Tom blushed. He had not thought much of his own looks, but he was human, and no one is displeased at being considered good-looking. Mr. Graham spoke meditatively, as if he was not intending to pay a compliment, only mentioning a fact, and Tom did not feel called upon to thank him for this flattering remark.
"That is a great deal of money," he said.
"Yes, it is. All my relations are rich; that is, except one uncle, who probably is not worth over twenty thousand dollars."
Tom was impressed. A man who could talk of such a sum in such terms must certainly be very rich.
"Do you know, Mr. Graham," he inquired, "how soon the steamer will start after we reach Pittsburg?"
"No; but I can find out after we reach there."
On arriving at Pittsburg, inquiry was made, and it was ascertained that the steamerRiver Bellewould leave at nine o'clock the following morning.
"We shall have to go to a hotel," said Graham.
"Is there any cheap hotel here?" asked Tom prudently.
"Yes; there is the Pittsburg House. Suppose we both go there."
"All right."
Mr. Graham had only a small carpetbag, smaller than Tom's. They took them in their hands, and walked for a short distance, till they reached a plain building, which, from the sign, Tom discovered to be the hotel which had been mentioned.
"Shall we room together? It will cost less," said Milton Graham carelessly.
"If you please," said Tom.
He was lonely and thought he would like company. Besides, it would be cheaper, and that was a weighty consideration.
Tomand his companion entered the hotel. At the left was the clerk's desk. Milton Graham naturally took the lead. He took a penfrom the clerk, and entered his name with a flourish. Then he handed the pen to Tom, who followed his example, omitting the flourish, however.
"This young gentleman will room with me," said Graham.
"All right, sir," said the clerk. "Will you go up to your room now?"
"Yes."
The porter was summoned, and handed the key of No. 16. He took the two carpetbags, and led the way up-stairs, for the Pittsburg House had no elevator. Even in the best hotels at that time this modern convenience was not to be found.
The door of No. 16 was opened, revealing a plain room, about twelve feet square, provided, as Tom was glad to see, with two narrow beds.
"Have you got a quarter, Tom?" asked Graham.
Tom drew one from his pocket.
Graham took it and handed it to the porter, who expressed his thanks.
"It's always customary to fee the porter," he said carelessly, in answer to Tom's look of surprise.
"What for?"
"For bringing up the baggage."
"Twenty-five cents for bringing up two small carpetbags! That's pretty high. I'd have brought them up myself, if I had known," said Tom, dissatisfied, for he felt that this fee was hardly in accordance with his resolutions of economy.
"Oh, he expects it. It's his regular perquisite. When you've traveled more you'll understand."
"How much are we to pay for our accommodations?" asked Tom anxiously.
"About two dollars apiece, I reckon."
"That's more than I can afford," said Tom, alarmed.
"Perhaps it is less, as we room together."
"I hope so, for I can't afford to be extravagant."
"Do you call two dollars a day extravagant?" asked Graham, smiling.
"It is for me. My father is poor."
"Oh, it'll be all right. I'll fix it with the clerk. If you are ready, suppose we go down and have some supper."
To this Tom had no objection. He washedhis hands and face, and brushed his hair; then he declared himself ready.
Tom was hungry, and did justice to the supper, which he found very good. As they left the table, and reentered the office of the hotel, Milton Graham said, "I am going to make a call on some friends. Sorry to leave you, but we shall meet later in the evening."
"All right," said Tom.
On the whole he did not regret being alone. He began to doubt whether Graham would make a desirable traveling companion. Tom felt the need of economy, and he saw that his companion would make it difficult. If a fee must be paid, it was fair to divide it; but the porter's fee had come out of Tom's pocket.
"Didn't he have a quarter, I wonder?" thought our hero.
It was a small matter, but economy must begin in small matters, or it is not likely to be practised at all.
He took the opportunity to go to the desk and ascertain the sum likely to be charged for his accommodations.
"How long do you stay?" asked the clerk pleasantly.
"Till to-morrow morning. I am going to sail in theRiver Belle."
"Then we shall charge you a dollar and a half."
This seemed large to Tom, but he made no objection.
"How much would it have been if I had roomed alone?" he asked.
"The same. We make no change in our terms on that account."
"Mr. Graham told me it would be cheaper to room together."
"He is your roommate, isn't he?"
"Yes, sir."
"He is mistaken, so far as our house is concerned. I suppose you have known him for some time."
"No, sir. I met him on the cars yesterday afternoon for the first time."
"Then you don't know anything about him?"
"Oh, yes," answered Tom. "He is the son of a rich merchant in New York."
"Who told you that?"
"He did."
The clerk was a man of middle age. Athome he had a son of Tom's age, and this led him to feel a friendly interest in our hero.
"I suppose you have never traveled much," he said.
"No, sir. This is my first journey."
"Are you going far?"
"To California."
"That is a long journey for a boy of your age," said the clerk, looking surprised.
"Yes, sir; but I can't get anything to do at home, and I am going to California to seek my fortune."
"I hope you will be successful," said the clerk, with hearty sympathy. "Will you let me give you a piece of advice?"
"I shall be very glad of it, sir," responded Tom. "I find I am quite inexperienced."
"Then don't trust strangers too readily. It is dangerous."
"Do you refer to Mr. Graham?" asked Tom, startled.
"Yes, I refer to him, or any other chance acquaintance."
"Don't you think he is all right?" asked our hero anxiously.
"I don't think he is the son of a rich merchant in New York."
"Then why should he tell me so?"
Tom was green, and I have no intention of concealing it.
"I can't tell what his designs may be. Did you tell him that you were going to California?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then he will, of course, conclude that you have money. Did you tell him where you keep it?"
"No, sir. I keep it in a belt around my waist."
"You are too ready to tell that, though with me the information is safe. You are to room together. What will be easier, then, for your companion to rob you during the night?"
"I'd better take a room alone," said Tom, now thoroughly alarmed.
"I should advise you to, in most cases, but at present it may be as well to let things remain as they are, as it will save an awkward explanation."
"But I don't want to be robbed."
"We have a safe in the office—there it is—in which we deposit articles of value intrusted to us by our guests. Then we becomeresponsible for them. I advise you to leave your money with us overnight."
"I will," said Tom, relieved. "I shall have to go to my room to remove it."
"Very well. If you have a watch, or any other valuable, it will be well to put those in our charge also."
"No, sir, I have nothing of consequence but the money."
The belt of money was deposited in the safe, and Tom felt relieved. He began to realize for the first time the need of prudence and caution. It had never occurred to him that a nice, gentlemanly-looking man, like Milton Graham, was likely to rob him of his scanty means. Even now he thought there must be some mistake. Still he felt that he had done the right thing in depositing the money with the clerk. The mere thought of losing it, and finding himself high and dry—stranded, so to speak—hundreds of miles from home, made him shudder. On the whole, Tom had learned a valuable, though an unpleasant, lesson. The young are by nature trustful. They are disposed to put confidence in those whom they meet, even for the first time. Unhappily, in a world where there is so much evil as thereis in ours, such confidence is not justified. There are too many who make it a business to prey on their fellows, and select in preference the young and inexperienced.
It was only seven o'clock. Tom had a curiosity to see the city of Pittsburg, with whose name he had been familiar. So, after parting with his treasure, he went out for a walk. He did not much care where he went, since all was alike new to him. He ascertained, on inquiry, that Smithfield Street was the principal business thoroughfare. He inquired his way thither, and walked slowly through it, his attention fully occupied by what he saw.
Tomstrayed into a street leading from the main thoroughfare. Presently he came to a brilliantly-lighted liquor saloon. As he paused in front of the door, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, looking up, he met the glance of a well-dressed gentleman, ratherportly, whose flushed face and uncertain gait indicated his condition. He leaned rather heavily upon Tom, apparently for support, for he seemed to have been drinking more than was good for him.
"My young friend," he said, "come in and take a drink."
"Thank you, sir, but I would rather not," said Tom, startled.
"It won't hurt you. It don't hurt me."
As he uttered these last words he came near falling. In his effort to save himself he clutched Tom by the arm, and nearly pulled him over. Our hero was anxious to get away.
"Are you sure it don't hurt you?" he could not help saying.
"Do you think I'm drunk?" demanded the other.
"I think you've taken more than is good for you, sir," Tom answered bravely.
"I guess you're right," muttered the gentleman, trying to stand upright. "The drink's gone to my legs. That's strange. Does it ever go to your legs?"
"I never drink, sir."
"You're a most extraor'nary young man," hiccoughed Tom's new acquaintance.
"I must bid you good-night, sir," said our hero, anxious to get away.
"Don't go. I can't get home alone."
"Where do you live, sir?"
"I live in the country."
"Are you staying at a hotel?"
"Yes—Pittsburg House. Know Pittsburg House?"
"Yes, sir. I am staying there myself. Shall I lead you there? You'd better not drink any more."
"Jus' you say, my young frien'. You know best."
It was not a pleasant, or, indeed, an easy task to lead home the inebriate, for he leaned heavily on Tom, and, being a large man, it was as much as our hero could do to get him along. As they were walking along Tom caught sight of his roommate, Milton Graham, just turning into a saloon, in company with two other young men. They were laughing loudly, and seemed in high spirits. Graham did not recognize Tom.
"I hope he won't come home drunk," thought our hero. "It seems to me it is fashionable to drink here."
Tom's experience of city life was verylimited. It was not long before he learned that Pittsburg was by no means exceptional in this respect.
He ushered his companion safely into the hotel, and then a servant took charge of him, and led him to his room. Tom sat up a little while longer, reading a paper he found in the office, and then went to bed.
"I suppose Mr. Graham will come home late," he said to himself. "I must leave the door unlocked."
He soon went to sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly awoke after an interval. Opening his eyes he became conscious that Graham had returned. He discovered something more. His roommate, partially undressed, and with his back turned to Tom, was engaged in searching our hero's pockets. This discovery set Tom broad awake at once. He was not frightened, but rather amused when he thought of Graham's disappointment. He did not think it best to speak, but counterfeited sleep.
"I wonder where the boy keeps his money," he heard Graham mutter. "Perhaps it is in his coat pocket. No, there is nothing but a handkerchief. He's more careful than I gavehim credit for. Perhaps it is under his pillow."
He laid down the clothes, and approached the bed. Tom, with some effort, kept his eyes firmly closed.
Graham slid his hand lightly under the pillow, but withdrew it with all exclamation of disappointment.
"He must have some money," he muttered. "Ah, I have it! It is in his valise."
He approached Tom's valise, but it was locked. He drew out a bunch of keys, and tried one after the other, but in vain. Our hero feared he might resort to violent means of opening it, and turned in bed. Graham wheeled round quickly.
Tom stretched, and opened his eyes languidly.
"Is that you, Mr. Graham?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Graham nonchalantly, proceeding to undress himself. "Have you been abed long?"
"I don't know," answered Tom. "What time is it?"
"Haven't you got a watch?"
"No, I am not rich enough."
"It is one o'clock. I hadn't seen my friendfor a long time, and couldn't get away till late. By the way, have you got a key about you? I can't open my carpetbag."
Tom thought of suggesting the bunch of keys in Graham's pocket, but decided not to.
"My key is in my pants' pocket."
"Suppose you get it," said Graham. "I don't like to feel in another person's pocket. There might be some money there."
This was very scrupulous for one who had already searched all Tom's pockets thoroughly.
Our hero got up, and got the key for his roommate.
"No, it won't fit," said the young man, after a brief trial. "It is too large."
Tom replaced the key in his pocket, confident that Graham would in the course of the night use it to open his valise. This, however, did not trouble him.
"He won't think it worth while to steal my shirts or stockings," he reflected, "and the handkerchiefs are not worth taking."
"It will be rather awkward if I can't find my keys," said Graham craftily. "I keep my money in my valise."
He thought his unsophisticated companion would reveal in turn where he kept his money;but Tom only said, "That is a good place," and, turning over, closed his eyes again.
During the night Tom's valise was opened, as he ascertained in a simple way. In the morning he found that the key was in the right hand-pocket instead of the left, in which he had placed it.
Upon Graham's last failure he began to suspect what Tom had done with his money.
"The boy isn't so green as I thought," he said to himself. "Curse his prudence! I must get the money somehow, for I am precious hard up."
He got up early, when Tom was yet asleep, and went down to the office.
"Good morning," he said to the clerk affably.
"Good morning, sir."
"My young friend and roommate left his money with you last night. Please deliver it to me."
"What is the number of your room?" asked the clerk quietly.
"No. 16. Tom Nelson is my roommate."
"Why doesn't he come for it himself?" inquired the hotel clerk, with a searching glance at Graham.
"He wishes me to buy his steamboat ticket," answered Graham coolly. "He is going down the river in my charge."
"Are you his guardian?"
"Yes," answered Graham, with cool effrontery. "He is the son of an acquaintance of mine, and I naturally feel an interest in the boy."
"He told me he never met you till yesterday."
Graham was rather taken aback, but he recovered himself quickly.
"That's pretty cool in Tom," he returned, shrugging his shoulders. "I understand it, though."
"I am glad you do," said the clerk sarcastically, "for itdoesn'tlook to me at all consistent with what you represent."
"The fact is," said Graham plausibly, "Tom has a feeling of independence, and doesn't like to have it supposed that he is under anybody's protection. That accounts for what he told you. It isn't right, though, to misrepresent. I must give him a scolding. I am in a little of a hurry, so if you will kindly give me the boy's money——"
"It won't do, Mr. Graham," said the clerk,very firmly. "The money was put in our charge by the boy, and it will be delivered only to him."
"You seem to be very suspicious," said Graham loftily. "Hand me my bill, if you please. I will breakfast elsewhere."
The bill was made out, and paid. Five minutes later Milton Graham, with an air of outraged virtue, stalked out of the hotel, quite forgetting the young friend who was under his charge.
When Tom came down-stairs he was told of the attempt to get possession of his money.
"I am much obliged to you for not letting him have it," he said. "He searched my clothes and valise during the night, but I said nothing, for I knew he would find nothing worth taking."
"He is a dangerous companion. If you ever meet him again, I advise you to give him a wide berth."
"I certainly shall follow your advice. If you had not warned me against him he would have stolen my money during the night."
AsTom took his place at the breakfast table, he mechanically lifted his eyes and glanced at his neighbors. Directly opposite him sat the gentleman whom he had brought home the evening before. Now he looked sober and respectable. Indeed, he looked as if he might be a person of some prominence. He met Tom's glance, and recognized him.
"I think you are the boy who came home with me last evening," he said.
"Yes, sir," answered Tom, rather embarrassed.
"I am afraid I was not quite myself," continued the stout gentleman.
"Not quite, sir."
"I ought to be ashamed of myself, and I am. I don't often allow myself to be caught in that way. You did me a good service."
"You are quite welcome, sir."
"I had a good deal of money with me, and,if I had drank any more, I should probably have been robbed."
"Why did you run such a risk, sir?" Tom could not help asking.
"Because I was a fool," said the other bluntly. "I have taste for drink, but when I am at home I keep it under control."
"Then you don't live in Pittsburg, sir?"
"No. My home is in one of the river towns in Ohio. I came to Pittsburg to collect money due me for produce, and but for you should probably have carried none of it home."
"I am very glad to be of service to you," said our hero sincerely.
"What are your plans, my young friend? I suppose you are only a visitor in this city."
"I am on my way to California. I expect to sail in theRiver Belleat nine o'clock."
"Then we shall be fellow passengers, and I shall have a chance to become better acquainted with you. You are young to go to California alone. You are alone—are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
They went down to the boat together, and on the way Tom told his story. He learned that his acquaintance was Mr. Nicholas Waterbury;that he had been a member of the Ohio Legislature, and, as he inferred, was a prominent citizen of the town in which he lived.
"I should be very much ashamed to have them hear at home how I had forgotten myself," said Mr. Waterbury.
"It need not be known," said Tom. "I shall not mention it to any one."
"Thank you," said Mr. Waterbury. "I would rather you did not, as the news might reach my home."
"Where do you live, sir?"
"In Marietta. I shall be glad to have you leave the boat there, and stay a day or two with me."
"Thank you, sir, but I am in a hurry to reach California, on my father's account. I want to send back as soon as possible the money he raised to pay my expenses out."
"That is very commendable; I can enter into your feelings. I should like to show my obligation to you in some way."
"It is not worth thinking about, sir," said Tom modestly.
"Permit me to disagree with you. Why, my young friend, how much money do you think I had with me?"
"I don't know, sir."
"Upward of six hundred dollars."
As Mr. Waterbury uttered these words, a young man, very dark, with narrow black whiskers, passed them. He darted a quick glance at the speaker, and walked rapidly on. Tom noticed him, but not with attention.
"That is a good deal of money, sir," he remarked.
"It would have been a good deal to lose," said Mr. Waterbury, "and I have no doubt I should have lost it if it had not been for you."
"I haven't so much money as you, but I came near losing it last night."
"How was that?" asked Tom's new acquaintance, with curiosity.
Tom explained the attempt of his roommate to rob him.
"It would have been a serious loss to you, my young friend."
"It would have broken up all my plans, and I should have had to work my way home, greatly disappointed."
"You will need to be careful about forming acquaintances. There are exceptions, however. I am a new acquaintance; but I don't think you need fear me."
"No, sir," said Tom, smiling.
"While I have received a great service from you, who are a new acquaintance. But here we are at the steamer."
TheRiver Bellelay at her pier. Tom and his companion went on board. Both secured tickets, and Tom provided himself with a stateroom, for he expected to remain on board till they reached Cincinnati. Freight of various kinds was being busily stowed away below. It was a busy and animated scene, and Tom looked on with interest.
"Have you ever been on a steamboat before?" asked Mr. Waterbury.
"No, sir. I have never traveled any to speak of before leaving home on this journey," replied Tom.
"It will be a pleasant variety for you, then, though the scenery is tame. However, some of the river towns are pretty."
"I am sure I shall like it, sir."
"I wish I were going all the way with you—I mean as far as Cincinnati," said Mr. Waterbury.
"I wish you were, sir."
"I have a great mind to do it," said thegentleman musingly. "I should have to go very soon on business, at any rate, and I can attend to it now just as well as later."
"I shall be very glad if you can make it convenient, sir. We might occupy the same stateroom."
"Are you not afraid that I shall follow the example of your Pittsburg roommate?" asked Mr. Waterbury.
"I have less to lose than you," answered Tom. "Besides, I shall have to have a roommate, as there are two berths."
"Precisely, and I might be safer than some. I have a great mind to keep on. I shall see some one on the pier in Marietta by whom I can send word to my family. By the way, I have a son about your age, and a daughter two years younger."
"Have you, sir?" asked Tom, with interest.
"I should like you to meet them. Perhaps you may some day."
"I hope I may," said Tom politely.
"I am a manufacturer," continued Mr. Waterbury, "and sell my goods chiefly in Pittsburg and Cincinnati. From these places they are forwarded farther east and west."
"I suppose that's a pretty good business, sir?"
"Sometimes; but there are intervals of depression. However, I have no right to complain. I began a poor boy, and now I am moderately rich."
"Were you as poor as I am?" inquired Tom, beginning to feel a personal interest in his companion's career.
"Quite so, I fancy. At the age of sixteen I couldn't call myself the owner of five dollars."
"And you have become rich?" said Tom, feeling very much encouraged.
"Moderately so. I am probably worth fifty thousand dollars, and am just fifty years of age."
"That seems to me very rich," said Tom.
"I should have said the same thing at your age. Our views change as we get older. Still, I regard myself as very well off, and, with prudent management, I need not fear reverses."
"I should think not," said Tom.
"You don't know how easy it is to losemoney, my boy. I am not referring to robbery, but to mismanagement."
"Your success encourages me, Mr. Waterbury," said Tom. "I am willing to work hard."
"I think you will succeed. You look like a boy of good habits. Energy, industry, and good habits can accomplish wonders. But I think we are on the point of starting."
Just before the gangplank was drawn in, two persons hastily crossed it.
One was the dark young man who had passed them on the way down to the boat; the other was Milton Graham.
"Mr. Waterbury," said Tom hurriedly, "do you see that man?"
"Yes."
"He is the man that tried to rob me."
"We must be on our guard, then. He may be up to more mischief."
Inhalf an hour theRiver Bellewas on her way. Tom watched the city as it receded from view. He enjoyed this new mode of travel better than riding on the cars. He had never before been on any boat except a ferry-boat, and congratulated himself on his decision to journey by boat part of the way.
Milton Graham had passed him two or three times, but Tom, though seeing him, had not volunteered recognition. Finding that he must make the first advances, Graham finally stopped short, looked full at our hero, and his face wore a very natural expression of surprise and pleasure.
"Why, Tom, is that you?" he said, offering his hand, which Tom did not appear to see.
"Yes," said our hero coldly.
"I didn't expect to see you here."
"I told you I intended to sail on theRiver Belle."
"So you did; but I thought you had changed your mind."
It made very little difference to Tom what Mr. Graham thought, and he turned from him to watch the scenery past which the boat was gliding.
"I suppose," continued the young man, "you were surprised to find me gone when you came down-stairs to breakfast."
"Yes, I was."
"He resents it because I left him," thought Graham. "I guess I can bring him around."
"The fact was," explained Graham, in a plausible manner, "I went out to call on a friend, meaning to come back to breakfast; but he made me breakfast with him, and when I did return you were gone. I owe you an apology, Tom. I hope you will excuse my unintentional neglect."
"Oh, certainly," said Tom indifferently; "it's of no consequence."
Mr. Graham looked at him sharply. Hecould not tell whether our hero was aware of his dishonest intentions or not, but as Tom must still have money, which he wanted to secure, he thought it best to ignore his coldness.
"No," said he; "it's of no consequence as long as we have come together again. By the way, have you secured a stateroom?"
"Yes."
"If the other berth is not taken, I should like very much to go in with you," said Graham insinuatingly.
"I have a roommate," said Tom coolly.
"You have? Who is it?" demanded Graham, disappointed.
"That gentleman," answered Tom, pointing out Mr. Nicholas Waterbury.
"Humph! do you know him?"
"I met him at the Pittsburg House."
"My young friend," said Graham, with the air of a friendly mentor, "I want to give you a piece of advice."
"Very well."
"Don't be too ready to trust strangers. This Mr. Waterbury may be a very good man, but,on the other hand, he may be a confidence man. Do you understand me?"
"I think so."
"Now, I suppose you have money?"
"A little."
"Take care that he doesn't get possession of it. There are men who go about expressly to fleece inexperienced strangers."
"I suppose you know all about that," Tom could not help saying.
"What do you mean?" demanded Graham suspiciously.
"You are an old traveler, and must know all about the sharpers."
"Oh, to be sure," said Graham, immediately dismissing his suspicions. "You couldn't leave your companion, could you, and come into my stateroom?"
"I don't think I could."
"Oh, very well. It's of no consequence. Keep a good lookout for your roommate."
Graham turned away, and resumed his walk. Soon Tom saw him in company with the dark young man, to whom reference has already been made.
"Well," said the latter, "how did you make out with the boy?"
"He's offish. I don't know as he suspects me. I wanted to get him into my stateroom, but he has already taken up with another man—that stout party over there."
"So I suspected. I can tell you something about that man."
"What?"
"He carries six hundred dollars about him."
"You don't say so! How did you find out?"
"I overheard him telling the boy so."
"That's important news. The boy must have a couple of hundred, or thereabouts, as he is on his way to California."
"Eight hundred dollars together! That would make a good haul."
"So it would, but it won't be easy to get it."
While this conversation was going on Tom informed Mr. Waterbury of what had passed between Graham and himself.
"So he warned you against me, did he?" said Mr. Waterbury laughingly.
"Yes, he thought I would be safer in his company."
"If you want to exchange, I will retire," said Mr. Waterbury, smiling.
"Thank you; I would rather not. I am glad I met you, or he might have managed to get in with me."
It was not long before they came to a landing. It was a small river village, whose neat white houses, with here and there one of greater pretensions, presented an attractive appearance. A lady and her daughter came on board here. The lady was dressed in black, and appeared to be a widow. The girl was perhaps fourteen years of age, with a bright, attractive face. Two trunks were put on the boat with them, and as they were the only passengers from this landing, Tom inferred that they were their property.
"That's quite a pretty girl," said Mr. Waterbury.
"Yes," answered Tom.
"You ought to get acquainted with her," said Mr. Waterbury jocosely.
"Perhaps," said Tom shyly, "you will get acquainted with them, and then you can introduce me."
"You are quite sharp," said Mr. Waterbury,laughing. "However, your hint is a good one. I may act upon it."
It happened, however, that Tom required no introduction. As the lady and her daughter walked across the deck, to occupy some desirable seats on the other side, the former dropped a kid glove, which Tom, espying, hastened forward and, picking up, politely tendered to the owner.
"You are very kind," said the lady, in a pleasant voice. "I am much obliged."
"Mama is quite in the habit of dropping her gloves," said the young girl, with a smiling glance at Tom. "I really think she does it on purpose."
"Then, perhaps, I had better keep near-by to pick them up," said Tom.
"Really, Jennie," said her mother, "you are giving the young gentleman a strange impression of me."
"Well, mama, you know you dropped your gloves in the street the last time you were in Pittsburg, but there was no gentleman to pick them up, so I had to. Are you going to Cincinnati?" she asked, turning to Tom.
"Yes, and farther; I am going to California," replied Tom.
"Dear me, you will be quite a traveler. I wish I were going to California."
"You wouldn't like to go there on the same business that I am."
"What is that?"
"I am going to dig gold."
"I don't know. I suppose it isn't girl's work; but if I saw any gold about, I should like to dig for it. Is that your father that was standing by you?"
"No," answered Tom. "I never met him till yesterday. We were staying at the same hotel in Pittsburg."
"He seems like quite a nice old gentleman."
Mr. Waterbury was not over fifty, but to the young girl he seemed an old gentleman.
"I find him very pleasant."
There was a seat next to Jennie, and Tom ventured to occupy it.
"What is your name?" asked the young lady sociably.
"Thomas Nelson, but most people call me Tom."
"My name is Jane Watson, but everybody calls me Jennie."
"That is much prettier than Jane."
"So I think. Jane seems old-maidish, don't you think so?"
"Are you afraid of becoming an old maid?" asked Tom, smiling.
"Awfully. I wouldn't be an old maid for anything. My school-teacher is an old maid. She's horribly prim. She won't let us laugh, or talk, or anything."
"I don't think you'll grow up like that."
"I hope not."
"How you run on, Jennie!" said her mother. "What will this young gentleman think of you?"
"Nothing very bad, I hope," said Jennie, smiling archly on Tom. "I suppose," she continued, addressing him, "I ought to be very quiet and reserved, as you are a stranger."
"I hope you won't be," said Tom heartily.
"Then I won't. Somehow you don't seem like a stranger. You look a good deal like a cousin of mine. I suppose that is the reason."
So they chatted on for an hour or more.Jennie was very vivacious, occasionally droll, and Tom enjoyed her company. The mother saw that our hero was well-behaved and gentlemanly, and made no objection to the sudden intimacy.
Abouthalf-past twelve dinner was announced.
"I hope you'll sit next to us, Tom," said Jennie Watson.
"I will, if I can."
It happened that Milton Graham entered the saloon at the same time with the new friends. He took the seat next to Jennie, much to that young lady's annoyance.
"Will you be kind enough to take the next seat?" she asked. "That young gentleman is to sit next to me."
"I am sorry to resign the pleasure, but anythingto oblige," said Graham. "Tom, I congratulate you," he continued, with a disagreeable smile.
"Thank you," said our hero briefly.
"He calls you Tom. Does he know you?" inquired Jennie, in a low voice.
"I made his acquaintance yesterday for the first time."
"I don't like his looks; do you?"
"Wait till after dinner and I will tell you," said Tom, fearing that Graham would hear.
Milton Graham saw that Jennie was pretty, and desired to make her acquaintance.
"Tom," said he—for he sat on the other side of our hero—"won't you introduce me to your young lady friend?"
Tom was not well versed in etiquette, but his good sense told him that he ought to ask Jennie's permission first.
"If Miss Watson is willing," he said, and asked her the question.
Jennie was not aware of Graham's real character, and gave permission. She was perhaps a little too ready to make new acquaintances.
"Do you enjoy this mode of travel, MissWatson?" said Graham, after the introduction.
"Oh, yes; I think it very pleasant."
"I suppose you wouldn't like the ocean as well. I went to Havana last winter—on business for my father—and had a very rough passage. The steamer pitched and tossed, making us all miserably seasick."
"I shouldn't like that."
"I don't think you would; but we business men must not regard such things."
Tom listened to him with incredulity. Only the day before he would have put full confidence in his statement; but he had learned a lesson, thanks to Graham himself.
"How far are you going, Miss Watson?" continued Graham.
"To Cincinnati. My mother and I are going to live there."
"It is a very pleasant city. I have often been there—on business."
"What is your business, Mr. Graham?" Tom could not help asking.
"I see you are a Yankee," said Graham, smiling. "Yankees are very inquisitive—always asking questions."
"Are you a Yankee, Mr. Graham?" asked Jennie. "You asked me where I was going."
"A fair hit," said Graham. "No, I am not a Yankee. I am a native of New York."
"And I of New Jersey," said Tom.
"Oh, you are a foreigner then," said Graham. "We always call Jerseymen foreigners."
"It is a stupid joke, I think," said Tom, who was loyal to his native State.
"You didn't answer Tom's question," said Jennie, who was a very straightforward young lady.
"Oh, my father is a commission merchant," answered Graham.
"What does he deal in?"
"Articles too numerous to mention. Tom, will you pass me the potatoes?"
Dinner was soon over, and the passengers went upon deck. Graham lit a cigar.
"Have a cigar, Tom?" he said.
"No, thank you; I don't smoke."
"You'll soon learn. I'll see you again soon."
"Tom," said Jennie, "tell me about this Mr. Graham. What do you know about him?"
"I don't like to tell what I know," said Tom, hesitating.
"But I want you to. You introduced me, you know."
"What I know is not to his advantage. I don't like to talk against a man."
"You needn't mind telling me."
On reflection Tom decided that he ought to tell what he knew, for he felt that Jennie ought to be put on her guard against a man whom he did not consider a suitable acquaintance for her.
"Very well," said he, "if you promise not to let him know that I have told you."
"I promise."
"He was my roommate last night at the Pittsburg House," said Tom, in a low voice. "During the night he tried to rob me."
"You don't say so!" ejaculated Jennie, in round-eyed wonder.
"I will tell you the particulars."
This Tom did. Jennie listened with indignation.
"But I don't understand," she said. "Why should the son of a merchant need to rob a boylike you? He looks as if he had plenty of money."
"So I thought; but the hotel clerk told me that sharpers often appeared like this Mr. Graham, if that is his name."
"How strange it seems!" said Jennie. "I wish you hadn't introduced me."
"I didn't want to; but he asked, and at the table I couldn't give my reasons for refusing."
"My dear child," said her mother, "you are too ready to form new acquaintances. Let this be a lesson for you."
"But some new acquaintances are nice," pleaded Jennie. "Isn't Tom a new acquaintance?"
"I will make an exception in his favor," said Mrs. Watson, smiling pleasantly.
"Thank you," said Tom. "How do you know but I may be a pickpocket?" he continued, addressing Jennie.
"As I have only ten cents in my pocket I will trust you," said the young lady merrily. "I'd trust you with any amount, Tom," she added impulsively.
"Thank you, for your good opinion, Miss Jennie."
"Don't call me Miss Jennie. If you do, I'll call you Mr. Tom."
"I shouldn't know myself by that title. Then I'll call you Jennie."
"I wish you were going to live in Cincinnati," said the young lady. "It would be nice to have you come and see us."
"I should like it; but I mustn't think so much of pleasure as business."
"Like Mr. Graham."
"I must work hard at the mines. I suppose I shall look pretty rough when I am there."
"When you've made your pile, Tom—that's what they call it, isn't it?—you'll come back, won't you?"
"Yes."
"You must stop in Cincinnati on your way home."
"I wouldn't know where to find you."
"I will give you our address before we part. But that will be some time yet."
About this time Graham, who had finished smoking his cigar, strolled back.
"Miss Watson," said he, "don't you feel like having a promenade?"
"Yes," said Jennie suddenly. "Tom, come walk with me."
Our hero readily accepted the invitation, and the two walked up and down the deck.
"That's what I call a snub," said Graham's friend, the dark-complexioned young man, who was within hearing.
Graham's face was dark with anger.
"Curse her impudence, and his too!" he muttered. "I should like to wring the boy's neck."
"He can't help it, if the girl prefers his company," said the other, rather enjoying Graham's mortification.
"I'll punish him all the same."
By this time Tom and Jennie were near him again, on their return.
"You don't treat me with much ceremony, Miss Watson," said Graham, with an evil smile.
"My mother doesn't like me to make too many acquaintances," said Jennie demurely.
"She is very prudent," sneered Graham. "You have known your present companion quite a long time."
"I hope to know him a long time," said the young lady promptly. "Let's us continue our walk, Tom."
In discomfiture which he was unable to hide, Graham walked away.
"Evidently, Graham, you are no match for those two youngsters," said his friend, in amusement, which Graham did not share.
Graham did not reply, but seemed moody and preoccupied.
Tom and his companion noticed Graham's displeasure, but they felt indifferent to it. They had no desire to continue his acquaintance. Our hero introduced Mr. Waterbury to his new friends, and this gentleman, who was a thorough gentleman, except on the rare occasion when he yielded to the temptation of strong drink, made a favorable impression upon both.
So the day passed. Tom enjoyed it thoroughly. The river banks afforded a continuous panorama, while the frequent stops gave him an opportunity of observing the different towns in detail. Two or three times he went ashore, accompanied by Jennie, and remained till the steamer was ready to start.
Finally night came, and one by one the weary passengers retired to rest.
"Good night, Tom," said Jennie Watson. "Be up early in the morning."
"So as to get an appetite for breakfast?" asked Tom, with a smile.
"I think we shall both have appetites enough; but it will be pleasant to breathe the fresh morning air."
Tom promised to get up, if he wakened in time.
"If you don't mind, I will occupy the lower berth," said Mr. Waterbury. "I can't climb as well as you."
"All right, sir. It makes no difference to me."
Thestateroom was small, as most staterooms on river boats are. There appeared to be no means of ventilation. Mr. Waterburywas a stout man, and inclined to be short-breathed. After an hour he rose and opened the door, so as to leave it slightly ajar. With the relief thus afforded he was able to go to sleep, and sleep soundly. Tom was already asleep, and knew nothing of what had happened.
The number of the stateroom was 61. Directly opposite was 62, occupied by Milton Graham and his companion.
If Graham did not go to sleep it was because his brain was busily scheming how to obtain possession of the money belonging to his neighbors.
"Won't your key fit?" asked Vincent, for this was the name of the dark-complexioned young man.
"No use, even if it does. Of course they will lock it inside, and probably leave the key in the lock."
About midnight, Graham, who had not fully undressed, having merely taken off his coat, got up, and, opening the door, peered out. To his surprise and joy he saw that the door of No. 61 was ajar. He at first thought of rousing Vincent, who was asleep; but a selfishthought suggested itself. If he did this, he must share with Vincent anything he might succeed in stealing; if not, he could keep it all himself.
He left his stateroom silently, and looked cautiously around him. No one seemed to be stirring in the cabin. Next he stepped across, and, opening wider the door of 61, looked in. The two inmates were, to all appearances, sleeping soundly.
"So far, so good," he said to himself.
He stepped in, moderating even his breathing, and took up a pair of pants which lay on a chair. They belonged to Mr. Waterbury, for Tom had merely taken off his coat, and lain down as he was. His belt of gold he therefore found it unnecessary to take off.
Graham saw at once, from the size of the pants, that they must belong to the elder passenger. This suited him, however, as he knew from Vincent's information that Mr. Waterbury had six hundred dollars, and Tom could not be supposed to have anything like this sum. He felt eagerly in the pockets, and to his great joy his hand came in contact with a pocketbook. He drew it out without ceremony.It was a comfortable-looking wallet, fairly bulging with bills.
"He's got all his money inside," thought Graham, delighted. "What a fool he must be to leave it so exposed—with his door open, too!"
At this moment Graham heard a stir in the lower berth. There was no time to wait. He glided out of the room, and reentered his own stateroom. Immediately after his departure Mr. Waterbury, who had awakened in time to catch sight of his receding figure, rose in his berth, and drew toward him the garment which Graham had rifled. He felt in the pocket, and discovered that the wallet had been taken.
Instead of making a fuss, he smiled quietly, and said: "Just as I expected."
"I wonder if they have robbed Tom, too," he said to himself.
He rose, closed the door, and then shook Tom with sufficient energy to awaken him.
"Who's there?" asked Tom, in some bewilderment, as he opened his eyes.
"It's I—Mr. Waterbury."
"Is it morning? Have we arrived?"
"No, it is about midnight."
"Is there anything the matter?"
"I want you to see if you have been robbed.'"
Tom was broad awake in an instant.
"Robbed!" he exclaimed, in alarm. He felt for his belt and was relieved.
"No," he answered. "What makes you ask?"
"Because I have had a wallet taken. It makes me laugh when I think of it."
"Makes you laugh!" repeated Tom, under the transient impression that his companion was insane. "Why should you laugh at the loss of your money?"
"I saw the thief sneak out of the stateroom," continued Mr. Waterbury; "but I didn't interfere with him."
"You didn't!" said Tom, completely mystified. "I would. Did you see who it was?"
"Yes; it was your friend and late roommate."
"Mr. Graham?"
"As he calls himself. I don't suppose he has any rightful claim to the name."
"Surely, Mr. Waterbury, you are not going to let him keep the money," said Tom energetically;"I'll go with you, and make him give it up. Where is his stateroom?"
"Just opposite—No. 62."
"We had better go at once," said Tom, sitting up in his berth.
"Oh, no; he's welcome to all there is in the pocketbook."
"Wasn't there anything in it?"
"It was stuffed full."
Tom was more than ever convinced that his roommate was crazy. He had heard that misfortune sometimes affected a man's mind; and he was inclined to think that here was a case in point.
"You'll get it back," said he soothingly. "Graham can't get off the boat. We will report the matter to the captain."
"I don't care whether I get it back or not," said Mr. Waterbury.
Tom looked so confused and bewildered that his companion felt called upon to end the mystification.
"I know what is in your mind," he said, smiling. "You think I am crazy."
"I don't understand how you can take your loss so coolly, sir."
"Then I will explain. That wallet was a dummy."
"A what, sir?"
"A sham—a pretense. My pocketbook and money are safe under my pillow. The wallet taken by your friend was filled with imitation greenbacks; in reality, business circulars of a firm in Marietta."
Tom saw it all now.
"It's a capital joke," he said, laughing. "I'd like to see how Graham looks when he discovers the value of his prize."
"He will look green, and feel greener, I suspect," chuckled Mr. Waterbury. "You are certain you have lost nothing, Tom?"
"Perfectly certain, sir."
"Then we won't trouble ourselves about what has happened. I fancy, however, it will be best to keep our own door locked for the remainder of the night, even at the risk of suffocation."
"That's a capital trick of yours, Mr. Waterbury," said Tom admiringly.
"It has more than once saved me from robbery. I have occasion to travel considerably, and so am more or less exposed."
"I wonder if Graham will discover the cheat before morning."
"I doubt it. The staterooms are dark, and the imitation is so good that on casual inspection the strips of paper will appear to be genuine greenbacks."
Mr. Waterbury retired to his berth, and was soon asleep again. Tom, as he lay awake, from time to time laughed to himself, as he thought of Graham's coming disappointment, and congratulated himself that he and that young man were no longer roommates.
When Graham returned to his stateroom Vincent, who was a light sleeper, was aroused by the slight noise he made.
"Are you up, Graham?" he asked.
"Yes; I got up a minute."
"Have you been out of the stateroom?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"To get a glass of water."
There was a vessel of water in the cabin, and this seemed plausible enough.
"Any chance of doing anything to-night?"
"No, I think not."
Vincent sank back on his pillow, and Grahamgot back into his berth. Quietly he drew the wallet from his pocket, in which he had placed it, and eagerly opened it. The huge roll of bills was a pleasant and welcome sight.
"There's all of six hundred dollars here!" he said to himself. "I mustn't let Vincent know that I have them."
It occurred to Graham that, of course, Mr. Waterbury would proclaim his loss in the morning, and it also occurred to him that he might be able to fasten suspicion upon Tom, who, as his roommate, would naturally have the best chance to commit the robbery. One thing might criminate him—the discovery of the wallet upon his person. He therefore waited till Vincent was once more asleep, and, getting up softly, made his way to the deck. He drew the bills from the wallet, put them in an inside pocket, and threw the wallet into the river.
"Now I'm safe," he muttered, with a sigh of relief. "The money may be found on me, but no one can prove it is not my own."
He gained his berth without again awakening his companion.
"A pretty good night's work!" he said to himself, in quiet exultation. "Alone I have succeeded, while Vincent lies in stupid sleep. He is no match for me, much as he thinks of himself. I have stolen a march upon him this time."
It is not in accordance with our ideas of the fitness of things that a man who has committed a midnight robbery should be able to sleep tranquilly for the balance of the night, but it is at any rate certain that Graham slept soundly till his roommate awakened him in the morning.
"Rouse up, Graham," he said. "Breakfast is nearly ready."
"Is it?" asked Graham.
"Instead of sleeping there, you ought to be thinking how we can make a forced loan from our acquaintances in 61."
"To be sure," said Graham, smiling. "I am rather stupid about such things. Have you any plan to suggest?"
"You seem very indifferent all at once," said Vincent.
"Not at all. If you think of anything practical I am your man."
He longed to get rid of Vincent, in order to have an opportunity of counting his roll of bills.