The Errand Boy; Or, How Phil Brent Won Success

by Jr. Horatio Alger

  CHAPTER XXXII.

  PHIL IS ROBBED.

  When he was fairly in the room Phil looked about him expecting tosee Mr. Carter, but the room appeared unoccupied. He turned to hiscompanion, a look of surprise on his face, but he was destined to bestill more surprised, and that not in a pleasant way. His guide hadlocked the door from the inside and put the key in his pocket.

  "What does that mean?" asked Phil, with sudden apprehension.

  "What do you refer to?" asked his guide with an unpleasant smile.

  "Why do you lock the door?"

  "I thought it might be safest," was the significant answer.

  "I don't believe Mr. Carter is in the house at all," said Phil quickly.

  "I don't believe he is either, youngster."

  "Why did you tell me he was here?" demanded Phil, with risingindignation.

  "I thought you wouldn't come if I didn't," replied his companionnonchalantly.

  "Answer me one thing, is Mr. Carter sick at all?"

  "Not that I know of."

  "Then I am trapped!"

  "Precisely. You may as well know the truth now."

  Phil had already conjectured the reason why he had been enticed to thispoor dwelling. The two hundred dollars which he had in his pocket madehim feel very uncomfortable. I think I may say truly that if the moneyhad been his own he would have been less disturbed. But he thought, witha sinking heart, that if the money should be taken from him, he wouldhimself fall under suspicion, and he could not bear to have Mr. Carterthink that he had repaid his kindness with such black ingratitude. Hemight be mistaken. The man before him might not know he had such a sumof money in his possession, and of course he was not going to give himthe information.

  "I am glad Mr. Carter is all right," said Phil. "Now tell me why youhave taken such pains to get me here?"

  "Why, as to that," said his companion, "there were at least two hundredgood reasons."

  Phil turned pale, for he understood now that in some way his secret wasknown.

  "What do you mean?" he asked, not wholly able to conceal his perturbedfeelings.

  "You know well enough, boy," said the other significantly. "You've gottwo hundred dollars in your pocket. I want it."

  "Are you a thief, then?" said Phil, with perhaps imprudent boldness.

  "Just take care what you say. I won't be insulted by such awhipper-snapper as you. You'd better not call names. Hand over thatmoney!"

  "How do you know I have any money?" Phil asked, trying to gain a littletime for deliberation.

  "No matter. Hand it over, I say!"

  "Don't take it!" said Phil, agitated. "It isn't mine!"

  "Then you needn't mind giving it up."

  "It belongs to Mr. Carter."

  "He has plenty more."

  "But he will think I took it. He will think I am dishonest."

  "That is nothing to me."

  "Let me go," pleaded Phil, "and I will never breathe a word about yourwanting to rob me. You know you might get into trouble for it."

  "That's all bosh! The money, I say!" said the man sternly.

  "I won't give it to you!" said Phil boldly.

  "You won't, hey? Then I shall have to take it. If I hurt you, you willhave yourself to blame."

  So saying the man seized Phil, and then a struggle ensued, the boydefending himself as well as he could. He made a stouter resistance thanthe thief anticipated, and the latter became irritated with the amountof trouble he had to take it. I should be glad to report that Philmade a successful defense, but this was hardly to be expected. He was astrong boy, but he had to cope with a strong man, and though right wason his side, virtue in his case had to succumb to triumphant vice.

  Phil was thrown down, and when prostrate, with the man's knee on hisbreast, the latter succeeded in stripping him of the money he had sobravely defended.

  "There, you young rascal!" he said, as he rose to his feet; "you see howmuch good you have done. You might as well have given up the money inthe first place."

  "It was my duty to keep it from you, if I could," said Phil, pantingwith his exertions.

  "Well, if that's any satisfaction to you, you're welcome to it."

  He went to the door and unlocked it.

  "May I go now?" asked Phil.

  "Not much. Stay where you are!"

  A moment later and Phil found himself alone and a prisoner.

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  A TERRIBLE SITUATION.

  Phil tried the door, but now it was locked on the outside, and he foundthat he was securely trapped. He went to the window, but here, too,there was no chance of escape. Even if he had been able to get safelyout, he would have landed in a back-yard from which there was no egressexcept through the house, which was occupied by his enemies.

  "What shall I do?" Phil asked himself, despairingly. "Mr. Carter willbe anxious about me, and perhaps he may think I have gone off with themoney!"

  This to Phil was the worst of his troubles. He prized a good reputationand the possession of an honorable name, and to be thought a thief woulddistress him exceedingly.

  "What a fool I was to walk into such a trap!" he said to himself. "Imight have known Mr. Carter would not be in such a neighborhood."

  Phil was too severe upon himself. I suspect that most of my boy readers,even those who account themselves sharp, might have been deceived aseasily. The fact is, rogues are usually plausible, and they are sotrained in deception that it is no reflection upon their victims thatthey allow themselves to be taken in.

  Hours passed, and still Phil found himself a prisoner. Each moment hebecame more anxious and troubled.

  "How long will they keep me?" he asked himself. "They can't keep me hereforever."

  About six o'clock the door was opened slightly, and a plate of bread andbutter was thrust in, together with a glass of cold water. Who broughtit up Phil did not know, for the person did not show himself or herself.

  Phil ate and drank what was provided, not that he was particularlyhungry, but he felt that he must keep up his strength.

  "They don't mean to starve me, at any rate," he reflected. "That is someconsolation. While there is life, there is hope."

  A little over an hour passed. It became dark in Phil's prison, but hehad no means of lighting the gas. There was a small bed in the room, andhe made up his mind that he must sleep there.

  All at once there was a confused noise and disturbance. He couldnot make out what it meant, till above all other sounds he heard theterrible cry of "Fire!"

  "Fire! Where is it?" thought Phil.

  It was not long before he made a terrible discovery. It was the veryhouse in which he was confined! There was a trampling of feet and achorus of screams. The smoke penetrated into the room.

  "Heavens! Am I to be burned alive!" thought our poor hero.

  He jumped up and down on the floor, pounded frantically on the door, andat last the door was broken open by a stalwart fireman, and Phil madehis way out, half-suffocated.

  Once in the street, he made his way as fast as possible homeward.