rose is going also," answered the poor woman.
"What kind of a situation?"
"I am to sew for Mrs. Hadley."
"Not the captain's wife?"
"Yes."
At this announcement the face of the purser dropped. Evidently the news did not please him.
"You won't find that very pleasant," he said.
"It will be better than starving in the city, Peter."
"How much is she going to pay you?"
Mrs. Clare told him.
"That is not a fortune. You ought to be able to earn more in New York."
"I couldn't get the work."
"I might have gotten something for you, if you had let me know," went on Peter Polk.
"Thank you—I prefer to look out for myself," answered Mrs. Clare, coolly.
"This looks as if I was letting one of my relatives live on charity," pursued the purser.
"I do not consider it a charity."
"How did the captain's wife hear of you?"
"Why, she—there is a boy on this boat—there he is—he spoke to the captain about it."
"You mean Randy Thompson?"
"Yes, that is his name."
"He got the place for you?"
"Yes."
"How did you happen to know him?"
"It's a long story. He was knocked down and robbed and Rose and I went to his assistance. But we must go now. Mrs. Hadley wanted us to do some sewing for the captain while on this trip," and Mrs. Clare walked away, followed by Rose. Peter Polk gazed after them thoughtfully.
"I hope she doesn't get the captain's wife too much interested in her affairs," he muttered to himself. "I shouldn't care to have the old accounts raked up in court."
CHAPTER XIX
AN UNLOOKED-FOR ENCOUNTER
It was now early in September and the travel down the river was particularly heavy, for many folks who had been away for a vacation were returning to the metropolis. Baggage kept pouring in until the lower deck was practically filled.
"This is a banner season, so Malloy tells me," said Jones to Randy.
"I know there is lots of work," answered our hero, whose arms ached not a little.
"Never mind, I've got good news."
"What is that?"
"Mr. Shalley is going to allow us an extra five dollars this month."
"Good enough."
Randy had received several letters from home. Matters were going smoothly and Mr. Thompson was feeling better every day. The garden was doing finely. In one letter Mrs. Thompson wrote that there had been two strikes at the iron works, each due to Mr. Bangs' overbearing manner towards his workmen.
"I thought he'd have trouble sooner or later," said Randy to himself, as he perused the communication. "What a pity that Mr. Bartlett isn't in charge."
One fine afternoon theHelen Shalleywas steaming down the river as usual and Randy was near the bow, coiling up a hawser, when he noticed a sloop some distance ahead. It was tacking in an uncertain manner, as if the party on board did not know much about sailing such a craft.
The sloop was directly in the path of the big steamboat, and the latter gave a warning whistle and then turned to one side. As she did this the sloop turned in the same direction.
"Hullo! What does that fellow in the sloop mean?" cried Randy to Jones, who was near.
"What's the matter?"
"He'll be run down if he doesn't look out."
"Some fool that doesn't know how to sail a boat, I guess," said the other deckhand.
Swiftly the steamboat and the sloop drew close to one another. The big boat let out another warning blast, and again the pilot turned her out of her course. But the sloop also turned.
"There is only one young fellow on board," said Jones. "Look, he acts as if he was scared out of his wits."
"I know him!" fairly shouted our hero.
"You do?"
"Yes, it is Bob Bangs, the rich young fellow I told you about."
"The fellow who couldn't manage his hoss?"
"The same."
"Well, he doesn't seem to know no more about his boat than he did about that hoss," was the deckhand's comment.
"We are going to run into him!" gasped Randy.
"No, he is going to run into us."
"It will amount to the same thing—so far as he is concerned."
"Maybe—but it will be his fault if he gets drowned."
Another warning whistle now rang out, but was of no avail. The sloop swerved again and then came squarely up to the big steamboat, which was now backing water furiously.
"Stop! Don't run me down!" screamed Bob Bangs. He was fairly white with terror.
His cries were cut short by the crash as the sloop struck. The bow was splintered, and the shock threw Bob Bangs overboard. Luckily he was far enough away to escape the paddle-wheel, as theHelen Shalleycontinued to go ahead despite the fact that her engines had been reversed.
The first surprise over, Randy was quick to act. Not far away was a life preserver having a line attached to it and this he took from its hooks. He waited for the rich boy to appear. Soon he came up, spluttering.
"Catch the preserver!" called out our hero and cast the article in such a skillful manner that it fell within easy reach.
"Save me! Save me!" gasped the rich youth, throwing his arms wildly about him.
"Take hold of the life preserver!" called out half a hundred people at once. Then several other cries rang out.
At last the motion of the water washed the life preserver up against Bob Bangs' arm. He clutched at it desperately. By this time the steamboat had come to a standstill, and it was an easy matter for Randy and Jones to pull the rich youth towards the vessel. Then a rope ladder was lowered and Bob Bangs came up to the deck, dripping with water.
Bob Bangs being hoisted out of the water.
"Well, young man, you had a narrow escape," said Captain Hadley, as he pushed his way through the crowd to the spot.
"I know it, and it's all your fault!" whined Bob Bangs.
"My fault? Nonsense!"
"You ran me down! I'll have the law on you for it."
"Don't talk like a fool, young man. I was in the wheelhouse myself with the pilot and saw just how you acted. Evidently you don't know much about handling boats."
"I know all about them," insisted the rich youth. But this was a falsehood, as Randy well knew. Bob could row and that was about all.
"You'll have to pay for smashing my boat," went on the rich boy, after a pause. "And you'll have to pay for wetting my new suit," he added, gazing ruefully at the natty outing suit he had donned but an hour before.
"You'll not get a cent out of me," said Captain Hadley, firmly. "This accident was clearly of your own making. We gave you plenty of room, but you turned directly into our course twice. Be thankful that you weren't ground up under the paddle-wheel."
"Yes, and be thankful that Randy Thompson threw you a life preserver," put in Jones.
At the mention of our hero's name Bob Bangs looked around in surprise. He had not noticed Randy before.
"What, you here!" he exclaimed and did not seem particularly happy over the meeting.
"I am," answered Randy.
"Did you throw out that line with the preserver?" asked the captain.
"I did, sir," and Randy touched his cap.
"I am glad to know it," and the captain's face showed his appreciation of Randy's prompt action.
"What are you doing here—in that outfit?" asked Bob Bangs, curiously.
"I am a deckhand on this steamboat."
"Pooh! a deckhand!" and the rich boy's nose went up into the air in disdain. He would give Randy no credit for helping to save his life.
"Clear the deck, please!" called out Captain Hadley, to the crowd that was pressing in on all sides. "The excitement is over. The boy is safe."
"I want you to put me ashore," said Bob Bangs.
"We'll make a landing a mile below here," said the Captain.
"I don't want to go to the next landing."
"Sorry, but we can't turn back," answered Captain Hadley.
"What about my boat?"
"We'll take it in tow."
This was done, and in a few minutes theHelen Shalleyhad resumed her journey. Bob Bangs was led to one of the staterooms and offered a dry suit of clothes, which he put on.
"I'll take your name and address," said Captain Hadley.
"What for?"
"As a matter of record. And remember, I want the clothing returned."
"Humph! Maybe my father will sue you for damages!"
"If he does he will lose the case."
Inside of five minutes the next landing place was made, and Bob Bangs went ashore, taking his wet suit with him. The damaged sloop was tied up at the dock, and having discharged and taken on passengers and baggage the steamboat sped on her way once more.
"He's as mad as a wet hen," said Jones to Randy. "And he ought to be thankful for having his life spared."
"He always was a mean sort of fellow," answered our hero. "And his folks are just as mean as he is."
"Then maybe they will try to make trouble for the steamboat owner."
Amos Bangs did try to make trouble. Two days after the accident on the river Andrew Shalley received a letter which ran in part as follows:
"As you perhaps know, my son, Robert Bangs, was out on the Hudson on the 6th inst., in his sloop, when, without any cause whatsoever, your steamboat, theHelen Shalley, ran into his boat, smashed it completely and put him in peril of his life."I am a man of few words, sir, and I demand damages for this outrage. If you wish to settle, you may send me your check for one thousand dollars; if not, I will sue you for that amount."
"As you perhaps know, my son, Robert Bangs, was out on the Hudson on the 6th inst., in his sloop, when, without any cause whatsoever, your steamboat, theHelen Shalley, ran into his boat, smashed it completely and put him in peril of his life.
"I am a man of few words, sir, and I demand damages for this outrage. If you wish to settle, you may send me your check for one thousand dollars; if not, I will sue you for that amount."
CHAPTER XX
WHAT CAME OF A DEMAND
The letter from Amos Bangs worried Andrew Shalley a little and he at once called on Captain Hadley, as soon as the steamboat made a landing at Nyack.
"It seems you ran down a boy a few days ago," said the steamboat owner.
"He tried to run us down," answered the captain, quietly.
"Was he hurt?"
"Not in the least."
"His father wants a thousand dollars' damages."
"I wouldn't pay him a cent."
"Did you run him down?"
"No, he tried to run us down."
"This is no joke, Captain Hadley."
"I know it, Mr. Shalley. But to threaten us with a suit at law is absurd. I can bring a dozen witnesses to prove that the accident was entirely of the boy's making."
"I am glad to hear that," and Andrew Shalley breathed a sigh of relief. He did not care so much for the money, but he wanted to know that Captain Hadley was not to blame.
"That boy acted like a little fool from beginning to end," went on the captain of the steamboat and then told his story. Later Randy was called up, to relate what he had done, and also Jones.
"If there is any trouble some of the passengers will testify for us," said Captain Hadley, and mentioned half a dozen who had said they would stick to the captain, in case of trouble. The passengers were well-known citizens, whose testimony would be sure to carry weight in any court of law.
Having satisfied himself that Amos Bangs had no case against him, the steamboat owner wrote to the rich manufacturer to that effect. By return mail he received this reply:
"Your bluff will not work with me. You are to blame and must pay. If I do not receive your check for one thousand dollars by the middle of next week I shall bring suit. My son is now in bed and under the doctor's care because of the accident."
"Your bluff will not work with me. You are to blame and must pay. If I do not receive your check for one thousand dollars by the middle of next week I shall bring suit. My son is now in bed and under the doctor's care because of the accident."
"Humph! Under the doctor's care, eh?" mused the steamboat owner. "This certainly seems to be serious after all. He will certainly make trouble for me even if he doesn't win his case."
Again the steamboat owner interviewed Captain Hadley, and then the pair called in Randy, to learn what he could tell about the Bangs family in general. Our hero told all he knew, including the trouble Mr. Bartlett was having with the iron manufacturer.
"Evidently he is a man to get money in any manner possible," mused Andrew Shalley. "He will certainly bring suit."
"I don't believe Bob is sick," said Randy. "He must be shamming."
"I wish I knew for sure."
"Perhaps I can find out for you—if you'll give me a day or two off," said our hero, struck by a sudden idea.
"A good plan!" cried Captain Hadley. "Let the lad see what he can do, by all means."
The matter was talked over, and the upshot was that on the next trip of the steamboat Randy went ashore at Catskill, near which town Bob Bangs and his mother were spending their vacation.
From some men at the dock our hero was enabled to find out all about the damaged sloop, which had been returned to Catskill. It was to cost twenty dollars to put the craft in good condition again.
"Those folks are stopping at a small hotel on the Burnham road," said one of the dock men. "It's called the Sharon House."
"Thank you," returned our hero.
He was soon on the way to the Sharon House—since demolished by fire. It did not take him long to cover the distance. As he approached he looked around for some signs of the Bangs family and presently espied Mrs. Bangs lounging in a hammock on a side veranda, reading a novel.
"I wonder if it is possible that Bob is really in bed sick?" he mused. "If he is it's a wonder Mrs. Bangs isn't with him. But then I guess she is a selfish woman, anyway."
Randy walked around the hotel and down to the stable. Here he met a colored boy who helped around the horses.
"Say, can you tell me where I can find Bob Bangs?" he asked, boldly.
"Bob Bangs jest went down to the ball grounds," was the answer, which surprised Randy not a little.
"Where are the grounds?"
"That way," and the colored boy pointed with his hand.
"I thought maybe Bob was sick."
"He ain't sick—he's only pertendin'," answered the colored boy.
Randy said no more but hurried off in the direction of the baseball grounds. Just as he came in sight of the place, he saw a figure ahead that looked familiar to him.
"Unless I am mistaken, that is Bob," he told himself, and hurried closer.
It was indeed Bob Bangs, walking along as if nothing had ever happened to him. He was smoking a cigarette. He passed into the grounds and Randy did the same, and took a seat on a bench directly behind the rich youth.
It was easy to see that Bob Bangs was not suffering physically. He smoked half a dozen cigarettes, and applauded as loudly as anybody when a good play was made.
"Fine game," said a man sitting next to Randy.
"It is," said our hero. He looked at the man and saw that he was evidently a merchant. "Excuse me, are you from Catskill?"
"I am."
"Do you want to do me a favor if I pay you for it?"
"Well, it won't be a favor if you pay me."
"I may want your assistance and I may not. Do you see that boy there?"
"Yes."
"He doesn't look as if he was sick abed, does he?"
"Sick abed? What sort of a game is this?" and the merchant looked Randy over with much curiosity.
"That boy's father says he is sick in bed. I want to prove that it isn't so."
"What is the game, anyway?"
"He had an accident on the river and he wants damages from a man I work for. It is a put-up job."
"Oh! I've heard of such things before. I know a rascal who cut his foot with an ax and then went down to the railroad and laid the blame on a train. He got five hundred dollars, but, later on, was found out and sent to prison for the deception."
"Well, this isn't exactly like that. Didn't you hear about a sloop running into theHelen Shalleya few days ago?"
"Oh, yes, a friend of mine, a passenger on the boat, told me about it. He said the boy didn't know how to handle the craft."
"Well, that is the boy."
"Indeed!"
"Does he act as if he was hurt or suffering?"
"Not in the least."
"Would you be willing to testify to that fact, if it came to law?"
"Certainly."
"Will you give me your name and address?"
"Here is my card," and the merchant handed it over. He did not add that he occasionally sold Captain Hadley some goods and was glad to do the master of the steamboat a service.
The game was almost at an end when the ball was sent among the spectators. Seeing it coming towards him, Bob Bangs leaped up and tried to catch the sphere. It hit the tips of his fingers, stinging them greatly. Then the ball came towards Randy and he caught it and threw it back into the field.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Bob Bangs, as he caught sight of our hero.
"Watching the game," answered Randy, quietly.
"Humph!"
"Pretty nice game, Bob."
"Humph!" muttered the rich boy again.
"I see you are feeling fine again."
"I am not—I am real sick," answered the rich boy, quickly.
"Sick in bed, eh?" went on our hero, with a grin.
"I was in bed."
"Last night, I suppose. So was I."
"I'm sick yet."
"You showed it—by the way you were cheering and yelling."
"When did you come in?"
"Right after you."
"Humph! Have you been watching me?"
"Yes."
"You might be in a better business," sneered the rich boy.
"I don't think so. You need watching. You and your father want to cheat the steamboat company by pretending that you were hurt in that collision, and here you are as well and hearty as ever," added Randy in a loud voice, so that those nearby might hear.
"I ain't well—I'm sick."
"You said that before—but nobody will believe it."
"You're well enough to go to a ball game and yell and smoke cigarettes, anyway," put in the merchant sitting next to Randy.
A good play brought forth a cheer from the crowd which drowned out further talk. In the midst of the temporary excitement Bob Bangs sneaked from the stand and from the ball grounds.
"He feels sick over this," laughed the merchant.
"Well, he can't sue the steamboat company for that sickness," laughed our hero in return.
CHAPTER XXI
RANDY VISITS HIS HOME
As soon as he returned to the steamboat, Randy acquainted Captain Hadley with all he had seen and heard and gave the captain the card of the merchant.
"You have done well, Randy," said the master of the steamboat. "I fancy this will cook Mr. Amos Bangs's goose."
At Nyack, Mr. Shalley came on board and heard what our hero had to say.
"I am glad you have a witness," said he. "I have heard of Mr. Budmister before."
"A good business man," said Captain Hadley. "He will make a good witness—if the case comes to a trial."
But it never did come to a trial. Andrew Shalley received one letter from a lawyer, threatening the suit, and in return wrote back the particulars of what Randy had learned, and added that if he heard any more of the matter he would bring suit against Amos Bangs for conspiracy to defraud. There the matter ended.
The captain was so pleased that when Randy asked for a three-days' leave of absence, that he might visit his home, it was readily granted. The boy was also given some extra pay for his work at Catskill.
Randy's homecoming brought a warm smile to the faces of his father and his mother. His mother kissed him tenderly and his father shook hands.
"How are you feeling, father?"
"I am almost well, Randy. I expect to go to work next week."
"But not in a cellar," said the son, quickly.
"No, Mr. Jackson is going to build a wing on his house and has given me the whole contract."
"That is good."
"I will be able to make more money than if I was working for a boss," went on Mr. Thompson.
"Well, you won't be sorry for that," said Randy, with a smile.
He found matters on the farm moving along nicely. The late vegetables were coming in well and their neighbor, Jerry Borden, had given them a helping hand.
"Say, you're a-gittin' to be a regular sailor, ain't you?" said Sammy to Randy.
"Hardly a sailor," answered Randy, with a laugh. "I am a steamboat deckhand."
"It's about the same thing. Wish I was a sailor."
"Maybe if you sailed on the ocean you'd get seasick, Sammy."
"I wouldn't, nuther. I was readin' about Robinson Crusoe onct. I wish I was cast away on a barren island. It would be lots of fun."
"Especially if you had nothing to eat and to drink."
"Oh, I'd get something from the ship, as Crusoe did."
"If the ship didn't go down in the middle of the ocean."
"When I was on the island I'd sleep every morning as long as I wanted to."
"What would you do if the savages came after you?"
"I'd fight and kill them all—that is, all but one. I'd want that one for my man Friday."
"He ain't going to be no sailor," broke in Mrs. Borden, who overheard the conversation. "He is going out to hunt eggs an' he is a-goin' to do it right now, or I'll get the whip."
"I'll get the eggs," answered Sammy, and hurried off without further delay.
"That boy is crazy to go somewhere all the time," said Mrs. Borden. "He doesn't seem to like the farm a bit."
"Better let him look for work somewhere," said Randy. "Maybe it will cure him of some of his notions."
"Maybe," sighed the mother.
All too soon Randy's visit had come to an end. He remained at the little farm over Sunday, going to church with his father and his mother, and left for the Hudson River early Monday morning.
Several days passed quietly and once more our hero fell into his routine work. Jones was sick, so the deckhands had a little more to do than usual. Randy pitched in with vigor, much to the satisfaction of Malloy and Captain Hadley.
One day, while handling baggage at the dock in New York, Randy was surprised to see Amos Bangs and a stranger come aboard. He soon lost sight of the pair and did not see them again until the middle of the afternoon, when he discovered them in a corner of the cabin, talking earnestly.
"It is queer Mr. Bangs should use this boat—after his quarrel with Captain Hadley and Mr. Shalley," said our hero to himself.
He had occasion to pass the pair a little later and was surprised to hear the name of Mr. Bartlett mentioned.
"Don't worry; we'll down Bartlett easily enough," said the strange man, a fellow with bushy black whiskers.
"I hope so," answered Amos Bangs.
Curious to know what they could be saying about Jack's father, and remembering what he had heard in the past, Randy walked outside of the cabin and close to a window which was wide open. From this point he could hear what was said without being seen very readily.
"I don't like the way matters are standing," he heard Amos Bangs say. "We must make our position more secure, Tuller."
"I don't see how we are to do it," answered the man with the heavy whiskers.
"I wish I could get Bartlett to sell his stock and sign over all his interest."
"Can you do that without making him suspicious of what is going on?"
"Humph! He is suspicious already, that's the trouble."
"Does he know about the deal with Kastner?"
"I think not."
"It will be a blow, when he hears of it."
"I don't intend he shall hear of it just yet. If I had Robinson where I wanted him, I'd go ahead."
"Can't you get him?"
"Get him? I don't dare breathe a word to him." Amos Bangs laughed. "And the funny part of it is, Bartlett thinks Robinson is in with us."
"You are sure of that?"
"Dead certain."
"Then you must keep Bartlett and Robinson apart."
"If I can."
"What did you do with the papers you took from Bartlett's desk?"
"They are in my safe at home."
"Why don't you destroy them?"
"I will, some time."
"It is dangerous to leave them around."
"I am the only person who knows the combination of the house safe. The papers can't get out without me."
So the talk ran on for a good hour, during which time Randy heard many things which appeared to be of value to Mr. Philip Bartlett. Then the two men arose and went to the smoking room, and that was the last our hero saw of them until they left the boat, half an hour later.
The talk he had heard set Randy to thinking. Plainly Amos Bangs and his companion were a pair of rascals and were trying to defraud Mr. Bartlett out of some if not all of his belongings.
"I'll have to call on Mr. Bartlett and tell him what I have heard," Randy told himself.
"See here!" called out Peter Polk, striding up as Randy was going to the lower deck. "What are you loafing around here for?"
"I am going below now," answered our hero.
"You can't shirk your work that way, Thompson." The purser came closer. "Listen," he whispered. "After this you keep your nose out of my business."
"I didn't know I had my nose in your business, Mr. Polk."
"Oh, you can't fool me, Thompson. I know it was you went to Captain Hadley with the story of how I was treating my relatives."
"You mean the Clares?"
"Of course I do. After this you keep your mouth shut," pursued the purser. "If you don't—well, you'll wish you had, that's all." And Peter Polk went away in extremely bad humor.
CHAPTER XXII
MR. BARTLETT MAKES A MOVE
As soon as the boat had tied up at Albany, and his work was at an end, Randy attired himself in his best and took a street car for the residence of the Bartletts. It was a humble place on a side street, quite in contrast to the fine residence the family had occupied in Riverport.
"Hullo, Randy!" cried Jack, as he came to the door to answer our hero's ring. "This is a surprise. Walk right in. Did you send word that you were coming?"
"I did not, Jack. Is your father home?"
"Yes, he is just finishing his supper."
"I want to see him."
"Had your supper?"
"Yes, I got a bite before I left the boat."
"All right—otherwise I know mother will welcome you at our table."
Jack went off to tell his father, and presently Mr. Bartlett walked in. He looked rather care-worn and tired. Evidently his new situation was a hard one to fill and did not agree with him.
"How do you do, Randy?" said Mr. Bartlett. "Glad to see you. Jack says you want to see me."
"I do, Mr. Bartlett. Can I talk to you in private?"
"Certainly. Come into the parlor."
Mr. Bartlett led the way and closed the door. Then both sat down.
"I want to tell you something about Mr. Bangs and a man named Tuller," began Randy. "They were on the boat to-day and I overheard some of their talk."
"Tuller, eh?" said Mr. Bartlett, and his brow darkened.
As well as he could Randy repeated the talk he had heard. Jack's father listened with keen interest. He was astonished when Randy mentioned the papers which had been abstracted from his desk.
"So Bangs has them in his safe at home, eh?" he cried. "Well, I am going to get them, be the cost what it may. They belong to me, and I am going to take them no matter where I find them."
He was equally astonished to hear that a certain Mr. Robinson was not acting with Amos Bangs and certain other men, Tuller included.
"They gave me to understand that Robinson was with them," said Philip Bartlett. "If Robinson will only act with me, perhaps I can do a great deal."
"Then why don't you write to Mr. Robinson and find out?"
"I will go and see him."
"Oh, then he lives here."
"No, in Springfield. But our works are going to shut down for a few days, so I will have ample time. Randy, I am very thankful to you for bringing me this news."
"I hope it does you some good, Mr. Bartlett."
"I think it will. Perhaps I'll only be able to scare Bangs, but that may make him careful, so I can get something out of my stock in the iron works company."
"If you ever want me as a witness I will do what I can for you."
"Thank you, my lad; you are kind and I will remember what you say."
After that Mrs. Bartlett and Jack came in and learned something of what had brought our hero to the house.
"Good for you, Randy!" cried Jack. "Father, if I were you, I'd break into old Bangs's safe."
"Pray do nothing rash," pleaded Mrs. Bartlett. "Remember he is rich and has many friends."
"He is certainly rich," said Randy, "but I doubt if the family have many friends. All of them are too overbearing."
"Bangs broke into father's private desk and took the papers," went on Jack. "It would be only tit for tat to break open the safe and get the papers back."
"I shall see Robinson first and then make up my mind what to do," answered his father.
Randy spent a pleasant evening with Jack, and when it came time to go to the boat Jack walked half the distance with our hero.
"I wish father could get what is due him," said Jack on the way. "He can't stand the hard work he is now doing."
The next morning Randy sailed down the river on the steamboat. Twenty-four hours later Mr. Bartlett crossed the Hudson and took a train for Springfield. He hoped to find Mr. Robinson at one of the banks and he was not disappointed.
The bank official—for such Mr. Robinson was—listened with interest to all Philip Bartlett had to tell. He shook his head when Amos Bangs and Tuller were mentioned.
"I suspected as much," said he. "I was given to understand that Bangs had bought you out. I couldn't understand it either, for you once told me that you did not wish to leave the works. I have just gotten back from a trip to Europe and have a good deal to attend to here, but I will take this matter up as soon as I possibly can."
"And you will stand in with me?" asked Mr. Bartlett, anxiously.
"If you wish it."
"I do."
"Then we must act together."
"And what would be your advice regarding those papers in Bangs's private safe at his house?"
"Get out a search warrant and take a professional safe man along, to open the strong box," answered the bank official, promptly. "And do not delay either. He may take it into his head to burn the papers up."
"I will do as you say," answered Mr. Bartlett with decision.
Some of his old-time will power had come back to him and he lost not a moment in carrying out his plans. He visited a firm dealing in safes and from them got the address of a man who claimed to be able to open any ordinary safe made. Then he called on this individual.
"You open safes?" he asked.
"I do—if I have the proper authority," answered the man.
"Can you open a first-class house safe?"
"Yes."
"How long will it take?"
"From five minutes to three hours."
"What are your charges?"
"Ten to fifty dollars. I'll have to see the safe before I can set a definite figure."
"Will you be at liberty to-morrow?"
"I'll be at your service if you engage me now."
"Very well, you may consider yourself engaged. I wish you to meet me in Riverport at about noon."
"Your own safe?"
"No."
"You'll have authority to open it?"
"I think so. I've got to go to court to get it, though."
"Ah! a legal case, eh?"
"Yes. You don't object, do you?"
"Oh, no, I have many legal cases. Had to force a safe for some lawyers in Bridgeport only last week."
"You will not disappoint me?"
"Not at all, Mr. Bartlett."
With this understanding Philip Bartlett left the safe opener and took a train back to his home. But, as it happened, a certain man saw him leaving the safe opener's office. This man was none other than Tuller, the friend to Amos Bangs.
"Bartlett, eh?" murmured Tuller to himself. "What is he doing in Springfield?"
He chanced to know the safe opener, whose name was Westinghouse, and presently dropped into the other's office as if by accident.
"How is business, Westinghouse?" he said, indifferently.
"Fair," was the answer. "Had two jobs last week."
"Good enough."
"How is business with you?"
"Booming. I suppose you get jobs ahead, is that it, or do you go out on the run, so to speak?"
"Sometimes I get orders ahead, but most of the jobs come in on the run—safe out of order, or something like that. I've got to go to Riverport to-morrow."
"Is that so? Bank?"
"No, a private party, I reckon. Going to have a safe opened by an order from the court, I think."
"Is that so! Well, I wish you luck on the job. Good-day."
"Good-day!" answered the safe opener.
Once on the street Tuller's face changed.
"Bartlett must have given that order, and if so he means to either open up the safe at the iron works or else the safe at Bangs's house. I must see Bangs and warn him, so that nothing is found which will do us harm!"
At first he thought to telegraph, but then came to the conclusion that it would be too risky. A letter might not be received in time.
"I'll go myself," he said, and an hour later was on his way to Riverport.