Rufus and Rose; Or, The Fortunes of Rough and Ready

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER XXV.

  UNPLEASANT DISCOVERIES.

  Smith did not go home immediately. He intended to do so, but happened tothink of an errand, and this delayed him for an hour or two.

  When he entered the house, he looked around for his errand-boy, butlooked in vain.

  "Humpy!" he called out in a voice which could be heard all over thehouse.

  There was no answer. Smith, who was not remarkable for patience, beganto grow angry.

  "Very likely the young rascal is in his room," he said to himself. "I'llstir him up."

  He took the whip and ascended the stairs two or three at a time. Arrivedin the attic, he peered into Humpy's room, but, to his disappointment,saw nobody.

  "The little villain got tired of waiting, and went out, thinking Icouldn't find him out," he muttered. "He shall have a taste of the whipwhen he comes back."

  He went downstairs more slowly than he ascended. He was considerablyirritated, and in a state that required an object to vent his angerupon. Under these circumstances his prisoner naturally occurred to him.He had the proper key in his pocket, and, stopping on the second floor,he opened the door of the chamber in which our hero had been confined.His anger may be imagined when he found it untenanted. It was not verydignified, but Smith began to stamp in his vexation, and lash with hiswhip an unoffending chair in which Rufus ought to have been seated.

  "I wish it was that young villain!" muttered Smith, scowling at thechair, and lashing it harder. "I'd teach him to run away! I'd make himhowl!"

  Smith was considerably discomposed. Things were going decidedly againsthim. Besides, the escape of Rufus might entail serious consequences, ifhe should give information to the police about the place of hiscaptivity. A visit from these officials was an honor which Smith feltdisposed respectfully, but firmly, to decline. Unfortunately, however,policemen are not sensitive, and are very apt to intrude where they arenot wanted. A visit to Smith's abode might lead to unpleasantdiscoveries, as he very well knew, and he could not easily decide whatcourse it would be best for him to pursue. He inferred at once thatHumpy had been bought over, and had released the prisoner, otherwise hewould, undoubtedly, have detected or frustrated our hero's attempt toescape. This did not inspire very amiable feelings towards Humpy, whomit would have yielded him great satisfaction to get into his power. ButHumpy had disappeared, and that satisfaction was not to be had.

  Mingled with Smith's anger was a feeling of surprise. Humpy had been agood while in his employ, and he had reposed entire confidence in hisfidelity. He might have continued to do so but for the brutal assaultupon the boy recorded in a previous chapter. He did not think of this,however, or guess the effect it had produced on the mind of the deformederrand-boy.

  "I think I had better get out of the city a week or two till this blowsover," thought Smith. "I guess I'll take the afternoon train forPhiladelphia."

  This was a wise resolution; but Smith made one mistake. He ought to haveput it into effect at once. At that very moment information was lodgedat the office of police, which threatened serious consequences to him;but of this he was ignorant. He had no idea that Rufus would act sopromptly.

  In spite of his anger Smith was hungry. His morning walk had given himan excellent appetite, and he began to think about dinner. As, onaccount of the unlawful occupation in which he was engaged, he did notthink it prudent to employ a cook, who might gossip about his affairs,he generally devolved the task of preparing the dinner upon Humpy, whomhe had taught to cook eggs, broil beef-steak, make coffee, fry potatoes,and perform other simple culinary duties. Now that Humpy was gone, hewas obliged to do this work himself.

  He looked into the pantry, and found half-a-dozen eggs, and a slice ofsteak. These he proceeded to cook. He had nearly finished hisunaccustomed task when the door opened, and Martin returned, with hisnose a little redder than usual, and his general appearance somewhatdisordered by haste.

  "What brings you here so soon?" asked Smith, in surprise. "What's thematter?"

  "I came near gettin' nabbed; that's what's the matter," said Martin.

  "How did that happen?"

  "I went into a cigar-store near the ferry in Jersey City," said Martin,"and asked for a couple of cigars,--twenty-cent ones. I took 'em, andhanded in one of your ten-dollar bills. The chap looked hard at it, andthen at me, and said he'd have to go out and get it changed. I lookedacross the street, and saw him goin' to the police-office. I thought I'dbetter leave, and made for the ferry. The boat was just goin'. When we'dgot a little ways out, I saw the cigar man standin' on the drop with acopp at his elbow."

  "You'd better not go to Jersey City again," said Smith.

  "I don't mean to," said Martin. "Have you got enough dinner for me? I'mas hungry as a dog."

  "Yes, there's dinner enough for two, and that's all there is to eat it."

  Something significant in his employer's tone struck Martin.

  "There's the boy upstairs," he said.

  "There isn't any boy upstairs."

  "You haven't let him go?" queried Martin, staring open-mouthed at thespeaker.

  "No, he got away while I was out this morning,--the more fool I forleaving him."

  "But there was Humpy. How did the boy get away without his seeing him?"

  "Humpy's gone too."

  "You don't say!" ejaculated Martin.

  "Yes, I do."

  "What you goin' to do about it?" inquired Martin, hopelessly.

  "I'll half kill either of the little rascals when I get hold of them,"said Smith, spitefully.

  "I'd give something out of my own pocket to get that undootiful son ofmine back," chimed in Martin.

  "I'll say this for him," said Smith, "he's a good sight smarter than hisfather."

  "I always was unlucky," grumbled Martin. "I aint been treated right."

  "If you had been you'd be at Sing Sing," returned Smith, amiably.

  "Smith," said Martin, with drunken dignity, for he was somewhat underthe influence of a liberal morning dram, "you'd ought to respect thefeelin's of a gentleman."

  "Where's the gentleman? I don't see him," responded Smith, in asarcastic tone. "If you aint too much of a gentleman to do your share ofthe work, just draw out the table and put the cloth on."

  This Martin, who was hungry, did with equal alacrity and awkwardness,showing the latter by over-turning a pile of plates, which fell with afatal crash upon the floor.

  "Just like your awkwardness, you drunken brute!" exclaimed Smith,provoked.

  Martin did not reply, but looked ruefully at the heap of brokencrockery, which he attributed, like his other misfortunes, to theill-treatment of the world, and meekly got upon his knees and gatheredup the pieces.

  At length dinner was ready. Martin, in spite of an ungrateful world, atewith an appetite truly surprising, so that his companion felt calledupon to remonstrate.

  "I hope you'll leave a little for me. It's just possible that I mightlike to eat a little something myself."

  "I didn't eat much breakfast," said Martin, apologetically.

  "You'd better lunch outside next time," said his employer. "It will giveyou a good chance to change money."

  "I've tried it at several places," said Martin; "I could do it better ifyou'd give me some smaller bills. They don't like to change fives andtens."

  After dinner was despatched, and the table pushed back, Smith unfoldedhis plans to Martin. He suggested that it might be a little unsafe toremain at their present quarters for a week or fortnight to come, andcounselled Martin to go to Boston, while he would go to Philadelphia.

  "That's the way we'll dodge them," he concluded.

  "Just as you say," said Martin. "When do you want me back?"

  "I will write you from Philadelphia. You can call at the post-office fora letter in a few days."

  "When had I better sell the bond?"

  "That reminds me," said Smith. "I will take the box with me."

  He went and unlocked the drawer in which the box had been secreted. To
his dismay he discovered that it was gone.

  "Have you taken the tin box?" he demanded, turning upon Martin withsudden suspicion.

  "Isn't it there?" gasped Martin.

  "No, it isn't," said Smith, sternly. "Do you know anything about it?"

  "I wish I may be killed if I do!" asserted Martin.

  "Then what can have become of it?"

  "It's my undootiful boy that took it,--I'm sure it is," exclaimedMartin, with sudden conviction.

  "He had no key."

  "Humpy got him one, then."

  Just then Smith espied on the floor some scraps of wax. They told thestory.

  "You're right," he said, with an oath. "We've been taken in worse than Ithought. The best thing we can do is to get away as soon as possible."

  They made a few hurried preparations, and left the house in company. Butthey were too late. A couple of officers, who were waiting outside,stepped up to them, as they set foot on the sidewalk, and said, quietly,"You must come with us."

  "What for?" demanded Smith, inclined to show fight.

  "You'd better come quietly. You are charged with stealing a boxcontaining valuables."

  "That's the man that did it," said Smith, pointing to Martin. "He's theone you want."

  "He put me up to it, and shared the money," retorted Martin.

  "You're both wanted," said the officer. "You'll have a chance to tellyour story hereafter."

  As this winds up the connection of these two worthies with our story, itmay be added here that they were found guilty, not only of the robbery,but of manufacturing and disseminating counterfeit money, and weresentenced to Sing Sing for a term of years. The bonds were found uponthem, and restored to Mr. Vanderpool.

  Thus the world persists in its ill-treatment of our friend, JamesMartin. Still I cannot help thinking that, if he had been a sober andindustrious man, he would have had much less occasion to complain.