“Not at all.”
“Then I'll accept with thanks.”
CHAPTER XII.
AN ODD ACQUAINTANCE.
AFTER breakfast the next morning Carl started again on his way. His new friend, Edward Downie, accompanied him for a mile, having an errand at that distance.
“I wish you good luck, Carl,” he said, earnestly. “When you come this way again, be sure to stop in and see me.”
“I will certainly do so, but I hope I may find employment.”
“At any rate,” thought Carl, as he resumed his journey alone, “I am better off than I was yesterday morning. Then I had but twenty- five cents; now I have a dollar.”
This was satisfactory as far as it went, but Carl was sensible that he was making no progress in his plan of earning a living. He was simply living from hand to mouth, and but for good luck he would have had to go hungry, and perhaps have been obliged to sleep out doors. What he wanted was employment.
It was about ten o'clock when, looking along the road, his curiosity was excited by a man of very unusual figure a few rods in advance of him. He looked no taller than a boy of ten; but his frame was large, his shoulders broad, and his arms were of unusual length. He might properly be called a dwarf.
“I am glad I am not so small as that,” thought Carl. “I am richer than he in having a good figure. I should not like to excite attention wherever I go by being unusually large or unusually small.”
Some boys would have felt inclined to laugh at the queer figure, but Carl had too much good feeling. His curiosity certainly was aroused, and he thought he would like to get acquainted with the little man, whose garments of fine texture showed that, though short in stature, he was probably long in purse. He didn't quite know how to pave the way for an acquaintance, but circumstances favored him.
The little man drew out a handkerchief from the side pocket of his overcoat. With it fluttered out a bank bill, which fell to the ground apparently unobserved by the owner.
Carl hurried on, and, picking up the bill, said to the small stranger as he touched his arm: “Here is some money you just dropped, sir.”
The little man turned round and smiled pleasantly.
“Thank you. Are you sure it is mine?”
“Yes, sir; it came out with your handkerchief.”
“Let me see. So it is mine. I was very careless to put it loose in my pocket.”
“You were rather careless, sir.”
“Of what denomination is it?'
``It is a two-dollar note.”
“If you had been a poor boy,” said the little man, eying Carl keenly, “you might have been tempted to keep it. I might not have known.”
Carl smiled.
“What makes you think I am not a poor boy?” he said.
“You are well dressed.”
“That is true; but all the money I have is a dollar and five cents.”
“You know where to get more? You have a good home?”
“I had a home, but now I am thrown on my own exertions,” said Carl, soberly.
“Dear me! That is bad! If I were better acquainted, I might ask more particularly how this happens. Are you an orphan?”
“No, sir; my father is living.”
“And your mother is dead?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Is your father a poor man?”
“No, sir; he is moderately rich.”
“Yet you have to fight your own way?”
“Yes, sir. I have a stepmother.”
“I see. Are you sure you are not unreasonably prejudiced against your stepmother? All stepmothers are not bad or unkind.”
“I know that, sir.”
“Yours is, I presume?”
“You can judge for yourself.”
Carl recited some incidents in his experience with his stepmother. The stranger listened with evident interest.
“I am not in general in favor of boys leaving home except on extreme provocation,” he said, after a pause; “but in your case, as your father seems to take part against you, I think you may be justified, especially as, at your age, you have a fair chance of making your own living.”
“I am glad you think that, sir. I have begun to wonder whether I have not acted rashly.”
“In undertaking to support yourself?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“At fourteen I was obliged to undertake what you have now before you.”
“To support yourself?”
“Yes; I was left an orphan at fourteen, with no money left me by my poor father, and no relatives who could help me.”
“How did you make out, sir?” asked Carl, feeling very much interested.
“I sold papers for a while--in Newark, New Jersey--then I got a place at three dollars a week, out of which I had to pay for board, lodging and clothes. Well, I won't go through my history. I will only say that whatever I did I did as well as I could. I am now a man of about middle age, and I am moderately wealthy.”
“I am very much encouraged by what you tell me, sir.”
“Perhaps you don't understand what a hard struggle I had. More than once I have had to go to bed hungry. Sometimes I have had to sleep out, but one mustn't be afraid to rough it a little when he is young. I shouldn't like to sleep out now, or go to bed without my supper,” and the little man laughed softly.
“Yes, sir; I expect to rough it, but if I could only get a situation, at no matter what income, I should feel encouraged.”
“You have earned no money yet?”
“Yes, sir; I earned a dollar yesterday.”
“At what kind of work?”
“Archery.”
The little man looked surprised.
“Is that a business?” he asked, curiously.
“I'll explain how it was,” and Carl told about the contest.
“So you hit the mark?” said the little man, significantly.
Somehow, there was something in the little man's tone that put new courage into Carl, and incited him to fresh effort.
“I wonder, sir,” he said, after a pause, “that you should be walking, when you can well afford to ride.”
The little man smiled.
“It is by advice of my physician,” he said. “He tells me I am getting too stout, and ought to take more or less exercise in the open air. So I am trying to follow his advice ”
“Are you in business near here, sir?”
“At a large town six miles distant. I may not walk all the way there, but I have a place to call at near by, and thought I would avail myself of the good chance offered to take a little exercise. I feel repaid. I have made a pleasant acquaintance.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“There is my card,” and the little man took out a business card, reading thus:
HENRY JENNINGS,
FURNITURE WAREHOUSE,
MILFORD.
“I manufacture my furniture in the country,” he continued, “but I ship it by special arrangements to a house in New York in which I am also interested.”
“Yes, sir, I see. Do you employ many persons in your establishment?”
“About thirty.”
“Do you think you could make room for me?”
“Do you think you would like the business?”
“I am prepared to like any business in which I can make a living.”
“That is right. That is the way to look at it. Let me think.”
For two minutes Mr. Jennings seemed to be plunged in thought. Then he turned and smiled encouragingly.
“You can come home with me,” he said, “and I will consider the matter.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Carl, gladly.
“I have got to make a call at the next house, not on business, though. There is an old schoolmate lying there sick. I am afraid he is rather poor, too. You can walk on slowly, and I will overtake you in a few minutes.”
“Thank you, sir.”
> “After walking half a mile, if I have not overtaken you, you may sit down under a tree and wait for me.”
“All right, sir.”
“Before I leave you I will tell you a secret.”
“What is it, sir?”
“The two dollars you picked up, I dropped on purpose.”
“On purpose?” asked Carl, in amazement.
“Yes; I wanted to try you, to see if you were honest.”
“Then you had noticed me?”
“Yes. I liked your appearance, but I wanted to test you.”
CHAPTER XIII.
AN UNEQUAL CONTEST.
CARL walked on slowly. He felt encouraged by the prospect of work, for he was sure that Mr. Jennings would make a place for him, if possible.
“He is evidently a kind-hearted man,” Carl reflected. “Besides, he has been poor himself, and he can sympathize with me. The wages may be small, but I won't mind that, if I only support myself economically, and get on.” To most boys brought up in comfort, not to say luxury, the prospect of working hard for small pay would not have seemed inviting. But Carl was essentially manly, and had sensible ideas about labor. It was no sacrifice or humiliation to him to become a working boy, for he had never considered himself superior to working boys, as many boys in his position would have done.
He walked on in a leisurely manner, and at the end of ten minutes thought he had better sit down and wait for Mr. Jennings. But he was destined to receive a shock. There, under the tree which seemed to offer the most inviting shelter, reclined a figure only too well- known.
It was the tramp who the day before had compelled him to surrender the ten-dollar bill.
The ill-looking fellow glanced up, and when his gaze rested upon Carl, his face beamed with savage joy.
“So it's you, is it?” he said, rising from his seat.
“Yes,” answered Carl, doubtfully.
“Do you remember me?”
“Yes.”
“I have cause to remember you, my chicken. That was a mean trick you played upon me,” and he nodded his head significantly.
“I should think it was you that played the trick on me.”
“How do you make that out?” growled the tramp.
“You took my money.”
“So I did, and much good it did me.”
Carl was silent.
“You know why, don't you?”
Carl might have denied that he knew the character of the bill which was stolen from him, but I am glad to say that it would have come from him with a very ill grace, for he was accustomed to tell the truth under all circumstances.
“You knew that the bill was counterfeit, didn't you?” demanded the tramp, fiercely.
“I was told so at the hotel where I offered it in payment for my bill.”
“Yet you passed it on me!”
“I didn't pass it on you. You took it from me,” retorted Carl, with spirit.
“That makes no difference.”
“I think it does. I wouldn't have offered it to anyone in payment of an honest bill.”
“Humph! you thought because I was poor and unfortunate you could pass it off on me!”
This seemed so grotesque that Carl found it difficult not to laugh.
“Do you know it nearly got me into trouble?” went on the tramp.
“How was that?”
“I stopped at a baker's shop to get a lunch. When I got through I offered the bill. The old Dutchman put on his spectacles, and he looked first at the bill, then at me. Then he threatened to have me arrested for passing bad money. I told him I'd go out in the back yard and settle it with him. I tell you, boy, I'd have knocked him out in one round, and he knew it, so he bade me be gone and never darken his door again. Where did you get it?”
“It was passed on me by a man I was traveling with.”
“How much other money have you got?” asked the tramp.
“Very little.”
“Give it to me, whatever it is.”
This was a little too much for Carl's patience.
“I have no money to spare,” he said, shortly.
“Say that over again!” said the tramp, menacingly.
“If you don't understand me, I will. I have no money to spare.”
“You'll spare it to me, I reckon.”
“Look here,” said Carl, slowly backing. “You've robbed me of ten dollars. You'll have to be satisfied with that.”
“It was no good. It might have sent me to prison. If I was nicely dressed I might pass it, but when a chap like me offers a ten- dollar bill it's sure to he looked at sharply. I haven't a cent, and I'll trouble you to hand over all you've got.”
“Why don't you work for a living? You are a strong, able-bodied man.”
“You'll find I am if you give me any more of your palaver.”
Carl saw that the time of negotiation was past, and that active hostilities were about to commence. Accordingly he turned and ran, not forward, but in the reverse direction, hoping in this way to meet with Mr. Jennings.
“Ah, that's your game, is it?” growled the tramp. “You needn't expect to escape, for I'll overhaul you in two minutes.”
So Carl ran, and his rough acquaintance ran after him.
It could hardly be expected that a boy of sixteen, though stout and strong, could get away from a tall, powerful man like the tramp.
Looking back over his shoulder, Carl saw that the tramp was but three feet behind, and almost able to lay his hand upon his shoulder.
He dodged dexterously, and in trying to do the same the tramp nearly fell to the ground. Naturally, this did not sweeten his temper.
“I'll half murder you when I get hold of you,” he growled, in a tone that bodied ill for Carl.
The latter began to pant, and felt that he could not hold out much longer. Should he surrender at discretion?
“If some one would only come along,” was his inward aspiration. “This man will take my money and beat me, too.”
As if in reply to his fervent prayer the small figure of Mr. Jennings appeared suddenly, rounding a curve in the road.
“Save me, save me, Mr. Jennings!” cried Carl, running up to the little man for protection.
“What is the matter? Who is this fellow?” asked Mr. Jennings, in a deep voice for so small a man.
“That tramp wants to rob me.”
“Don't trouble yourself! He won't do it,” said Jennings, calmly.
CHAPTER XIV.
CARL ARRIVES IN MILFORD.
THE tramp stopped short, and eyed Carl's small defender, first with curious surprise, and then with derision.
“Out of my way, you midget!” he cried, “or I'll hurt you.”
“Try it!” said the little man, showing no sign of fear.
“Why, you're no bigger than a kid. I can upset you with one finger.”
He advanced contemptuously, and laid his hand on the shoulder of the dwarf. In an instant Jennings had swung his flail-like arms, and before the tramp understood what was happening he was lying flat on his back, as much to Carl's amazement as his own.
He leaped to his feet with an execration, and advanced again to the attack. To be upset by such a pigmy was the height of mortification.
“I'm going to crush you, you mannikin!” he threatened.
Jennings put himself on guard. Like many small men, he was very powerful, as his broad shoulders and sinewy arms would have made evident to a teacher of gymnastics. He clearly understood that this opponent was in deadly earnest, and he put out all the strength which he possessed. The result was that his large- framed antagonist went down once more, striking his head with a force that nearly stunned him.
It so happened that at this juncture reinforcements arrived. A sheriff and his deputy drove up in an open buggy, and, on witnessing the encounter, halted their carriage and sprang to the ground.
“What is the matter, Mr. Jennings?” asked the sheriff, respectfully, for the little man was a person of importance in that v
icinity.
“That gentleman is trying to extort a forced loan, Mr. Clunningham.”
“Ha! a footpad?”
“Yes.”
The sheriff sprang to the side of the tramp, who was trying to rise, and in a trice his wrists were confined by handcuffs.
“I think I know you, Mike Frost,” he said. “You are up to your old tricks. When did you come out of Sing Sing?”
“Three weeks since,” answered the tramp, sullenly.
“They want you back there. Come along with me!”
He was assisted into the buggy, and spent that night in the lockup.
“Did he take anything from you, Carl?” asked Mr. Jennings.
“No, sir; but I was in considerable danger. How strong you are!” he added, admiringly.
“Strength isn't always according to size!” said the little man, quietly. “Nature gave me a powerful, though small, frame, and I have increased my strength by gymnastic exercise.”
Mr. Jennings did not show the least excitement after his desperate contest. He had attended to it as a matter of business, and when over he suffered it to pass out of his mind. He took out his watch and noted the time.
“It is later than I thought,” he said. “I think I shall have to give up my plan of walking the rest of the way.”
“Then I shall be left alone,” thought Carl regretfully.
Just then a man overtook them in a carriage.
He greeted Mr. Jennings respectfully.
“Are you out for a long walk?” he said.
“Yes, but I find time is passing too rapidly with me. Are you going to Milford?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can you take two passengers?”
“You and the boy?”
“Yes; of course I will see that you don't lose by it.”
“I ought not to charge you anything, Mr. Jennings. Several times you have done me favors.”
“And I hope to again, but this is business. If a dollar will pay you, the boy and I will ride with you.”
“It will be so much gain, as I don't go out of my way.”
“You can take the back seat, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings. “I will sit with Mr. Leach.”
They were soon seated and on their way.
“Relative of yours, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach, with a backward glance at Carl.
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