Carelessly, so as not to attract the attention of the four men, Roy strolled to the depot platform, taking care to get on the side opposite that on which was the elaborately-dressed youth. The sharpers did not see Roy, who kept in the shadow, and the attention of the other passengers from the train was taken up with what the engineer and firemen were doing, to get the locomotive ready for the repair crew.
"How do you do?" asked Mr. Baker, of the "tenderfoot," as he approached with his three cronies. "Haven't I met you somewhere before?"
"Well, really, I couldn't say; don't you know," replied the well-dressed youth, with an affected drawl.
"I am sure I have," went on Mr. Baker. "So are my three friends. As soon as we saw you standing here, my friend, Mr. Sutton, said to me, 'Where have I seen that distinguished looking gentleman before?' Didn't you, Sutton?"
"Indeed I did, Mr. Baker. And Mr. Hynard said the same thing."
"Sure I did," replied Mr. Hynard. "I know I've met you before Mr.—er—Ah, I didn't quite catch the name."
"My name is De Royster—Mortimer De Royster, of New York," replied the dude, seemingly much flattered at the attention he had attracted. "I'm sure I can't recall where I met you gentlemen before, but, don't you know, your faces are very familiar to me."
"Of course," went on Mr. Baker. "I remember you very well now. You are a son of Van Dyke De Royster, the great New York banker; are you not?"
"No," replied Mr. De Royster, "he is only a distant relative of mine, but I belong to the same family. It is very distinguished."
"Indeed it is," said Mr. Baker. "I have often read in history of the great doings of the De Roysters. Gentlemen, shake hands with Mr. De Royster. I know his relative, the great banker, Van Dyke De Royster, very well."
Now this was true, to a certain extent, but all the acquaintance Mr. Baker had with the well known banker, was when the latter had him arrested for trying to cash a forged check. But Mr. Baker did not mention this.
"I am very glad to meet you," said Mortimer De Royster, as he shook hands with the four swindlers, thinking them delightful gentlemen indeed.
"Are you going far?" asked Hynard.
"To New York. You see I am—er—that is—er—I have been doing a little business—I am selling jewelry for a relative of mine in New York. It is not exactly work, for I am traveling for my health, and I do a little trade on the side."
"Guess he's ashamed to let it be known that he works for a living," thought Roy, but later he found he had misjudged De Royster.
"Ah, in the jewelry line, eh?" asked Mr. Baker. "I used to be in that myself."
He did not mention that the way he was "in it" was to try to swindle a diamond merchant out of some precious stones, in which he was partly successful.
"Did you do any business in this section?" asked Tupper.
"Not much. I stopped off to see some friends, and I did not try to sell them anything. I don't do business with my friends—I don't think it dignified, don't you know," and Mortimer De Royster swung his cane with a jaunty air, and tried to twirl the ends of a very short mustache.
"That's right; I can see you're the right stuff," remarked Mr. Baker, with a wink at his companions. "Did you come down here to take the train?"
"Yes, I am on my way to New York."
"How do you find trade?" asked Mr. Baker.
"Well, really, it is not very good, but that does not annoy me, as I am only doing this as a side line. I don't worry, don't you know."
"I see. You're a sport!" exclaimed Tupper, with easy familiarity. "I sized you up for a sport as soon as I saw you. I must have met you in New York."
"Yes, I make my headquarters there," said the salesman. "I seem to remember you. Sporting life is very attractive to me, I assure you, really it is."
"That's the way to talk!" put in Hynard. "Be a sport!"
"They're flattering him for some purpose," thought Roy. "I wonder what their object is."
He was hidden around the corner of the depot, where he could hear without being seen.
"That's a very fine watch chain you have on," said Mr. Baker. "It is much better than mine."
"And I guess he has a better watch than yours, too, Baker," spoke up Sutton, with a wink, which Mr. De Royster did not see.
"No, he hasn't. My watch cost five hundred dollars."
"I have a very fine timepiece, I don't mind admitting," spoke the well-dressed youth. "It was given to me by my father, who is quite wealthy."
"I'd like to see it," said Mr. Baker.
By this time an engine, with some parts to repair the broken locomotive, had arrived from a near-by freight yard. The train crew had made the adjustments, and the express was almost ready to proceed. Nearly all the passengers, who had alighted, had again boarded their cars.
"I shall be pleased to show you my watch," said Mr. De Royster, drawing out a heavy gold affair. "I think you will readily agree with me, that it is a valuable one."
He passed it to Mr. Baker, and, from where he stood Roy could see the swindler slip it into his pocket and substitute for it one somewhat like it, but, probably made of brass instead of gold. Mr. Baker turned his back, pretending to be trying to get a good light, while he compared his watch with that of Mr. De Royster.
"That's a fine diamond pin in your tie," said Tupper, indicating the stone in the salesman's tie.
"Yes. Would you like to look at it? It is of very pure color."
He drew out the gem, and, unsuspectingly passed it to Tupper.
At that instant the locomotive engineer blew two warning whistles, so that the lagging passengers might get on the train, which was about to start.
"Hurry up! All aboard!" exclaimed Hynard, and, as Roy watched, he saw Tupper thrust Mr. De Royster's diamond into his own pocket.
"They're robbing him!" thought the boy from the ranch. "I must warn him!"
He started forward. Mortimer De Royster grabbed up his suit-case and started for the train. Then he became aware that Mr. Baker had not handed him back his watch, while the other man had his pin.
"My timepiece!" he exclaimed. "I'll show it to you when we get in the train. I assure you it's a very fine one. And my pin—I would not like to lose it! Give them back!"
Hardly had he spoken when Hynard thrust his hand down into the inside pocket of Mr. De Royster's coat. His object was to grab his pocketbook, the bulging outline of which he had seen.
"Look out!" cried Roy in a loud voice, springing from his hiding place. "Look out! They're swindlers! They've got your watch and pin, and they're trying to get your money!"
"Look out," cried Roy, "they are swindlers!""Look out," cried Roy, "they are swindlers!"
"Look out," cried Roy, "they are swindlers!""Look out," cried Roy, "they are swindlers!"
"There's that boy!" exclaimed Hynard, as he drew out his hand.
But Mr. De Royster had felt the sneaking fingers, and had made a grab for them. He was too late, however, and, in attempting to catch Hynard he stumbled and fell.
"Come on!" cried Baker to his companions. "Let him go! We've got the stuff."
"Grab them!" cried Roy to De Royster. "I'll help you."
He rushed forward. No sooner did the swindlers see him coming, than they changed their plans. They had intended jumping on the train, which was already in motion, and leaving Mr. De Royster behind, after they had his watch and diamond.
But Roy's quickness prevented this. Baker signalled to his companions, and they ran off down the track.
"Come on!" cried Roy. "We'll catch them!"
"No! I must go to New York," replied the salesman as he arose, and brushed off his clothes. "The train is going."
"But they've got your valuables!"
"I know it. I was a fool, but it's too late now. Help me aboard."
The train was gathering headway. Roy ceased his pursuit of the robbers and helped De Royster aboard, the young man carrying his dress-suit case. Then Roy followed, while the four swindlers kept on down the railroad tracks.
"Come neah gettin' left, sah!" exclaimed the colored porter of Roy's car, as our hero, followed by Mortimer De Royster, entered the coach. "Dat were a close call, sah."
"Yes, but I wish I had had a chance to round-up those swindlers. I'd shown them how we handle such chaps out on the ranch!" exclaimed Roy.
"Swindlers? Was dem nicely dressed gen'men swindlers?" inquired the porter.
"Swindlers, upon my word, they are the very worst kind," put in De Royster. "The idea of tricking me into letting them see my watch, and then keeping it, don't you know! I shall report them to the authorities."
"I'm afraid it will not do much good," remarked Roy. "They are far enough away by now, and we're getting farther off from them every minute."
"That's so. Well, then, my watch and diamond pin are gone," and the dude seemed to accept the loss quite calmly.
"Excuse me, sah," broke in the colored man, addressing De Royster, "but has youh a ticket for dis parlor car?"
"Not yet. I could not buy one at the little station back there, but you may get me one, from the conductor, don't you know," spoke the well-dressed youth, taking a roll of bills from his pocket. At the sight of the money the eyes of the colored man shone in anticipation of a tip he might receive. His opinion of the stranger went up several points. Such is the effect of money, and it is not always the right one.
"Are you going to travel in this car?" asked Roy.
"Yes, it looks like a fairly decent coach. I am really quite particular how I ride."
Roy was rather amused at the airs Mortimer De Royster assumed, and he did not quite know whether to like him or not. The youth had an affected manner of speaking, and some oddities, but, in spite of these Roy thought he might be all right at heart.
The boy from the ranch had learned, from his life in the west, not to judge persons by outward appearances, though they often give an indication of character.
"I don't believe I thanked you for what you did for me," went on De Royster to Roy, when the porter returned with his ticket and the change. The colored man's heart was made happy by a generous tip.
"I don't know that I did anything in particular. I didn't think they were going to take your hide off, or I would have warned you sooner."
"My hide off? I don't quite catch your meaning, my dear chap—Oh, yes, I see. You mean they were going to skin me. Oh, yes. That's a good joke. Ha! Ha! Well, thanks to you, they didn't."
"Still they got something."
"Yes, that watch was a valuable one, and one my father gave me as a present. The diamond was worth considerable, too. But I am glad they did not get my money. Only for your timely warning they might have. Some of it is mine, but the most of it belongs to the firm I work for."
"They tried to get me into some swindling games, but I refused to have anything to do with them," and Roy told of the efforts of Baker and his cronies.
"I was easily taken in," admitted Mortimer De Royster. "I am ashamed of myself."
"Do you carry a valuable stock?" asked Roy, wondering if it were not dangerous to have so much jewelry about one.
"Quite valuable, yes, but all traveling jewelry salesmen belong to a league, and if thieves get away with anything belonging to any member, we have the services of a good detective agency to run the criminals down. The professional thieves know this, and, as capture is almost certain in the end, we have little fear of being robbed. These swindlers took my personal property, and nothing belonging to the firm, I'm glad to say."
"Perhaps you will get it back," suggested Roy.
"No, I'm afraid not. But I say, my dear chap, where are you going? You don't look as if you had traveled much."
"I haven't. I am going to New York on business for my father."
"To New York? Good! Then I shall have company on the way. That is unless you don't like to be seen with one who lets himself be robbed so easily."
"That would not make any difference to me."
"Thank you. Perhaps I may be able to be of some service to you in New York. I know the town fairly well."
"That will be very kind of you. I know nothing about it, and I'm afraid I'll be rather green when I get there. I have lived on a ranch all my life."
"On a ranch? Fancy now! Really, don't you know, I often used to think I would like to be a cowboy," drawled the dude.
Roy looked at the slim figure, and delicate features of Mr. De Royster, and thought that he would hardly be strong enough for the rough life on the plains. But he was too polite to mention this.
"Yes," went on the well-dressed youth, "if I had not gone into the jewelry business I might now be a 'cow-puncher,'—I believe that is what you call those gentlemen who take charge of wild steers?" and he looked at his companion inquiringly.
"Yes, some folks call 'em that."
"It must be a very nice sort of life. Now this sort of thing is rather tame, don't you know."
"Well, you had it exciting enough a while ago."
"So I did," admitted Mr. De Royster with a smile. "But that doesn't happen every day. I wish I could do you some favor, in return for what you did for me."
"I didn't do much. I wish I could have gotten them in time to have saved your watch and chain. But they stampeded before I could rope them."
"Stampeded?"
"Yes, I mean they started to run."
"Oh, yes. And—er—rope—"
"Oh, I forgot you didn't understand my lingo. I meant catch them. Whenever we want to catch anything on the ranch, we rope it. Throw a lariat over it, you know."
"Oh, yes, a lasso. I should like to have seen you lasso those chaps. Have you a lasso with you?"
"I have one in my large valise."
"Where are you going to stop in New York?"
"I don't know yet. I'm going to look around for a good place to get my grub, and a bunk after I get there."
"Your grub and bunk?" Mr. De Royster seemed puzzled.
"Well, I mean my meals and a place to sleep."
"Ah, then perhaps I can be of service to you. I know most of the best hotels, and I can introduce you to the managers of some of them. Do you intend to remain in the city long?"
"I can't tell. I don't just know how long my father's business will keep me. Probably I shall be there several weeks."
"Then I'll tell you what I'll do," said De Royster, in a friendly tone. "I'll get you fixed up at a good hotel, and then I'll show you the sights."
"But how can you spare the time from your business?" asked Roy, who was beginning to think he had found a real friend in the rather eccentric person of Mortimer De Royster.
"Oh, my work is nearly done now for the season. I shall not start out on the road again until fall, when I shall take goods for the spring trade. I was selling Christmas stock this trip."
"Christmas stock, and it is only June," exclaimed Roy. "My, but they hustle things in the East!"
"They have to. That's why I'll have some spare time now. I can show you various sights of interest, and, in turn, you must promise to protect me from robbers. I think I'll have to get a guardian if this keeps on," and the dude laughed at his joke.
"I'll do my best," replied Roy. "If I see those fellows again, they'll not get off so easily."
"Then we'll consider ourselves friends!" exclaimed De Royster, extending his hand, which Roy shook warmly.
The boy was quite attracted to the young man, whom he began to like more and more, as he saw that, under his queer ways, he hid a heart of real worth and kindness.
With a companion who proved himself as interesting as did Mortimer De Royster, the time passed very quickly for Roy. Almost before he knew it the train was pulling into Chicago, where they changed cars.
He wanted to stop off and view the stock yards, but there was not time for this. However he saw much of interest from the car windows, and De Royster pointed out various objects, explaining them as the express passed by.
"We'll soon be in New York now," said the well-dressed youth, as the train 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 back of Roy and his new friend.
"I said New York was larger and better in every way than Chicago, don't you know," replied De Royster, looking at the man through his single eyeglass.
"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 the easy 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 a ranch."
"I am," admitted Roy, wondering how the stranger had guessed so soon.
"Well, there's no use getting into a dispute over our respective cities," went on the stranger. "Everyone thinks his home town is the best. Are you two traveling far?"
Thus the conversation opened, and the three were soon chatting pleasantly together.
In due time the train arrived at Jersey City, just across the Hudson River from New York.
"Here we are!" exclaimed Mr. De Royster. "A short trip across the ferry 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 the platform 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 can hire 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," he said. "Nor a stage either, unless it's the automobile ones on Fifth avenue. But I'll show you what to do. Wait a minute though. You don'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 feeling that, however much he might know about ranch life, he was all at sea in a big city.
"All right. Then I'll give your checks to an expressman, and he'll bring 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 promised to have the trunk and large valise at the hotel before night. It was now 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'd like 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 ferry boat. What do you mean by milling?"
"Why they're like cattle going around and around, and they don't seem to be getting anywhere."
"Oh, that's it, eh, my dear chap. Well, they're all anxious to get to New York, that's why they're rushing so. Come on or we'll miss the boat."
Mortimer De Royster led the way through the ferry house, and out on the boat. He took a seat in the ladies' cabin, and Roy sat down beside him. 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 curious eyes, 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 New York. 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 is through the depot, and it is hard to tell exactly where the dock leaves off and the boat begins. I should have told you, but I got interested in the paper."
"I was a little startled at first," admitted Roy with a smile. "I thought 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 he wanted to see it all at once. It was no wonder that he mistook the boat for the waiting room of the station, as the ferry boat was so broad, and the cabin so large, that often strangers are deceived that way.
De Royster soon took Roy out on the lower deck, and showed him New York, lying across the Hudson river, the sky-scrapers towering above the water line, the various boats plying to and fro, and the great harbor.
"It's wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It's different from what I expected. I never even dreamed New York was like this."
"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 two long lines of vehicles, mostly great trucks and drays, going up and down, for West street is on the water front, adjoining the docks where the steamships come in, and the wagons cart goods to and from them.
Then there was a big throng of people, hurrying to and from the ferries, several of which came in close together. The people all seemed in a rush, a trait, which Roy was soon to discover, affected nearly every one in New York. He saw policemen standing on the crossings, and, whenever the officer held up his hand, the travel of the vehicles stopped as if by magic, leaving a lane for pedestrians to cross.
"He's got them pretty well trained," observed Roy.
"Yes, he belongs to the traffic squad. Any driver who refused to do as the officer says, will be arrested. But come on. I want to take you to 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 them out of the path of the runaway. Truck drivers began pulling their steeds 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 action of other drivers the runaway had a clear field.
"Look out!" shouted the officer. "Hey there, young man!" to Roy. "Git out of the street!"
But Roy had other intentions. He handed his valise to De Royster, who was 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 one I've caught!"
Mortimer De Royster, giving one more look at the maddened animal, which was 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 a lady 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 if to drag Roy out of the way.
The next instant the boy had made a leap, just as the horse reached him. It was a leap to one side, but not to get out of the way. It was only to escape the flying hoofs, for, an instant later, Roy had the plunging horse by the bridle, and was hanging on for dear life.
There were confused shouts from the crowd. Several men rushed forward, in spite of the efforts of the officer to hold them back. Women screamed, and several fainted.
The horse was rearing and kicking, but Roy, plucky lad that he was, held on like grim death.
With one hand firmly grasping the bridle, he reached up with the other, and clasped the nostrils of the horse in a tight grip. This served to prevent the horse from breathing well, and, as his lungs needed plenty of air, on account of his fast run, the animal probably concluded he had met his master.
"That's right! Hold him!" called a man. "I'll help you in a minute!"
"I guess I can manage him now," said Roy calmly. "There now, old fellow," he went on, speaking soothingly to the horse. The animal was having hard work to breathe. Roy saw this and loosened his hold slightly. Then he began to pat the horse, continuing to speak to it. The animal, which was more frightened than vicious, began to calm down.
"I've got him!" exclaimed the policeman, coming up and taking hold of the bridle.
"Oh, he's all right now; aren't you, old fellow?" spoke Roy, as he rubbed the horse's muzzle.
Indeed the animal did seem to be. His dangerous hoofs were still, and, though he trembled a bit, he was quieting down.
"That was a fine catch, my lad," remarked one man. "Where did you learn to stop runaway horses?"
"Out on my father's ranch in Colorado. This is nothing. We have a runaway every day out there. I've often caught 'em."
"Then the city ought to hire a few lads like you to give some of our policemen lessons," went on the man, with a meaning glance at the officer.
"Come now, move on. Don't collect a crowd," spoke the bluecoat gruffly. He was a little bit ashamed that he had not made an attempt to stop the horse, but it was due more to thoughtlessness than to actual fear. Besides, he first considered getting the women out of harm's way.
"It was a brave act," went on the man. "I'd like to shake hands with you, young man."
He extended his hand which Roy, blushing at the praise, accepted.
"Here, I want to get in on that," exclaimed another man, and soon as many as could crowd around Roy were shaking hands with him, while murmurs of admiration were heard on all sides.
Meanwhile the lady in the cab was being assisted out by a gentleman. Then she took her little girl in her arms. The child spoke, in a high clear voice, that could be heard above the noise of traffic, which had started up again, when it was seen that the runaway was stopped.
"Mother, is that the boy who caught the naughty horsie?"
"Yes, dear, mother wants to thank him."
"So do I, mother. And I want to kiss him for stopping the bad horsie that scared Mary."
There was a laugh at this, and Roy blushed deeper than ever.
"Come on," he said to Mortimer De Royster, who had made his way to his side. "Let's get out of this. Anybody would think I was giving a Wild-West exhibition."
"Well, that's pretty near what it was. I never saw a runaway better stopped, and I've seen some of our best policemen try it. You certainly know how to manage horses."
"Even if I don't know when I'm on a ferry boat," added Roy with a laugh. "But it would be a wonder if I didn't know something about cattle. I've been among 'em all my life."
"Excuse me, sir," spoke the lady who had been in the cab. "I want to thank you for what you did," and she extended her hand, encased in a neat glove.
Roy instinctively held out his hand, and then he drew it back. He noted that it was covered with foam and mud, where the horse had splashed it up on the bridle which he grasped. He had not noticed this when the men congratulated him. The lady saw his hesitation and exclaimed:
"What? You hesitate on account of not wanting to soil my gloves? There!" and before Roy could stop her she had grasped both his hands in her own, practically ruining her new gloves, for his left hand was more dirty than was his right. "What do I care for my gloves?" she exclaimed.
"Can't I kiss the nice boy, mother?" pleaded the little girl, whom her parent had placed on the crosswalk, close beside her.
There was another laugh, but Roy was not going to mind that. Though he had no brothers or sisters, he was very fond of children. The next instant he had stooped over and kissed the little girl.
Once more the crowd laughed, but in a friendly way, for Roy was a lad after the heart of every New Yorker—brave, fearless, yet kind.
"I can't begin to thank you," went on the lady. "But for you, Mary and I might have been killed."
"Oh, I guess the horse would have slowed up pretty soon, ma'am," replied Roy.
"Now don't make light of it," urged the lady. "I wish you would call at my home, and see us. My husband will want to add his thanks to mine. Here is our address."
She gave Roy a card on which was engraved the name, "Mrs. Jonathan Rynear," and the address was uptown in New York.
"The horse took fright when the cabman got down to get something for me in a store," she said, "and ran away before any one could stop him. I can drive horses, but I could not reach the reins of this one, and I dared not let go of my little girl. Now I want you to be sure and come. Will you?"
"Yes, ma'am," spoke Roy, and then, when Mrs. Rynear had shaken hands with him again, Roy managed to make his way through the crowd, and, accompanied by De Royster, he started up the street.
"Well, your entrance to New York is rather theatrical," observed Mortimer De Royster. "You'll get into the papers, first thing you know, really you will, my dear fellow."
"That's just where I don't want to get," said Roy quickly, as he thought that his mission might not be so well accomplished, if Mr. Annister read of the arrival in New York, of the son of the man whose agent he was. "How can it get in the papers?"
"Why, the reporters are all over New York. They'll hear of this in some way, or the policeman will tell them. Besides, the policeman has to report all such happenings on his post, and the reporters to go to the police station in search of news."
"But how will they know I did it?"
"That's so. I don't believe they will, old chap. You didn't give the lady your name."
"No, and I'm glad of it."
"Why; don't you want any one to know you're in New York?"
"Well, not right away. I have certain reasons for it. Later it may make no difference. But I guess the reporters are not liable to know it was me."
"No, perhaps not. The policeman may claim the credit of stopping the runaway. Some of 'em do, so as to get promotion more quickly."
"It wasn't much of a job to stop that runaway."
"Wasn't it? Well, it looked so to me, and I guess it did to the rest of the crowd. But you're all mud. The horse must have splashed you. However you'll soon be at your hotel. We'll take a train."
Still quite bewildered by the noise and confusion Roy followed De Royster up a flight of steps, not knowing where he was going. The next he knew was that his friend had dropped two tickets into the box of the elevated station, and they were waiting for an uptown train. Presently it came along, making the station and track rock and sway with the vibration.
"Come on," cried De Royster.
"Where are you going?" asked Roy, hanging back.
"On the elevated train, of course."
"It isn't safe!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It is shaking now. It'll topple down! It needs bracing! Do you mean to tell me they run trains up in the air, on a track, and they don't fall off?"
"Of course. Come on. It's safe, even if it does shake a bit. It always does. There's no danger of it falling off. Next time we'll take the subway."
"All aboard! Step lively!" cried the guard at the gate, and Roy, with some misgivings, followed his friend.
The ride, on a level with the second-story windows of the buildings, was a great novelty to the boy from the ranch and he soon got over his feeling of nervousness in looking out at the strange sights on every hand.
"Here we are!" exclaimed De Royster at length. "I'll take you to the hotel."
They got out, walked down a flight of steps, and soon were in front of a good, though not showy hotel. In spite of the fact that it was not one of the most fashionable in New York, the magnificence of the entrance, with its rich hangings, the marble ornamentation, the electric lights and the stained glass, made Roy wonder if his friend had not made some mistake. It seemed more like the home of some millionaire, than a public hotel.
"Go ahead; I'll be right with you," called De Royster, as he showed Roy into the lobby. "I want to speak to a gentleman a moment."
Somewhat bewildered, Roy advanced into the middle of the lobby, with its marble floor. Though he was not aware of it, he made rather a queer figure, with his clothes of unstylish cut, his travel-stained appearance, the mud on his hands and garments, and his general air of being a stranger, totally unused to New York ways.
"Well, what do you want?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of a boy in a uniform that seemed to consist of nothing but brass buttons. "We don't allow peddlers in here!"
Roy turned and looked at the boy who had made the somewhat insulting remark.
"I beg your pardon, stranger," he replied in his western drawl. "I didn't quite catch your remark."
"Aw, come off!" slangily replied the brass-buttoned boy, one of many in the hotel employed to show guests to their rooms whenever summoned by a bell rung by the clerk. "What are you, anyhow? Selling patent medicine or some Indian cure?" For Roy plainly showed the effect of his western life, his hair being a little longer than it is worn in the east, his clothes rather too large for him, and his broad-brimmed hat quite conspicuous.
"So you think I'm rustling medicine, eh?" he asked the boy.
"I don't know what you're 'rustling' but I know if you try to sell anything in this joint, you'll get the poke, see!"
Roy began to think the language of the East was almost as effective as that of the West in expressing ideas.
"I'm not selling medicine, stranger," Roy went on, using the term he had picked up among the cowboys when they meet one whom they do not know. "I'm going to put up at this bunk-house, I reckon."
"That's a good one!" exclaimed the boy with a laugh. "What Wild West show are you from? This is no theatrical boarding house. Better beat it out of here before the clerk sees you."
But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who, in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner.
"What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the bell boy.
"Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent medicines," replied the boy.
"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the hotel. Send him out."
"I did, but he won't go."
"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk, and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of mine."
"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.
"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be here himself in a minute."
The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus publicly put to shame.
"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.
"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."
"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"
The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged much against his will to take his valise.
"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here after all. I think—"
Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd about the desk.
"Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you, old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!"
"Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially, extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?"
"Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat him well."
"Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good room—er—ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same time.
Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there.
"What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something unusual had taken place.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let me bunk here or not."
"Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk, somewhat embarrassed.
"Here, Number twenty-six, take the gentleman's grip. Any friend of yours, Mr. De Royster, is doubly welcome here. We can give you a fine room, Mr. Bradner."
"All right," replied Roy, good naturedly. "I'll take one."
"I'll select it for you," put in Mr. De Royster, as he was in some doubt as to Roy's finances, and he did not want to take too extravagant an apartment.
Roy was soon shown to a pleasant room, Mortimer accompanying him. Every one connected with the hotel seemed anxious to aid the boy from the ranch, now that it was shown he had wealthy friends. Roy thought De Royster must be a person of some influence. He was partly right, though the influence came more from the rich and respected relatives of the young jewelry salesman, than from himself. However, it answered the same purpose.
"I am sorry you were annoyed by that clerk, my dear chap," said De Royster, when he was seated in the room he had selected for Roy. "I was unavoidably detained, speaking to a friend I met, don't you know."
"It's all right," replied Roy. "It all adds to my experience, and I expect to get a lot of it while I'm in the East."
"What are your next plans?"
"Well, I hardly know. I have certain business to do for my father, but I hardly know how to set about it."
"Perhaps I can tell you."
"I wish you could."
"If it is a secret don't tell me," said De Royster, noting that Roy hesitated.
"It is a sort of a secret mission. I'm here to round up a man, and see what sort of branding marks he has on him—that is, whether he's honest or not."
"That is a queer mission for a boy like you to be sent on."
"Perhaps, but my father had no one else. I will tell you as much as I can, and see what you have to say."
Thereupon Roy told his friend about the real estate matter, and Mr. Annister's connection with it, though he mentioned no names.
"Let me consider it a bit," said the dude, when Roy had finished. The latter began to think his friend was more capable than had at first appeared, and, in spite of his rather affected talk, could be relied upon for good advice.
"Here is what I would do, in your place," said De Royster, at length. "I would get my hair cut, order a new suit of clothes or perhaps two and appear as much as possible like a New Yorker, don't you know. You say you don't want that man to know you are here from the ranch. Well, he certainly would if you appeared before him as you are now. But, if you—er—well, we'll say 'spruce up' a bit, you can be sure he'll never connect you with the West. Then you can make whatever inquiries you like."
"That's good advice. I'll follow it. I'm much obliged to you."
"Don't mention it, my dear chap. Now, old man"—(Roy thought it was strange to be addressed as "old man")—"I've got to go. I'll leave you my card, and address, and, if you get into trouble, why, telephone or call on me. Now, good luck."
He shook hands with Roy and left. The boy from the ranch was a little lonesome after De Royster had gone, but he knew he would from now on, very probably have to rely on himself, and he decided to start in at once.
After supper he went to the hotel barber shop, and had his hair cut to the length it was worn by New Yorkers. He wanted to go out and get a new suit, but he knew the clothing stores would not be open at night.
His trunk arrived the next morning, and, having arranged his things in his room, the boy from the ranch set out to buy some new garments, following De Royster's advice.
"Well, I certainly don't look like a cowboy now," thought Roy, as he surveyed himself in the glass, after the change. "Now to call on Mr. Annister. I don't believe he'll suspect me of being on his trail."
A little later Roy was on his way down-town, having inquired from the clerk how to get to the office of the real estate agent. He was soon at the place, a big office building, in which several firms had their quarters.
He got in the express elevator, which went up at a speed that took away his breath, and was let out at the twentieth floor, where the real estate agent had his rooms.
"Is Mr. Annister in?" Roy asked the office boy.
"I don't know. What's your business?"
"My business is with Mr. Annister."
"What's your name?"
"That doesn't matter. Tell Mr. Annister I called to see him regarding the renting of some property on Bleecker street," for that was where the building was located in which Roy and his father were interested.
"All right. I'll tell him, but I don't believe he'll see you," replied the office boy, not very good-naturedly, as he went into an inner room. In a little while he returned and said:
"Walk in. He'll see you a few minutes, but he's very busy."
A few seconds later Roy stood in the presence of Caleb Annister.