CHAPTER IV
SIDE-TRACKED
The next morning, at the nearest railroad station, an irate cattlemanwas trying to hire some one to take charge of a car of live stockwhich was on its way to a great exposition in a neighboring city. Theman he had counted on had not appeared, and the train was about due.
As he was turning away in desperation he felt a tug at his elbow.Looking around, he saw a queer figure with a countenance thatresembled a first attempt at a charcoal sketch from life: one cheekwas larger than the other, the mouth was sadly out of drawing, theeyes shone out from among the bruises like the sun from behind theclouds. But if the features were disfigured, the smile was none theless courageous.
Sandy had found a friendly sympathizer at a neighboring farm-house,had been given a good breakfast, had made his toilet, and was readyfor the next round in the fight of life.
"I'll be doin' yer job, sir, whatever it is," he said pleasantly.
The man eyed him with misgiving, but his need was urgent.
"All you have to do is to stay in the car and look after the cattle.My man will meet you when you reach the city. Do you think you can doit?"
"Just keep company with the cows?" cried Sandy. "Sure and I can!"
So the bargain was struck, and that night found him in the great citywith a dollar in his pocket and a promise of work in the morning.
Tired and sore from the experiences of the night before, he sought acheap lodging-house near by. A hook-nosed woman, carrying a smokinglamp, conducted him to a room under the eaves. It was small andsuffocating. He involuntarily lifted his hands and touched theceiling.
"It's like a boilin' potato I feel," he said; "and the pot's so littleand the lid so tight!"
He went to the window, and taking out the nail that held down thesash, pushed it up. Below him lay the great, bustling city, cabs andcars in constant motion, long lines of blazing lights marking thethoroughfares, the thunder of trains in the big station, and above andbelow and through it all a dull monotonous roar, like the farawayunceasing cry of a hungry beast.
He sank on his knees by the window, and a restless, nervous look cameinto his eyes.
"It presses in, too," he thought. "It's all crowdin' over me. I'm justme by myself, all alone." A tear made a white course down his grimycheek, then another and another. He brushed them impatiently away withthe cap he still held in his hand.
Rising abruptly, he turned away from the window, and the hot air ofthe room again smote him. The smoking lamp had blackened the chimney,and as he bent to turn it down, he caught his reflection in a smallmirror over the table. What the bruises and swelling had left undonethe cheap mirror completed. He started back. Was that the boy he knewas himself? Was that Sandy Kilday who had come to America to seek hisfortune? He stared in a sort of fascinated horror at that other boy inthe mirror. Before he had been afraid to be by himself, now he wasafraid of himself.
He seized his cap, and blowing out the lamp, plunged down four flightsof steep narrow steps and out into the street. A number of people werecrowding into a street-car marked "Exposition." Sandy, ever a straw inthe current, joined them. Once more down among his fellow-men, hebegan to feel more comfortable. He cheerfully paid his entrance feewith one of the two silver coins in his pocket.
The first building he entered was the art gallery, and the firstpicture that caught his eye held him spellbound. He sat before it allthe evening with fascinated eyes, devouring every detail and obliviousto the curious interest he was attracting; for the huge canvasrepresented the Knights of the Round Table, and he had at last foundfriends.
All the way back he thought about the picture; it was not until hereached his room that the former loneliness returned.
But even then it was not for long. A pair of yellow eyes peered aroundthe window-sill, and a plaintive "meow" begged for admittance. It wasplainly Providence that guided that thin and ill-treated kitten toSandy's window. The welcome it received must have completely restoredits shaken faith in human nature. Tired as he was, Sandy went out andbought some milk. He wanted to establish a firm friendship; for if hewas to stay in this lonely city, he must have something to love, ifonly a prodigal kitten of doubtful pedigree.
During the long, hot days that followed Sandy worked faithfully at thedepot. The regular hours and confinement seemed doubly irksome afterthe bohemian life on the road.
The Exposition was his salvation. No sacrifice seemed too great toenable him to get beyond that magic gate. For the "Knights of theRound Table" was but the beginning of miles and miles of wonderfulpictures. He even bought a catalogue, and, prompted by a naturalcuriosity for anything that interested him, learned the names of theartists he liked best, and the bits of biography attached to each. Hewould recite these to the yellow kitten when he got back to his littlehot-box of a room.
One night the art gallery was closed, and he went into another bigbuilding where a crowd of people were seated. At one end of it was agreat pipe-organ, and after a while some one began to play. With hiscap tightly grasped in both hands, he tiptoed down the center aisleand stood breathlessly drinking in the wonderful tones that seemed tobe coming from his own heart.
"Get out of the way, boy," said an usher. "You are blocking theaisle."
A queer-appearing lady who looked like a man touched his elbow.
"Here's a seat," she said in a deep voice.
"Thank you, sir," said Sandy, absently. He scarcely knew whether hewas sitting or standing. He only wanted to be let alone, so that hecould listen to those strange, beautiful sounds that made a shiver ofjoy go down his back. Art had had her day; it was Music's turn.
When the last number had been played, he turned to the queer lady:
"Do they do it every night?"
She smiled at his enthusiasm: "Wednesdays and Saturdays."
"Say," said Sandy, confidentially, "if you come first do you save mea seat, and I'll do the same by you."
From that time on he decided to be a musician, and he lived on twoscanty meals a day in order to attend the concerts.
But this exalted scheme of high thinking and plain living soon becameirksome. One day, when his loneliness weighed most heavily upon him,he was sent with a message out to the switch-station. As he trampedback along the track he spied a familiar figure ahead of him. Therewas no mistaking that short, slouching body with the peddler's packstrapped on its back. With a cry of joy, Sandy bounded after RicksWilson. He actually hugged him in his joy to be once more with someone he knew.
Ricks glanced uneasily at the scar above his eye.
Sandy clapped his hand over it and laughed. "It's all right, Ricks; amiss is as good as a mile. I ain't mad any more. It's straight homewith me you are goin'; and if we can get the two feet of you into mebit of a room, we'll have a dinner that's fit for a king."
On the way they laid in a supply of provisions, Sandy even going tothe expense of a bottle of beer for Ricks.
The yellow kitten arched her back and showed general signs ofhostility when the stranger was introduced. But her unfriendlydemonstrations were ignored. Ricks was the honored guest, and Sandyextended to him the full hospitality of the establishment.
"Put your pack on the floor and yerself in the chair, and I'll get yefilled up in the blink of an eyelash. Don't be mindin' the cat, Ricks.She's just lettin' on she don't take to you. She give me the wink onthe sly."
Ricks, expanding under the influence of food and drink, becameeloquent. He recounted courageous adventures of the past, and outlinedmarvelous schemes for the future, by which he was going to make ashort cut to fame and glory.
When it was time for him to go, Sandy heaved a sigh of regret. Fortwo hours he had been beguiled by Ricks's romances, and now he had togo back to the humdrum duties at the depot, and receive a sound ratingfor his belated appearance.
"Which way might you be goin', Ricks?" he asked wistfully.
"Same place I started fer," said Ricks. "Kentucky."
The will-o'-the-wisp, which had been hiding his lig
ht, suddenly swungit full in the eyes of Sandy. Once more he saw the little maid of hisdreams, and once more he threw discretion to the winds and followedthe vision.
Hastily collecting his few possessions, he rolled them into a bundle,and slipping the surprised kitten into his pocket, he gladly followedRicks once more out into the broad green meadows, along the white andshining roads that lead over the hills to Kentucky.
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