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FosA.ck; C!^*^-!^^ /)us-i-. M 
 
 Guy Harris, 
 
 THE RUNAWAY. 
 
 By harry CASTLEMON, 
 
 Author of 
 
 ' Julian Mortimer," " The Boy Trapper," " Sportsman's Club Series," "The 
 Gunboat Series," etc., etc. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER. 
 
Copyrighted 1887, by A. L. Burt. 
 
GUY HARRIS, 
 
 THE RUNAWAY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE AFPAIR OF THE 5IATCH-B0X, 
 
 ELL, Guy Harris, I have only one word to 
 
 say to you. If you think you can phiy off on 
 
 me in this way, 3'ou are very much mistaken. 
 
 I will i^ost you among the fellows as a boy 
 
 Avho is too mean to pay his honest debts. ^'' 
 
 " I don't care if you do, George Wolcom. I'll tell 
 the felloAvs in return that I have no debts hanging over 
 me, and that you are a boy who doesn't do as he agrees. 
 I wanted a cross-gun; I tried to make one and failed. 
 You said you knew how to handle carpenters' tools and 
 would make me one. I described to you just what I 
 wanted, and you told me that you could fill the bill, and 
 that the gun, when completed, would be Avorth half a dol- 
 lar. What sort of a thing have you given me? Look at 
 this," continued the speaker, holding out at arm's 
 length a piece of wood which might have been taken for 
 a cross-gun, although it looked about as much like a 
 ball-club; "I can make a better one myself." 
 
 "Then 5'ou don't intend to pay me?" 
 
 " Of course I do, when you bring me such a gun as I 
 told you I wanted." 
 
 " But you won't pay me for the one I have already 
 made for you?" 
 
 "No, sir, I won't." 
 
 696733 
 
6 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "Very well; but boar in mind that 1 am a boy who 
 never let's one do him a mean triek without jiaying him 
 back in his own coin. I'll be even with you for swind- 
 ling me/' 
 
 "^ Oh, Guy! I say. Guy Harris, hold on a minute." 
 
 The two boys, between whom the conversation above 
 recorded took place, sto})ped when they heard these words, 
 and looking across the street saw Tom Proctor running 
 toward them. One arm was buried to the elbow in his 
 pocket, and under the other he carried a beautiful 
 snow-white dove, which was fluttering its wings and 
 trying to escape from his grasp. 
 
 "See here, Guy!" exclaimed Tom as he came up, '• I 
 have just been over to your house, where I found my 
 pigeon, which I lost about a week ago. Your mother 
 said it came to your barn, and that you shut it up to 
 keep it for me. Now that vras a neighborly act, and I 
 Avant to repay it. Here's that box you have so often tried 
 to buy from me." 
 
 As Tom said this he pulled his hand out of his jiocket 
 and gave Guy the article in question, which proved to bo 
 a brass match-box. It was not a very valuable thing, but 
 it had a revolving top secured by a curiously contrived 
 spring, was stanqjod all over with figures of Avild ducks, 
 deer and rabbits, and was altogether different from any- 
 thing of the kind that Guy had ever seen before. 
 
 For some reason or other he had long slio^vn a desire 
 to obtain possession of this box, but the owner could 
 not be induced to jjart with it. 
 
 Before he could express his thanks for the gift Tom 
 was half-way across the street on his way home. 
 
 " This is just the thing I wanted," said Guy joyfully, 
 as he and George Wolcom resumed their walk. '"I 
 shall think of Tom every time I look at this box Avhen 
 I am out on the prairie." 
 
 " When you are out on the prairie?" echoed George. 
 '■' AVhat do you mean by that?'' 
 
 " Oh, it is my secret:. You may know it some day, 
 but not now. What do you suppose is the reason why 
 I want a cross-guu?" 
 
THE AFFAIR OF THE MA TCH-BOX. 7 
 
 "Why, to kill birds with." 
 
 "No, sii"; I want to practice shooting at a mark. I 
 shall have nse for a rifle every hour in the day before I 
 am many months older. '^ 
 
 "You will? Where are you going?" 
 
 "Yon needn't ask questions, for I sha'u't answer 
 them," said Guy, shutting the box with a click, and 
 making a motion to put it into his pocket. 
 
 "Wait a second,'" exclaimed George suddenly. "I 
 know why Tom Proctor was generous enough to give 
 you that box. It will be of no use to you for the sjoring 
 is broken." 
 
 "It isn't either,'" replied Guy. 
 
 " Yes it is; I saw it. Hand it out here and I Avill 
 show you." 
 
 Without hesitation Guy passed the box over to his 
 companion, who, after opening and shutting it a few 
 times, and making a pretense of examining the spring, 
 coolly put it into his own pocket. Guy looked at him 
 in great surprise, but George walked on without notic- 
 ing him. 
 
 • "Now that's the biggest piece of impudence I ever 
 witnessed," said Guy at length. "' I'd like to know 
 what you mean by it." 
 
 "' Didn't I tell you that I always get even with a fel- 
 low who does me a mean trick?" asked George, in re2:)ly. 
 "' I'll keep this box as part payment for the cross-gun I 
 made you." 
 
 "Do yon call this thing a cross-gun?" demanded 
 Guy, once more holding up the stick he carried in his 
 hand; " I don't, and I sha'n't pay yon a cent for it 
 either. Give me that box." 
 
 " Give me that half-dollar you owe me." 
 
 " I don't owe you any half-dollar. Here, take your 
 old cross-gun and give me my box." 
 
 " It isn't my gun: — it is yours ; and yon can't hare 
 your box till I get my just dues. You may depend 
 upon that." 
 
 A long and spirited debate followed this reply, and 
 
8 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 would most likely have ended in Llows had tlie two 
 boys been of equal age and size, for Guy was a spirited 
 fellow, and always ready to stand up for his rights. 
 
 George was an overgrov/n lout of a boy, and plumed 
 himself on being the bully of his school. Guy knew 
 better than to attempt to take the box from him by 
 force, so he followed along after him, talking all the 
 while, and trying to convince him that he Avas in the 
 wrong, and that he showed anything but a manly spirit 
 in taking so unfair an advantage of a boy so much 
 smaller than himself. 
 
 But George, being pig-headed and vindictive, could 
 not be made to look at the matter in that light. He 
 kept tantalizing his companion by turning the box in 
 his hand, praising the beauty of the figui'es stamped 
 u]3on it, and asking Guy noAv and then if he had any- 
 thing else he could keep his matches in when he reached 
 the prairie. 
 
 Presently the two boys arrived in front of the house 
 in which Guy lived— a neat little edifice, with a grav- 
 eled carriage-way leading upon one side, and trees and 
 shrubbery growing all around it. Guy halted at the 
 gate, and George, believing that if his companion would 
 not pay him for his cross-gun he might be willing to 
 give half a dollar to get joossession of the match-box 
 again, stopped also to argue the matter. 
 
 While the discussion of the points Guy had raised was 
 going on, the gate leading into the next yard was 
 opened, and a bright, lively-looking fellow, Henry 
 Stewart by name, and one of Guy's particular friends, 
 came out. He greeted Guy pleasantly, and was about 
 to pass on, when he noticed the look of trouble on his 
 face, and stopped to inquire the reason for it. The mat- 
 ter was explained in few words, and Henry turned and 
 gave the bully a good looking over. Being a great lover 
 of justice, he was indignant at the treatment his crony 
 had received. 
 
 "Well," said George, returning Henry's gaze Avitli 
 interest; "you have nothing to do with this business, 
 and if you are wise you will keep out of it." 
 
THE AFFAIR OF THE MA TCH-BOX. 9 
 
 " I want that box!" said Henry firmly. 
 
 " If yon get it before I am ready to give it to you," 
 returned George, ''just send me word, will you?" 
 
 Before this defiance had fairly left his lips the bully 
 was rolling over and over in the gutter, which was in a 
 very moist condition, owing to the heavy rain that had 
 fallen during the previous night, Avhile his antagonist 
 stood erect on the sidewalk, tiushed and excited, but 
 without even a Avrinkle in his clean, white wristbands, 
 or a spot of mud on his well-blacked boots. In falling, 
 George dropped the match-box, which Henry caught up 
 and put into his pocket. 
 
 This proceeding was witnessed by two women — 
 Henry's mother and Guy's step-mother. The latter 
 made no move, but treasured up the scene in her mem- 
 ory to be repeated in a greatly exaggerated form to Mr. 
 Harris when he came home to dinner, while Henry's 
 mother hurried down the stairs and out to the gate. She 
 called to her son, who promptly answered the summons, 
 and in reply to her anxious inquiries repeated the story 
 of Guy's troubles. 
 
 I do not know what his mother said to him, but I am 
 sure it could not have been anything very harsh, for a 
 moment afterward Henry came gayly down the walk, 
 winked at Guy as he passed, and looked pleasantly 
 toward the discomfited bully, who, having picked him- 
 self up from the gutter, was making the best of his way 
 to the other side of the street, holding one hand to his 
 head and the other to his back, both of which had been 
 pretty badly bruised by tlie hard fall he had received. 
 
 " K'ow, that Hank Stewart is the right sort!" thought 
 Guy, gazing admiringly after the erect, slender figure of 
 his friend as it moved rapidly down the street. "If it 
 hadn't been for him I should never have seen this box 
 again. I shouldn't like to lose it, for I shall have use 
 for matches after I become a hunter and trapper, and I 
 shall need something to carry them in. This box is just 
 the thing. If I wasn't afraid Hank would refuse, I 
 would ask him to go with me, I must have a com- 
 
10 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 panion, for of course I don't want to go riding about 
 over those prairies on my wild mustang all by myself 
 while there are so many hostile Indians about, and Hank 
 is the fellow I'd like to have with me. He knows every- 
 thing about animals and the woods; he's the best fisher- 
 man in Norwall; he never misses a double shot at ducks 
 or quails; and I never saw a boy that could row or sail a 
 boat with him. Why, it Avouldn't be long before he 
 would be the best hunter and trapper that ever tracked 
 the prairie. I'll think about it, and perhaps I shall 
 make up my mind to ask him to go with me instead of 
 Bob AValker.'" 
 
 Thus soliloquizing Guy made his way through the 
 yard to the carriage-house and mounted the stairs lead- 
 ing to the rooms above. There were three of them. 
 The first and largest served in summer as a place of 
 storage for Mr. Harris' sleighs and buffalo-robes, and in 
 winter for his buggy and family carriage. The second 
 Avas the room in which the coachman slept, and the 
 third Guy had aj)propriated to his own use. 
 
 Here he had collected a lot of trumj)ery of all sorts, 
 Avhich he called his '^ curiosities," and of which he took 
 the greatest possible care. The members of the family, 
 and those of his young friends Avho had seen the inside 
 of this room, thought that Guy had shown strange 
 taste in making his selections, for there was not an 
 article in it that Avas Avorth saA^ng as a curiosity, and 
 but fcAV that could under any circumstances be of the 
 least use to him. 
 
 On a nail opposite the door hung a rubber blanket 
 with a hole in the center, so that it could be Avorn over 
 one's shoulders like a cloak; from another Avas sus- 
 pended a huge powder-horn; and on a third hung a 
 rusty carving-knife, Avhich one of Guy's companions 
 had sold to him Avith the assurance that it Avas a hunt- 
 ing-knife. Then there Avas a portion of an old har- 
 poon Avhich Guy said Avas a spear-head, a pair of Avell- 
 Avorn top-boots, an old horse-blanket and a clothes-lino 
 Avith an iron ring fastened to one end of it. This last Guy 
 
THE AFFAIR OF THE MATCH-BOX. \\ 
 
 called a lasso. He spent many an hour in practicing 
 with it, whirling it around his head and trying to throw 
 the running noose over a stake he had planted in the 
 yard. 
 
 One corner of the room was occupied by a pile of old 
 iron, to which horseshoes, broken frying-pans and 
 articles of like description were added from time to 
 time. Whenever this j^ile attained a certain size it 
 would always disappear, no one seemed to know how 
 or when, and Guy would go about for a day or two 
 jingling some coppers in his pocket. When he had 
 handled them and feasted his eyes on them to his satis- 
 faction, he would stow them in an old buckskin purse 
 which he kept in his trunk. 
 
 In another corner of the room was a large bag, into 
 which Guy put everything in the shape of rags that he 
 could pick up about the house. When filled it was 
 empted somehow, and Guy had a few more coppers to 
 be put away in his purse. It was well for our hero that 
 his father and mother did not know what he intended 
 to do with the moiey he earned in this way. 
 
 " ISTobody except me seej any sense in all this," said 
 Guy, as he closed the door behind him, and gazed about 
 the room with a smile of satisfaction. "^ There isn't a 
 thing here that will not be of use to me by and by. 
 That rubber blanket will keep me dry when it rains. 
 That 230wder-horn I shall have filled at St. Joseph or 
 Independence, and, as a rifle requires but little ammu- 
 nition, it will hold enough to last me during a year's 
 hunting. That knife will answer my purpose as well as 
 one worth two dollars and a half, for I can sharpen it, and 
 make a sheath for it out of the skin of the first bufl'alo or 
 antelope I kill. I must sell my iron again before long. 
 How the fellows laugh at me because I am all the while 
 looking out for old horseshoes and such things! But I 
 don't care. I've made many a dime by it, and dimes 
 make dollars. I never neglect a chance to turn a 
 penny, but I haven't yet saved a quarter of what I need. 
 I found half a dollar the other day by keeping my eyes 
 
12 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 turned down as I walked along the street^ and that was 
 a big lift, I tell you." 
 
 As Guy said this he opened a small tool-chest that 
 stood beside the pile of old iron. In this were stowed 
 away a variety of articles he had jiicked up at odd times 
 and in different places, and which he thought he might 
 find useful when he reached the prairie. 
 
 There was a small bundle of wax-ends, such as shoe- 
 makers use. These would come handy when he needed 
 a pair of good leggings, or when his moccasins, saddle, 
 or bridle, got out of repair. There were several iron 
 and bone rings he could use in making lassos or martin- 
 gales for his horse; three or four pounds of lead for 
 his bullets, and a ladle to melt it in; half a dozen jack- 
 knives, some whole and sound, others broken beyond all 
 hope of repair; a multitude of lines, fish-hooks, sinkers 
 and bobbers, which he intended to use on the mountain 
 streams and lakes of which he had read so much; a few 
 steel-traps, all bent and Avorthless, and also several ''^fig- 
 ure fours " which he had made so as to have them ready 
 for use when he reached his hunting-grounds. In this 
 receptacle Guy jolaced his match-box, congratulating 
 himself on having secured another valuable addition to 
 his outfit. This done, he bent his steps toward hi;; 
 house. 
 
 When he entered the dining-room he found his father 
 and mother seated at the table, and he knew by the ex- 
 pression on their faces, as Avell as by the words that fell 
 upon his ear, that there was a storm brewing. His 
 mother had been relating the particulars of the en- 
 counter between Henry Stewart and George "Wolcom, 
 and repeating the discussion between Guy and the bully 
 that led to it, all of which she had seen and overheard 
 from her chamber window, and our hero came in just 
 in time to hear her declare: 
 
 '•' I never in my life saw boys behave so disgracefully. 
 Mrs. Stewart ran out of the house and tried to jnu a 
 stop to the disturbance, but they paid not the least 
 attention to her." 
 
THE AFFAIR OF THE MA TCH-BOX. 13 
 
 "Guj," said Mrs. Harris, ^' where is that article, 
 whatever it is, that has heen the cause of all this 
 trouble?" 
 
 " I have put it away," was the reply. 
 
 "^ Go and get it immediately." 
 
 Guy retraced his steps to the carriage-house, and tak- 
 ing out the match-box, carried it to his father, who 
 looked at it contemptuously. 
 
 ''This is a pretty thing to raise a fight about, isn't 
 it?" he exclaimed. "Take it and throw it away." 
 
 " But, father," began Guy. 
 
 "Do you hear me?" demanded Mr. Harris fiercely. 
 " Throw it away." 
 
 Guy knew better than to hesitate longer. Mr. Harris 
 was a stern man, and in his efforts to " bring his boy up 
 properly," sometimes acted more like a tyrant than a 
 father. 
 
 Taking the box, Guy walked out of the door and dis- 
 appeared behind the carriage-house. 
 
 "I will throw it away," said he to himself, "but I'll 
 be careful to throw it where I can find it again. [ never 
 heard of such injustice. I Avasn't in any way to blame 
 for the trouble, for I didn't ask Hank to pitch into 
 George AYolcom and get my box for me; and neither did 
 Mrs. Stewart run out and try to put a stop to the fight. 
 It was all over before she showed herself. But that's 
 just the way with all step-mothers, I have heard, and I 
 know it is so with mine. She runs to father with every 
 little thing I do, and seems to delight in having me 
 hauled over the coals. Ic isn't so with Ned. He can do 
 as he pleases, but I must walk straight, or suffer for it. 
 I sha'n't stand it much longer, and that's all about it. 
 Stay there till I Avant you again." 
 
 Guy threw the box into a cluster of currant bushes at 
 the back of the garden, and after noting the spot where 
 it fell, went slowly back to the dining-room and sat down 
 to his dinner. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 SOME SCllAPS OF GUY'S HISTOllY. 
 
 MUST say before I go further, that Clny 
 Harris is not an imaginary character. He 
 has an existence as surely as you have, boy 
 reader. He is to-day an active professional 
 man, and he has consented to have the story of his boy- 
 hood written in the hope that it may serve as a warning, 
 should it chance to fall into the hands of any discon- 
 tented young fellow who is tempted to do as ho did. 
 
 Guy lived in the city of ISTorwall — that name Avill do as 
 well as any other — on the shore of one of the great lakes. 
 When he was a few months old his mother died, and a 
 year afterward his father married again. Of course Guy 
 was too young to remember his lost parent, and until he 
 was fourteen years old he knew nothing of this little 
 ej)isode in the family history. Mr. and Mrs. Harris 
 never enlightened him, because they feared tliat some- 
 thing unpleasant might result from it. Having oftcr 
 heard the boy express his opinion of step-mothers in the 
 most emphatic language, and declare that he would not 
 live a day under his father's roof with a stranger to rule 
 over him, they thought it best to allow him to remain in 
 ignorance of the real facts of the cas'e. And Guy never 
 suspected anything. It is true that he was sometimes 
 sadly puzzled to know how it happened that he had 
 three grandfathers, while all the boys of his acquaintance 
 had only two; but when he spoke of it to his mother, she 
 always had the headache too badly to talk about that or 
 anything else. 
 
 Guy often told himself that his mother Avas not like 
 other boys^ mothers. He cherished an unl)ounded 
 
SOME SCRAPS OP GUY'S HI STORY. 15 
 
 afPection for her, and stood ready to show it by every 
 means in his power; but there was something about her 
 that kept him at a distance. There was not that famili- 
 arity between him and his mother that he saw between 
 other boys and their mothers. There was a coolness in 
 her demeanor toward him that she did not even exhibit 
 toward strangers. There was a wonderful difference, 
 too, in her treatment of him and his half-brother, Ned, 
 who was at this time about nine years of age. Ned 
 came and went as he pleased. The front gate was no 
 barrier to him, and he always had a dime or two in his 
 pocket to spend for peanuts and chocolate creams. If 
 he wanted to go over to a neighbor's for an hour's visit, 
 or wished to spend an afternoon skating on the pond, he 
 applied to his mother, who seldom refused him permis- 
 sion. If Guy desired the same privilege, he was told to 
 consult with his father, who generally said: "No, sir; 
 you'll meet with bad company there;" or, " You'll 
 break through and be drowned;" or, if he granted the 
 request, he would do it after so mtich hesitation, and 
 with so great reluctance that it made an unpleasant im- 
 pression on Guy's mind, and marred his day's sport. 
 
 At last a few scraps of the family history, which his 
 parents had been so careful to keep from him, came to 
 Guy's knowledge. Through one of the neighborhood 
 gossips he learned, to his intense amazement, that Mr. 
 Harris had been twice married; that his first wife had 
 lain for almost fourteen years in her grave in a distant 
 State; and that the woman who sat at the head of the 
 table, who so closely watched all liis movements during 
 his father's absence, and whom he called mother, was 
 not his mother after all. Then a good many things 
 which hitherto he had not been able to understand be- 
 came perfectly clear to him. He knew now where his 
 three grandfathers came from, and could easily account 
 for the partiality shown his half-brother, Ned. But he 
 wanted proof, and to obtain it laid the matter before his 
 Aunt Lucy, who, after telling him how sorry she was 
 that he had found it out, reluctantly confirmed the 
 story. 
 
16 GUY iiAJ?JiIS. 
 
 Guy felt as if he were utterly alone in the world after 
 this; but when he had. thought about it a while, he took 
 a sensible view of the case. He loved his father's wife, 
 and he did not allow the facts with which he had just 
 been made acquainted to make any change in his feel- 
 ings or demeanor toward her. Indeed, he was more 
 attentive to her than before; he tried to anticipate and 
 gratify her desires as far as lay in his power, and in 
 every Avay did his best to please her; but the result was 
 most discouraging. With all his efforts he could not 
 win one approving word or smile. His mother was 
 colder and more distant than ever, and from that time 
 Guy's home was somehow made very uncomfortable 
 for him. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Harris were good people, as the world 
 goes. They were prominent members of the church, 
 and held high positions in society. Abroad they were 
 as agreeable and pleasant as people could be, but the 
 atmosphere of home grew dark the moment they crossed 
 the threshold. Mr. Harris, especially, was a perfect 
 thunder-cloud; his very presence had a depressing effect 
 upon the family circle. When he came home from his 
 place of business at night, he generally had something 
 to say in the way of greeting to his wife and Ned, but 
 Guy was seldom noticed, unless he had been doing some- 
 thing wrong, and then more words were devoted to him 
 than he cared to listen to. 
 
 When supper Avas over, Mr. Harris sat down to his 
 paper, and until ten o'clock never looked ujd or spoke. 
 His wife sewed, read novels, or played backgammon 
 with Ned, and Guy was left to himself. His father 
 never talked to him about his sports and pastimes, his 
 boyish trials, disappointments, hopes and aspirations, as 
 other fathers talk to their sons. He never allowed him 
 to go outside the gate — except upon very rare occasions 
 — unless he was going to school or was sent on an errand. 
 He never gave him a cent to spend for himself, except 
 on Christmas, when, in addition to making him numer- 
 ous presents (which Guy was so repeatedly and empliat- 
 
SOME SCRAPS OF GUY'S HISTORY. 17 
 
 ically enjoined to take care of that he almost hated tliem 
 as well as the giver), he opened his heart and jsresented 
 him with a quarter of a dollar. He wasn't going to ruin 
 his boy by giving him money, he said. 
 
 Up to the time that he was fourteen years old Guy had 
 the making of a man in him. He was smart, honest, 
 truthful, generous to a fault, and attentive to his books, 
 it being his father's desire, as well as his own, that he 
 should enter college. I wish I could take him through 
 my story with all these good traits about him; but can- 
 dor compels me to say that at the time he was presented 
 to the reader he was a different sort of boy altogether. 
 In the neighborhood in which he lived he bore an excel- 
 lent reputation. People called him a good boy, referred 
 to the fact that he was never seen prowling about the 
 streets after dark, and spoke of the promptness Avith 
 which he obeyed the commands of his parents. But the 
 truth was that at heart Guy was no better than any 
 other boy. He stayed at home of evenings, not because it 
 Avas a pleasant place and he loved to be there, but for the 
 reason that he was not allowed to go out; and he obeyed 
 his parents' orders the moment they were issued, because 
 he knew that he would be whipped if he did not. All 
 his generous imj)ulses had been crushed out of him by 
 the stern policy pursued by his father, Avho believed in 
 ruling by the rod, instead of by love. From being a 
 frank, honorable boy, above doing a mean action and 
 abhorring a lie, Guy became sneaking and sly — so sly 
 that it was almost an impossibility to fasten the guilt of 
 any wrong-doing upon him. He learned to despise his 
 home, with its thunder-clouds and incessant reprimands 
 and fault-findings, and longed to get off by himself 
 somewhere — anywhere, so that he could enjoy a few 
 minutes' peace. He had hit upon a plan to rid himself 
 of his troubles, and now we Avill tell what it was, and 
 how it resulted. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 guy's home and henry's. 
 
 ?^^^;; S CAN well be imagined, Guy felt very sore 
 ^^M: after the affair of the match-box. His whole 
 ^^^ soul rebelled against the petty tyranny and 
 h^ ' ' 1 injustice of his father, and while he was at 
 school that afternoon his mind dwelt so much upon 
 it that he stood "zero" in every one of his lessons, and 
 failed so miserably in his philosophy that he narrowly 
 escaped the disgrace — and it was considered a lasting 
 disgrace by the boys belonging to the Brown Grammar 
 School — of being kept after hours to commit his task. 
 
 Wlien four o'clock came Guy drew a long breath of 
 relief, and chucked his books under his desk so spite- 
 fully that he made a great deal of racket, which caused 
 the teacher to look sharply in his direction. Guy, 
 knowing that he was suspected, turned and stared at 
 Tom Proctor, who sat next behind him, as if to say, 
 " There is the guilty one," and Tom gave the accusation 
 a fiat denial by turning about and looking at the youth 
 who sat next behind liim. This is a way that some 
 school-boys have of doing business^ as you know. In a 
 case like this a scholar can ' ' carry tales " and accuse a 
 school-mate of breaking the rules without saying a word. 
 When school Avas dismissed Guy was the first one out 
 of the gate. Some of the Delta Club were going over to 
 their grounds to engage in a practice game of ball, and 
 as Guy belonged to the first nine, of course he Avas 
 expected to accompany them; but he, knowing that he 
 must first go home and ask permissien of his mother, 
 Avhich would most likely be refused, replied that he had 
 something else to do, and hurried off as fast as his legs 
 
GUY'S HOME AND HENRY'S. 19 
 
 could cany him. Arriving at liis father's gate^, he 
 slackened his pace and walked leisurely through the 
 yard into the garden. He went straight to the currant 
 bush, behind which he had thrown his match-box, and 
 finding his treasure safe, put it into his pocket and 
 returned to the carriage-house. When he thought he 
 could do so without being seen by any one, he bounded 
 up the stairs, entered his curiosity-shop, and noiselessly 
 closing the door, locked himself in. 
 
 "\Now then," he exclaimed with a triumphant air, 
 '•' if mother and ISTed will only let me alone for about 
 an hour, I can enjoy myself. I haven't seen a minute's 
 peace since twelve o'clock. Father thought he was very 
 sharp when he ordered me to throw this box away," he 
 added, as he opened the small tool-chest and dejDosited 
 his recovered property therein, " but I am a little sharper 
 than he is. Whew! wouldn't I get my jacket dusted 
 though, if he knew what I have done?" 
 
 As G-uy said this, he unlocked a small comj)artment 
 in the tool-chest and took out a book bound in brown 
 and gold, and bearing the title, "The Boy Trappers of 
 the Platte." Closing the chest, and seating himself upon 
 it, he opened the book, and for two hours reveled in 
 bear fights, adventures with the Indians, and hunting 
 and trapping scenes without number. For once that 
 day he was supremely hapjoy. He forgot all his troubles, 
 and lived only among the imaginary characters and amid 
 the imaginary scenes presented to him on the printed 
 page. Two or three times while he was thus engaged, 
 Ned came up, tried the door, and called to him; but 
 Guy only stoj^ped long enough to flourish his fist in the 
 air with a significant gesture, as if he would have been 
 glad of a chance to use it on JSTed's head, and then went 
 on with his reading, until the creaking of the gate, and 
 the sound of wheels on the carriage-wa}', told him that 
 his father had arrived. 
 
 '' Dear me, how provoking!" exclaimed Guy, jumping 
 quickly to his feet and putting the book away in the 
 tool-chest, "^ Just as I get to the most interesting joart 
 
20 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 of a chapter, I must be interrupted. I wish father had 
 stayed away ten minutes longer; or, better than that, I 
 wish he was like other fathers, and would let me take 
 this book into the house and read it openly and above- 
 board, as I should like to do. He is so opposed to 
 works of fiction that I wonder he lets Ned read Eobin- 
 son Crusoe. He talks of going to the White Mountains 
 this summer, and taking mother and Ned with him, 
 and leaving meat home to punish me for going in swim- 
 ming the other day. Don't I hope he will do it, though? 
 It wouldn't be punishment at all, if he only knew it. 
 I'd have more fun than I have seen for ten years. I'd 
 read every book in Henry Stewart's library.'' 
 
 Having closed and locked the tool-chest, Guy went 
 cautiously to the window, and when he saw his father 
 get out of his buggy and enter the house, he slipped 
 quietly out of the room and down the stairs. He passed 
 an uncomfortable quarter of an hour before the supper- 
 bell rang, strolling about the yard with his hands in his 
 pockets, and scarcely knowing Avhat to do Avitli himself. 
 It seemed so hard to come back to earth again after liv- 
 ing for two hours among the exciting scenes which his 
 favorite author had created for his amusement. 
 
 Supper over, there was another hour to be passed in 
 some way before the gas was lighted. His father talked 
 politics with the next-door neighbor; Ned played graces 
 Avith his mother; and wide-awake, restless Guy was as 
 usual left to himself. No one took the least notice of 
 him. He must have something to do — it Avasn't in him 
 to remain long inactive — and as there Avas a strong 
 breeze bloAving, he thought he would raise his kite. He 
 could not go into the street for that purpose, so he 
 climbed to the top of the barn; but his father qiiickly 
 discovered him, and ordered him doAA'u. 
 
 Then he tried it in the garden, but the trees Avere 
 thick, and the kite's tail Avas ahvays in the Avay. It 
 caught in a cherry tree, and as Guy Avas about to mount 
 among the branches to disengage it, his father again in- 
 terfered. He Avasn't going to have his fine ox-hearts 
 
2'^ GUV HARRIS. 
 
 broken down for the sake of all the kites in the ■world. 
 
 By the aid of the step-ladder Guy finally released the 
 kite, and made one more attempt to raise it, this time 
 by running along the carriage-way; but by an unlucky 
 step he left the point of his boot on one of the flower- 
 beds, and that set his mother's tongue in motion. His 
 father heard it, and turned sharply ujDon him. 
 
 " Guy," said he, "^what in the world is the matter 
 with you to-night? Put that kite away, and go into the 
 house." 
 
 Guy's under lip dropj^ed down, and with mutterings 
 not loud, but deej:), he prepared to obey. 
 
 His father's quick eye noticed the drooping lip, and 
 his quick ear caught the muttering. 
 
 "^ Come here, sir," said he angrily. 
 
 Guy approached, and his father, seizing his arm with 
 a grip that brought tears to his eyes, shook him until 
 every tooth in his head rattled. 
 
 " What do you mean by going into the sulks when I 
 tell you to do anything?" he demanded. "Straighten 
 out that face! Now, then," he added after a moment's 
 pause, during which Guy choked back his tears and as- 
 sumed as pleasant an expression as could be expected of 
 a boy whose arm was being squeezed by a strong man 
 until it was black and blue, " go into the house and stay 
 there." 
 
 The father could compel obedience, but his son was 
 too much like himself to be easily conquered. He could 
 control his actions as long as he was in sight, but he 
 could not control his thoughts. Guy's heart was filled 
 with hate. 
 
 " This is a fair sample of the manner in which I am 
 treated every day of my life," he muttered under his 
 breath as he stowed his kite away in its accustomed 
 place. "They'll think of it and be sorry some day, for 
 if I once get away from hero I'll never come back. I 
 never want to see any of them again. I can't please 
 them, and there is no use trying. Nobody cares for me, 
 and the sooner I am out of the way the better." 
 
acrV'S HOME AND HENRY'S. 23 
 
 When Guy entered the sitting-room he found his 
 mother there reading a higlily-seasoned novel by a popu- 
 lar sensational writer, and Ned deeply interested in 
 '^'^Eobinson Crusoe." The piano was open and Guy 
 walked to it and sat down. There was a piece of music 
 upon it, entitled "^Tis Home Where'er the Heart Is." 
 As Guy ran his fingers over the keys he thought of all 
 that had haj^pened that day, and told himself that if 
 those words were true his home was a long way from 
 Norwall. 
 
 " That will do, Guy," said his mother suddenly. "■ My 
 head aches, and it is not necessary that you should 
 practice now." 
 
 Guy began to get desperate. He couldn't sit around 
 all the evening and do nothing — no healthy boy could. 
 He went to the library, and knowing that he was doing 
 something that would certainly prove the occasion of 
 more fault-finding, took a book from some snug corner 
 in which he had hidden it, and sat down to read. 
 
 In a few minutes his father came in. He picked up 
 his paper and was about to seat himself in his easy chair 
 when he caught sight of Guy and stopped. The latter 
 did not look up, but watched his father out of the cor- 
 ner of his eye. 
 
 " Guy," said Mr. Harris sharply. 
 
 "Sir!" said the boy. 
 
 *^What have you there?" 
 
 ^' ' Cecil,' " was tlie reply. 
 
 "Cecil who? Cecil what?" 
 
 "That's the name of the book." 
 
 "Let me see it." 
 
 Mr. Harris took the volume and ran his eye over the 
 pages, while a look of contempt settled on his face. 
 Had he taken the trouble to read the book he would 
 have found that it was the history of a youth who was 
 turned out into the world at an early age by the death 
 of his parents; that it described the trials and tempta- 
 tions that fell to his lot, and told how he made a man 
 of himself at last. But Mr. Harris, like many others, 
 
24 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 condemned without knowing what he was condemning. 
 
 Three words on the title-page told him all he cared 
 to know about the work. It was a •'•' Book for Boys." 
 All books for boys were works of fiction, and he never 
 intended that Guy should read a Avork of fiction if he 
 could prevent it. 
 
 "Where did you get this?" demanded Mr. Harris. 
 
 " I borrowed it of Henry Stewart. His father 
 bought it for him last week, and he is a member of your 
 church, too," answered Cluy, seizing the opportunity to 
 put in a home-thrust. 
 
 "I don't care if he is. I have no objection to your 
 associating with Henry, for he is a good boy in some re- 
 spects, although it is the greatest wonder in the world 
 to me that he hasn't been ruined by his father's igno- 
 rance beyond all hope of redemption. I am surprised 
 at Brother Stewart — I am really. What's that sticking 
 out of your pocket?" 
 
 "It is a copy of the New York Magazine." 
 
 "Let me see it." 
 
 Guy handed out the paper, and as Mr. Harris slowly 
 unfolded it the sneer once more settled on his face. He 
 handled the sheet with the tips of his fingers, as if he 
 feared that the touch might contaminate him. 
 
 " ' ISTick Whiffles!' said he, reading the title of one of 
 the stories. "Who is he? Who owns him?" 
 
 " I borrowed the paper of Henry Stewart. His father 
 has taken it for years, and says he couldn't do with- 
 out it." 
 
 "I don't care what his father says. His opinions 
 have no weight with me. Who's ISTick Whiffles?" 
 
 "He was a famous Indian-fighter and guide." 
 
 " Oh, he was, was he? Well, you just guide him out 
 of this house, and never bring him or anybody like him 
 here again. I won't have such trash under my roof. 
 Guy, it does seem as if you were determined to ruin 
 yourself. Don't you know that the reading of such 
 tales as this unfits you for anything like work? Don't 
 you know that after a while nothing but this light read- 
 ing will satisfy you ?" 
 
GUY'S HOME AiVn HENRY'S. 25 
 
 "No, sir, I don't,"'' replied Guy boldly. "Henry 
 Stewart told me that lie didn't care a snap for history 
 until he had read the ' Black Knight/ Through that 
 story he became interested in the manners and customs 
 of the people who lived during the Middle Ages, and 
 he wanted to know more about them. He read every- 
 thing on the subject that he could get his hands on, 
 and Professor Johnson says he is better posted in history 
 than half the teachers in the public schools. 
 
 "And all through the reading of a novel?" ex- 
 claimed Mr. Harris. " I know better. There's not a 
 word of truth in it. This bosh has a very different 
 effect upon you at any rate. You waste all your sj^are 
 time u]3on it, and the consequence is, you are getting to 
 be a worthless, disobedient boy." 
 
 "But, father, I must have something to read." 
 
 " Don't I know that; and don't I get you a new book 
 every Christmas? Where's that volume entitled 
 'Thoughts on Death; or. Lectures for Young Men,' 
 that I bought for you three weeks ago? You haven't 
 looked into it, I'll warrant." 
 
 Mr. Harris was wrong there. Guy had looked into 
 it, and he had tried to read it, but it was written in such 
 language that he could not understand it. At the time 
 his father gave him this book he had presented Ned 
 with a box of fine water-colors — the very thing Guy had 
 long wished for. Why had not Mr. Harris consulted 
 the tastes and wishes of the elder, as well as those of the 
 younger son? 
 
 "Eeturn that book and paper to their owner at once, 
 and don't bring anything like them into this house 
 again," repeated Mr. Harris. 
 
 " May I visit with Henry a little while?" asked the 
 boy. 
 
 " Well — I — y-es. You may stay there a quarter of an 
 hour." 
 
 " It's a wonder," thought Guy, as he picked up his cap 
 and started for Mr. Stewart's house. "Why didn't he 
 tell me that home is the place for me after dark? That's 
 the reply he generally makes." 
 
26 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 As Guy climbed over the fence that ran between his 
 father's yard and Mr. Stewart's he heard a great noise 
 and hubbub, lie listened and found that the sounds 
 came from the house he was about to visit. 
 
 As he drew nearer he saw that one of the window cur- 
 tains was raised, and that he could obtain a view of all 
 that was going on in Mr. Stewart's back parlor. The 
 occupants were engaged in a game of blind-man's buff. 
 Mr. Stewart, his eyes covered with a handkerchief, and 
 his hands spread out before him, was advancing cau- 
 tiously toward one side of the room, evidently searching 
 for Henry, who had squeezed himself into one corner, 
 Avith a chair in front of him. The other children were 
 probably trying to divert their father's attention, for 
 two of them were clinging to his coat-tails, while the 
 eldest daughter would now and then go up and pull his 
 whiskers or pat him on the back. Mrs. Stewart sat in 
 a remote corner sewing and smiling pleasantly, seem- 
 ingly unmindful of the deafening racket raised by the 
 players. 
 
 "Humph!" said Gruy, ''it will be of no use for me to 
 ask Henry to go with me. I wouldn't go myself if I 
 had a home like this. How would my father look with 
 a handkerchief over his eyes, and JSTed and me hanging 
 to his coat-tails? And wouldn't mother have an awful 
 headache though, if this was going on in her house?" 
 
 It certainly was a pleasant scene that Guy looked in 
 upon, and he stood at the window watching the players 
 until he began to be ashamed of himself. Then he 
 mounted the steps and knocked at the door. 
 
 Mrs. Stewart admitted him, and he entered the parlor 
 just in time to see Henry's father Dounce upon him and 
 hold him fast. 
 
 " Aha! I've caught you, sir," said Mr. Stewart, with 
 a laugh that did one's heart good, "' and now we had bet- 
 ser stop, for we are arousing the neighbors. Here's Guy 
 come in to see what's the matter." 
 
 "No, sir," replied the visitor, " I just came over to 
 return a book and paper I borrowed of Henry." 
 
GUY'S HOME AND IIEiYRY'S. 2? 
 
 ''Why, you haven't read them, have you?" asked his 
 friend. " I gave them to you only yesterday/' 
 
 "I know it; but father told me to bring them back. 
 lie won't permit me to read them. He says they are 
 nothing but trash." 
 
 Henry elevated his eyebrows and looked at his father, 
 who in turn looked inquiringly at Gruy. 
 
 "Does your father ever read the New York Maga- 
 zine ?" asked Mr. Stewart. 
 
 "No, sir!" replied Guy emphatically. 
 
 "Ah! that accounts for it. If he Avould take the 
 trouble to look at it, he might change his opinion of it. 
 A paper that numbers ministers among its contributors, 
 that advocates temperance and reform, and shows ujd 
 the follies of the day in its stories, can't be a very dan- 
 gerous thing to jDut into the hands of the youth of the 
 land. Here is an article by a minister in the paper we 
 have been reading to-night. Take it over and show it to 
 your father." 
 
 "I wouldn't dare do it, sir," returned Gruy blushing. 
 " He told me to guide Nick "Whiffles out of the house, 
 and never guide him in again." 
 
 "Oh, that's where the shoe pinches, is it? Well, / 
 think Nick very good in his place. Indeed, I confess to 
 a great liking for the old fellow." 
 
 " He's just splendid," said Henry. 
 
 "All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, you 
 know," continued Mr. Stewart. " After you and Henry 
 have sat for six long hours on your hard desk at school, 
 a game of ball or a sail on the lake does you a world of 
 good. If you should live a week or two on corn-bread 
 and bacon, or pork and beans, you would be glad to have 
 a piece of pie or cake, wouldn't you ? The mind requires 
 recreation and change as much as the body, and where 
 can you find it if it be not in a good story by some 
 sprightly author? Of course the thing can be carried to 
 excess, and so can eating. One can read himself into an 
 unhealthy frame of mind as easily as he can gorge him- 
 self into dyspepsia." 
 
28 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 When Mr. Stewart had said t]iis mucli lie stopporl and 
 took lip his pajDer. It wasn't for him to criticise or jind 
 fault with the rules his neighbor had made regarding his 
 son's reading. 
 
 Cluy, having an object to accomplish before he returned 
 home, and knowing that time was precious, declined the 
 chair offered him, and after taking leave of the family, 
 intimated to Henry that he had something particular to 
 say to him. The latter accompanied him to the fence, 
 and Guy leaned upon it, utterly at a loss how to broach 
 the subject uppermost in his mind. 
 
CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 THE READING LESSOJ^". 
 
 UY DID not know how to begin the conversa- 
 tion. He wanted, to approacli the subject 
 gradually, for he believed that some little 
 strategy would be necessary in order to bring 
 Henry to his Avay of thinking, but somehow the words 
 he wanted would not come, and seeing that his friend, 
 was getting impatient, he plunged into it blindly: 
 
 " How would you like to be a hunter and trapper?" 
 he asked. 
 
 "I don't know anything about trapping, but I like 
 hunting as well as any boy in the world," said Henry. 
 
 " I mean how would you like to make a business of 
 it, and spend your life in the Avoods or on the prairie?" 
 
 " I don't know, but I am going to try it a little Avhile 
 this fall. Father owns some land in Michigan that he 
 has never seen, and about the first of September he and 
 I are going up to take a look at it. His agent writes 
 that game is abundant, and I am going to buy a rifle be- 
 fore Ave start." 
 
 "■ Well, if I had a chance like that I'd never come 
 back again. I'd stay in the Avoods." 
 
 " Oh, my father Avouldn't let me." 
 
 '' I don't suppose he Avonld, but you could do as I in- 
 tend to do — run away." 
 
 Henry straightened up and looked at his companion 
 without speaking. 
 
 ''Oh, I mean it," said Gruy with a decided nod of his 
 head. " 1 am tired of staying here. I am weary of 
 this continual scolding and fault-finding, and am going 
 to get away Avhere I can take a little comfort. I have 
 
30 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 always wanted to be a hunter. I have got my plans all 
 laid, and I want some good fellow for a companion, for 
 1 should be lonely if I were to go by myself. Fd rather 
 have yoa than anybody else, and if you will go we'll 
 take the ' Boy Trappers " with us. That book will tell 
 us just what we will have to do. It tells how to build 
 wigwams, how to trap beaver and otter, and catch fish 
 through the ice; how to make moccasins, leggings and 
 hunting-shirts; how to catch wild horses; how to pre- 
 serve the skills of wild animals — in fact, everything we 
 want to know we will find there." 
 
 "^ Where do you want to go?'' asked Henry. 
 
 '' Out to the Kocky Mountains." 
 
 'MVhat will you do when you get there?" 
 
 "^ We'll hunt and trap during the spring and fall, and 
 when summer comes we'll jump on our horses, take our 
 furs to the trading-posts and sell them." 
 
 "And what will we do during the winter?" 
 
 "^ AVe'll have a nice little cabin in some pleasant valley 
 among the mountains, such as the boy trapper had, and 
 we'll pass the time in curing our furs and fighting the 
 Indians. That is what they did, you know, I tell you. 
 Hank," said Guy with great enthusiasm, " it Avouldn't 
 be long before we would become as famous as either Kit 
 Carson or Captain Bridges! What's the matter with 
 you?" he added, looking suspiciously at his friend, who 
 seemed on the point of strangling. 
 
 Henry, who had listened in utter amazement to what 
 Guy had to say, could control himself no longer. Cling- 
 ing to the fence Avith both hands he threw back his head 
 and broke out into a shout of laughter that was heard 
 full a block away. 
 
 " I don't see anything so funny about it," said Guy 
 indignantly. '' 1 am in earnest." 
 
 "Oh, dear!"' said Henry, after he had lauglied until 
 his jaws and sides ached. " I know this will be the 
 death of me. Why, Guy, what in the Avorld put such a 
 ridiculous notion into your head?'' 
 
 " I don't call it a ridiculous notion. If the bov 
 
THE READING LESSON. 31 
 
 trappers could live that way I don't see why we couldn't. 
 I guess we are as smart and as brave as they were." 
 
 This set Henry to going again. It was some minutes 
 before he could sj^eak. 
 
 " Do you believe that book is true?"' he asked. 
 
 '^ Of course I do." 
 
 "■ Why, Gruy, I didn't think you were such a dunce. 
 The idea that three boys, the oldest of them only seven- 
 teen years of age, could live as they did, surrounded by 
 savage beasts and hostile Indians, and get into such 
 scrapes as they did, and come out without a scratch. 
 Common sense ought to teach you better than that. 
 Those boy trappers never had an existence except in the 
 brain of the man who wrote the book." 
 
 '' Then why did he write it?" demanded Guy. 
 
 "What makes you play base-ball and cricket, and 
 why do you go fishing and boat-riding every chance you 
 get? Such sports are not necessary to your existence — 
 you could live without them — but they serve to fill up 
 the time when you don't feel like doing anything else. 
 That's one reason why books like ' Boy Trappers ' are 
 written — to keep you in the house and help you while 
 aAvay a leisure hour that you might otherwise spend in 
 the streets with bad boys. Oh, Guy! Guy!" 
 
 " Now, don't you begin your laughing again," said his 
 companion. 
 
 At this moment a door ojiened and the boys heard Mr. 
 Harris calling. 
 
 ''■ Guy!" he shouted. 
 
 "^ Sir!" was the response. 
 
 ''Come in now." 
 
 "What's tlie matter?" asked Henry. 
 
 " Oh, we have a reading lesson every night, and I 
 have to help," replied Guy with great disgust. " We're 
 reading Bancroft's History of the United States, and I 
 despise it. I can't understand half of it, but father 
 makes me read aloud twenty minutes o^^&c^ night, and 
 scolds because I can't tell him the meaning of all the 
 hard words. Now, Hank, are you going with me or 
 not?" 
 
32 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "■ Of course I am not. I'll not give np such a home, 
 and sucli a father and mother as I've got for the sake of 
 living in a wilderness all my life." 
 
 " Well, you won't repeat what I have said to you, will 
 you ?" 
 
 " No, indeed; but you must promise me that you Avill 
 give up that idea." 
 
 ''All right, I win." 
 
 " You'll never speak of running away from home 
 again, or even think of it?'^ 
 
 " No, I never will — honor bright." 
 
 " Then you may rely upon me to keep your secret. 
 Now I have a plan to propose: Let's go fishing on the 
 pier to-morrow — it's Saturday, you know — and talk the 
 matter over. I can convince you in five minutes that 
 yon had better stay at home. Come over early — say five 
 o'clock." 
 
 "I'll see Avhat father says about it; good-night. I 
 might have known better than to ask him to go with 
 me," added Guy mentally, as he walked slowly toward 
 the house. " If I had as pleasant a home as he has I 
 wouldn't go either. Why don't my father and mother 
 take some interest in me, and talk to me as iMr. and Mrs. 
 Stewart talk to Hank? I haven't changed my mind, 
 and I never shall. I promised that I would never again 
 think of running away from home, but I did it just to 
 keej) Hank's mouth shut. As long as he thinks I have 
 given up the idea, he won't say a word to anybody. 
 He'll be astonished some fine morning, for I sliall leave 
 here as soon as I can scrape the money together. I wish 
 I could find a pocket-book with a hundred dollars in it. 
 I'd never return it to the owner, even if I found him. I 
 must try Bob Walker now." 
 
 When Guy entered the sitting-room he found his 
 father and mother waiting for him. The former handed 
 him an open volume of Bancroft's History and Guy, 
 seating himself, began reading the author's elaborate 
 descrijDtion of the passage of the Stamp Act and the 
 manner in which it was received by the colonists — a 
 
THE READING LESSOM. 33 
 
 subject in which he was not in the least interested. His 
 father often took him to task for his bad reading and 
 pronunciation, but he managed to get tlirough with the 
 required twenty minutes at hist, and with a great feeling 
 of relief handed the book to his mother and moved his 
 chair into one corner of the room. In forty minutes 
 more the lesson was ended and Mr, Harris turned to 
 •question Guy on what had just been read. To his sur- 
 ]irise and indignation he saw him sitting with his feet 
 stretched out before him, his chin resting on his breast 
 and his eyes closed. The boy was fast asleep. 
 
 ''Guy I" Mr. Harris almost shouted. 
 
 "Sir!" replied his son, starting up quickly and rub- 
 bing his eyes. 
 
 " This is the way you give attention to what is going 
 on, and repay the pains I am taking to teach you some- 
 thing, is it?" demanded his father. ''Do you think 
 ignorance is bliss? You don't know anything a boy of 
 5^our age ought to know. Tell me how many distinct 
 forms of government this country has passed through." 
 
 '■'I can't," rejDlied Guy. 
 
 " Who was the third President of the United States?" 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 " Wliat were the names of the two men who were 
 hanged in eftigy by the Massachusetts colonists when the 
 news of the passage of the Stamp Act was received?" 
 
 " I don't know," said Guy again. 
 
 " And yet that is just what we have been reading 
 about to-night. I saw a picture in that joaper you had 
 in your possession a little while ago," continued Mr. 
 Harris with sup^jressed fury. " It was a man dressed in 
 furs, who stood leaning against a horse, holding a gun 
 in one hand and stretching the other out toward a dog 
 in front of him. Who was that man intended to repre- 
 sent?" 
 
 " Jx'ick Whiffles," said Giiy promptly. 
 
 " AYhat was the name of his dog?" 
 
 " Calamity." 
 
 "Did his horse have a name?" 
 
34 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " Yes, sir — Firebug ; and he called his rifle Hum- 
 bug. " 
 
 ' ' There you have it !" exclaimed Mr. Harris with a 
 sneer. " You know all about that, and you've no busi- 
 ness to know it either, for it will do you more harm than 
 good. If we had been reading that trash to-night you 
 would have been wide awake and listening with all your 
 ears ; but because we were reading something worth 
 knowing — something that would be of benefit to you in 
 after life, if you would take the trouble to remember it 
 — you must needs settle yourself and go to sleep. Now, 
 then, draw up beside this table and read five pages in 
 that history; and read them so carefully, too, that you 
 can answer any question I may ask you about them to- 
 morrow." 
 
 Guy, so sleepy that he could scarcely keep his eyes 
 open, staggered to the chair pointed out to him and sat 
 down, wliile his father once more picked up the evening 
 paper and his mother resumed her needle. 
 
 When he had read the required number of pages and 
 looked them over two or three times to fix the names and 
 dates in his memory, he arose and put the book away in 
 the library. 
 
 "Father," said he. 
 
 "Don't you know that it is very rude to interrupt a 
 person who is reading?" replied Mr. Harris, looking up 
 from his paper. "' What do you want?" 
 
 " May I go fishing with Henry Stewart on the pier to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 " No, sir, you may stay at home. A boy who be- 
 haves as you do deserves no privileges. I have learned 
 that 1 cannot trust you out of my sight." 
 
 Knowing that it would not be safe to show any signs 
 of anger or disappointment, Guy kejDt his face as 
 straight as possible and turned to leave tlie room. But 
 when he put his hand on the door-knob his father called 
 to him. 
 
 " Guy," said he, " where are you going?" 
 
 " I am going to bed." 
 
THE READING LESSON. 35 
 
 " And do you intend to leave us with that frown on 
 your face and without bidding us good-night? One or 
 the other of us might die before morning and then you 
 would be sorry you parted from us in anger. I've a good 
 mind to whip you soundly, for if ever a boy deserved it 
 you do. Come back here and kiss your mother." 
 
 Almost ready to yell with rage, Guy returned and 
 kissed his mother, who presented her cheek without 
 raising her eyes from her novel, bid his father good- 
 night, and this time succeeded in leaving the room with- 
 out being called back. 
 
 When he was safe out of his father's sight he turned 
 and shook his fist at him, at the same time muttering 
 something between his clenched teeth that would have 
 struck Mr. Harris motionless with horror could he have 
 heard it. He went to bed with his heart full of hate, 
 and not until his mind Avandered off to other matters, 
 and he begun to dream of the wild, free and glorious 
 life he expected to lead in the mountains and on the 
 prairies of the Far "West, did he recover his usual spirits. 
 He fell asleep while he was building his air-castles, and 
 awoke to hear the breakfast bell ringing and to see the 
 morning sun shining in at his window. 
 
 When he descended to the dining-room he was met by 
 Xed, who was dressed in his best, and who informed him, 
 with evident satisfaction, that Henry Stewart had been 
 over to see if he was going fishing, and that his father 
 had said that he couldn't go to the pier or do anything 
 else he wanted to do until he had learned to behave 
 himself. Xed added that he and his father and mother 
 were going to ride out to visit Uncle David, who lived 
 nine miles in the country, and that he Guy, was to be 
 left at home because there was no room in the buggy for 
 him, and that he was not to stir one step outside the 
 gate until their return. 
 
 " I'll show you whether I will or not," said Guy to 
 himself. " It's a pretty piece of business, indeed, that 
 I am to be shut up here at homb while the rest of you go 
 off on a visit. I won't stand it. I'll see as much fun 
 
36 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 to-day as any of you, and if I only had all the money I 
 need, you wouldn't find me here when you return." 
 
 Breakfast over, the buggy was brought to the door, 
 and Mr. Harris, after assisting his wife and son to get 
 in. turned to say a parting word to Guy. 
 
 He was to remain in the yard all day, bring no boys 
 in there to play with him, and be very careful not to get 
 into any mischief. VL these commands were not obeyed 
 to the very letter there would be a settlement between 
 them when Mr. Harris came back. 
 
 Guy drew on a very long face as he listened to his 
 father's words, meekly promised obedience and opened 
 the gate for his father to drive out. He watched the 
 buggy as long as it remained in sight and then, closing 
 the gate, jumped up and knocked his heels together, 
 danced a few steps of a hornpipe, and in various other 
 ways testified to the satisfaction he felt at being left 
 alone. 
 
 "I shouldn't feel sorry if I should never see them 
 again," said he. ''I am my own master to-day, and I 
 am going to enjoy my liberty, too. But before I begin 
 operations I must put Bertha and Jack on the wrong 
 scent. They would blow on me in a minute." 
 
 Guy once more assumed a very sober expression of 
 countenance, and walked into the kitchen where the 
 servant-girl was at work. 
 
 "Bertha," said he, "I am going up to my curiosity 
 shop, and I don't want to be disturbed. You needn't 
 get dinner for me, for I sha'n't want any." 
 
 "I am glad of it," replied the girl, " I am going visit- 
 ing myself to-day." 
 
 Guy strolled out to the carriage-house, and here he 
 found Jack, the hostler and man-of -all-work, to whom 
 he gave nearly the same instructions, adding the request 
 that if any of his young friends called to see him. Jack 
 would say to them that Guy had gone otf somewhere, 
 which, by the way, had Jack had occasion to tell it, 
 would have been nothing but the truth. 
 
 The hostler promised compliance, and Guy, having 
 
THE READINC LESSOI^T. 37 
 
 thus opened the way for the carrying ont of the plans he 
 had determined upon, went np to his curiosity shop, 
 locking the door behind him, and putting the key into 
 his pocket. He lumbered about tlie room for a while, 
 making as much noise as he conveniently could, to let 
 Bertha and Jack know that he was there, and then 
 stepped to the window that overlooked the garden and 
 peej)ed cautiously out. Having made sure that there 
 was no one in sight, he crawled out of the window, feet 
 first, and hanging by his hands, dropped to the ground. 
 As soon as he touched it he broke into a run, and mak- 
 ing his Avay across the garden, scaled a high board-fence, 
 dropped into an alley on the opposite side, and in a few 
 minutes more was two blocks away. 
 
 " There!" he exclaimed, as he slackened his pace and 
 wiped his dripj^ing forehead with his handkerchief; ' * that 
 much is done, and no one is the wiser for it. Now, the 
 first thing is to go down to Stillman's and buy a copy of 
 the Journal. I wrote to the editors of that paper three 
 Aveeks ago, telling them that I am going to be a hunter, 
 and asking what sort of an outfit I shall need, and how 
 much it will cost, and I ought to get an answer to-day. 
 
 " The second thing is to hunt up Bob Walker and feel 
 his pulse. He once told me that he would run away and 
 go to sea if his father ever laid a hand on him again, so 
 I know I shall have easy work with him. He won't be 
 as pleasant a companion, though, as Henry Stewart, for 
 he swears, and is an awful overbearing, quarrelsome 
 fellow. But I can't help it; I must have somebody with 
 me." 
 
 A walk of a quarter of an hour brought Guy to Still- 
 man's news-depot, where he stopped and purchased a 
 copy of the paper of which he had spoken. Seeing a 
 vacant chair in one corner of the store, he seated himself 
 upon it, and with trembling hands unfolded the sheet, 
 looking for the column containing the answers to cor- 
 respondents. When he found it he ran his eye over it 
 until it rested on the following paragraph: 
 
38 - GUV HARRIS. 
 
 "An" Abused Dog. — If you are going to become a 
 hunter you will need an expensive outfit. A good rifle 
 will cost from $25 to $75; a brace of revolvers, from $16 
 to $50; a hunting-knife, $1.25 to $3.50. Then you will 
 need a hatchet or two, an abundance of ammunition, 
 blankets, durable clothing, horse, etc., which, together 
 with your fare by rail and steamer to St. Josepn, will 
 cost you at least $200 more. We know of no hunter or 
 trapi^er to whom we could recommend you, and neither 
 can we say whether or not you will be able to find a 
 wagon train that you could join. Now that we have 
 answered your questions, we want to offer you a word of 
 advice. Give up your wild idea, and never think of it 
 again. As sure as you are a live boy, it will end in noth- 
 ing but disappointment and misery. We are inclined to 
 believe that the story of your grievances is greatly 
 exaggerated; but even if it is not, you cannot better 
 your condition by running away from home. Your 
 parents have your welfare at heart, and if you are wise 
 you will remain with them, even though their require- 
 ments do sometimes seem harsh and unnecessary. It 
 may be that you will some day be left to fight your way 
 through the world Avith no father or mother to advise or 
 befriend you, and then you will find how hard it is. 
 Take our word for it, if you live to be five years older, 
 you will laugh at yourself whenever you reflect that 
 you ever thought seriously of becoming a professional 
 hunter." 
 
 Guy read this paragraph over twice, and then folded 
 the paper and walked slowly out of the store. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A SAIL ON" THE LAKE. 
 
 T IS beyond my power to describe Guy's feel- 
 ings at that moment. He had never in his 
 life been more grievously disappointed. It 
 had never occurred to him that anybody Avho 
 knew anything would discourage his project, much less 
 the editors of his favorite journal, to whom he had made 
 a full revelation of his circu instances and troubles. And 
 then there was the expense, which greatly exceeded his 
 calculations. That was the great drawback. 
 
 "Humph!" soliloquized Guy, after he had thought 
 the matter over, "the man who wrote that article didn't 
 know my father and mother. If he did, he wouldn't 
 be so positive that everything they do is for the best. I 
 know better, and won't give up my idea. I am de- 
 termined to succeed. There are plenty of men who 
 make a living and see any amount of sport by hunting 
 and trapj)ing, and why shouldn't I? Kit Carson is a 
 real man and so is Captain Bridges. So is Adams, the 
 great grizzly bear tamer. One of tliese days, when I am 
 as famous as they are, I shall laugh to think I did be- 
 come a professional huiiter. But the money is what 
 bothers me now. I shall iieed at least three hundred 
 dollars. Great Cfesar! Where am I to get it? I've 
 worked and scraped and saved for the last six months, 
 and I've got just fifteen dollars. That isn't enough to 
 buy a rifle. Where is the rest to come from? That's 
 the question." 
 
 Gay walked along with his hands behind his back and 
 his eyes fastened thoughtfully on the ground, revolving 
 this problem in his mind. His prospects did not look 
 
40 GUY BARKIS. 
 
 nearly so bright now as they did an hour ago. He was 
 learning a lesson we all have to learn sooner or later, 
 and that is that we cannot always have things as we 
 want them in this world, and tliat the best laid schemes 
 are often defeated by some unlooked-for event. Three 
 hundred dollars! He never could earn that amount. 
 His rags brought him bui two cents a pound, and 
 although he kept a sharp lookout and pounced upon 
 every piece of cloth he found lying about the house, it 
 sometimes took him a whole month to fill his bag, Avhich 
 held just five pounds. Old iron was worth only a cent a 
 pound, and business in this line was beginning to get 
 very dull, for he had not found a single horseshoe during 
 the last two weeks, and he had jiurchased the last thing 
 in the shape of broken frying-pans and battered kettles 
 that any of his companions had to dispose of. He must 
 find some other way to earn money. He had thought 
 of carrying papers, which would add a dollar and a 
 quarter a week to his income, besides what he would 
 make out of his Carriers' Addresses on New Years. But 
 Mr. Harris had vetoed that plan the moment it was pro- 
 posed. 
 
 Gruy did not know what to do next. 
 
 " Dear me, am I not in a fix?" he asked himself. " I 
 read in the paper the other day of a boy picking up five 
 thousand dollars that some banker dropped in the street. 
 Why wasn't I lucky enough to find it? That banker 
 might have whistled for his money when once I got my 
 hands upon it. I must have three hundred dollars and 
 I don't care how I get it." 
 
 Guy was gradually working himself into a very danger- 
 ous frame of mind. When one begins to talk to him- 
 self in this way it needs only the opportunity to make a 
 thief of him. If Guy thought of this, he did not care, 
 for he continued to reason tlius, and was not at all 
 alarmed when a daring j^roject suddenly suggested itself 
 to him. Twenty-four hours ago he would not have 
 dared to ponder upon it ; but now he allowed his 
 thoughts to dwell upon it, and the longer he turned it 
 
J SAIL ON- THE LAKE. 41 
 
 over in his mind the more firmly he became convinced 
 that it was a splendid idea and that it could be success- 
 fully carried out. He wanted to get away by himself 
 and look at the mattei- in all its bearings. AYith this 
 object in view he turned down Erie Street and bent his 
 steps toward Buck's boat-house, intending to spend an 
 hour or two on the lake. In that time he believed he 
 could make up his mind what was best to be done. 
 
 Arriving at the boat-house, Guy entered and accosted 
 the proprietor, who stood behind his bar dispensing 
 liquor and cigars to a joarty of excursionists who had just 
 returned from a sail on the lake. 
 
 "^ Mr. Buck, is the Quail in?'' asked Guy, giving the 
 name of his favorite sail-boat. 
 
 "Yes, she is," replied a voice at his elbow; '*'but Avhat 
 do you want with her?" 
 
 Guy recognized the voice and turned to greet the 
 speaker. He was a boy about his own age, who sat 
 cross-legged in an arm-chair beside the door, his hat 
 pushed on the side of his head rowdy fashion, one hand 
 holding a copy of a sporting paper, and the other a 
 lighted cigar, at which he was puffing industriously. 
 His name was Eobert Walker. He Avas a low-browed, 
 black-haired fellow, and although by no means ill-look- 
 ing, there was something in his face that would have 
 told a stranger at the first glance that he was what is 
 called a ''hard customer." And his looks were a good 
 index of his character and reputation. He was known 
 as one of the worst boys in the neighborhood in which 
 Guy lived. Parents cautioned their sons against asso- 
 ciating with him, for he would fight, smoke, swear like 
 any old sailor, and it was even whispered about among 
 the boys belonging to the Brown Grammar School that 
 he had been seen rather the worse for the beer he had 
 drank. But Guy had always admired Bob; he was such 
 a free and easy fellow! Besides, he knew so much that 
 boys of his age have no business to know, that he was 
 looked upon even by such youths as Henry Stewart as a 
 sort of oracle. He and Guy represented two different 
 
42 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 classes of boys — one having been spoiled by excessive 
 indulgence, and the other by unreasonable severity. 
 
 Eobert's father was Mr. Harris' cashier and book- 
 keeper, and the two families would have been intimate 
 had not Bob been in the way. The fathers and mothers 
 visited frequently, but the boys never did; their loarents 
 always tried to keep them apart. But in spite of this 
 they were often seen together on the streets, and a sort 
 of friendship had sjDrnng up between them. This was 
 the boy Guy wanted for a companion on his runaway 
 expedition, now that Henry Stewart had declined his 
 invitation. 
 
 "The Quail is in," continued Bob, extending his 
 hand to Griiy, who shook it cordially, ''but you are just 
 a minute too late. Mr. Buck is going to get her out for 
 me as soon as he is done serving these gentlemen. How- 
 ever, seeing it is you, I'll take you along, and we can 
 divide the expenses between us." 
 
 ''All right," replied Guy. "Do you know that you 
 are just the fellow I want to see?" 
 
 "Anything particular?" asked Bob, knocking the 
 ashes from his cigar. 
 
 " Yes, very particular." 
 
 " Well, that's curious. During the last week I have 
 had something on my mind that I Avanted to speak to 
 you about — it's a secret, too, and one that I wouldn't 
 mention to any fellow but you — but somehow I couldn't 
 raise courage enough to broach the subject. We'll go 
 out on the lake where Ave can say Avhat Ave please Avithout 
 danger of being overheard. Let's take a drink before 
 we go. Come on." 
 
 "I am obliged to you," answered Guy, "but I never 
 drink." 
 
 "Take a cigar, then." 
 
 "No, I doii't smoke." 
 
 "Nonsense. Be a man among men. Give me some 
 beer, Mr. Buck. Take a glass of soda, Guy. That 
 won't hurt you, and it is a temperance drink, too." 
 
 Guy leaned his elboAvs on the counter and thought 
 
A SAIL OjV the lake. 43 
 
 about it. This was a temptation that he had never been 
 subjected to before. What would his father say if he 
 yielded to it? But, on the whole, what diiference did it 
 make to him whether his father liked it or not? He was 
 going away from home to be a hunter, and from what he 
 had read he inferred that hunters did not refuse a glass 
 when it was offered to them. If he was going among 
 Eomans, and expected to hold a high place among them, 
 he must follow their customs. So he said he would take 
 a bottle of soda, and when it was poured out for him he, 
 not understanding the etiquette of the bar-room, 
 watched Bob and followed his motions — bumped his 
 glass on the counter, said '' Here are my kindest 
 regards," and drank it off. 
 
 "Nov/," said Bob, smacking his li]DS over his beer, 
 "we're all ready. I've got half a dollar's worth of cigars 
 in my pocket, and they will last us until we get back." 
 
 The boys followed Mr. Buck out of the house, and 
 along a narrow wooden joier, on each side of which Avere 
 moored a score or more of row and sail-boats of all sizes 
 and models. When they reached the place where the 
 Quail was lying they clambered down into her, Mr. Buck 
 cast off the painter, and the little vessel moved away. 
 Gruy never forgot the hour he spent on the lake that day. 
 A week afterward he Avould have given the world, had 
 he possessed it, to be able to wipe it out or live it over 
 again. 
 
 As the harbor was long and narrow and the wind un- 
 favorable, considerable maneuvering was necessary, and 
 for the first few minutes the attention of Guy and his 
 companion was so fully occupied with the management 
 of their craft that they could find no opportunity to be- 
 gin the discussion of the subject uppermost in their 
 minds. But when they rounded the light-house pier 
 and found themselves fairly on the lake, Bob resigned 
 the helm to Guy, and relighting his cigar, which he had 
 allowed to go out, stretched himself on one of the 
 thwarts, and intimated that he was ready to listen to 
 what his friend had to say, adding : 
 
44 GUY BA/^I^/S. 
 
 "Yon may think it strange, but I believe I can tell 
 you, before you begin, what you want to talk about." 
 
 ''You can!" exclaimed Guy. "What makes you 
 think so?" 
 
 " The way you act, and the pains you are taking to 
 make money. Does your father know that you are a 
 dealer in rags and old iron?" 
 
 " Of course not." 
 
 " I thought so. "What do you want with the little 
 money you are able to make in that way? You don't 
 see any pleasure Avith it, for you never spend a cent. 
 What are you going to do with that powder-horn you've 
 got hung up in your curiosity shop? It is of no use to 
 you, for your father won't allow you to own a gun. 
 And then there's that lead bullet-ladle, rubber blanket, 
 and cheese-knife. They are not worth the room they 
 occupy as long as you stay here. But you are laying 
 your plans to run away from home, young man — that's 
 what you are up to. Indeed, you have almost as good 
 as said so in my hearing two or three different times." 
 
 " Well, it's a fact, and there's no use in denying it," 
 said Guy. " You won't blow on me?" 
 
 " Certainly not. That's just what 1 wanted to see 
 about, for I am going to do the same thing myself." 
 
 "Are you? Give us your hand. We'll go together. 
 I'm going to be a hunter." 
 
 "I know you are; I've heard you say so. I had 
 some idea of Isecoming a sailor, but since I have thought 
 the matter over I have made up my mind that your 
 plan is the best. If one goes to ,sea he has to work 
 whenever he is ordered, whether he feels likes it or not; 
 but if he lives in the woods he is his own master, and 
 can do as he pleases. Have 3'ou any definite plan in 
 your head?" 
 
 " Yes. As soon as I get money enough. I am going 
 to step aboard a propeller some dark night and go to 
 Chicago. I can travel cheaper b}' water than 1 can by 
 land, you know, and money is an object, I tell you. 
 From Chicago I shall go to fSt. JosejDh, purchase a horse 
 
A SAIL ON- THE LAKE. 45 
 
 and whatever else I may need, join some wagon train 
 that is going to California, and when I reach the monnt- 
 ains and find a place that suits me, I'll stop there and 
 go to hunting." 
 
 " That's a sj)lendid plan," said Bob with enthusiasm. 
 " It is much better than going to sea. When do you 
 intend to start?" 
 
 ''Ah I that's just what I don't know. I find by a 
 paper I bought this morning that I shall need at least 
 three hundred dollars; and that's more than I can ever 
 raise." 
 
 " By a paper you bought!" repeated Bob. 
 
 ''Yes; there it is," said Guy, taking it from his 
 pocket and tossing it toward his companion. "You see 
 I wrote to the editors, telling them just how I am situ- 
 ated and what I intend to do, and they answered my 
 letter this week. Look for 'An Abused Boy' in the 
 correspondents' column, and you will see what they 
 said." 
 
 After a little search Bob found the paragraph in 
 question, and settled back on his elbow to read it. 
 
 When he finished, the opinion he expressed concern- 
 ing it was the same Guy had formed when he first 
 read it. 
 
 "It is rather discouraging, isn't it?" asked the latter. 
 
 " Xot to me," answered Bob. " These editors don't 
 know any more than anybody else. Why should they? 
 In the first place the man who wrote this is not 
 acquainted with our circumstances; and in the next, he 
 is not so well posted on the price of some things as I am. 
 He says a rifle will cost twenty-five dollars. Pat Smith 
 has a cart-load of them, good ones, too, that you can 
 buy for twelve dollars apiece." 
 
 "Is that so?" asked Guy. 
 
 "Yes; and after we get through with our sail we'll 
 go around and look at them. He has hunting-knives, 
 which he holds at a dollar and a quarter. I know, be- 
 cause I asked the price of them. Blankets are not 
 worth more than five dollars per pair; and if you take 
 
46 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 Steerage passage on the steamer and a second-class 
 ticket from Chicago yon can go throngh to St. Joseph 
 for twenty-five dollars. Then how are you going to 
 spend the rest of your three hundred? Not for a horse, 
 certainly; for I have heard father say tliat when he 
 went to California in "49 he bought a very good 
 mustang for thirty dollars. However," added Bob, " it 
 will be well enough to have plenty of money, for we 
 don't want to get strapped, you know." 
 
 "But where is it to come from?"' asked Guy, 
 
 "I know. I have been thinking it over during the 
 last week, and I know just how to go to work. Per- 
 haps you won't like it, and if you don't you can go your 
 way and I'll go mine. Here, smoke a cigar while I tell 
 you about it." 
 
 "'No, no I I can't smoke." 
 
 "What will you do when we are in the mountains? 
 There'll be plenty of stormy days when we can't hunt 
 or trap, and you'll need a pipe or cigar for company," 
 
 "It wall be time enough for me to learn after I get to 
 be a hunter." 
 
 " Perhaps it is just as well," returned Bob, after a 
 moment's reflection. " If I carry out my plans you 
 will have to help me, and you will need a clear head to 
 do it. Listen now and I Avill tell you what they are.'' 
 
 Bob once more settled back on his elbow, and to Guy's 
 intense amazement proceeded to unfold the details of 
 the very scheme for raising funds wdiich he himself had 
 had in contemplation Avhen he came to Mr. Buck's boat- 
 house, and which Bob proposed should be put into ex- 
 ecution at once, that very day. 
 
 Guy trembled with excitement and apprehension 
 while he listened, and nothing but the coolness and con- 
 fidence with which his companion spoke kept him from 
 backing out. He had always imagined that the day for 
 the carrying out of his wild idea was in the far future, 
 and from a distance he could think of it calndy: but if 
 Bob's plans wei'e successful tliey would be miles and 
 miles away ere the next morning's sun arose, and with 
 the brand of tliief upon their brows. 
 
A SAIL ON THE LAKE. 47 
 
 He begun to realize now what running away meant. 
 He did not once think of his home — there was scarcely 
 a pleasant reminiscence connected with it that he could 
 recall — but now that the great world into which he had 
 longed to throw himself seemed so near, he shrunk back 
 afraid. This feeling quickly passed away. 
 
 The wild, free life of which he had so often dreamed 
 seemed so bright and glorious, and his present manner 
 of living seemed so dismal b}' contrast that, feeling as 
 he did, he could not be long in choosing between them. 
 He fell in with Bob's plans and caught not a little of his 
 enthusiasm. He even marked out the part he Avas to 
 play in the scene about to be enacted, making some sug- 
 gestions and amendments that Bob was prompt to 
 adopt. 
 
 The matter was all settled in half an hour later, and 
 the Quail came about and stood toward the pier. When 
 she landed and the boys entered the boat-house. Bob re- 
 minded Guy that it was his turn to stand treat. The 
 latter was prompt to respond, and won a nod of ap- 
 proval from his companion by calling for a glass of 
 beer. 
 
 Having settled their bill at the boat-house the boys 
 started for the gunsmith's. There they spent twenty 
 minutes in looking at the various weajoons and ac- 
 couterments they thought they might need during their 
 career in the mountains, and Bob excited the astonish- 
 ment of his friend by selecting a couple of rifles, as 
 many hunting-knives, powder-horns, bullet-pouches 
 and revolvers, and requesting the gunsmith, with whom 
 he seemed to be well acquainted, to put them aside for 
 him, promising to call in an hour and pay for them. 
 
 "Isn't that carrying things a little too far?" asked 
 Guy when they were once more on the street. "What 
 if we should slip up in our arrangements?" 
 
 " But I don't intend to slip up," returned Bob confi- 
 dently. " There's no need of it. Why, Guy, what 
 makes your face so pale?" 
 
 " I feel nervous," replied the latter honestly. 
 
48 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " Now don^t go to giving a\vay to such feelings, for 
 if yon do you will spoil everything. Eemember that 
 our success depends entirely upon you. If I fail in 
 doing my part the fault will be yours. But I must 
 leave you here, for it won't be safe for us to be seen to- 
 gether. If you are going to back out do it now before 
 it is too late." 
 
 "I'm not going to do anything of the kind. I'll 
 stick to you through thick and thin." 
 
 " All right. Remember now that when the South 
 Church clock strikes one I will be on the corner above 
 your fatlier's store, and shall expect to find you there all 
 ready to start. 
 
 " You may depend upon me," replied Guy. " I'll be 
 there if I live." 
 
 The two boys separated and moved away in nearly op- 
 posite directions, their feelings being as widely different 
 as the courses they were pursuing. Bob, cool and care- 
 less, walked off whistling, stopping now and then to ex- 
 change a pleasant nod with an acquaintance, while Guy 
 was as pale as a sheet and trembled in every limb. It 
 seemed to him that ev3i'y one he met looked sharply at 
 him, and with an expression which seemed to say his 
 secret was known. He felt like a criminal; and actu- 
 ated by a desire to get out of sight of everybody, and 
 that as speedily as possible, he broke into a run, and in 
 a few minutes reached his home. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A K'AREOW ESCAPE. 
 
 ALKIISTG rapidly along the alley that ran be- 
 hind his father's garden Gny climbed the 
 fence, dropped down into a thicket of bushes, 
 ^ and stopped to take a survey of the premises. 
 There was no one in sight, and having fully satisfied 
 himself on this point he crept stealthily into the car- 
 riage-house and up the stairs to his curiosity shop. Lock- 
 ing the door behind him he took down from one of the 
 nails a dilapidated valise, which he had provided for 
 this very occasion, and throwing open his tool-chest be- 
 gan bundling his valuables into it with eager haste. 
 He did not forget anything, not even the rubber 
 blanket, powder-horn, or rusty butcher-knife. When 
 the last article had been crowded into the valise he 
 closed it, and carrying it to the window that overlooked 
 the garden dropped it to the ground. Then he locked 
 the door of the curiosity shop, descended the stairs, and 
 picking up the valise carried it to the lower end of the 
 garden and concealed it under a quince tree. 
 
 This much was done, but he had still another piece 
 of work to perform, and that took him into the house. 
 He went to his mother's room, and after considerable 
 fumbling in one of the bureau drawers took out some- 
 thing wrapped up in a white paper, which, after he had 
 examined it to make sure that he had found what he 
 wanted, he put it into his pocket. Next he hurried to 
 his own room to secure the buckskin purse containing 
 the fifteen dollars he had with so much difficulty 
 scraped together. This done, he selected from his 
 abundant wardrobe a pair of heavy boots, a shirt or two. 
 
50 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 a change of linen, a few pairs of stockings, and a suit 
 of his roughest and most durable clothing, all of which 
 he tied up in a handkerchief he had spread upon the 
 floor. Once during this operation he paused and looked 
 with rather a longing eye toward the pair of patent- 
 leathers and the natty broadcloth suit he was accus- 
 tomed to wear on extra occasions, but, after a little re- 
 flection, he decided to leave them behind, consoling 
 himself with the thought that in the country to which 
 he was going buckskin was oftener seen than broad- 
 cloth, and that fine boots and expensive clothing would 
 not look well on the person of a trapper. 
 
 Having tied his bundle he caught it up and ran out 
 of the house. His previous examination of the prem- 
 ises had satisfied him that the coast was clear, so he did 
 not take any pains to conceal his movements. He went 
 directly to the place where he had concealed his valise 
 and S2:)ent ten minutes trying to crowd some of the 
 clothing into it; but it was already so full that there 
 was not room even for a pair of stockings, and Guy 
 found that he must either carry his bundle through the 
 streets wrapped up in his handkerchief or leave it be- 
 hind. He decided on the former course. Even trap- 
 pers must have clothes, and he feared that those 4ie was 
 then wearing might not hold together until he could 
 capture and cure a sufficient number of deer hides to 
 make him a suit of buckskin. 
 
 Taking the valise in his left hand, and the bundle in 
 his teeth, Guy mounted to the top of the fence, and was 
 on the very point of swinging himself over, when hap- 
 pening to cast his eyes up the lane, whom should he see 
 approaching but Henry Stewart. He had come up just 
 in time to catch him in the act of running away from 
 home. 
 
 So thought Guy, as he stood leaning on the top of 
 the fence, growing pale and red by turns, and utterly at 
 a loss what to do. He was well aware that the quick- 
 witted Henry would know in a minute what was going 
 on; he could not well help it if he made any use of his 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE. 51 
 
 eyes, for there was the evidence of Guy's guilt in the 
 shape of his valise and bundle in plain sight. AV' hat 
 would Henry think of him for breaking the solemn 
 promise he had made the evening before — and more 
 than that, what would he do 9 But, unfortunately for 
 our hero, Henry not being as wide-awake as he usually 
 was, did not see him. I say unfortunately, because had 
 Henry received the least intimation of what was going 
 on, he would have saved his friend many an hour of 
 misery and remorse. He walked along, whistling 
 merrily, as though he felt at peace Avith himself and all 
 the world, carrying in one hand his jointed fish-pole, 
 stowed away in a neat bag of drilling, and in the otlier 
 a fine string of rock bass; and so completely was his 
 mind occupied with thoughts of the splendid sport he 
 had enjoyed on the pier that he had neither eyes nor 
 ears for what was going on near him. 
 
 Guy saw that he had a chance to save himself, and he 
 lost not an instant in taking advantage of it. As quick 
 as a flash he dropped his burdens behind the fence, and 
 in a moment more would have been out of sight himself 
 had not the noise the heavy valise made in falling 
 through the branches of a quince tree in the garden 
 aroused Henry from his reverie. He looked up Just in 
 time to see Guy's head disappearing behind the fence. 
 
 " Aha!" he exclaimed, " I saw you, old fellow. What 
 are you aboiit there?" 
 
 Guy, finding that he was discovered, straightened up 
 and looked over the top of the fence again. " Halloo, 
 Hank," said he, with an attempt to appear as cordial 
 and friendly as usual. 
 
 " A¥ hat's going on in here?" asked Henry, walking 
 up close to the fence and peeping through one of the 
 cracks. "I heard something drop." 
 
 " It was my ball club," replied Guy, who could 
 swallow a lie as easily as if it had been a strawberry. 
 " I was about to toss it toward you to attract your atten- 
 tion, when it slipped out of my hand." 
 
 " Oh," said Henry. " But what's the matter with 
 
52 GUV HARROW. 
 
 yon? Your face is as white as a sheet. Are von 
 ill?" 
 
 "No, only mad becanse father wonldn't let me go 
 fishing this morning. I wish you would pass on and 
 attend to your business/' added Guy mentally. "lam 
 in an awful hurry." 
 
 " I am sorry you couldn't go, for we had the best of 
 sport," said Henry. Then he exhibited his string of 
 fish, and went on to tell who were on the pier, and what 
 success each one had met Avith — how he had struck a 
 splendid black bass, and after an exciting struggle had 
 almost landed him, when his line broke and the fish 
 took himself off; how Charley Root, one of their school- 
 mates, hooked on to a yellow pike that he ought to have 
 lost, he handled him so awkwardly, but which, by the 
 united efforts of all the men and boys on the pier, was 
 safely landed at last, and when placed on the scales 
 pulled down the beam at nine pounds and a quarter — 
 of all of which Guy scarcely heard a dozen words, 
 although under any other circumstances he would have 
 listened with all his ears. 
 
 "As you must be lonely, I'll come in and visit with 
 you a while," added Henry. 
 
 "I wish you could," answered Guy, "but father told 
 me before he went away to bring no one in the yard." 
 
 " Then suppose yoii come over and see me." 
 
 " I can't. I have orders not to go outside the gate 
 to-day." 
 
 " Have you finished reading the 'Bo}^ Trappers?' If 
 you have, I'll lend you another book." 
 
 " No, I am not yet done with it. Perhaps I will 
 spend an hour or two with you this evening, after the 
 folks come home." 
 
 "I wish you would. You know we want to talk 
 about something. Good-by." 
 
 "Farewell — a long farewell," said Guy to himself as 
 his friend moved away. "You'll never see me again or 
 the ' Boy Trappers ' either, for I've got it sufel}^ stowed 
 away in my valise. I need it more than you do, and 
 
A A^ARROW ESCAPE. 53 
 
 you've so many you won't miss it. But didn't I come 
 near being caught, though?" he added, drawing a long 
 breath as he thought of his very narrow escajie. ''In 
 half a second more I'd have been over tlie fence and into 
 a scrape that I could not possibly have lied out of. But 
 what's the odds? A miss is as good as a mile." 
 
 Ghiy remained standing on the fence for ten minutes 
 — long enough to allow Henry time to reach home and go 
 into the house — and then jumped down into the garden 
 after his valise and bundle. This time he succeeded in 
 scaling the fence without being seen by anybody, and 
 with a few rapid steps reached the corner of the block, 
 where he stopped to take a last look at his home. He 
 ran his eye quickly over its familiar surroundings, and 
 without a single feeling of regret turned his back upon 
 it and hurried away. A walk of fifteen minutes brought 
 him to the corner above his father's store, where he 
 found Bob waiting for him. The latter had a well-filled 
 valise in his hand, and was as cool and careless as ever. 
 He peered sharply into Guy's face as he came up and 
 seemed satisfied with what he saw there. 
 
 "■'You look better than 5-ou did the last time I saw 
 you," said he. '' Have you got it?" 
 
 Guy replied in the affirmative. 
 
 *• Father hasn't left the store yet," continued Bob, 
 ''so we'll have plenty of time to go down to the dock 
 and engage passage on a propeller. The Queen of the 
 Lakes sails to-night, and we'll go on her." 
 
 " All right," said Guy with a show of eagerness he 
 was very far from feeling. 
 
 " We'll have to leave our luggage somewhere, for 
 when Ave get our guns and other things we'll have as 
 much as we can carry, and we might as well leave it on 
 board the steamer as anywhere else. We mus'n't be seen 
 together with these valises in our hands, or somebody 
 Avill suspect something, so you had better go back and 
 go down Elm Street and I'll go down Ninth. We'll 
 meet at the foot of Portage Street, where the Queen of 
 the Lakes lies." 
 
54 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 The two boys separated and pursued their different 
 routes toward the dock. Guy reached it ten minutes in 
 advance of his companion, and the first vessel he saw 
 was the propeller of which he was in search. Her name 
 was painted in large letters on her bow, and over her 
 rail was suspended a card bearing the words, '"'This 
 steamer for Chicago to-night." Her crew were engaged 
 in rolling barrels and hogsheads up the gang-planks, 
 and Guy, watching his opportunity, dodged in and 
 ascended the stairs that led to the cabin. 
 
 "Now, then," exclaimed a flashily-dressed young 
 man, who met him at the top and looked rather suspic- 
 iously at the bundles Guy deposited on the floor of the 
 cabin, " what can I do for you?" 
 
 " Are you the steward?" asked the boy. 
 
 " I have the honor." 
 
 " I want to go to Chicago on this boat." 
 
 " Who are you, where do you live, and what is your 
 name?" demanded the steward with another sidelong 
 glance at Guy's luggage. 
 
 The boy noticed the look, and took his cue from it. 
 
 ''My name is John Thomas," said he, "and I used 
 to live in Syracuse, but I am going West now to find my 
 uncle." 
 
 " Where does your father live, and what business 
 does he follow?" 
 
 " I haven't got any father or mother either. I am 
 alone in the world." 
 
 The man's face softened instantly. The next words 
 he uttered were spoken in a much 'kinder tone. 
 
 "■'The fare will be eight dollars," said he. 
 
 " I had thought of taking steerage passage," returned 
 Guy. " Money is not as plenty with me as it is with 
 some folks. ^' 
 
 " Then you can go for five dollars. Step this way." 
 
 Guy picked up his valise and bundle and followed the 
 steward, who led the way along the deck toward the for- 
 ward 2)art of the vessel, finally turning into an apart- 
 ment which looked very ludike the neatly furnished 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE. 55 
 
 cabin they liad just left. The floor was destitute of a 
 carpet, and the rough bunks that were fitted up against 
 the bulk-heads looked anything but inviting. Chests, 
 bundles, and bed-clothes were scattered about, and in 
 one corner were congregated a dozen or more persons of 
 both sexes, who were eating bread and bologna and talk- 
 ing loudly. 
 
 Guy looked askance at them, and more than half made 
 up his mind that he wouldn't take passage in the steer- 
 age. He didn't like the idea of being obliged to keep 
 such company for a journey of seven hundred miles. 
 
 ''You may take this bunk," said the steward, point- 
 ing out the one he wished Guy to occupy, 
 
 '•' Where are the bed-clothes?" asked the boy. 
 
 "We don't furnish them to steerage passengers. 
 Every man finds his own." 
 
 "But I haven't got any," said Guy, "and I can't 
 sleep on those hard boards. I think I had better wait 
 a while. I have a friend, Ned Wheeler, who is going 
 with me, and perhaps he will decide to take a cabin 
 passage." 
 
 The steward, not deeming any reply necessary, 
 turned on his heel and walked out, leaving Guy alone 
 with the emigrants. He did not know that it would be 
 quite safe to leave his luggage there with no one to 
 watch it, but after a little hesitation he decided to run 
 the risk; and, pitching his valise and bundle into the 
 bunk the steward had pointed out to him, he hurried 
 below to watch for his expected companion. He wanted 
 to post him. In a few minutes Bob made his appear- 
 ance. 
 
 "Look here," said Guy, as he ran to meet him, 
 " your name isn't Bob Walker any longer — at least 
 while we remain on board this propeller." 
 
 " I understand," said Bob. " Let me see; I'll call 
 myself " 
 
 " I have told the steward that your name is Ned 
 Wheeler, and that my name is John Thomas." 
 
 "It seems to me that you might have found better 
 ones if you had tried." 
 
56 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "No matter; they will answer onr purpose as well as 
 any others. You see our names will have to go into the 
 passenger list, and if our fathers should suspect that we 
 have gone up the lakes, they would have no diftlculty in 
 tracing us as far as Chicago, if we gave our true names." 
 
 " I understand," said Bob again. " Have you jucked 
 out a berth yet?" 
 
 "No; but I have seen the steerage,, and it is a horri- 
 ble-looking place. Come on; I'll show it to you." 
 
 Bob was not very favorably impressed with the 
 appearance of things in the steerage. He looked at the 
 dingy deck, the empty bunks, the ragged, dirty group 
 in the corner, and stepped back and shook his head. 
 
 " I can't go this, Guy," said he. "I have been used 
 to better things. Cet your bundles, and we'll take 
 cabin passage. We shall have money enough to 2^ay 
 for it." 
 
 The steward being hunted up, showed the boys to a 
 state-room in the cabin, in which they deposited their 
 luggage, after which they hurried ashore to carry out 
 their plans. 
 
 Now came the hardest part of the Avork, and Guy 
 would have been glad to shirk it, could it have been 
 accomplished without his assistance. 
 
 It was dangerous as well as difficult, and there was 
 dishonor connected with it. More than that — and this 
 was what troubled Guy the most — there was a possibility 
 that the crime they intended to commit, even if they 
 were successful in it, would be discovered before they 
 could leave the city, and then what would become of 
 them ? 
 
 While Guy was thinking about it, they arrived within 
 sight of his father's dry-goods store. 
 
 "Now, then," said Bob, giving him an encouraging 
 slap on the back, " keep a stiff upper lip, and remember 
 that everything depends upon you. Do your part 
 faithfully, and I'll do mine." 
 
 With a beating heart Guy walked into the store, and, 
 stopping before the counter, drew a small package from 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE. 57 
 
 his pocket. He tried to look unconcerned, but he 
 trembled violently, and his face was white with excite- 
 ment and apprehension. 
 
 The clerk who stepped ^x^ to attend to his wants 
 stared at him in astonishment. 
 
 " What's the matter, GrU}-?'' he inquired. 
 
 " Nothing — nothing whatever, Mr. Fellows. What 
 made you ask?'' 
 
 "' Why, you look as though you had been sick for a 
 week. And see how your hand sliakes." 
 
 " Well, I doir't feel remarkably lively for some cause 
 or other, that's a fact," returned Guy. " Mother sent 
 me down here to see if you could match this piece of 
 silk," he continued, unfolding the package and display- 
 ing its contents. 
 
 "No, I cannot," answered the clerk, and Guy knew 
 very well what he was going to say before the words left 
 his lips. " I told Mrs. Harris the last time she was in 
 that our new stock would not arrive before Monday." 
 
 " Mother is in a great hurry and can't wait a day 
 longer. Can't you send out to some other store?" 
 
 " Certainly," said the clerk, taking a pair of scissors 
 from his pocket and cutting the silk in twain. " Here, 
 Thompson, take this up to Kenton's and see if they can 
 match it; and, Jones, you take this piece and go over 
 to Sherman's." 
 
 When Guy had seen tlie two clerks dej^art on their 
 errand he drew a long breath of relief. A 2)art of his 
 work was accomplished, and it had been, too, just as he 
 and Bob had planned it. Tbe next thing Avas to keep 
 Mr. Fellows employed in the front ])art of the store for 
 a few minutes longer. 
 
 " AVon't you be kind enough to look over your stock 
 again ?" said Guy. ' ' Mother is positive there is a rem- 
 nant of that silk somewhere in the store." 
 
 '^ril do it, of course, to please her," replied the 
 clerk, "but I know I shaVt find it. Ah! Here's Mr. 
 Walker, Perhaps he knows something about it." 
 
 At the mention of that name Guy started as if he had 
 
58 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 been shot. Bob's father was the very man of all others 
 he did not want to see just then, for he belonged in 
 the back of the store, and Bob was there. Guy had a 
 presentiment that something disagreeable was about to 
 happen. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 ADEIFT lis" THE WORLD. 
 
 HY, GUY, what's the matter with you?" 
 asked Mr. Walker, giving the boy's hand a 
 cordial grip and shake. "Been sick?'" 
 "No, sir," stammered Guy. 
 
 "' Then you're going to be. I never saw you look so 
 pale before. What was it you said to me?" added Mr. 
 Walker, addressing himself to the clerk. 
 
 "Mrs. Harris has sent down that piece of silk again/' 
 answered Mr. Fellows. " Can we match it?" 
 
 " No; and there's not a piece like it in the city," said 
 Mr. Walker. " But we'll have some on Monday sure, 
 for I ordered " 
 
 The gentleman suddenly paused, and looking sharply 
 toward the back part of the store, bent forward in a 
 listening attitude. 
 
 Guy listened also, and was almost ready to drop with 
 terror when he distinctly heard a faint, grating noise 
 like that which would be made by turning a key care- 
 fully in a lock. It seemed to come from behind the 
 high desk which fenced off the office from the main part 
 of the store. 
 
 Mr. Walker stood for an instant as if profoundly 
 astonished, and, with an inquiring glance at the clerk, 
 started on tiptoe toward the office. Mr. Fellows was 
 close at his heels, and Guy, impelled by a curiosity that 
 he could not have resisted if he had tried, brought up 
 the rear. He saw Mr. Walker disappear behind the 
 high desk, and jumping upon a chair and looking over 
 it, he had a full view of the scene that transpired on the 
 other side. 
 
 Bob was kneeling in front of an open safe, and was in 
 the very act of crowding a large package of money into 
 
60 ■ GUY HARRIS, 
 
 his pocket. So intent was he upon Avhat he was doing, 
 that he did not hear his father's stealthy approach. 
 
 Mr. Walker was utterly confounded. Hardly able to 
 believe the evidence of his eyes, he stood for a moment 
 as if deprived of all power of action; then springing for- 
 ward with a quick bound, he Avrenched the package from 
 his son^s grasp, and sunk helpless and almost breathless 
 into the nearest chair. 
 
 " Oh. KobertI Robert I" he exclaimed, while the tears 
 he could not repress coursed down his cheeks. " Is this 
 the way you repay my kindness and indulgence? How 
 could you do it! How could you do it I" 
 
 A death-like silence followed. Mr. Walker leaned his 
 head upon his hands and shook like a man with the 
 ague. Bob, having recovered his perpendicular — for his 
 father, in his excitement, had thrown him headlong into 
 the nearest corner — stood sullen and motionless. The 
 clerk rubbed his eyes, and looked from one to the other 
 in silent amazement; and Guy, stunned and bewildered, 
 staggered off the chair, and walking like one in a dream, 
 moved slowly out of the store and down the street. He 
 did not know where he was going, and what was more 
 he did not care. When, he came to himself he was 
 standing in the upper story of an elevator, gazing in a 
 stupid, benumbed sort of way at the monster wlieel as it 
 slowly revolved, bringing up an endless chain of loaded 
 buckets from some dark abyss beneath him. He was 
 able now to think over the incident that had just hap- 
 pened at the store, and as he was Jiot yet fully hardened, 
 he felt his situation most keenly. ' 
 
 "It is all over with me now," said he, with a calmness 
 that surprised himself, "^ for of course the part I have 
 played in this miserable business will be known when the 
 folks come home, even if it isn't known already. Mother 
 will say that she didn't send me down there to match 
 that piece of silk, and in that way my guilt will be 
 exposed. Besides, Bob is cornered, and I know him too 
 well to indulge in the hope that he will take all the 
 blame upon himself and shield me, I can't stay here. 
 
ADRIFT IN THE WOULD. 61 
 
 for I am forever disgraced. I mud go, and with only 
 fifteen dollars in my pocket, too. ]S"ow that I think of 
 it, I am glad Bob didn't succeed in stealing that 
 package. I shall at least have the satisfaction of know- 
 ing that what little money I have, I have earned hon- 
 estly." 
 
 How Guy managed to exist during that long after- 
 noon was a myst&ry to himself. He wanted to keep out 
 of sight of everybody, and the loft of the elevator was 
 as good a place of concealment as he could have found. 
 No one intruded upon him during the five hours he 
 spent there. He passed a portion of his time in walking 
 about with his hands in his pockets, thinking over his 
 situation and wondering what should be his first move 
 now that he was fairly adrift in the world, and the re- 
 mainder in standing at the front window watching the 
 crew of the Queen of the Lakes, who were still busily 
 engaged in loading their vessel. 
 
 During the afternoon several passengers arrived, some 
 on foot and some in carriages, and Guy always held his 
 breath in suspense while he sharply scrutinized the face 
 of every one who ascended the gang-plank, and was as 
 often greatly relieved to find that there were none among 
 them he had ever seen before. 
 
 At length, to his great joy, he discovered a thin cloud 
 of smoke, which grew thicker and blacker every mo- 
 ment, ascending from the propeller's chimney. 
 
 The men who were loading the vessel became quicker 
 in their movements and rolled the freight along at a 
 more rapid rate, encouraged by the voices and gestures 
 of the mates. 
 
 Finally one of the planks was drawn in and the after 
 gangway closed, and just as it begun to grow dark two 
 of the four lines that held the steamer to the wharf were 
 cast off and the whistle was blown. 
 
 Guy now had another disagreeable piece of business to 
 perform, and that was to transfer himself from the loft 
 of the elevator to the deck of the propeller. 
 
 Drawing- in a long breath and calling all his courage 
 
63 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 to his aid he ran swiftly clown the stairs, paused a mo- 
 ment at the door and then bounded across the wharf and 
 up the gang-plank. He went directly to the upper 
 deck, and seating himself upon the rail over the gang- 
 way, looked closely at every one who came on hoard the 
 propeller, intending, if he saw Mr. AValker or any of his 
 father's clerks apiDroaching, to beat a hasty retreat. But 
 all Mr. Harris' employes were doing just what Guy 
 ought to have been doing — attending to their business. 
 Had they known where he was and what he was about to 
 do, it is probable that some of them would have inter- 
 ested themselves in the matter; but as they did not, Guy 
 was left to his own devices. 
 
 At last, to the boy's intense relief, everything was 
 made ready for the start. The whistle shrieked again, 
 the captain took his stand upon the wheel-house, the 
 lines were handed aboard, and the Queen of the Lakes 
 moved slowly down the harbor. 
 
 As soon as clear water was seen between the boat and 
 the wharf Guy told himself that he was safe from pur- 
 suit, and settling into a comfortable position on the rail, 
 he prepared to take a last look at the city of Norwall. 
 
 As it was already dark he could not see much of it 
 excejit the lights. These faded out of his sight one by 
 one, and finally when the steamer, after passing the 
 breakwater and the liglit-house swung around and 
 headed up the lake, they were all shut out from his view. 
 
 Then Guy begun to feel lonely and chilly, too, for a 
 keen, cutting wind was blowing and he had no overcoat. 
 As he arose to his feet, intending to go into the cabin 
 where it was warmer, some one suddenly laid a hand 
 upon his shoulder. 
 
 Guy started violently, and so surprised and frightened 
 was he that he lost his balance, and would certainh'have 
 fallen overboard had not the hand Ijeen quickly shifted 
 from his shoulder to his arm, griping it with sufhcient 
 force and strength to haul him on board and enable him 
 to recover his equilibrium. As soon as he was fairly on 
 his feet he looked up and was astonished beyond meas- 
 
ADRIFT IN THE WORLD. 63 
 
 lire to find himself confronted by Bob Wall^er, wlio was 
 comfortably wrapped np in an overcoat, held a lighted 
 cigar in his teeth, and wore his hat on one side in the 
 same old rowdy style. He did not look much like a boy 
 who had been caught in the act of robbing a safe. 
 
 " Wh}', Guy," said he with a laugh, " you are as 
 nervous as an old woman. You must get over that be- 
 fore you reach the mountains, or Kit Carson and Captain 
 Bridges will never have a rival in you. Did you think I 
 was a policeman?" 
 
 "Bob," exclaimed Guy gleefully, "you don't know 
 how glad I am to see you. I little expected to find you 
 here." 
 
 "What did you think I would do?" demanded Bob. 
 "You didn't imagine that I would stay in Nor wall after 
 being caught in such a scrape, did 3'ou? I am not quite 
 so green. I tell you, Guy, if father had stayed away Just 
 live minutes longer we'd have been rich. That package 
 I held in my hand had five hundred dollars in it." 
 
 "■ Great Scott!" exclaimed Guy, catching his breath. 
 
 "It's a fact. The amount was marked on the wrap- 
 per." 
 
 " What did your father say to you?" 
 
 " He told me to go home, and I did; but I didn't stay 
 there long. I got my overcoat and came back to the 
 boat. I've been on board ever since two o'clock waiting 
 for you." 
 
 "And I was hiding in the elevator all the while. 
 But, Bob, do you know I am glad that you didn't get 
 out of the store with that money? It is bad enough to 
 run away from home; it would be worse if we were 
 thieves!" 
 
 "Bah!" exclaimed Bob contemptuously, "you're los- 
 ing courage already, and you'd better not, for you 
 will have need of all you can muster before we get 
 through with this business. We've got to earn money 
 noAV to buy an outfit, and how are we going to do it? 
 But let's go into the cabin. It's cold out here." 
 
 Bob strutted off with as much dignity as if he had 
 
64 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 been the owner of tlie vessel, and Guy slowly followed. 
 The cabin was a blaze of light, and most of the passen- 
 gers had congregated there to escape from the cold wind 
 that was blowing. They sat around in little groups, 
 some reading, others conversing with their fi'iends, and 
 everybody seemed to be happy except Guy. He was 
 indeed losing courage; and if he could have blotted out 
 the events of that afternoon, he would have given every- 
 thing he ever hoped to possess to have been safe under 
 his father's roof again. He had not yet got fairly out 
 into the " wide, wide world," of which he had so often 
 dreamed, had encountered none of its trials and vicissi- 
 tudes, and yet he knew as well as though he had already 
 tried it, that the struggle he was about to commence 
 would prove too mucli for him. The longer he thought 
 about it the more nervous and uneasy he became, until 
 at last he could not sit still, or bear to remain in the 
 cabin. The air seemed hot and almost stifling, and 
 the merriment of the passengers grated harshly on his 
 ears. Arising to his feet he made his way to the deck, 
 and for four long hours paced back and forth, all un- 
 mindful of the wind and the big drops of rain that now 
 and then dashed into his face. 
 
 At last, overcome with fatigue and excitement, he 
 sought his state-room. Bob had already turned in, and 
 was snugly tucked away in the lower bunk. He ap- 
 peared to be asleep, for his eyes were closed and he 
 breathed heavily. 
 
 Guy hastily divested himself of his damp garments, 
 and hanging them upon tlie hooks that were screwed 
 into the bulk-head, climbed into his bunk and was soon 
 in a deep slumber. He was aroused once during the 
 night by some one moving about the room; but it was 
 only Bob, who, in reply to an inquiry from Guy, said 
 that he had been on deck to see how thiiigs were going, 
 and that it was raining buckets and blowing great guns. 
 Guy quickly went oif into the land of dreams again, 
 lulled by the rocking of the vessel, but about daylight 
 was awakened by the pangs of seasickness. 
 
ADRIFT IN THE: WORLD. 65 
 
 All that forenoon he suffered greatly, and was a most 
 forlorn-looking object indeed. Bob, Avho was as lively 
 as a cricket, faithfully attended to all his wants, and 
 shortly after dinner brought him a lemon and a piece of 
 toast. When he had taken a little of the juice of the 
 former, and a few mouthfuls of the latter, he felt better, 
 and was able, with Bob's help, to put on his clothes and 
 go on deck. While the two boys were conversing and 
 Avatching the white-caps as they rolled toward them, 
 the steward approached, and addressing himself to Guy, 
 said : 
 
 " Please walk up to the clerk's office." 
 
 " To pay your fare, you know," added Bob, seeing 
 that Guy did not quite understand. "I settled mine 
 this morning." 
 
 /' Oh, yes. I have been so sick that I forgot all about 
 that. Lend me your arm, please. I haven't yet got my 
 sea legs on." 
 
 Bob complied, and in a few minutes the two boys were 
 standing before the clerk, who drew the book containing 
 the passenger list toward him, and asked, as he held his 
 pen poised in the air: 
 
 "What name?" 
 
 "Guy — John Thomas," replied the seasick runaway, 
 who would have given his true name had not Bob 
 pinched his arm just in time to prevent it. 
 
 Guy John Thomas," repeated the clerk, as he entered 
 the name in his book. " Where to?" 
 
 "Chicago." 
 
 "Eight dollars." 
 
 Guy thrust his hand into the pocket of his trousers, 
 and a look of blank anuizement suddenly overspread his 
 pale face. The pocket was empty. He felt in the 
 other, and finally searched everywhere about his clothes, 
 but nothing in the shape of a purse could be found. 
 
 "My gracious!" gasped Guy. 
 
 " What's the matter?" asked his companion. 
 
 "Matter!" Guy almost shoutedj "matter enough. 
 Tve lost my pocket-book." 
 
66 GUV HARklS. 
 
 " No!" exclaimed Bob, looking surprised. 
 
 " But I say yes!" shrieked Guy; "and with it I have 
 lost every cent I had in the world. Oh! what shall I 
 do?" 
 
 "It can't be possible/'' said Bob, feeling of his 
 friend's pockets. " Look again." 
 
 " Oh, haven't I looked everywhere already?" de- 
 manded Guy, the tears starting to his eyes as he begun 
 another thorough examination of his clothing. " It's 
 lost, I tell you." 
 
 " Perhaps you left it in your valise. Let's go and 
 look.'- 
 
 "No, I didn't. I put it in my pocket yesterday, and 
 I didn't once take it out. Oh, dear! oh, dear!" 
 
 The clerk laid down his pen, leaned his elbows on 
 the desk before him, and waited to see what Guy was 
 going to do about it, and the latter, having satistied 
 himself that the money was not to be found about his 
 person, allowed Bob to lead him oif to his state-room. 
 With frantic haste he overhauled the bundle and tum- 
 bled the contents of his valise upon the floor, but no 
 purse rewarded his search. Then he looked under his 
 pillow, and into every corner in the room, but with no 
 better success. 
 
 " It's no use; it's gone," screamed Guy, throwing 
 himself upon Bob's bunk and giving away to a torrent 
 of tears, " and here I am without a copper in my 
 pocket, and no friend to help me! I can't go back 
 home, and I don't know what to do. I wish I Avas 
 dead. Have you got any money, 'Bob?" 
 
 " Not a dollar; not even half a dollar. I had just 
 enough to pay my fare, and expected to look to you for 
 a few dimes. We're in a lix, that's certain. When we 
 reach Chicago we shall be strapped as flat as imncakes, 
 and in a strange city, too. I'll go and speak to the 
 skip|)er. Perhaps he can do something for you." 
 
 Bob easily found the captain, who listened patiently 
 while he stated his friend's case, and accompanied him 
 to the presence of Guy, to whom he propounded a few 
 inquiries; Had he any idea where he lost his money? 
 
ADRIFT IN THE WORLD. 67 
 
 Might lie not have dropped it or had his pocket picked 
 before he came on board the propeller. Had he seen 
 any stranger in his room the night before? and had he 
 any relatives or friends in Chicago? To all these ques- 
 tions Guy replied in the negative. The captain looked 
 thoughtfully at the floor for a moment, said it was a 
 hard case, but he didn't see that he could do anything, 
 and turning on his heel he left the room, while Bob 
 seated himself on the edge of his bunk, and looked at 
 his friend with a very sympathizing expression on his 
 countenance. 
 
 A dozen times that afternoon Guy searched all his 
 pockets, examined the contents of his valise and bun- 
 dle, and peeped into every part of the state-room, hop- 
 ing that in his hurry and excitement he had overlooked 
 the purse, and that it would yet come to light; but he 
 as often abandoned the search in utter despair, and threw 
 himself upon the bunk to indulge in a fresh burst of 
 tears. Bob lent willing assistance, and tried to utter 
 words of consolation, but these did not help Guy. He 
 did not want sympathy, but money. 
 
 About four o'clock the door opened, admitting the 
 steward. 
 
 ^^ Have you found it yet?" he asked. 
 
 "No/' sobbed Guy, ''and I never shall." 
 
 "Did you lose all you had?" 
 
 "Every red cent." 
 
 " Then, of course, you can't pay your fare to Chicago. 
 I have been talking to the captain about you, and he 
 says you must go ashore the first landing we make, 
 which will be at Saginaw. In the meantime you will 
 have to give up this room and go into the steerage. 
 You will find an empty bunk there." 
 
 " Oh, I haven't got any bed-clothes, and how am I 
 to sleep on those hard boards?" exclaimed Guy. 
 
 " I don't know 1 am sure. But you will have it to do, 
 if you sleep at all. We have three or four passengers 
 who slept on chairs in the cabin last night, and I must 
 put one of them in here." 
 
 Guy covered his face with his hands and cried lustily. 
 
68 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 "Come, come! Shoulder your dunnage and clear out! 
 I am in a hurry/' said the steward sharply. 
 
 Guy saw that he had no alternative. Slowly arising 
 from his bunk he picked up his valise, while Bob took 
 his bundle, and together they went their way to the 
 steerage. It looked ten-fold more dingy and forbidding 
 now than it did when Guy first saw it. He did not 
 think he could live there, and told Bob so. 
 
 "Nonsense!" said his companion. '• You will live in 
 worse places than this before you see the Rocky Mount- 
 ains. But I'd be a man if I were you, Guy. Choke 
 down your tears." 
 
 "Oh, yes; it's all well enough for you to talk, for 
 you've nothing to trouble you. Your passage is paid 
 and you've a nice room to sleep in. But you won't go 
 to Chicago, will you?" 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " And leave me alone?" 
 
 "I don't see that I can help it. I have paid my pas- 
 sage, and I might as well go on." 
 
 " But, Bob, what shall I do without you?" 
 
 "A fellow can't live in this world without money, 
 Guy, and if I go ashore in the woods how am I going to 
 earn any?" 
 
 "How am / going to earn any?" retorted Guy with 
 more pluck and independence than he had yet exhib- 
 ited. " But I see what you are at very plainly. Y'ou 
 want to go back on me." 
 
 "No, I don't." 
 
 "Yes, you do; and I don't care 'either, if you want 
 to desert me Avhile I am in trouble, do it. I don't ask 
 any odds of you. All I want you to do is to keep away 
 from me from this time forward. Don't speak to me, 
 or even look at me. But bear one thing in mind — we 
 must both struggle for an existence now, and I'll come 
 to the top of the heap first." 
 
 As Guy said this he snatched the bundle from Bob's 
 hand, pitched it, Avith the valise, into one of the empty 
 bunks, and turning square about left the steerage. 
 
CHAPTER VITI. 
 
 GUY PIN^DS A FRIEND. 
 
 OOR GUY! his misfortunes were following 
 close upon the heels of one another. He had 
 looked upon the loss of his money as the 
 greatest of calamities, but now a worse had 
 befallen him. He was at swords' points with Bob 
 Walker, and he did not see how he could get on Avithout 
 him. Bob was so self-reliant, and could so easily adapt 
 himself to circumstances that Guy had already learned 
 to lean upon him. Fully sensible of his own lack of 
 courage and independence, he wanted somebody to ad- 
 vise and sympathize with him. Longing to get away 
 by himself where he could brood over his sorrows to his 
 heart's content, he hurried out of the steerage, and was 
 making his way aft, when he ran plump into the arms 
 of some one. It was the steward. 
 
 "Ah! this will never do," said the officer. "Steer- 
 age passengers are not alloAved abaft the waist." 
 
 "Eh?" exclaimed Guy. 
 
 "Come here," said the steward, "and I will explain 
 what I mean. Do you see this gangway that runs 
 athwartshi2)s? Well, you mustn't come any nearer the 
 stern than that. Go f or'ard now. " 
 
 Guy started in obeiience to his command, and just 
 then the supper-bell rung. The first to answer the 
 summons was Bob Walker, who went into the wash- 
 room and tucked up his sleeves prei^aratory to per- 
 forming his ablutions. Guy went in also, and followed 
 his movements. 
 
 Having recovered from his seasickness by this time, 
 he was^ of course, very hungry, and the savory odors 
 
70 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 that came from tlie cabin every time the door was 
 opened served to quiclien his appetite. He hung up 
 his cap, and was about to turn on the water, when the 
 ubiquitous steward once more appeared. 
 
 " JSTow, pard, this won't do, either," said he, taking 
 hold of the boy's arm and waving his hand toward tlie 
 door. 
 
 " Why not?" demanded Guy, trying to throw off the 
 steward's grasp. "1 want to wasli before supper, 
 don't I?" 
 
 ''If you do you Avill fmd plenty of buckets on the 
 main deck." 
 
 " I am not in the habit of washing in buckets, and I 
 sha'n't do it," replied Guy, greatly astonished. 
 
 "Oh, that's the Avay the wind sets, is it?" exclaimed 
 the steward, changing his tone and manner in an instant. 
 '' You're standing on your dignity, are you, you dead 
 beat? IS'ow mark you," he added, shaking his finger in 
 the boy's face, "if I catch you as fur aft as this gang- 
 way again I'll walk you for'ard by the nape of the neck. 
 Now get out o' this I Out you go, with a jump." 
 
 Guy did not go with a jump exactly, but he went 
 with a very strong push, for the stew^ard, exerting all 
 his strength, flung him headlong through the door, and 
 kicked his cap after him. Bob stood by, wiping his 
 hands, and, as Guy made his hasty exit, he chuckled 
 audibly, and gave the steward an a2:)proving wink. 
 
 When he went into the cabin to supper he jingled 
 some silver in his pocket, and shook his head in a very 
 wise and knowing manner. 
 
 " You'll come out at the top of the heap before I do, 
 will you?'' he soliloquized. "• It looks like it now, does 
 it not? You're not sharp enough to make your way in 
 this wicked Avorld, my innocent young friend. I was as 
 poor as you were yesterday morning, and now I've got 
 forty dollars to help me along. A tig for such fellows 
 as you! I am better off without you," 
 
 Guy, filled with rage and grief, picked up his cap and 
 made his way forward. Re fully realized now what it 
 
 \ 
 
GUY FINDS A FRIEND. 71 
 
 was to be adrift in the world. With no money in his 
 pocket, no friend to whom he coukl go for advice or 
 assistance, and with the prospect before him of being 
 put off the boat in a strange place and among strange 
 people, his situation was indeed a trying one. 
 
 He glanced into the steerage as he walked by the door, 
 but could not make up his mind to enter. It looked 
 gloomy in there, and the occupants stared at him so 
 rudely that he hurried on, anxious to get out of their 
 sight. 
 
 "A man is no man unless he has money in his 
 pocket," said the runaway to himself. "'Everybody is 
 down on me now, because I am broke. It beats me 
 where that purse could have gone so suddenly. I know 
 it was in my pocket last night when I hung up my 
 clothes, for I heard it strike against the bulk-head. If 
 it were not for that safe scraj^e I'd work my way home 
 on some vessel, take the whipping I know I'd get, and 
 settle down with the determination to behave myself. 
 But I shall never see home again, for I shall starve to 
 death. I brought no provisions v/ith me, and I can't 
 raise the money to buy a scat at the second table. I 
 sha'n't get a bite to eat until I reach Saginaw, and then 
 I shall have to beg it. " 
 
 A bright prospect this for the boy who had so con- 
 fidently expected to find nothing but fair weather and 
 plain sailing before him! Instead of leaving all his 
 troubles at home, he was running into others that he 
 had never dreamed of. 
 
 "■Here you are!" exclaimed a cheery voice at his 
 elbow. " Come in and take a bite with us." 
 
 Guy, who had been walking along with his eyes fast- 
 ened thojghtfull}^ on the deck, looked up and found 
 himself in front of an open door that led into the 
 quarters occupied by the crew of the projDeller, who 
 were engaged in eating their supper. In one corner of 
 the room was a huge mess-chest, which did duty as a 
 table, and the sailors sat around it, holding their plates 
 on their knees, 
 
72 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 Guy stopped and took a good look at the man wliose 
 voice had aroused him from his reverie, and recognized 
 him at once as one of the wheelsmen. He was a man 
 ratlier past the prime of life, with grizzly hair and 
 whiskers, and hands and face as brown as an Indian's. 
 Although he was somewhat better dressed than the ma- 
 jority of his companions, and had doubtless bestowed a 
 little pains upon his toilet before sitting down to sup- 
 per, he was a rough-looking fellow, but still there was 
 something in the mild blue eye which beamed from 
 under his shaggy brows that won Guy's heart at once. 
 
 ''^ You're the lad who lost his money, ain't you?" 
 continued the sailor. 
 
 " Yes, I am," replied Guy, almost ready to cry again. 
 
 '^Haven't you nary shot in tlie locker?" 
 
 "' Not one. I'm dead broke." 
 
 "Never mind," said the sailor kindly, seeing that 
 Guy's eyes were rapidly filling with tears. " I've known 
 many a man in my time in the same fix. Why, bless 
 you, when I was your age I used to think no more of it 
 than 1 did of eating my regular allowance of salt horse 
 or standing my trick at the wheel. Haven't had any 
 supper, have you ?" 
 
 " No; nor I can't get any, either." 
 
 "^ Yes, you can. AValk up to that table and call for 
 what yoi* want. We've four darkey waiters, but they've 
 all gone out to the galley after the plum-pudding. 
 They'll be in directly. When you have greased your 
 jaAv-tackle wdtli some of our turkey and other fine fix- 
 ings, tell us how you come to be out here so far from 
 shore without a cent in your pocket for ballast." 
 
 Guy understood the invitation thus conveyed, and did 
 not hesitate to accept it. He did not wait for the 
 darkies to come in with the plum-pudding, and neither 
 did he find "turkey and other fine fixings" on the 
 chest; but there was an abundant supply of good, 
 wholesome food, and Guy having found an empt}' plate 
 helped himself most bountifully. His spirits rose a 
 little as his appetite became somewhat appeased, and in 
 
GUY FIAWS A FRIEND. "J'S 
 
 compliance with the wheelsman's repeated request he 
 related the story of his loss, to which ever3'body listened 
 with interest. When he came to tell that the steward 
 had taken his room from him, and that the cajitain had 
 ordered that he mnst go ashore at the steamer's first 
 landing-place, he could scarcely restrain his tears. 
 
 After he had finished his narrative some of the sailors 
 questioned him in regard to his history, but when they 
 got through they knew no more than when they begun, 
 for Guy gave anything but truthful answers. The 
 wheelsman said nothing. He seemed to be thinking 
 busily. When he had laid aside his plate and filled a 
 short, black pij^e, which he drew from his pocket, he 
 beckoned to Guy, who followed him to the main deck. 
 
 " JSTow, then," said the wheelsman as he and the 
 runaway seated themselves beside an open gangway, out 
 of earshot of everybody, ''you say your name is John 
 Thomas. Mine's Dick Flint, and I'm glad to see you. 
 How are you ?" 
 
 "Well enough in body, but rather uncomfortable in 
 mind," replied Guy as he took the sailor's hand and 
 shook it cordially. " But, after all, 1 feel better than I 
 did an hour ago, for I've had something to eat." 
 
 " I know how it seems to be hungry," said the wheels- 
 man. "Xow, maybe you wouldn't lose nothing if you 
 was to tell me your plans. What are yon going to do 
 when you reach the AVestern country? Got any folks 
 there?" 
 
 "I have an uncle, as I have already told you," replied 
 Guy, "but I don't know where he is. Indeed, I 
 don't much care; for siiice I left Syracuse I have 
 changed my mind about trying to find him. I am going 
 to be a hunter and trapper. " 
 
 "You are!" exclaimed Flint, measuring the boy with 
 his eye. 
 
 " Yes. I am going out to the Eocky Mountains to 
 fight Indians and grizzly bears and make mjself famous. 
 There's plenty of fun and excitement to be found in 
 that life, and I have always wanted to follow it." 
 
74 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 ' ' If it is excitement you are after you had better go 
 to sea. You'll find it there, take my word for it. I 
 don't know anything about this hunting business, but 
 you'll need guns and traps, won't you? And how are 
 you going to get them with your locker empty?" 
 
 ''Yes, I shall need at least three hundred dollars; but 
 where it is to come from I don't know. I must go to 
 work and earn it somehow." 
 
 " Did you ever follow any kind of business?" 
 
 "No; I have been to school all my life." 
 
 " AVell, you had better go a-sailoring with me. You 
 can earn the money you want in that way. You see, I 
 don't run here on the lakes — I belong outside." 
 
 " Outside?" repeated Guy. 
 
 "Yes, out on the ocean. I have sailed the blue 
 water, man and boy, for thirty-five years, and if I live I 
 exj)ect to sail it thirty-five more. I left an old mother 
 in Ohio when I went to sea — I ran away from her, like a 
 fool as I was — and for twenty years I never heard from 
 her. At last I found myself in Boston with a few hun- 
 dreds in my pocket, and I thought I would go back to 
 the old place, and, if my mother was still above hatches, 
 the money I had saved would make her comfortable for 
 the rest of her days. But I didn't find her," said Flint, 
 while a sorrowful expression settled on his face — "never 
 had a chance to tell her how sorry I was that I had 
 treated her so, and that if she would forgive me and 
 own me as her son once more I would try and make up 
 for it. She had been under the sod ten years, and the 
 old place was in the hands of strangers. Nobody knew 
 me or ever heard of me. Of course I couldn't stay 
 there, and hearing that there was a schooner in Chicago 
 loading for Liverpool, I went up and engaged a 
 berth on her. Finding that she wasn't ready to sail, I 
 shipped as wheelsman in this tub to go one trip to Buf- 
 falo and back. The schooner will be off the Avays and 
 have her cargo aboard by the time we get there, and if 
 you say the word maybe I can work you in as cabin-boy 
 or something." 
 
GC/V FTNDS A FRIEND. 75 
 
 '' But you forget that I must leave this boat at Sagi- 
 naw," said Guy. 
 
 '' No, I don't. There's more'n one way to get around 
 that. Will you go? That's what I Avant to know?" 
 
 " I will, and I am under great obligations to you for 
 the offer." 
 
 " Belay that," said the sailor. " I know what it is to 
 be without money or friends — I am used to it, but you 
 ain't, I can see that plain enough, and I want to help 
 YOU out. Now about your money — when did you see it 
 last?" 
 
 The loss of the 2)urse was a matter that the wheels- 
 man inquired into very particularly. He questioned 
 Guy closely for ten minutes, and having finished his 
 pipe, knocked the ashes from it and arose to his feet. 
 
 "I must go on watch now," said he. " When you 
 get ready to go to bed, tumble into my bunk. There's 
 room enough in it for both of us, and any of the boys 
 will show you where it is. Keep up a good heart and 
 you'll come out all right. I'll make a sailor man of 
 you." 
 
 Flint walked off, leaving Guy sitting silent and 
 thougbtful. His mind was relieved of a great load of 
 anxiety, for he had found somebody to lean upon. And 
 this new friend was more to his liking than the one he 
 had lost, for he had more confidence in him. Having 
 been a wanderer upon the face of the earth for thirty- 
 five years, Flint of course knew all about his position 
 and was fully competent to give advice in any emer- 
 gency. But still there was one objection to him. Guy 
 would have thought more of him if he had been a hun- 
 ter instead of a sea-faring man. He did not want to go 
 before the mast for he was too firmly wedded to his idea 
 of living in the woods. He had thought and dreamed 
 of it for years, and he clung to it still. 
 
 "This sailoring will be a merely temporary business," 
 thought Guy, " and perhaps it is after all the best thing 
 I could do. I am well enough acquainted with city life 
 to know that I can't make much money at anything just 
 
76 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 now, having no trade or profession. The only course 
 open to me is to go into a store or office, and there I 
 could command but three or four dollars a week, out of 
 which I should have to pay my board, so I could not 
 save anything. I may be able to earn eight or ten dol- 
 lars a month as cabin-boy, and as I shall be under no 
 expense for board of course I shall have all my money 
 at the end of the voyage. Besides, while I am earning 
 the three hundred dollars I need, I shall be getting used 
 to hard fare and hard weather, and consequently I shall 
 be in better condition to begin my career as a hunter. I 
 shall adopt Flint's plan, for I don't think I could do 
 better." 
 
 Having come to this conclusion Guy made his way to 
 the sailors' quarters and went to bed in a very happy 
 frame of mind. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE BUCKSKIX PURSE. 
 
 UEING the next two days Guy was as light 
 of heart as a boy could possibly be. He 
 messed and bunked Avith the sailors, and soon 
 ] eg'un to feel so much at home among them 
 that he would not have gone back into the cabin if he 
 had been allowed the privilege. It is true he sometimes 
 told himself that these unkempt, swaggering fellows in 
 blue flannel shirts and canvas trousers were not just the 
 !3ort of men that he had been in the habit of associating 
 with at home. But after all he cared very little for 
 that. He expected to mingle with rough characters and 
 lead a rough life all his days, and the sooner he com- 
 menced the sooner he would get used to it. 
 
 He saw the steward occasionally, but that worthy 
 never noticed him. He knew of course that Guy could 
 not leave the steamer until she made a landing, and if 
 in the meantime the crew were disposed to take him and 
 care for him, it was no concern of his. All he wanted 
 of Guy was to keep away from that part of the vessel 
 devoted to the use of the cabin passengers. 
 
 Guy also saw Bob Walker every day, but never spoke 
 to him. Indeed he was not allowed an opportunity, for 
 whenever Bob caught a glimpse of him he would throw 
 up his head, stick his cigar (and he always had one in 
 his mouth) up toward his right cheek, and walk off 
 with all the indei^endence imaginable. This always 
 made Guy very angry. 
 
 " He thinks he is some, but he'll be glad to sulk away 
 and hide himself before we reach Chicago," soliloquized 
 Guy. " He smokes at least ten or a dozen cigars every 
 day; and twelve cigars at ten cents each amount to a 
 dollar and twenty cents — in two days, two dollars and 
 
-^8 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 forty cents. He told me he didn^t have half a dollar in 
 his pocket; and if that was the truth, where does he get 
 those cigars? I don't wonder Flint suspects him. I 
 would have suspected him myself if I had been sharp." 
 
 On the evening of the fourth day after leaving Nor- 
 wall, Flint hurried into the crew's quarters, where Guy 
 was dreaming away the time in his bunk, and shook him 
 roughly by the shoulder. 
 
 " Eoll out now," said he. 'SSaginaw is close by. 
 We shall be alongside the pier in half an hour, and you 
 must be ready to get off. Where's your dunnage?" 
 
 " Here it is," said Guy, pulling his valise and bundle 
 out of an empty berth. 
 
 "^What have you got in that carpet-sack? I heard 
 something rattle, and you lift it as though it was 
 heavy. " 
 
 "So it is. I've got my hunting equipments in here." 
 
 '■'■ Eoll 'em out, and let's have a look at 'em." 
 
 Guy accordingly produced the key and unlocked his 
 valise. The sailor looked into it, examined the con- 
 tents, and said: 
 
 " You can't take them things on board ship with you, 
 and you might as well get rid of them one time as 
 another. Chuck 'em overboard." 
 
 Guy was astonished, and at first felt like flatly refus- 
 ing to obey the order. He had been to considerable 
 trouble and some expense to collect the articles compris- 
 ing the outfit, and he could not bear to part with them. 
 But after a little reflection he thought better of it, and 
 gathering them all up in his arms, "he went to the door, 
 looked up and down the deck to make sure that there 
 was no one in sight, and threw them into the water. 
 
 The hunting-knife, on the handle of which he had 
 intended to score a notch for every grizzly bear he 
 "rubbed ont;" the lead, which, melted into bullets, was 
 to have created such havoc among the buffaloes and 
 antelopes of the prairie; the traps that were to have 
 made him rich and famous — all went down among the 
 fishes. The rubber blankets alone remained afloat, and 
 
THE BUCKSKIN- PURSE. 79 
 
 after giving a melanclioly flap or two, as if bidding him 
 farewell, faded from his view in the fast-gathering 
 twilight, 
 
 " Now," said the wheelsman, when Guy came back to 
 him, "what's in that bundle? Your clothes? "Well, 
 put 'em into your carpet-sack, and while you're doing it, 
 listen to what I have to say. I must talk fast, for both 
 me and my partner have to be at the wheel when we 
 make a landing. By the time we reach the pier it will 
 be pitch dark. As soon as the gang-j^lank is out, take 
 your dunnage and go ashore. Follow a long wood-pile 
 which you will find on the pier until you come to the 
 shore end of it, and then round to and come back to the 
 propeller on the opposite side. Do you understand? I 
 shall be relieved from the wheel by that time, and I'll be 
 standing on deck last over the after gangway. You'll 
 see me, and you must keej watch of me, too, for when 
 the coast is clear I'll wave my hat, and you must run up 
 the gang-plank and dodge into tne engineers' locker. 
 You know where that :s,- don't you?" 
 
 " Yes; but what will tne engineers say if they see me 
 going in?" 
 
 " Nothing. I've talked it all over with them, and they 
 said I might stow you away in there. They're sorry for 
 you because you lost your money. Behind the door of 
 the locker you'll find a chest with a blanket and pillow 
 in it, and all you've got to do is to turn in and keep still. 
 You can lay there as snug as a bug in a rug, for nobody 
 except the engineers ever goes near that locker, and they 
 won't bother you." 
 
 "Flint!"" shouted the mate on watch at this moment. 
 
 "Ay, ay, sir!" answered the saiior. "I must go to 
 the wheel now. Can you rememcer what I have said?" 
 
 "Yes, I can," replied Guy. 
 
 ^' Be careful that no one sees you when you come 
 aboard," said Flint earnestly, "or you'll get me and the 
 engineer in hot water." 
 
 So saying, the wheelsman hurried away, and Guy sat 
 down on one of the bunks near the door to wait until 
 
80 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 the propeller reached the shore. 8he had scarcely 
 touched the pier when the steward came up. 
 
 ''Ah, here you are!" he exclaimed, slapping Guy 
 familiarly on the shoulder. " I have been looking for 
 you. It is time you were making yourself scarce about 
 here." 
 
 " I am going as soon as the gang-plank is shoved out/' 
 rejilied Guy. 
 
 " But I want to Kee you go. I am well posted in the 
 tricks of you dead-beats, and can't be fooled easy. Come 
 on. That isn't all your baggage," he added as Guy 
 picked up his valise. " You had a bundle when you 
 came on board." 
 
 "If you are better acquainted with my business than 
 I am, you had better attend to it," replied the boy, who 
 did not like the steward's domineering tone. '•' I guess 
 I know what I am doing." 
 
 He pushed past the officer as he spoke, and started 
 down the stairs. On the way he met with Bob AA'alker, 
 who was loitering around on purpose to see him oif. 
 
 Bob winked at the steward and nodded familiarly to 
 Guy, who returned the recognition with a savage scowl. 
 When the latter disappeared down the stairs. Bob seated 
 himself on the railing, and drawing a buckskin purse 
 from his pocket, shook it in his closed hands, and 
 smiled complacently. If one might judge by the loud 
 jingling of its contents, the purse was well filled. 
 
 '*' Now, my young boy," said the steward, when he and 
 Guy had descended the gang-plank that led to the pier, 
 "I shall stand here until I see* you safely ashore. 
 Good-by, and the next time you start out on your 
 travels, be sure you've got money in your pocket." 
 
 Guy bolted oif without saying a word in reply. The 
 extraordinary interest the steward took in his move- 
 ments was something he had not bargained for, and he 
 was very much afraid that he might not succeed in re- 
 turning to the steamer without being seen by him or 
 some one else who would order him asliore again. 
 
 AVhat could he do in that case? tSaginaw^ what little 
 
THE BUCKSKIN PURSE. 81 
 
 he was able to see of it by the aid of the light from the 
 lanterns and torches on the pier, was not a cheerful- 
 looking place. More than that, he did not know a 
 soul there; and where could he go to pass the night and 
 find a breakfast the next morning? The only friend he 
 had that side of N orwall was the wheelsman, and sooner 
 than lose him he would do something desperate. 
 
 Casting his eye over his shoulder occasionally, he saw 
 that the steward was not only keeping watch of him, 
 but that he was following him to see that he went 
 ashore. 
 
 There were two others watching him also — Bob 
 Walker, who was perched upon the rail, and Dick 
 Flint, who stood at the foot of the stairs leading to the 
 wheel-house. 
 
 '^ Bob is very anxious to see the last of me," said Guy 
 to himself, "and that, in my opinion, is another proof 
 that he stole my money. But he isn't as smart as he 
 thinks he is, and neither is the steward. With Flint's 
 help I can fool tnem both. There's no use in spoiling 
 things by being in too great a hurry. The crew are 
 getting ready to wood-up, so I shall have plenty of 
 time." 
 
 Guy made his way along the wood-pile, but when he 
 reached the end of it he could not " round to and come 
 up on the other side," as the sailor had told him to do, 
 so he kept straight ahead, and having reached the shore, 
 stopped in the shadow of a warehouse. Neither Bob 
 nor the steward could see him there, but as the pier and 
 the steamer were brilliantly lighted up, he could observe 
 their every movement. 
 
 He saw the steward, who had followed him to the end 
 of the wood-pile, gaze steadily at the warehouse for a 
 few minutes, and then turn about, go back to the pro- 
 peller, and disappear in the gangway. Bob also left his 
 perch after a little delay, and that was a signal to Guy 
 to bestir himself. 
 
 He ran quickly down the bank to the pier, and throw- 
 ing himself on his hands and knees behind the wood- 
 
S2 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 pile^ made his way toward the steamer, dragging his 
 valise after him. In a few seconds more he was crouch- 
 ing close at the edge of the pier, waiting impatiently for 
 a sign from Dick Flint, who was Avalking slowly up and 
 down the deck. 
 
 Bob Walker, having seen Guy disappear behind the 
 warehouse, drew a long breath of relief, and j^ulled a 
 fresh cigar from his jiocket. 
 
 "He has gone at last,'*' said he, and I am safe. His 
 presence for the last three days has been a perfect tor- 
 ture to me; but from this time forward I shall stand in 
 no fear of discovery. There comes the steward, and I 
 might as well have a glass of ale,^" 
 
 I3ob was very observing, and the Queen of the Lakes 
 iiad not been many hours out of tlie port of Norwall be- 
 fore he began to learn something. He noticed that 
 there were two or three gentlemen among the cabin 
 passengers who made regular hourly visits to some 
 2)lace abaft the cabin, and that when they came back 
 they were either smoking fragrant cigars or wiping 
 their lips as if they had something good to eat or drink. 
 Bob made it his business to follow them on one of their 
 excursions, and found that tliey stopped in front of a 
 little bar kept by +):e steward. After that Bob went 
 there on his own responsibility, and became one of the 
 best customers at the bar. As he always paid for Avhat 
 he got, and seemed to have plenty of money, the stew- 
 ard cultivated his acquaintance, and was ready to serve 
 him with a cigar or a glass of ale at any hour of the day 
 or night. 
 
 On this particular evening, as Bob made his way aft, 
 a sailor followed him at a respectful distance. While 
 he stood at the bar, the man, Avho Avas partially con- 
 cealed behind a stanchion, took off his hat and waved it 
 once or twice in the air, whereupon a figure which was 
 crouching at the end of the wood-i)ile sprung up and 
 darted into the gangway like a flash. It Avas Guy 
 Harris. 
 
 Kapid as his movements Avere, hoAvever, he did not 
 
THE BUCKSKIN- rURSE. S3 
 
 succeed in entering the gangway without cliscoveiT; 
 for Bob, having received some change from the steward, 
 Avho at once closed the bar and went off, faced about, 
 and while putting the money away in his purse, haj^- 
 pened to cast his eye toward the j)ier just in time to see 
 Guy jumjD up from behind the wood-pile. He thought 
 he recognized him, and to make sure of it leaned quickly 
 over the side and obtained a good view of him. 
 
 "Now that plan won't Avork, my young friend," he 
 exclaimed, and so astonished was he that he spoke the 
 vrords aloud. '"'It will never do to let you stay here. 
 I'll have you put off again before you are five minutes 
 older." 
 
 Bob hastily put the purse into his pocket and Avas 
 hurrying forward Avhen he found himself brought to a 
 stand-still by a burly fellow who suddenly stepped before 
 him and blocked up his path. 
 
 " Hold hard there!''' said the latter. •"' AMiej-e are you 
 going?" 
 
 "^ I want to find the steward,'' ansAvered Bob, trying 
 to crowd by the sailor. 
 
 " Hold hard there, I say I" repeated the man, seizing 
 Bob by the collar and pushing him back. " What do 
 you Avant to see the steAvard for ?" 
 
 ''What's that to you, 3'ou insolent felloAv? Let me 
 pass, and don't dare put your hand on me again. If 
 you do, I Avill report you to the captain." 
 
 "Oh, you Avill, Avill you? Come on, there's the old 
 man on the pier." 
 
 Flint, for it Avas he, linked his braAvny arm through 
 Bob's and made a motion to pull him toward the stairs, 
 but the boy drcAv back, 
 
 " Why don't you come on?" cried the Avheelsman. 
 "I thought you wanted to report me to the ca]3'n. 
 What have you got to say to the steAvard, I ask you ?" 
 
 " There's a felloAv beloAV who is going to steal a ride 
 to Chicago," replied Bob, alarmed at the man's tone 
 and manner. 
 
 "No, he hain't," said Flint. "He's only come back 
 to get his money. Hand it out here." 
 
84 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 Bob's assurance was pretty well frightened out of him 
 by these words. His secret was not safe after all. He 
 made a strong effort to keep up his courage. 
 
 " Hand what out?" he asked, trying to assume a look 
 of injured innocence. 
 
 "Oh, you don't know nothing about it, do you? I 
 want that buckskin purse that you just put into your 
 pocket. There's fifteen dollars in it, or ought to be, 
 and you stole it from your room-mate on the lirst night 
 out from ISTorwall. Hand it over, I say." 
 
 " I didn't steal anj^ money. You didn't see me put 
 any buckskin purse into my pocket, and I haven't got 
 any, either. The best thing you can do is to let me 
 pass. " 
 
 *' You needn't put on no frills with me, 'cause they 
 won't go down. You didn't know that the curtain of 
 the window of your state-room was ujo that night, did 
 you? You didn't think I saw you when you took that 
 purse out of your room-mate's pocket, did you? Well, 
 I did; and I heard you tell him when he asked you what 
 you Avere doing, that you had been out on deck to see 
 how things were going on, and that it was raining 
 buckets and blowing great guns butt-end foremost. 
 Aha!" he added, seeing that an expression of unbounded 
 astonishment overspread Bob's pale face. " I know all 
 about it, don't I? I stood here, too, while you were 
 loafing at that bar, and saw you take that same purse 
 from your pocket and pay for a glass of something out 
 of it. And there it is, right there," said Flint, making 
 a sudden dash at the boy's pocket and clutching it and 
 its contents with a firm grasp. "^ Now hand it out 
 without no more words, or I'll walk you down to the 
 old man and have you locked up for a thief. 1 sha'n't 
 ask you again." 
 
 Bob was utterly confounded. The conversation be- 
 tween him and Guy on the first night out had taken 
 place just as the sailor had repeated it, and that was the 
 time he had stolen the purse from his friend's jjocket. 
 But how in the world could the theft have been found 
 
THE BUCKSKIN PURSE. 85 
 
 out? Guy did not see him take the money, for he was 
 asleep. Beyond a doubt Flint told the truth when he 
 said that he had observed the whole proceeding. Over- 
 come with fear and rage Bob could not speak. Mistak- 
 ing his silence for obstinac}', the wheelsman seized him 
 by the collar and began dragging him toward the stairs, 
 intending to take him before the caj)tain. Then Bob 
 found his tongue very speedily. 
 
 '' Hold OTi," he cried. '' If I give you the money will 
 you promise that you won't blow on me?" 
 
 "I'll keep still if you do; but if I hear you lisp a word 
 about a fellow's trying to steal a ride to Chicago I'll have 
 you locked up as sure as you're alive. Now," he added, 
 as Bob placed the purse in his hands, "how much have 
 you spent out of it?" 
 
 "Just ten cents.''' 
 
 "Well, hand it out here. I must have fifteen dollars. 
 ISTot a red less will satisfy me." 
 
 " I have nothing smaller than a dollar." 
 
 " Then give me that. I'll take it for interest." 
 
 Bob did not dare refuse. He gave the money to the 
 wheelsman, Avho said, as he put it away in the purse: 
 
 " IS'ow go into your room, and don't show your face on 
 deck again until this vessel is well under way. Keep a 
 still tongue in your head and I'll do the same." 
 
 Bob, glad enough to get out of the man's sight, at 
 once started for the cabin. Flint watched him out of 
 sight and then rolled otf toward the wheel-house, wink- 
 ing and nodding his head as if he were highly gratified 
 at what he had done. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHAT BOB FOUND IN CHICAGO. 
 
 UY HAVING, as he supposed, made his way 
 on board the propeller without being seen by 
 anybody, ran with all possible speed toward 
 the engine-room, keeping a good lookout on 
 all sides for fear of meeting the steward who, as he had 
 learned to his cost, had a way of turning up most unex- 
 pectedly. That officer was not in sight, however, but 
 somebody else was, as Guy found when he entered the 
 engineer's room. It was the striker, who was busy oiling 
 the machinery. 
 
 The runaway stopped, undecided what to do. The 
 man, hearing the sound of his footstejis, looked up, and 
 after casting his eyes all about him, nodded encourag- 
 ingly, and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder 
 toward the door of the locker, Avhich stood invitingly 
 open. This reassured Guy, who started forward again, 
 and in less time than it takes to tell it, was snugly curled 
 away in the box behind the door. 
 
 The engineer came in soon afterward to put away his 
 oil can, and when he went out he locked the door after 
 him. 
 
 Guy felt perfectly safe then, and told himself that 
 there was no danger of discovery. No one came near the 
 locker until the propeller was well out from Saginaw, 
 and then Flint appeared, carrying under his arm a 
 bundle wrapped up in a newspaper. 
 
 '^' Well, our plans worked all right, didn't they?" said 
 he, and he seemed as highly elated as Guy himself. 
 ''You couldn't have a better hiding-place than this. 
 The steward would never think of looking for you here. 
 
IVHA T BOB FOUND IN CHICAGO. 87 
 
 even if he knew you were on board, which he doesn't. 
 There's only one in the secret beside me and the 
 engineers, and that's the friend who stole your money." 
 
 "Bob Walker!" gasped Guy. "How did he find it 
 out?" 
 
 "Pie saw you when you came aboard." 
 
 " Then my cak 3 is all dough," said Guy in great 
 alarm. " He'll blow on me sure." 
 
 " I'll risk him, and insure his silence for a dime," re- 
 turned Flint. "He's afraid of me, and he'd better be; 
 for if I hear of his trying to get you into trouble, I'll 
 have him before the cap'n in less time than he could say 
 ' hard a port' with his mouth open. Here's your purse. 
 I knev/ he had it." 
 
 "Flint, you're a good fellow," said Guy, so overjoyed 
 that he could not speak plainly. "' I never can repay 
 you. How did you get it?" 
 
 " I saw him have it in his hand, and scared it out of 
 him. I made him believe that I was looking through 
 the window when he took it out of your pocket, and told 
 him that if he didn't hand it over, I'd have him locked 
 up. He spent ten cents of the money, but I made him 
 give me a dollar, so you've got ninety cents for interest. 
 Here's some bread and cokl meat I brought you," said 
 Flint as he deposited his bundle in one corner of the 
 chest. " You will have to live on it until we reach 
 Chicago, for it won't be safe for me to come here very 
 often. Somebody might see me. You can Avalk aroujid 
 a little of nights, but don't show your face outside the 
 locker in the day-time. Good-by." 
 
 " Now that's a friend worth having," said Guy to him- 
 self, after the wheelsman had gone out. " Nobody need 
 tell me again that it is such hard work to get on in the 
 world. It's sheer nonsense. One can always find some- 
 body to lend him a helping hand. I am as comfortable 
 as I care to be, and wouldn't go home if I had the 
 chance. I am my own m.aster, and can do as I please 
 without asking anybody's permission. I only wish Flint 
 was a hunter instead of a sailor." 
 
88 GUY HAkRIS. 
 
 While these thoughts were passing through Guy's 
 mind, he was rummaging about in the chest (it was as 
 dark as a pocket in the locker), searching for tlie bundle 
 Flint had left. Having found it, he ate a few slices of 
 the bread and meat, and then pulling the blankets over 
 his head, curled up and went to sleep. 
 
 Before twenty-four hours had passed over his head 
 Guy found occasion to change his mind in regard to 
 some things. He learned that it was exactly the re- 
 verse of comfortable to be shut up in such close quar- 
 ters. He grew weary of this confinement, and longed 
 to get out where he could see what was going on; but 
 he followed Flint's instructions to the very letter. He 
 ventured out occasionally at night for five or ten minutes, 
 hut during the day remained closely concealed, passing 
 the time in sleeping and pacing up and down his nar- 
 row prison. While he was taking his exercise he was 
 always on the alert, and the moment a key was inserted 
 into the lock or a hand placed upon the door-knob, he 
 would jump into his box and cover himself up with the 
 blankets. Three days and nights were spent in this way, 
 and then Flint once more made his appearance. 
 
 " It's all right now, my hearty," said he cheerfully. 
 " We'll be in Chicago in another hour, and you mustn't 
 waste any time in getting off after the boat is made 
 fast, for I sha'n't breathe easy until I know you are 
 safe ashore." 
 
 ^'^ Does anybody suspect anything?" asked Guy anx- 
 iously. 
 
 "Nobody except that friend of yours. He hasn't 
 said a word, and it is just as well for him that he didn't; 
 but he's been all over the steamer a dozen times looking 
 for you. How have you enjoyed yourself, anyhow? 
 Grub all gone yet?" 
 
 " Yes; and I'm as hungry as a wolf." 
 
 " Never mind; we'll have a good supper before long. 
 Be careful that no one sees you when you go off the 
 boat." 
 
 With this piece of advice Flint went out, and Guy, 
 
IVMA T BOB BOUN-D IM CHICAGO. 89 
 
 having placed liis ralise close at hand, walked impa- 
 tiently up and down the locker, waiting for the propeller 
 to make the landing. 
 
 Time moves on laggard wings when one is in a hnrry, 
 and Guy thought he had never passed so long an hour 
 before; but at last the engineer's bell rang, the jarring 
 and rocking of the boat subsided into a gentle, gliding 
 motion, the capstan overhead began to groan and rattle, 
 and finally a heavy bump or two announced that the 
 wharf had been reached. Guy heard the men come 
 down to shove out the gang-j^lank, and at the same 
 moment one of the engineers pushed open the door of 
 the locker and nodded to him- — a signal previously 
 agreed upon between him and Flint that the coast was 
 clear. 
 
 Guy picked up his valise and ran quickly through the 
 engine-room, but when he came within sight of the 
 gangway he saw that the propeller was still moving 
 ahead, and that the gang-plank had not yet been pushed 
 out. More than that, his own enemy, the steward, was 
 com.ing slowly dov/n the stairs, and Guy caught sight of 
 him just in time to avoid discovery by dodging into a 
 dark passage-way. 
 
 As soon as the steamer's headway was checked by the 
 lines the gang-plank was shoved out, and a man on the 
 pier, who had been waiting for an oi:)portunity to come on 
 board, ran up and was cordially greeted by the steward. 
 
 "Halloo, Boyle!" exclaimed the officer as the two met 
 at the foot of the stairs, "what do you want here? Are 
 you looking for anybody?" 
 
 "Yes, I am," replied the man. 
 
 " It isn't me, is it?" asked the steward with a laugh. 
 
 "No, not this time. I am after a couple of boys who 
 are supposed to have taken passage on this steamer from 
 JSTorwall. Good-looking young fellows they are, I judge 
 from the description I have of them. One is tall and 
 slender, with light hair and blue eyes, is dressed in black 
 and wears a straw hat. His name is Guy Harris." 
 
 "Great Scott!" thought the listening runaway, it is 
 all over with me now." 
 
90 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 ^'\ don't know any boy of that name/' replied the 
 steward, '' but we certainly had one aboard who an- 
 swered to that description. He got off at Saginaw, or 
 rather, we put him off because he had no money. AVhat 
 is the matter?" 
 
 '*^ Nothing, only these two young rascals have run 
 away from home, and 1 am directed to detain them until 
 their fathers arrive — that's all. Harris got off at Sagi- 
 naw, you say? I don't care; his father is rich, I hear, 
 and the more trouble I have to catch him the more 
 money I shall make. The other is short and thickset, 
 with black hair and eyes, wears a blue beaver overcoat, 
 carries a small black valise, and is much given to smok- 
 ing good cigars. His name is Robert Walker." 
 
 " I don't know him by that name, but there is such a 
 boy onboard, and here he comes now," said the steward, 
 as the sound of footsteps was heard at the top of the 
 stairs. 
 
 The steward and his companion turned their backs 
 and appeared to be very deeply interested in something 
 that was occurring on the wharf, while Guy, trembling 
 with excitement and alarm, drew himself into as small 
 a compass as possible, and waited to see what was going 
 to happen. He was in momentary fear of discovery, 
 for the two men were scarcely more than twenty feet 
 away, and must have seen him if they had once turned 
 their eyes in his direction. 
 
 The footsteps sounded nearer, and presently Bob 
 Walker appeared, smoking as usual. He carried his 
 valise in one hand, and the other, being thrust into the 
 pocket of his trousers, held back his overcoat so as to 
 show the gold watch-chain that hung across his vest. 
 
 He nodded familiarly to the steward, and was about 
 to joass down the gang-plank when he who had been ad- 
 dressed as Boyle suddenly turned and faced him. He 
 gave a stage start, opened his eyes to their widest ex- 
 tent, looked fixedly at the boy for a moment, and then 
 slowly extended his hand, greeting him with: 
 
 "Why, Bob, is it possible? How do you do? How 
 
' The fooisieps sounded nearer and presently Bob V^alkjer 
 appeared smoking ." 
 
9S GUY HARRIS. 
 
 do you do, Bob "Walker? How's your father and mother 
 and all the rest of the good people of Korwall? I 
 didn't expect to see you here. Give us a shake/' 
 
 Bob, taken completely by surprise, involuntarily ex- 
 tended his hand, but suddenly recollecting himself, as 
 quickly withdrew it. 
 
 '' I didn't expect to see you eithei'," said he; "but, as 
 it happens, you've made a mistake. My namo is 
 Wheeler." 
 
 Bob's attempt to appear easy and unconcerned was a 
 miserable failure. He knew who the man was, and 
 what brought him there, for he accidentally caught a 
 glimpse of something on the under side of the lappel of 
 his coat. It was a detective's shield! 
 
 Although his heart almost came up into his mouth, 
 he did not lose his courage. He tried to " brave it 
 out," but, of course, overdid the matter, and his be- 
 havior was enough to have removed the last doubt as to 
 his identity, had any existed in the mind of the de- 
 tective. 
 
 " And more than that," continued Bob, "' I don't live 
 in Norwall. My home is m Omaha. Good-evening I" 
 
 " G-'oof^-evening," said the detective. " jSTo offense, I 
 hope ?" 
 
 "None whatever," replied Bob politely. "We are 
 all liable to make mistakes." 
 
 " You don't hapj)en to have a good cigar about your 
 clothes, do you ?" said the officer. 
 
 Of course Bob had, for he was always well supplied, 
 and promptly produced one. 
 
 The detective put it between his teeth, and accept- 
 ing Bob's cigar, applied the lighted end to his own, and 
 puffed away until it was fairly started, all the while run- 
 ning his eye over the face and figure of the boy before 
 him. 
 
 " Thank you," said he; "we'll smoke as we go along. 
 If you are all ready, I am. I see you understand the 
 situation, so there's no use in wasting time in words. 
 Your father will be along some time to-morrow, and 
 
WHAT BOB FOUND IN CHICAGO. 93 
 
 any little explanations yon may want — why, he'll give 
 'em to you. I guess we had better be walking along 
 now." 
 
 " Haven't you instructions to arrest somebody else?" 
 asked Bob, with wonderful courage and self-possession. 
 
 '^ Yes; but he doesn't seem to be here. He was put 
 off at Saginaw." 
 
 " I know he was, but he didn't stay put off. He is 
 somewhere on this boat now." 
 
 " My graciousi" gasj)ed Guy, squeezing himself closer 
 against the bulk-head. 
 
 '^ Oh, you're mistaken," said the steward, with some 
 surprise in his tones. "I saAv him go off myself." 
 
 "And I saw him come back," insisted Bob. "He is 
 concealed somewhere among tlie cargo." 
 
 "Humph!" exclaimed the engineer, who, while he 
 pretended to be very busy rubbing down the machinery, 
 was listening to every word of the conversation. " How 
 could he live three days without a bite to eat or a drop 
 to drink?" 
 
 "That's easy enough done when one makes up his 
 mind to it," said Bob. " He's on this vessel, and I 
 know it. He is as deep in the mud as I am, and I don't 
 Avant to go back without him. Won't you look for him, 
 Mr. Officer?" 
 
 "No, I guess not," answered the detective, who put 
 more faith in the steward's story than he did in Bob's. 
 " I'll find him, sooner or later — you needn't worry about 
 that. We'd better go along now. Come on." 
 
 Bob might still have continued to argue the matter, 
 had not the detective taken him gently but firmly by the 
 arm and led him down the gang-plank. 
 
 Guy, from his place of concealment, watched him 
 until he disappeared in the darkness, and that was the 
 last he ever saw of him. 
 
 And what became of Bob after that? His adventures 
 would make a long story; but with them we have at 
 i:)resent nothing to do. It will be enough to say that he 
 went home with his father, who arrived in Chicago the 
 
94 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 next day; but he did not long remain with him. Al- 
 though he heard nothing to induce the belief that the 
 attempt he had made upon Mr. Harris' safe was known, 
 there were plenty who were acquainted with the fact that 
 he had run away from home, and that made him very 
 discontented. The war broke out shortly afterward, and 
 Bob went into the service, enlisting as landsman in the 
 Mississi|)pi squadz'on. 
 
 In two years, by bravery and sheer force of character 
 (it is not always the good who are prosperous, except in 
 novels), he raised himself to the rank of acting ensign, 
 and held the position of executive officer of one of the 
 finest " tin-clads " in the fleet. But he Avas not satisfied 
 with this. The evil in his nature was too strong to be 
 kept down, and with his captain he entered into a con- 
 spiracy to surrender his vessel to the rebels for a large 
 amount of cotton — some say four hundred and fifty 
 thousand dollars' worth. 
 
 Bob's conspiracy Avas defeated through the vigilance 
 of a young officer, whose name is known to but few, and 
 whose exploit, as far as I have been able to learn, was 
 never mentioned in the report of the Secretary of the 
 Navy. 
 
 Their villainous jDlot being discovered. Bob and his 
 commanding officer made their escape from the vessel 
 one dark night, and that was the last that was ever seen 
 of them. 
 
 Guy saw all that transpired, and listened to the con- 
 versation between Bob and the detective like one in a 
 dream. He now looked upon the temporary loss of his 
 money as a blessing in disguise, for had he paid his pas- 
 sage to Chicago his arrest would have been certain. But 
 he felt comparatively safe, for Boyle had been put on a 
 wrong scent. It would take him two or three days to go 
 to Saginaw and back, and by that time, if the schooner 
 was ready to sail, Guy and his fiiend would be miles on 
 their way toward the Atlantic Ocean, 
 
 So fearful was he, however, that the detective might 
 yet return and take him into custody, or that he might 
 
WHA T BOB FOUND IN CHICAGO. 95 
 
 be waiting on the wharf ready to receive him when he 
 came out, that Guy dared not leave his hiding-place. 
 
 He saw the steward go back up the stairs and the cabin 
 passengers come down and go ashore, but he did not 
 move until the engineer stepped up and tapped him on 
 the shoulder. 
 
 '''Look here, my friend," said he, Avith some impa- 
 tience in liis tone, *' we've done all we could for you, and 
 now you'd better be making tracks. We don't want you 
 here any longer." 
 
 The man's looks indicated very plainly that, if he did 
 not go off the boat of his own accord and at once, he 
 would be helped off, so G-uy lost no time in putting him- 
 self in motion. He caught \\]) his valise, and without 
 stopping to thank the engineer for his kindness in allow- 
 ing him to use his locker for a hiding-place during the 
 voyage, hurried down the gang-plank, and stopped in 
 the shadow of a building on the 023posite side of the 
 wharf. There he was safe from observation, and there 
 he remained until he saw the wheelsman come ashore 
 with his dunnage slung over his shoulder. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE BOARDIXG-HOUSE. 
 
 n, FLINT!" exclaimed Guy, running to meet 
 
 the sailor, '' you don't know how glad I am to 
 
 see you. I have had a narrow escape, I tell 
 
 you. I just got away from an officer who 
 
 captured Bob by the skin of my teeth." 
 
 With this introduction Guy began the story of his re- 
 cent adventure, to which his companion listened with all 
 his ears. He was surprised as well as delighted to hear 
 what had happened to Bob Walker, and hastened to calm 
 the fears of his young friend by assuring him that as long 
 as he followed in his (Flint's) wake he was in no danger. 
 In the first place, he would take him where no detective 
 would ever tliink of looking for him; and in the second, 
 they would remain in the city but a day or two at the 
 very furthest, and by the time Boyle could go to Saginaw 
 and back, they would be on their way to Liverpool and 
 safe from pursuit. 
 
 Flint fulfilled the first part of his promise by con- 
 ducting Guy to a sailors' boarding-house in an obscure 
 street, where they ate suj^per and took lodgings for the 
 night. After breakfast the next morning they set out 
 in company to call upon the agent, whose business it 
 was to ship the crew that was to man the schooner dur- 
 ing her voyage to Liverpool. They found him at his 
 office, and after listening to some astonishing stories 
 from Flint, who declared that Gu}"" understood his 
 business as cabin-boy, having just been discharged from 
 the propeller Queen of the Lakes, where he had served 
 in that capacity for the last two months, the agent was 
 finally induced to add the boy's name to the shipping 
 articles and pay him his advance. Then, after a visit 
 
THE BOARDING-HOUSE. 97 
 
 to a cheap clothing store, where Flint purchased an 
 outfit for Guy, they returned to the boarding-house 
 and thence made their way to their vessel, the Ossipee, 
 whicli was almost ready to sail. 
 
 During the first part of the voyage Cluy had but little 
 to complain of. Although he was kept busy all the 
 time, his duties were comparatively light, the officers 
 were kind, the food abundant and well cooked, and the 
 weather mild and agreeable. Guy even begun to think 
 that a career on the ocean-Avave was, after all, very pleas- 
 ant and desirable, and sometimes had serious thoughts 
 of abandoning his idea of becoming a hunter and spend- 
 ing the remainder of his days upon the water. But 
 even a sailor's life has its dark side, as he dis- 
 covered when they reached the Gulf of St. Lawrence. 
 During a violent gale the schooner sprung a leak, 
 and from that time until she reached a port in Nova 
 Scotia, into Avhich she put for rejDairs, Guy never 
 once closed his eyes in sleep. He was kept at the pumps 
 until every bone and muscle in his body ached with 
 fatigue, and when relieved from them it was only to 
 perform some otlier duty eqiially laborious. It was all 
 the creAV could do to keep the schooner afloat, and for 
 five long, dreary days Guy stood face to face with death 
 in one of its most api^alling shapes. 
 
 And what a change that storm made in the disposi- 
 tion of every man on board! The officers raved and 
 swore, and hastened obedience to their orders by threat- 
 ening to knock the men overboard with handspikes and 
 belaying pins. Guy, bewildered by the confusion and 
 noise, and frightened almost out of his senses by the 
 danger he was in, was forever getting into somebody's 
 way, and of course came in for the lion's share of abuse. 
 He was kicked and cufl:ed every hour in the day and 
 pushed about as if he had- no more feeling than the 
 freight which was so unceremoniously thrown over- 
 board. Once the mate ordered him to "lay ford and 
 lend a hand at the jib down-haul," and while Guy was 
 looking about to see which way to go, the officer picked 
 
98 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 up a rope and brought it clown across his shoulders with 
 a sounding whack. It might have fared hard with Guy 
 then had not Flint, who happened to overhear the 
 order, saved hira from further punishment by hurrying 
 forward and executing it for him. 
 
 Port was reached at last, and we can imagine how re- 
 lieved Guy was and with what feelings of delight he 
 listened to the speech the captain made to the crew, in 
 which he informed them that the vessel was so badly 
 damaged that she must go into the dry-docks again and 
 that the hands were to be discharged with three months' 
 pay. He packed up his dunnage with great alacrity, 
 and as he followed Flint over the side, declared that he 
 had seen enough of salt water to last him as long as he 
 lived, and that the rest of his life should be on shore. 
 
 "Why, you haven't seen anything of a sailor's life 
 yet," said his companion. " I know we've had rather a 
 rough time for the last week, but that's nothing. Of 
 course one must work if he goes to sea, and so he must 
 if he follows any other business. You'll see better times 
 when you are once fairly afloat." 
 
 "•' Bat just look at the danger," said Guy. 
 
 " Humjjh! look at the danger you're in now while you 
 are ashore," returned Flint. " Suppose, while we are 
 jDassing along this row of buildings, that a brick should 
 fall from one of the chimneys and strike you on the head! 
 Where would you be? Or suppose you should acci- 
 dentally put yourself in the path of a runaway horse! 
 Wouldn't you be in danger then? (The safest place in 
 the world is on shipboard. That's a sailor's doctrine." 
 
 "But it isn't my doctrine," said Guy. " And another 
 thing. I don't like to have a man swear at me and say 
 that for two cents he would throw me into the drink. 
 If I aiii to be cuffed and whipped and jawed every day 
 I might as well be — somewhere." 
 
 Guy was about to say that he might as well be at 
 home, for he had run away from it on purpose to escape 
 such discipline. He came very near exposing himself, 
 for he had told Flint that he had no home, and he 
 
THE BOARDI.VG-HOUSE. 99 
 
 knew that was the reason the sailor was so kind to him. 
 
 ''And don't you remember how that mate beat me 
 with a rope?" added Guy. "If you hadn't taken my 
 part he might have been pounding me yet, for I didn't 
 know where to go to find the jib down-haiih" 
 
 "Oh, that's nothing, "said Flint encouragingly. "A 
 boy who goes to sea may make up his mind to one thing, 
 and that is, he's going to get more kicks than ha'pence. 
 And it may not be his fault; but if he gets 'em after he 
 learns his duties, then it is his fault. You didn't see 
 me struck or hear anybody say he'd throw me overboard. 
 That's 'cause I know my business and 'tend to it. But 
 you will see better times after we get fairly afloat. 
 Halloo I let's go in here and see what's going on." 
 
 Flint's attention was attracted by the sound of voices 
 and shouts of laughter which issued from a very dingy- 
 looking building they were at that moment passing. 
 Guy glanced up at the sign and saw that it was a sailor's 
 boarding-house. 
 
 Flint opened the door that led into the public room, 
 and Guy followed him in. The boy did not like the 
 looks of the ajjartment, for it too vividly recalled to 
 his mind the quarters occupied by the steerage passen- 
 gers on board the Queen of the Lakes. It was not 
 much like the steerage in aj^pearance, but it Avas fully as 
 gloomy and uninviting. 
 
 One side of the room was occupied with tables and 
 chairs, and the other by a small bar, at which cheap 
 cigars and villainous liquors were kept for sale. The 
 floor was covered with sawdust, and littered with cigar 
 stumps and '' old soldiers," and the walls were discol- 
 ored iDy tobacco smoke, which filled the room almost to 
 suffocation. 
 
 A party of sailors were seated at one of the tables, en- 
 gaged in a game of "sell out," now and then laying 
 down their cards for a few seconds to bury their noses 
 in tumblers of hot punch, which they kept stowed away 
 on little shelves under the table. They looked uj) as 
 Flint and his companion entered, and a man who was 
 
100 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 standing behind the bar, and who seemed to be the pro- 
 prietor of the house, came forward to relieve them of 
 their bundles, and inquired what he could do for them. 
 
 " Can you grub and lodge us 'till we find a ship?" 
 asked Flint. 
 
 "Of course I can," said the proprietor. "This is 
 the very place to come. Supper will be ready in an 
 hour. Will you sit down by the stove and have a drop 
 of something warm?" 
 
 " I don't mind. We've had a rough time outside for 
 the last week, and hain't got warmed up yet." 
 
 The sailor and his young companion drew a couple of 
 chairs near the stove, and sat down, whereupon a short, 
 thickset man, who, seated in a remote corner of the 
 room, had been regarding them rather sharply ever 
 since they came in, arose and pulled his chair to Flint's 
 side. 
 
 ' ' Did you say you want to ship ?" he asked in a low 
 tone, at the same time casting a quick glance toward the 
 card players. 
 
 " Yes," replied the sailor, running his eye over the 
 man; "but we hain't in no hurry about it." 
 
 "Well, I am in a great hurry to raise a crew, and 
 should like to get one to-night. I am second mate of 
 the clipper Santa Maria, bound for Honolulu— forty 
 dollars advance. Better say you'll put your name down. 
 Best ship you ever sailed in, and you'll find every thing 
 lovely aboard her. The cap'n's a gentleman. Ask him 
 for a chaw of tobacco, and you'll hav(3 to mind your eye 
 or get knocked overboard with a whole plug of it, and 
 the mates ain't noiie of your loblolly boys neither. 
 What do you say?" 
 
 "Say no, mate," exclaimed one of the card players, 
 all of whom had paused in their game to hear M'iiat the 
 mate had to say to Flint. '* Don't go near the bloody 
 hooker." 
 
 " What's the matter with her?" asked Flint. 
 
 " Why, she's got a crew aboard she never discharges, 
 and who don't sign articles," answered the sailor. 
 
THE BOARDING-HOUSE. IQI 
 
 •' Then I guess I won't sliip," said Flinty picking up 
 his chair and moving it nearer the players. 
 
 " You'd better not. She's been trying for three days 
 to find a crew — the cap'n, both tlie mates, and all the 
 shipping agents in port have been running about the 
 streets looking for hands, but everybody who knows her 
 is shy of her. She has borne a hard name from the day 
 she was launched." 
 
 '''And all through just such fellows as you are!" 
 cried the mate, jumping to his feet, his face red with 
 anger. ''Don't I wish I had you with me just one 
 more voyage? I'd haze you until you Avere ready to 
 jump overboard." 
 
 "But you'll never have me with you another voyage," 
 said the sailor, with a laugh. " One cruise in the Santa 
 Maria is as much as I can stand. Ay, you had better 
 go!" he continued, as the mate buttoned his coat and 
 hurried toward the door. " You're no good here, and 
 you'll never raise a crew until you call on the sharks." 
 
 "Look out that I don't get you in that way, my 
 hearty," exclaimed the mate, as he slammed the door 
 behind him. 
 
 The sailors once more turned to their cards, and Flint 
 moved back beside Guy. At this moment the landlord 
 came up, bringing on a tray two glasses filled with some 
 steaming liquor. Flint took them off the tray and 
 placed them on the floor behind the stove. 
 
 "AVhat did that sailor mean when he said that the 
 Santa Maria had a crew who don't sign articles?" asked 
 Guy in a whisper. 
 
 " He meant ghosts," replied Flint. 
 
 " Ghosts?" repeated Guy. " Humph!" 
 
 " Hold on there, and don't say ' humph ' till you 
 know what you're talking about," said the sailor 
 sharply. 
 
 " Why, Flint, there are no such things. You surely 
 don't believe in them?" 
 
 "I surely do, though." 
 
 " You have never seen one." 
 
10$ GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "Avast there!" exclaimed Flint. 
 
 ''Have you, really? What did ic look like?" 
 
 ''They take different sliapes. I've seen them that 
 looked like rats, and I've seen 'em that looked like black 
 cats. Sometimes you can't see 'em at all, and them kind 
 is the worst, for they're the ones that talks. Once, when 
 I was a youngster, a little older than you, I sailed in a 
 ship out of Boston. One night it blew such a gale that it 
 took twenty-six of us to furl the mainsail, and we were 
 almost an hour in doing it, too. We lost one man over- 
 board while we were about it, and every night after that 
 when the order was given to lay aloft to loose or furl the 
 sails, we were certain to find Dave Curry there before us 
 working like a trooper. Oh, it's gospel," said Flint 
 earnestly, seeing that an expression of incredulity settled 
 on the face of his young companion; "'cause I saw him 
 often with my own eyes, and what I tell you I have seen, 
 you may put down as the truth. Shortly after that I 
 sailed in a brig whose bell every night when the mid- 
 watch was called struck four times, and no one ever 
 went near it." 
 
 "Who struck it then, if no one went near it?" de- 
 manded Guy, not yet convinced. 
 
 " The ghost of a quartermaster, and a man-o'-wars 
 man who was lost overboard when the brig made her first 
 cruise. The last voyage I made was in a ship bound 
 around the Cape. When the time came we begun to 
 prepare for bad weather by sending down the royal yards 
 and mast and getting in the flying- jib boom. One of 
 the hands was out on the boom and had just sung out, 
 'haul inl' wlien a sea broke over the bows and he was 
 never seen afterward. But every night we used to hear 
 him, as plain as I can hear myself s[)eaking now, calling 
 out as if he were tired of Avaiting, ' haul in I' We kept a 
 good lookout, but althougli we could never see any one, 
 we always heard the voice. What are you looking at 
 them glasses so steady for? You don't want to drink 
 that stuff, do you?" 
 
 " No; I drink nothing stronger than beer." 
 
THE BOARDING-HOUSE. 103 
 
 *' And if you know when you are well off you will let 
 that alone/' said Flint earnestly. "It never does no- 
 body no good. It takes your money as fast as you can 
 earn it, and gets you into scrapes. I know by experi- 
 ence." 
 
 "Why don't you empty one of the glasses?" asked 
 Guy. 
 
 " Do you think Fm fool enough to drink anything in 
 this house?" inquired Flint, in a low whisper. " Didn't 
 you hear that fellow tell the mute that he'd never ship a 
 crew till he got the sharks to help him." 
 
 "Yes, but I don't know what he means." 
 
 "You never saw a two-legged shark, did you?" 
 
 "No, I never did." 
 
 "Well, there's one," said Flint, jerking his thumb 
 over his shoulder toward the bar. 
 
 "Who? Where? You don't mean the landlord?" 
 
 " Don't I, though? I don't meau nobody else. I can 
 tell one of them fellows as far as I can see him. He'll 
 have a crew for the Santa Maria before many hours, now 
 you see if he don't. That's Avhat he's up to, and that's 
 why I don't drink the stuff in that glass. Them fellows 
 playing cards are all fools. They'll be out of sight of 
 land some fine morning, now you see if they don't — to- 
 morrow may be." 
 
 Flint settled back in his chair, nursed his right leg, 
 and winked knowingly at Guy. 
 
 "I don't understand," said the boy. "They Avon't 
 ship aboard the Santa Maria, will they?" 
 
 "Yes, they will." 
 
 "They needn't do it unless they choose." 
 
 "Ah! needn't they though? That shows all you 
 know. You see the landlord is keeping them here by 
 dosing 'em with something strong— a sailor is always 
 ready to stay where he can get plenty to drink — and by 
 the time it comes dark they'll be half-seas over. Then 
 the landlord will drug 'em to sleep by imtting something 
 in their drinks, and get help and carry them aboard the 
 Santa Maria. By the time they get their senses again 
 they'll be miles away." 
 
104 GUY HARRIS 
 
 " But tlie}^ can't do duty if tliey're drugged/' said 
 Guy. 
 
 " No matter. If tliey can't do duty to-day they can 
 to-morrow, and the cap'n '11 take 'em so long as they ain't 
 dead." 
 
 " Let's get away from here and go somewhere else," 
 said Guy in great alarm. ''I don't want to stay with 
 such a man. I'm afraid of him." 
 
 " Well, yon needn't be. All we've got to do is to keep 
 clear heads on our shoulders, and we're all right. Just 
 bear one thing in mind. As long as you stay in this 
 house don't drink nothing, not even water." 
 
 " Supper I" cried the landlord at this moment. " Walk 
 right into the dining-room, boys. Why, what's the 
 matter, mates?" he added, glancing from Flint and his 
 companion to the untasted glasses on the floor; ''don't 
 they suit you?" 
 
 " No; they're too stiff and got too much sugar in 
 'em." 
 
 " Then step right up to the bar and let me mix you 
 another glass. It sha'n't cost you a cent." 
 
 ''Never mind now," said Flint. "We'll wait until 
 after supper." 
 
 Guy, who had not had a square meal for a week, was 
 delighted to find himself seated at a well-filled table 
 once more. He fell to work in good earnest and made 
 ample amends for his long fast. There were two draw- 
 backs to the full enjoyment of the meal, and one was, 
 he could not drink anything. Forgetting himself on 
 several occasions he raised his cup of ^coffee to his lips, 
 but being checked by a look or a sly nudge from Flint, 
 always put it down untasted. The other drawback was 
 the company in which he found himself. 
 
 The sailors knew little of the etiquette of the table, 
 and cared less. They were merry and quarrelsome by 
 turns, pounded on the table with their fists until the 
 dishes jumped up and performed jigs and somersaults in 
 the air, and talked, laughed, and swore at the top of 
 their voices. The landlord seemed accustomed to all 
 
THE BOARDING-HOUSE. l05 
 
 this, and never interfered with his guests except when 
 it was necessary to keep them from coming to a free 
 fight. 
 
 The sailors left the table one after the other, as their 
 appetites were satisfied, and returned to the public room, 
 whither they were followed by Flint and Guy, the 
 former leading the way. As they were passing along 
 the hall that led to the bar-room, the sailor suddenly 
 paused, looked steadily at something before him for a 
 moment, and then drew back. 
 
 '^ It's come, and sooner than I tliought for," said he, 
 in an excited whisper, 
 
 "What has come?" asked Guy. 
 
 -'Stick your head out of that door and see for your- 
 self. Be careful to keep out of sight of the landlord." 
 
 Guy advanced cautiously toward the door, wondering 
 what it could be that had so excited his companion, and 
 Flint followed close to his heels, rolling uj) his sleeves 
 and making other preparations indicative of a desire or 
 intention to fight somebody. 
 
CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 li^" THE COURT-EOOM. 
 
 UY expected to s'^e something startling, but 
 was disappointed. The public room was as 
 quiet and orderly as it had been at any time 
 since he entered it. The sailors had re- 
 sumed thea' game, and the landlord was standing behind 
 the bar with a ro^v of glasses ranged on a slielf before 
 him, into each of which he was putting a small portion 
 of a white powder that he took from a paper he hold in 
 his hand. Then he filled all the glasses with some kind 
 of liquor, stirred them with a spoon, and placing them 
 upon a tray started toward the table at which the sailors 
 were sitting. "It is my treat now, lads," said he, '^and 
 here is something to make your suppers set easy." 
 
 ''Don't touch it," shouted Flint, suddenly starting 
 forward. "Knock him down, some of you. That 
 stuff is doctored. 
 
 Guy did not understand just what Flint meant by 
 this, but it was 2)lain that the sailors did. They all 
 jumped to their feet in an instant, while the landlord 
 put down the tray and looked at Guy's companion with 
 an expression on his face that was perfectly fiendish. A 
 moment afterward a glass propelled by his hand came 
 sailing through the air, and was shivered into fragments 
 against the wall close beside Flint's head. 
 
 "I'll be at you in a second," said the latter, as he 
 coolly made his way behind the bar. "There's the 
 stuff that's in your glasses, mates," he added, throwing 
 upon the counter the paper that contained the remain- 
 der of the drug. " If there is a 'pothecary among you, 
 may be he can tell you what it is — I can't." 
 
 The sailors had, while at the supper table, given 
 abundant evidence that they were in just the right 
 
IN THE COUKT-ROOM. 107 
 
 humor for a row^ and this was all that was needed to 
 start one going. As Flint came out from behind the 
 counter to pay his respects to the landlord in return 
 for the glass the latter had thrown at his head, that 
 worthy retreated toward the dining-room shouting 
 lustily for help. It came almost immediately in the 
 shape of three or four villainous-looking fellows who 
 were armed with bludgeons. Their sudden appearance 
 astonished Guy. He had seen no men about the house, 
 and he could not imagine where they sprung from so 
 quickly. 
 
 '' There's a man who wants to raise a fight,'' cried the 
 landlord, pointing to Flint. " Down with him." 
 
 "■ Stand by me, mates," said Flint, throwing off his 
 hat, and pushing back his sleeves, "and we will clean 
 the shanty." 
 
 The opposing parties came together without a 
 moment's delay, and the noise and confusion that fol- 
 lowed almost made Guy believe that pandemonium had 
 broken loose. Having never witnessed such a scene be- 
 fore he was overcome with fear and bewilderment. 
 Deprived of speech and the power of action, he stood 
 watching the struggling men, all unconscious of the 
 fact that he Avas every moment in danger of being 
 stricken down by the glasses Avhich whistled past his ears 
 like bullets. At last the lights were extinguished, and 
 this seemed to arouse Guy from his trance of terror. 
 As quick as a flash he darted into the dining-room, and 
 jerking open a door that led into the street, soon put a 
 safe distance between himself and the couibatants. 
 
 " Great Scott!" panted Guy, seating himself under a 
 gas-lamp to rest after his rapid run. "^ I didn't bargain 
 for such things as this. I'd rather be at home a great 
 sight. Why, a man's life isn't safe among such people. 
 I am tired of the sea, and homesick besides; and I think 
 the best thing I can do is to start for JSTorwall while I 
 have money in my pocket." 
 
 Had Guy acted upon this sensible conclusion, he 
 might have saved himself from a great deal of misery 
 
108 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 that was yet in store for him. While he was thinking 
 about it — trying to picture to himself the commotion 
 his unexpected return would create in his father's house, 
 and wondering what sort of a reception would be ex- 
 tended to him — he heard some one coming rapidly 
 down the sidewalk; and fearing that it might be the 
 landlord, or some of his assistants, who were searching 
 for him, he sprung up and darted down a cross street 
 that led to the dock. He was running directly into 
 more trouble, if he had only known it — trouble that he 
 was not to see the end of for months; and he brought it 
 all on himself by so simple a thing as going to the dock. 
 
 While he was running along at the top of his speed, 
 intent on getting out of hearing of the footsteps that 
 seemed to be pursuing him, he suddenly became aware 
 that there was something exciting going on in advance 
 of him. He stopped to listen, and the blood seemed to 
 curdle in his veins when he heard the sounds of a fierce 
 struggle and a faint, gasping cry for help. 
 
 He looked in the direction from which the sounds 
 came, and by the aid of the light from a gas-lamp, a 
 short distance behind him, he could distinguish the 
 forms of three men, who, clasped in a close embrace, 
 were swaying back and forth, and so near the edge of 
 the wharf that a single misstep on the part of one of 
 them would have precipitated them all into the water. 
 
 "Another free fight," thought Guy, whose first im- 
 pulse was to turn and take to his heels. " These sailors 
 are a dreadful set, and I'll not stay among them a day 
 longer." 
 
 " Help! help!" shouted one of the men, his cry being 
 almost instantly choked off by a strong grasp on his 
 throat. 
 
 " Give up the money," said a hoarse voice, '^'or over 
 you go." 
 
 A light suddenly dawned upon Guy's mind; he begun 
 to understand the matter noAV. 
 
 Two rutfians had set upon somebody with the inten- 
 tion of robbing him and throwing him into the harbor. 
 
IN THE COURT-ROOM. 109 
 
 and he was fighting hard for his life and property. In- 
 stantly Guy's tongue was loosed, and he begun shouting 
 at the top of his voice: 
 
 "Police! police!" he yelled. "Fire! murder! help!" 
 
 *' There, we're discovered," exclaimed one of the rob- 
 bers. "Let's throw him over and run." 
 
 Guy's frantic appeal met with a prompt and most en- 
 couraging response — the rattle of a policeman's club on 
 the pavement. It was given probably as a warning to 
 the robbers that there was somebody coming, and they 
 had better be making otf if they wished to avoid arrest. 
 They acted upon the friendly hint by releasing their 
 prisoner and trying to run away; but he, being strong 
 and determined, seized them both with the intention of 
 preventing their escajDC, at the same time awakening a 
 thousand echoes among the deserted warehouses by his 
 lusty cries for help, in which he was ably seconded by 
 Guy. The robbers finally succeeded in throwing oif 
 their victim's grasp, aiid one of them ran down the 
 dock, while the other dodged into a door-Avay just as a 
 policeman made his appearance around the corner. 
 
 "What's the matter here?" demanded the officer with 
 becoming dignity and imperiousness. " Is this you, Mr. 
 Hey ward?" he added, peering sharply into the face of 
 the rescued man. " What's all this row about?" 
 
 " Two men were trying to rob me," replied Mr. Hey- 
 ward, feeling in his pockets to satisfy himself that his 
 purse and watch were safe. 
 
 "Well, where are they now? Why didn't you hang 
 onto them till I came?" 
 
 "I couldn't. They broke away from me and ran off." 
 
 "And one went that way and the other in there," 
 said Guy, pointing Avith his right hand down the dock, 
 and with his left toward the door-way into which one of 
 the highwaymen had fled for concealment. " I saw 
 them both." 
 
 The guardian of the night darted into the door-way, 
 closely followed by Mr. Hey ward, and presently Guy 
 heard the soands of a desperate fight going on in the 
 
110 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 dark. But it was over in a few seconds, and the police- 
 man and his assistant reappeared, draggiug the robber 
 betAveen them. 
 
 " That's the man/' said Guy. " I know him by his 
 fur cap." 
 
 ^' Will you swear to him?" asked Mr. Heyward. ''I 
 think I recognize him; but, to tell the truth, he and his 
 comrade assaulted me so unexpectedly, and kept me so 
 busy, that I didn't have a chance to take a good look at 
 either of them." 
 
 " Of course I'll swear to him," replied Gruy. '' I would 
 know him anywhere." 
 
 ''All right. I shall want you for a witness to-mor- 
 row. What is your name and where do you live?" 
 
 " I don't live anywhere. I'm a sailor," said Guy, who 
 did not think it best to answer the first j)art of the ques- 
 tion. 
 
 "Then I shall have to take you with me," said the 
 policeman. " Come on." 
 
 " Where must I go?" 
 
 ** Why, to the station, of course." 
 
 *' To the watch-house!" exclaimed Guy, greatly amazed. 
 *'0h, now, what must I go there for? I haven't been 
 doing anything." 
 
 "I know it," said Mr. Heyward. "No one accuses 
 you. But I intend to prosecute this ruffian to the full 
 extent of the law, and you will be the principal witness 
 against him— in fact, the only one whose evidence will 
 amount to anything. In order to convict him I must 
 have some one to swear positively that he is the man 
 who attempted to rob me. I can't do it, and neither 
 can the policeman." 
 
 " Come on, and don't waste any more words over it," 
 commanded the officer. 
 
 Guy, whose courage had been completely frightened 
 out of him by the scenes of violence he had witnessed, 
 timidly obeyed. He fell in behind the officer and Mr. 
 Heyward, who led the robber toward the police head- 
 quarters. 
 
IN THE COURT-ROOM. HI 
 
 Guy had read in the papers that lodgings were some- 
 times furnished at watch-houses, and that night he 
 learned what it meant. He found that those who were 
 accommodated with quarters at the expense of the city 
 were not provided with comfortable beds and private 
 apartments, as they would have been had they put up at 
 a first-class hotel. He was thrust into a room with a 
 lot of homeless wanderers, and lay all night on the hard 
 floor, with no covering, and nothing but his tarpaulin 
 to serve as a pillow. How homesick he was, and how 
 heartily he wished himself under his father's roof once 
 more! 
 
 Very frequently, as he rolled about, trying to find a 
 plank soft enough to sleep upon, he would raise himself 
 upon his elbow, look around at the ragged, slumbering 
 men by whom he was surrounded, and think of the 
 neat little bedroom and soft, warm couch to which he 
 had been accustomed at home. While brooding over 
 his boyish troubles and trials he had rever thought of 
 the comforts and privileges that fell to his lot, but he 
 thought of them now, when it was too late to enjoy 
 them. 
 
 He passed a most miserable night, and was glad indeed 
 when day began to dawn and the lodgers to disperse; 
 but he M'as not allowed to leave the station, not even 
 long enough to get his breakfast. He Avas kej^t under 
 lock and key until ten o'clock, when Mr. Hey ward's case 
 came up for trial. When he was conducted into the 
 court-room, which was packed with loungers and em- 
 bryo lawyers, as justices' courts almost always are, he 
 felt and looked more like a criminal than the hardened 
 wretch who sat in the dock. He had never been in a 
 court-room before, and he knew so little of the manner 
 in which proceedings are conducted there that he was 
 shown the witness-stand three different times before he 
 could be made to comprehend that he was expected to 
 occupy it. 
 
 ^'You seem to be very dull, young man," said the 
 justice sharply. " What is your name?" 
 
113 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 The tone of A^oice in Avliich the question was joro- 
 ponnded, accompanied as it was by a fierce frown on the 
 judicial face, was enough to frighten away what few wits 
 Guy had left about him. He did not know what reply 
 to make. If he gave his own name it might go into the 
 papers and be seen by everybody who knew him, and if 
 he gave a fictitious one, the judge might find it out in 
 some way and punish him. 
 
 " Witness, did you hear my question?" demanded the 
 justice. "■ What is your name?" 
 
 " Guy Harris," answered the boy. 
 
 "Well, why couldn't you have said so at once and not 
 kept me waiting so long? Swear him." 
 
 A red-faced gentleman, with a long nose and ruffled 
 shirt, arose and mumbled a few words which Guy did 
 not understand, and when he sat down, another, who 
 proved to be a lawyer, took him in hand and went at 
 him in a way that completed his discomfiture. He re- 
 minded Guy that he was on his oath, informed him that 
 he should expect the truth and nothing but the truth 
 from him, and ended his exordium by asking him where 
 he lived — another question that Guy did not care to 
 answer. 
 
 And it was so all through the examination. The law- 
 yer insisted upon knowing all about matters that Guy 
 wanted to keep to himself, and the consequence was that 
 in less than five minutes he was completely wound up, 
 and stammered, hesitated and blushed in a way that 
 made everybody believe that he was not telling the truth. 
 At the end of half an hour he was told that he might 
 step down, and he was very glad to do it, for he was 
 perspiring as if he had been engaged in some severe 
 manual labor, trembling in every limb and so weak that 
 he could scarcely remain upon his feet. He had seen 
 quite enough of a court-room, and anxious to get out of 
 it as soon as possible, began elbowing his way through 
 the crowd toward Mr. Heyward, who was seated beside 
 his lawyer. 
 
 I know I might make this part of my story more 
 
IN THE COURT-ROOM. 113 
 
 interesting by saying that ]V[r. Hey ward, wlio beyond all 
 doubt owed his rescue entirely to Guy, was a rich mer- 
 chant; that to show his gratitude to his preserver he 
 took him home with him and dressed him like a gentle- 
 man; that he gave him a situation in his store, and that 
 Guy was so smart and quick to learn that he became a 
 full partner in two years and married the merchant's 
 beautiful and only daughter, and that the merchant 
 finally died and left him heir to two inillions of dollars. 
 That would be a grand way to wind up the career of our 
 hero, but unfortunatel}'#ie is a bad boy, and it is only 
 the good ones whose lines fall in such pleasant places. 
 
 Guy had a very different future before him. Mr. Hey- 
 ward did not even thank him for the service he had 
 rendered, and Guy did not expect it. All he cared for 
 was to get out of the court-room and that as quickly as 
 possible. 
 
 "■ Are they through with me now?" he asked, when he 
 reached Mr. Heyward's side. 
 
 ''Yes, for the present," was the answer. 
 
 That was enough for Guy, who began crowding his 
 way toward the door, j^aying little heed to the growling 
 of those Avhose toes he trod upon or whose sides he 
 jammed with his elbows. He breathed easier Avhen he 
 reached the street, and hurried away looking for a res- 
 taurant where he might find something to satisfy his 
 appetite, for it was now twelve o'clock and he had had 
 no breakfast. 
 
 " Thank goodness, I am out ( i; there at last!" said he, 
 wiping his dripping forehead, "and I'll never go near 
 a place like it again if I can help it. If I see a fight 
 going on, I'll run away and not stop to learn who comes 
 out first best. How savagely that prisoner looked at 
 me while I was giving my evidence! There was an ex- 
 pression in his eye which said, as plainly as words, ' I'll 
 pay you for that some day, my boy!' I wonder what 
 they are going to do with him anyhow?" 
 
 To explain what happened afterward it is necessary to 
 answer this question. The prisoner was convicted on 
 
114 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 Guy's evidence and held to bail to answer to a liiglier 
 coui't for an assault with intent to commit robbery. 
 Bail was speedily found by his friends, and the man was 
 at liberty to go where he j^ieased until the following 
 month, when his case would come np for trial. 
 
 As soon as this decision was rendered, Mr. Hey ward, 
 who was resolved that the robber should not escape 
 punishment, began looking about for his witness, in- 
 tending to have him locked up until the day of trial. 
 But the boy was not to be found about the court-room, 
 and a policeman was sent out to hunt him up. 
 
 The runaway little dreamed that he had a prospect 
 before him of being shut np in jail for a whole month. 
 
 Guy found an eating-house at last, and entering, 
 stood at the counter while he drank a cup of muddy 
 coffee, ate a cold boiled egg and a ham sandwich, and 
 thought over his prospects — or rather his want of them. 
 He was alone in the world once more, for Flint, his only 
 friend, was gone. ■ He had not seen him since the light 
 at the boarding-house. Guy was afraid to go back there 
 after him, or to get his luggage, and more than that, he 
 was not certain that he could find his way there, even if 
 he wanted to go. Of one thing he was satisfied, and 
 that was, that if Flint was still alive and at liberty, the 
 place to look for him was on the dock in the neighbor- 
 hood of the shipping. Thither Guy accordingly bent 
 his steps as soon as he had finished his breakfast. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 "JOHN THOMAS, A. B." 
 
 IIEN" he found his friend Flint, Guy did not 
 
 know just wliat he would do. Probably 
 
 he intended to be governed entirely by his 
 
 advice, for he had already thought better of 
 
 his resolution to return at once to Norwall. 
 
 It is true that he had seen the rough side of the world 
 so far during his wanderings, but he believed that it had 
 better things in store for him. At any rate he would 
 find Flint and ask him if it hadn't. The sailor was so 
 jolly and hopeful, and spoke so encouragingly whenever 
 Guy told him of his troubles, that it was a pleasure to be 
 in his company. 
 
 Guy spent an hour in unavailing search for his friend, 
 but he discovered the Ossi^Dee, which was discharging 
 her cargo preparatory to going into the dry docks, and 
 by taking her as a point of departure succeeded at last 
 in finding the boarding-house at which he had eaten 
 supper the night before. 
 
 He approached it with the utmost caution, momen- 
 tarily expecting to come suddenly upon some signs of the 
 terrible fracas that had taken place there a few hours 
 ago, such as broken skulls, dissevered limbs, and lifeless 
 bodies; but nothing of the kind was to b« seen. The 
 place was as quiet as the station-house he had just left, 
 and Guy had half a mind to go in and ask for Flint, but 
 hesitated when he thought of the landlord, with his 
 fierce mustache and closely-cropped head. He did not 
 want to see the landlord again, or that worthy might de- 
 mand to know what he meant by running out of his 
 house in that unceremonious manner and leaving his 
 supper bill unpaid. 
 
 While Guy was wondering how he could answer such 
 
116 GUY BARIUM. 
 
 a question without wounding the lancnortrs feelings, a 
 hail came to him from the opposite side of the street. 
 
 ''Halloo there! Hold on a niinutel'' exclaimed a voice. 
 
 Guy looked np and saw a stranger coming toward him. 
 He was dressed in broadcloth, wore a shining plug hat 
 on his head, and well-blacked boots on his feet; rings 
 sparkled on his fingers, something that looked like a 
 diamond glittei'ed in his shirt bosom, and a heavy gold 
 watch-chain dangled across his crimson waistcoat. 
 Taken altogether he reminded Guy of the steward of 
 the Queen of the Lakes, He approached with some 
 eagerness in his manner, and as he came up thrust out 
 his hand and greeted the boy with: 
 
 "Why, Jenkins, how are you? Glad to see you; 
 when did you come in? Just been down to your ship 
 looking for you. How are you, I say?" 
 
 The stranger smiled so good-naturedly, shook his 
 hand so warmly, and appeared so delighted to see him, 
 that Guy was rather taken aback. As soon as he could 
 speak, he replied: 
 
 "I came in night before last in the schooner Ossipee 
 from Chicago; but my name isn't Jenkins." 
 
 The stranger started, and looked at Guy a moment 
 with an expression of great surprise on his face. 
 
 " AVell, I declare, I have made a mistake — that's a 
 fact!" said he. "But you look enough like Jenkins to 
 be his brother. You see, he's a particular friend of 
 mine, and I am always on the lookout to do him a 
 neighborly turn. I wonder if you are as good a sailor as 
 he is." 
 
 " I am a sailor," replied Guy. 
 
 " Of course you are. I can tell that by the cut of your 
 jib." 
 
 These words went straight to Guy's heart, and vastly 
 iiicreased his importance in his own eyes. He straight- 
 ened ujD, thrust his hands deej) into his pockets, and 
 took a few stejDS up and down the sidewalk, rolling from 
 side to side as he had seen Flint do. 
 
 "Think I don't know a sailor man Avhen I see him!" 
 
''JOHN THOMAS, A. B." 117 
 
 exclaimed the stranger. " "Why, I have been one myself. 
 Take something warm this frosty morning?'' 
 
 " No, sir," emphatically replied the boy, who had 
 already seen enough of the evils of strong drink. " You 
 don't get anything warm down me."' 
 
 "Good resolution!" cried the man, giving Guy's hand 
 another cordial shake, and slapping him familiarly on 
 the back. " Stick to it. Do you know that that is one 
 of the things that keeps you sailor men before the mast 
 all your lives? It is the sober, intelligent ones, just such 
 fellows as I see you are, who get to be mates and cap- 
 tains. Now, I can put you on a vessel where you will be 
 pushed ahead as fast as you can stand it. You want a 
 berth, don't you ?" 
 
 "No, I don't," replied Guy. "I want to find my 
 mate; and if I don't succeed, I am going home." 
 
 " Your mate!" exclaimed the stranger. " Oh, I know 
 him — know him well. It's Jack a — Jack a " 
 
 "No, it isn't Jack; it's Dick Flint." 
 
 "Why, so it is. How stupid in me to forget his 
 name! I saw him vv^ith you yesterday, come to think. 
 Let me see," added the stranger, placing his finger on 
 his forehead and looking down at the ground in a brown 
 study; " didn't I ship him last night on board the Santa 
 Maria? Of course 1 did." 
 
 "Of course you didn't. He don't ship on no such 
 vessel, and neither do I. She's got a crew aboard of her 
 who don't sign articles," said Guy glibly, making use of 
 some expressions he had heard at the boarding-house. 
 "I don't want to ship with ghosts. I have seen too 
 many of them in my time." 
 
 "Have you, though?" said the stranger. "I knew 
 you wTre an old salt as soon as I put my eyes on you." 
 
 " Yes," said Guy, pushing his tarpaulin on one side of 
 his head, thrusting his hands deej^er into his pockets, 
 and making a motion with his tongue as if he were turn- 
 ing a quid of tobacco in his mouth. "The last voyage 
 I made was in a shi23 bound around the Cape. When 
 the time came we began to get ready for bad weather by 
 
118 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 sending down the royal-yards and masts, and taking in 
 the flying jib-boom. One of the hands — my chum he 
 was, too, and the best fellow and finest sailor that ever 
 chewed biscuit^was out on the boom, and had just sung 
 out 'haul in!' when a big sea broke over the vessel, and 
 that was the last we ever saw of him — that is, alive. 
 But every night after that when the mid-watch was 
 called, and the order was given to haul in the flying jib- 
 boom, we Avere sure to find that fellow out there before 
 us, working like a trooper. Ko, sir; 1 don't ship in any 
 more vessels that carry ghosts, if I know it." 
 
 Guy pushed his hat further on the side of his head, 
 turned his back partly to the stranger and looked as wise 
 as possible, thinking no doubt tha^ he had made an im- 
 pression on his auditor. He did not know that he had 
 got his narrative somewhat mixed up, but that the 
 stranger did was evident. There was a roguish twinkle 
 in his eye, and he was obliged to bite his lips to keep 
 from laughing outright. Controlling himself Avith an 
 effort he leaned toward Cluy and said, in a Ioav, con- 
 fidential tone: 
 
 " I don't blame you. The Santa Maria does bear a 
 hard name, that's a fact, and I Avouldn't sail in her my- 
 self. I've got another vessel on my books — the clipper 
 Morning Light, bound uj) the Mediterranean, and I 
 know that's the very place you Avant to go. Isn't it 
 noAV, say?" he exclaimed, hitting the boy a back-handed 
 slap on the chest. 
 
 "Yes," ansAvered Guy. " I should like to go." 
 
 " Of course you Avould. Everybody Avants to go, but 
 only a fcAV can get the chance. I tell you it takes in- 
 fluence to get a berth on board a Mediterranean trader," 
 said the man, Avho knew that he could imjjose upon 
 Guy to his heart's content. " Wealthy country that, 
 and if you don't come back rich, it Avill be your OAvn 
 fault. Ostrich feathers are plenty and Avorth a hundred 
 dollars a pound on this side of the Atlantic. Diamonds, 
 pearls, nuggets, and gold-dust are to be had for the pick- 
 ing up. Everybody fills his pockets, from the captain 
 
''JOHN THOMAS, A. B.' 119 
 
 down to Jemmy Ducks. Come and put down your 
 name. Where's your dunnage?" 
 
 " Hold on,'' said Guy, as the stranger seized his arm 
 and tried to pull him away. " I Avant to find Flint, and 
 see what he has to say about it.'' 
 
 "I know where he is, and can find him for you in 
 less than ten minutes," said the stranger, who had 
 about as clear an idea of Flint's whereabouts as Guy 
 himself. " All I ask of you is to j)ut down your name. 
 Where's your dunnage?" 
 
 ''I left it in there last night," said Guy, pointing to- 
 ward the boarding-house. 
 
 "Why, the landlord didn't ship you, did he? That 
 is, he didn't find a vessel for you?" 
 
 "1^0, I didn't give him a chance. They had a fight 
 in there, and I ran away." 
 
 " A fight. Oh, that's nothing. It's all settled now, 
 I'll warrant. Come with me. I'll get your dunnage for 
 you." 
 
 Guy did not hesitate to enter the boarding-house 
 under the protection of the stranger, and indeed he 
 need not have been afraid to go in there alone. 
 
 There was but one man in the bar-room, and that 
 was the second mate of the Santa Maria, who was prob- 
 ably on the lookout for a crew for his vessel. 
 
 " Morning, Eupert," said the stranger, as he and 
 Guy entered; "I believe my young friend here left 
 something with you last night." 
 
 "'Ah, yes; here it is," replied the landlord, handing 
 Guy's bundle over the counter and smiling joleasantly 
 upon the boy, " What made 3'ou dig out in such a 
 hurry? Did the fellows scare you?" 
 
 " Yes, they did," replied Guy. 
 
 "You need not have been alarmed. You were my 
 guest, and of coiirse I should have protected you. You 
 see, Smith," added the landlord, turning to the shipping 
 agent, "the boys had a bit of a blow-out here last 
 night, and one or two of them came to a clinch. It was 
 ull over in a minute, and we took a few drinks all 
 
120 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 around and made it np. It didn't amount to any- 
 thing." 
 
 "I think it amounted to a good deal/' said Guy, 
 looking around at the walls where the plastering had 
 been knocked off by the flying glasses. " It frightened 
 me, I tell you. Where is Flint now?" 
 
 "^ Flint ?" repeated the landlord interrogatively. " Do 
 you mean the man who came here with you. " Oh, 
 he's up-stairs with the rest, sleeping it off." 
 
 "^ I'd like to see him," said Guy. 
 
 '' Of course you can, if you wish, but I wouldn't 
 trouble him if I were you. Let him sleep. He'll be 
 down to supper, and then you can talk to him." 
 
 ''By the way," said Smith suddenly, '"'Flint has 
 shipped aboard the Morning Light, hasn't he?" 
 
 Smith looked steadily at the landlord as he said this, 
 and the landlord looked steadily at Smith. The two 
 worthies evidently understood one another. 
 
 '•' Yes," was the landlord's reply. " He's signed ar- 
 ticles, and got his advance fair and square." 
 
 " There, now," said the shipping agent, turning to 
 Guy; "are you satisfied? Your mate has shipped 
 aboard my vessel, and if you will come with me I will 
 ship you. You'll see splendid times up the Mediterra- 
 nean," he added, with a sly wink at the landlord. 
 
 " Finest country in the world," observed that gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Such chances to make money," suggested the agent. 
 
 " Never saw the beat," said the landlord. " Been up 
 there myself, and that's the way I go't my start in the 
 world. Went out cabin-boy, and came back sailing my 
 own vessel." 
 
 " Do you hear that?" exclaimed the agent, triumph- 
 antly. " Didn't I tell you so? Come with me, and I'll 
 put you in the way to make a man of yourself." 
 
 Before Guy could reply the agent assisted him to 
 shoulder his bundle, and gently forcing him into the 
 street, locked arms with him and led him away, talking 
 rapidly all the while, and giving the boy no chance to 
 
''JOHN THOMAS, A. B." 121 
 
 put in a word. In a few minutes more he found him- 
 self seated in a small, dark room, which the agent called 
 his office; and the latter, having placed before him on 
 the table a large sheet of ruled paper, which contained 
 several names — taking care, however, to kee|) his hands 
 spread oijt over the to|) of it — nodded his head toAvard a 
 pen that was sticking in an inkstand close by, and told 
 Guy to put down his name. 
 
 As the boy was about to comply it occurred to him 
 that it might be a good plan to find out what sort of a 
 paper it was that he was expected to sign. But just as 
 he was on thei^oint of asking some questions concerning 
 it, he w'as checked by the thought that by such a pro- 
 ceeding he would show his ignorance, and beside, it 
 would look too much as though he doubted his gentle- 
 manly friend, the shijjping agent. So he said nothing, 
 signed a name to the paper, and was held for a voyage 
 to — well, it was to some i)lace a long way from the shores 
 of the Mediterranean. 
 
 "John Thomas; that's all right. You are a good 
 penman, and ought to be something better than a fore- 
 mast hand. AVhen your ship comes back to this port, 
 if you don't tell me that you have made yourself rich by 
 the voyage, and that you are at least a second mate, I 
 shall be ashamed of you. Now, then,'^ said the agent, 
 laying his pocket-book on the table and taking the pen 
 from the boy's hand, "what shall I put after your name 
 
 —A. B. r 
 
 "What's that?" asked Guy. 
 
 '^ Why, you're an able seaman, are you not!" 
 
 "No — that is, yes; of course I am. But I want to go 
 as cabin-boy. I like that better.'^ 
 
 " I can't ship you as cabin-boy ; got one already. 
 You will get more money by going before the mast, and 
 you want to make all you can, don't you? I'll fix it for 
 you." 
 
 The agent dipped his pen into the ink and wrote A. 
 B. after the name Guy had signed, and Guy, ignoramus 
 that he was, never tried to prevent him. If he could 
 
122 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 make more money by going as an al)le seaman of course 
 it was to his advantage to do it. That was the way lie 
 looked at the matter then, but before many hours had 
 passed over his head he took a different view of it. He 
 learned through much tribulation that honesty is the 
 best policy one can pursue, even though he be a sea- 
 faring man. 
 
 The agent having prevailed ujDon Guy to sign articles, 
 seemed on a sudden to lose all interest in him. It is 
 true that after he paid him his advance he accompanied 
 him to a store and assisted him in making some neces- 
 sary additions to his outfit, but he hurried through the 
 business, his every action indicating that he was im- 
 patient to be rid of Guy. When all the purchases had 
 been made he took a hasty leave of the boy and told him 
 to go to Eupert's boarding-house and stay there, hold- 
 ing himself in readiness to go aboard his vessel at six 
 o'clock that night. If he was not on hand when he was 
 wanted, he Avould find the police after him. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 S TI I P P I X G A C R E AV . 
 
 UMPH I"' said Guy to himself, as he shoul- 
 dered his bundle and started toward Rupert's 
 boarding-house, "there is no danger that I 
 shall have the police after me. If Flint is 
 going out in the Morning Light of course I must go too, 
 for he is the only friend I have in the world, and I am 
 bound to stick to him. I don't see what made that 
 shipping agent grow so very cold and distant all of a 
 sudden. I wish now, since he has shown himself so 
 very independent, that I had examined that paper be- 
 fore I signed it. He was very polite until he got me to 
 put down my name, and then he was almost ready to 
 insult me. I can't imagine what need I shall have of 
 all these thick clothes he made me buy," added Guy, as 
 he shifted his heavy bundle from one shoulder to the 
 other. " I thought it was warm up the Mediterranean. 
 I knew he tried to fool me when he told me about the 
 jiearls and diamonds, but I don't care. I shall see some- 
 thing of the world and be my own master, and j)erhaps 
 when I return I Avill have money enough to take me out 
 to the Rocky Mountains. I haven't given up my idea 
 of being a hunter, and I never shall." 
 
 Guy passed a dreary afternoon at the boarding-house, 
 in spite of the friendly efforts of the landlord to make 
 things pleasant for him. That gentleman talked in- 
 cessantly and told wonderful stories about the rapid 
 promotions and sudden fortunes that were sure to fall 
 to the lot of everybody who was fortunate enough to go 
 up the Mediterranean on the clipper-ship Morning 
 Light. But Guy, green as he was, did not believe them. 
 He did not care to talk either, for he was very lonely 
 and wanted to see Flint. Contrary to the landlord's 
 
124 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 promise, the sailor did not make his appearance at the 
 supper table, the host accounting for his absence by tell- 
 ing Guy that Flint did not feel very well and wanted to 
 sleep as long;:s he could. 
 
 '*' May I see him?" asked the boy. 
 
 '■'No, he doesn't want to be disturbed," was the re- 
 j)ly. "^I have just been to his room to tell him you 
 were here, and he asked me to tell you to go aboard 
 your vessel at six o'clock, and he will come as soon as 
 he awakes." 
 
 Guy was not at all pleased with this arrangement. 
 He did not believe that Flint had sent him any such 
 instructions, and neither did he want to go away with- 
 out seeing him. But he could not help himself, for at 
 six o'clock precisely Smith, the shipping agent, appeared 
 and ordered him to shoulder his bundle and come on. 
 
 The boy was obliged to obey. He followed the agent 
 to the dock and into a yawl manned by two sailors, who 
 immediately shoved off toward a vessel lying at anchor 
 in the harbor. 
 
 Guy did not like the looks of her. If she was a clip- 
 per, he had hitherto had very erroneous ideas of marine 
 architecture, he told himself. She looked more like the 
 pictures he liad seen of Dutch galliots. 
 
 When they reached her Guy followed the agent over 
 the side, and one of the sailors threw his bundle up 
 after him. 
 
 "Here's an A. B. I have brought you," said the 
 agent, addressing himself to a man ayIio came up to 
 meet them. 
 
 " All right," was the reply. " What's his name?" 
 
 Guy started and looked sharply at the speaker. He 
 was certain that he had seen him before. He was 
 dressed like the man who had introduced himself to 
 Flint as the second mate of the Santa Maria, and his 
 voice was wonderfully like the mate's, too. Guy tried 
 to get a glimpse of his face, but it was effectually con- 
 cealed by a tarpaulin and a heavy woolen muffler. 
 
 " His name is John Thomas," said the agent, seeing 
 that Guy did not answer the question. 
 
SHIPPING A CREW. 125 
 
 '•Take your dunnao^e into the forecastle, Thomas, 
 and be ready to turn to at any moment," said the man. 
 
 '^I declare, he's an officer," thought Guy, "and I 
 really believe he's the second mate of the Santa Maria. 
 If he is, how came he here on board the Morning 
 Light? Dear me, I wish Flint would come." 
 
 "Good-by, Jack," said the agent, shaking the boy's 
 hand. ''I've got you into tidy quarters, and shall ex- 
 pect to hear a good report of you.'^ 
 
 "' What do you suppose keeps Flint?" asked Guy anx- 
 iously. 
 
 " I am sure I can't tell. I have nothing to do with 
 him, you know. Eupert shipped him — I didn't. ]S^o 
 doubt he'll be aboard directly. Good-by." 
 
 The agent disappeared over the side and Guy shoul- 
 dered his dunnage and went down into the forecastle. 
 Three or four of the bunks Avere already occupied, and, 
 selecting one of the empty ones, Guy made up his bed 
 in it, and then went on deck to look about him and 
 await the arrival of Flint. 
 
 There were a few men on deck, the owners of the 
 beds he had seen in the foz'ecastle, but they did not no- 
 tice Guy, and he was too much interested in his own 
 affairs to have anything to say to them. Flint's ab- 
 sence was the source of great anxiety to him. He could 
 not account for it, and neither could he explain the re- 
 markable resemblance between the man who met him 
 as he came over the side and the second mate of the 
 Santa Maria, whom he had last seen in the piiblic room 
 of the boarding-house. 
 
 " Could it be jjossible," he asked himself — and at the 
 thought the blood went rushing back upon his heart, 
 leaving his face as jmle as death itself — "that the agent 
 had made a mistake and brought him to the Santa 
 Maria instead of the Morning Light ?'" 
 
 " Great Caasar!" thought Guy, catching his breath, 
 "if that is the case I'm among the ghosts in spite of 
 myself. I'll ask some of these men. Of course they 
 know the name of the vessel." 
 
126 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 As Cluy was about to act upon this resolution his at- 
 tention Avas attracted by the sound of oars, and riiniiing' 
 to the side he saw a hirge yawl approaching tiie ship. 
 
 His hopes arose wonderfully, but fell again when he 
 discovered that there were but three men in the boat — 
 two plying the oars and the other sitting in the stern 
 with his hands on the tiller. 
 
 " Boat ahoy!" said the mate, leaning over the rail and 
 speaking almost in a whisper. 
 
 '^ Ku pert!" was the answer, given in the same cau- 
 tious tone. 
 
 ''AH right," exclaimed the officer. ''I thought you 
 were never coming. Stand by there, one of you, to 
 catch the painter. Cap'n," he added, thrusting his 
 head down the companion way, "the boat's come." 
 
 Guy, being the nearest at hand, caught the painter as 
 it came whirling up to him, and as he drew the boat up 
 to the ladder that was quickly lowered over the side, he 
 was surprised to see that she was loaded almost to the 
 water's edge. 
 
 A number of bundles and chests were piled in the 
 bow, and the bottom Avas covered Avitli men — probably a 
 dozen or fifteen of them in all — Avho appeared to be 
 asleep. Of those Avho managed the yawl one Avas 
 Kupert, the boarding-house keeper, and the others Avere 
 tAvo of his assistants, Avho had rushed into the bar-room 
 to quell the fight, or rather to hel^j it along. 
 
 Guy recognized them at once. He Avondered Avhat 
 they Avere going to do Avith the men Avho Avere lying on 
 the bottom of the boat, and Avas not long in finding out. 
 
 The men must have been slumbering heavily, for the 
 landlord and his assistants made no effort to arouse 
 them, but lifting them in their arms, one after the 
 other, carried them up the ladder and laid them in a 
 roAV on the deck, as if they had been dead men. 
 
 The last one Avlio Avas brought over the side was Dick 
 Flint, limp and lifeless like the rest. Guy Avas greatly 
 horrified and disgusted to see his friend in such a condi- 
 tion. He had been almost twenty-four hours trying to 
 
SHIPPING A CRE W. 127 
 
 sleep off the effect of the ^'blow out" at which he luid 
 assisted. He must have been very drunk indeed. 
 
 " I wish to goodness I had stayed ashore," said Clay, 
 almost ready to cry with vexation. "I don't want a 
 drunkard for my companion, and I'll tell Flint so at the 
 very first opportunity. I believe home is the best place 
 for a boy after all. If he gets whipped and scolded 
 sometimes when he doesn't deserve it, he always has 
 plenty to eat, a good bed to sleep in, and isn't obliged to 
 associate with such wretches as these. Halloo! what is 
 the captain up to, I Avonder?" 
 
 The men had all been carried to the deck by this time, 
 and now a piece of iniquity Avas enacted that struck Guy 
 dumb with amazement. The captain and his mate, ac- 
 companied by the boarding-house keeper, approached 
 the place where the sailors were lying. The former 
 held in his hands a pen and a roll of paper, which proved 
 to be the shipping articles Gruy had signed in the agent's 
 office; the mate carried an inkstand and Rupert a 
 lantern. 
 
 'MVhat is this man's name?'' asked the captain, stop- 
 ping at the head of the row and ^jointing Avith his pen 
 toAvard one of the prostrate sailors. 
 
 " Richard Flint," replied the landlord, " and he is an 
 able seaman." 
 
 The captain Avrote Flint's name and rate on the shij)- 
 ping articles, and then kneeling doAvn beside him, placed 
 the pen betAveen his nerveless fingers, and seizing his 
 hand in his own, described a cross with it upon the ship- 
 ping articles. This done, the captain passed the pen 
 over to his mate, who signed his OAvn name opposite 
 Flint's, and the latter stood on the shipping articles in 
 this Avay: 
 
 his 
 
 Richard X Flint, A. B. 
 
 mark 
 
 Jacob Schavartz, 
 Second Mate, and witness to signature. 
 
128 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 AlthougTi the wliolo proceeding was most outrageous, 
 the form was according to law, and Flint, had he re- 
 covered his senses at that moment, would have been held 
 for the cruise in spite of him.self. Remonstrance would 
 have been of no avail, and resistance would have ren- 
 dered him liable to punishment. 
 
 But this was not all the wickedness that was perpe- 
 trated upon the unconscious seaman. While the mate 
 was signing his name to the articles the captain pro- 
 duced his i30cket-book and counted out forty dollars in 
 bills, which he placed in Flint's hand, and closing his 
 fingers over them, turned to the man who lay next 
 to him, and whom he shipped and paid in the same 
 manner. 
 
 Guy had been a puzzled witness of the whole proceed- 
 ings, but now he thought he begun to understand it. 
 
 "I have been lied to and cheated," said he to himself. 
 ''^ Rupert and Smith both told me that Flint had signed 
 articles and received his advance all fair and square; and 
 if that was the truth, how does it come that he is being 
 shipjjed and paid over again? I am afraid I have got 
 myself into a scrape." 
 
 Guy did not know just what sort of a scrape he had 
 got into, and he could not stop to think about it then, 
 for another matter demanded his attention. He was in- 
 terested in Flint's affairs, and knowing that the sailor 
 could not take care of his money while he was in that 
 condition, he started toward him, intending to take pos- 
 session of it, and give it to him when he became sober; 
 but what was his surprise to see Rupert step up to the 
 insensible man, and coolly unclasping his fingers, put the 
 money in his own pocket. In other words, he deliber- 
 ately rob1)ed Flint, and that, too, before the face and 
 eyes of the captain and his mate, who, although they 
 must have observed the act, did not pay the least atten- 
 tion to it. This was more than Guy could stand. He 
 walked up to the captain and boldly charged Rupert 
 witli the theft. 
 
 " Captain," said he^ ''do you see what this landlord is 
 
SmPPlMG A CRE W. 139 
 
 doing? He is stealing the advance as fast as you pay it to 
 the men/^ 
 
 The result of this exposure of the boarding-house 
 keeper was just what Guy might have looked for had he 
 taken time to consider the matter before acting. He 
 su^Dposed^ in his simplicity, that the landlord would turn 
 pale and tremble, like the guilty wretch he was, and that 
 the captain, after compelling him to return the money, 
 would arrest him on the sjiot, or unceremoniously kick 
 him off his vessel. But nothing of the kind happened. 
 Eupert looked a little surprised, but only gave Guy one 
 quick glance and held the lantern lower, so that the cap- 
 tain could see to sign another name. The latter, how- 
 ever, arose hastily, placed his pen between his teeth, and 
 seizing Guy by the throat, choked him until he was black 
 in the face; and then, with a strong push, sent him 
 sprawling on deck. 
 
 '•'There, now,^^ said he, ''that's the first lesson; and 
 if it don't learn you to keep a civil tongue in your head, 
 and speak when you're spoken to, I'll give you another 
 that'll sink deeper. Turn to and carry that dunnage 
 into the forecastle.'^ 
 
 The severe choking to which Guy had been subjected, 
 and the jarring occasioned by his heavy fall on deck, had 
 well-nigh proved too much for him. His head whirled 
 about like a top, sparks of fire danced before his eyes, 
 and his legs for the moment refused to support him. 
 He was in no condition just then to carry heavy burdens, 
 but he had heard the order and dared not disregard it. 
 His last week's experience on board the Ossipee had 
 taught him that instant obedience and unquestioning 
 submission is the whole duty of a foremast hand. He is 
 looked upon as a slave, a beast of burden, an unreason- 
 ing brute, who has no right to any desires, feelings, or 
 will of his own. If he receives a blow from a handspike 
 that \vould brain an ox, he has no business to become in- 
 sensible or get sick over it, but must jumjD up at once 
 and resume his work with cheerfulness and alacrity. 
 Guy, however could not do this, for he had not yet been 
 
130 GUY ilARKlS. 
 
 sufficiently hardened. He pulled himself up by the fife- 
 niil and clung to it several minutes before his head be- 
 came steady, so tliat he could walk. 
 
 Was this the beginning of the "better times " which, 
 according to Flint, he was to enjoy when once he was 
 '"'fairly afloat?" Guy asked himself; and then seeing the 
 ca2itain looking liis way, he released his hold on the fife- 
 rail, and staggered toward the ])undles belonging to the 
 sailors, which lay where liiipert and his assistants had 
 thrown them. With great difficulty, for he was still 
 very weak, he raised one of them to his shoulder, and 
 carrying it to the forecastle, threw it into one of the 
 empty bunks. 
 
 As he was about to return to the deck he met two of 
 the crew coming down the ladder carrying the insensi- 
 ble form of Dick Flint between them. They did not 
 handle him very gently, but ])itched him into one of the 
 bunks as if he had been a log of wood, and laughed and 
 passed some rough joke when his head came in contact 
 with the hard boards. 
 
 " You ought to be ashamed of yourselves!'^ said Guy, 
 indignantly. " This man is my friend, and too good a 
 fellow to be jammed about in that way, even if he is 
 drunk." 
 
 " Well, now, who are 3^ou that comes here giving 
 orders and making yourself so free?" demanded one of 
 the men, turning fiercely upon Guy. 
 
 " I am a sailor like yourself, and a better one than 
 you dare ever be," retorted the runaway, little dreaming 
 how soon he would be called upon to make good his 
 boast. 
 
 " I ain't saying nothing against that," said the man, 
 with a little more respect in his tones; " but Fd like to 
 know what port you have sailed out of all your life that 
 you can't tell the difference between a man that's drunk 
 and one that's drugged!" 
 
 " Drugged!" exclaimed Guy, utterly confounded. 
 
 ''Yes; that's what's the matter with your mate. The 
 last glass he took was doctored. You might pound him 
 to death with a belaying-pin and never hurt him." 
 
SHIPPINQ^A CREW. 131 
 
 "Drugged!" repeated Guy, some scraps of tlie con- 
 versation he had hehl Avith Flint at the boarding-house 
 coming vividly to his mind. " What ship is this?" he 
 asked suddenly. 
 
 "'Why, didn't you sign articles?" 
 
 "Yes, but I'm afraid I've been cheated." 
 
 "No, I guess not," said the sailor. "You came 
 aboard with a clear head on your shoulders, so you're 
 all right." 
 
 But Guy was quite positive that he Avas not all right. 
 He would have given a montli's wages to know the 
 name of the vessel he had shipped on, but dared not 
 press the man to give a direct answer to his question, for 
 fear that some strong suspicions that had suddenly 
 arisen in his mind would be confirmed. 
 
 "I just know this is the Santa Maria," said the boy 
 to himself, at the same time casting a quick glance 
 around the dimly lighted forecastle. " I know it as 
 well as I know that I am alive. Everything goes to 
 prove it. In the first place the men Kupert brought 
 here in his boat are the same ones I saw playing cards 
 in his house. Flint predicted that they would all be 
 drugged and shipped aboard the Santa Maria, and 
 things have turned out just as he said they would. But 
 how did Flint himself manage to be caught in the trap? 
 That's what beats me. In the second ]:)lace the mate, 
 who witnessed the signatures on the shipping articles, 
 is the same man I saw at Rupert's, and who said he Avas 
 an officer of the Santa Maria. I knoAV him in spite of 
 his tarpaulin and Avoolen mutfier, for he's got the same 
 clothes on. Dear me! I Avish Flint Avould Avake up and 
 tell me Avhat to do." 
 
 While Guy's thoughts Avere running in this channel, 
 he was working industriously at his task of carrying 
 the sailors' bundles into the forecastle, and finally he 
 found Flint's among them. 
 
 Hastily untying it, he took out two blankets, and 
 rolling up one of them to serve as a pilloAv, he put it 
 under his friend's head and spread the other over his 
 
132 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 shoulders. As he was making his way up the ladder 
 to bring down the last bundle^, he heard the sjolashing of 
 oars close by, and running to the side, saw a yawl 
 approaching. 
 
 " Ship ahoy!" cried one of the men in the yawl. 
 
 " Halloo!" replied the mate. 
 
 ''What ship is this?" 
 
 Guy listened with all his ears to hear the maters re- 
 ply, but the officer leaned as far over the rail as he 
 could, and spoke in a tone so low that Guy could not 
 catch his words. 
 
 '•' When are you going to sail?" asked the man in the 
 yawl. 
 
 "Just as soon as we can haul up our mud-hook," re- 
 plied the mate. 
 
 " Got your crew all aboard?" 
 
 ''Yes." 
 
 " Have you one among your hands of the name of 
 Guy Harris?" 
 
 "Merciful Heavens!" thought Guy. "Who in the 
 world can that be, and what does he v/ant of me? Is 
 it the detective who arrested Bob Walker in Chicago? 
 Great Scott!" 
 
 Guy did not wait to hear any more of the conver- 
 sation, but hastily catching up the bundle, threw it 
 over his shoulders and ran into the forecastle. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 AN" UNWELCOME DISCOVERY. 
 
 UY EEMAINED in the forecastle just long 
 enough to rid himself of his bundle, and 
 then ran back nj? the ladder. Frightened as 
 he was, he was possessed by an irresistible 
 desire to learn who it was that wanted to see him. He 
 intended to return to the deck and crouch down by the 
 side, where he could hear what was said; but when he 
 had ascended the ladder a few steps he heard the sound 
 of voices near by, and saAV that the occupants of the 
 yawl had boarded the vessel. There were four of them, 
 three were policemen and the other was Mr. Hey ward. 
 The latter held the shipping articles in his hand, and 
 by the aid of Rupert's lantern was looking for Guy's 
 name. The captain and his mate stood at a little dis- 
 tance looking on. 
 
 " The name don't seem to be on the list," said one of 
 the officers, who was looking over Mr. Heyward's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "'I told you it wasn't!" growled the skipper. "If 
 you ain't satisfied, search the ship. What has the man 
 been doing, anyhow?" 
 
 "It isn't a man I am after, but a boy," said Mr. Hey- 
 ward. " He is an important witness in a case I intend 
 to bring before the courts next month." 
 
 " Who told you he Avas aboard my shiiD?" demanded 
 the captain. 
 
 " JSTo one. He slipped out of the court-room this 
 morning before I knew it, and as he cannot be found 
 about the city, it struck me he might be on board some 
 vessel, for he is a sailor. If I find him I shall have him 
 locked up. I am satisfied that he is not here," said Mr. 
 Heyward, handing the shipping articles to the mate, 
 "1 am all ready, Mr. Officer, if you are." 
 
134 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " I want to ask the captain just one question before I 
 go," answered the policeman. "How long has your 
 vessel been lying here?" 
 
 "Al)out four days." 
 
 " Have you kept a watch on board all the while?" 
 
 " Of course I have," replied the captain testily. 
 " Do you think I am fool enough to leave a shij) with a 
 valuable cargo without a watch?" 
 
 " I merely asked for information. Those burglars who 
 broke into that jewelry store night before last — you 
 heard about it, didn't you?" 
 
 "Yes. Did tliey get anything?" 
 
 "They made a big haul. There is a heavy reward 
 offered for them, but they have disappeared very mys- 
 teriously. We have positive proof that thev have not 
 left the city, and it may be that they have concealed 
 themselves on some vessel which they have reason to be- 
 lieve is about to sail." 
 
 " H you think they are here you had better look 
 around," said the captain. " I don't want any such 
 passengers with me." 
 
 " Oh, if you have had a watch aboard your vessel all 
 the time they could not have got here without your 
 knowledge, so there's no use in searching the ship. 
 Good-by, captain. I wish you a pleasant voyage." 
 
 Seeing that Mr. Heyward and his companions were 
 about to go over the side, Guy ducked his head and 
 beat a hasty retreat into the forecastle. 
 
 "Whew!" he panted, drawing his coat-sleeve across 
 his forehead, "wasn't that a narrow escape? 1 don't 
 think much of such laws as they have in this country, 
 anyhow. I haven't done anything to be punished for, 
 and yet Mr. Heyward, if ho could have found me, would 
 have had me locked up in jail for a whole month. It's 
 lucky I didn't sign my right name to tlie articles." 
 
 Guy was aroused from liis reverie by the sound of 
 bustle and hurry on deck, and while he was wondering 
 what it was all about he was summoned from his hiding- 
 place by the hoarse voice of the second mate. When 
 
AN UNWELCOME DISCOVERY. 135 
 
 he reached the deck he found that preparations were 
 being made to get the ship under way. There were 
 four sober men in the crew — those Guy had found on 
 the vessel when he first came aboard — and Guy and the 
 mate made six. Tliere Avere fourteen sailors in the 
 bunks below, so that the vessel's company, counting in 
 the captain and leaving out the first officer, who for 
 some reason or other had not yet made his ajDpearance, 
 numbered twenty-one men. 
 
 "Now, then, look alive," said the mate. "There's 
 only a few of us to do this work to-night, but there'll 
 be more in the morning. Here, Thomas, clap on to 
 the standing part of that messenger, lead it aft, and 
 make it fast to a ring-bolt on the starboard side." 
 
 Every word of this command was Greek to frightened 
 and bewildered Guy, who stood looking about the deck 
 undecided which way to turn. He had heard of " mes- 
 senger-boys," but he did not know that there were any 
 on board, unless he Avas one, and he couldn't see the use 
 of leading himself aft and making himself fast to a 
 ring-bolt, Avhatever that might be. 
 
 " Sir?" said he, as soon as he had collected himself so 
 that he could speak. 
 
 "SirF' echoed the mate Avith a terrific oath. "I 
 spoke plainly enough, didn't I? Where's your ears?" 
 
 "They're on my head. But I don't see any messen- 
 ger-boy." 
 
 " Messen Who said anything about a messenger- 
 boy?" roared the mate. "What's this, you lubber?" he 
 continued, picking up a rojie Avhicli led from the place 
 Avhere they Avere standing through a block made fast to 
 the cable and thence to the capstan. " What is it, I 
 say? But look here, my hearty, didn't you ship for an 
 able seaman?" 
 
 "Yes, I— no; no, I didn't." 
 
 "Yes, he did, Mr. Schwartz," said the captain, Avho 
 had been a Avitness to the Avhole loroceeding. "' He did. 
 Lay that messenger over his shoulders, and do it so 
 smartly that he Avill knoAv one the nest time he sees it." 
 
136 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 The mate swung one end of the heavy rox)e in the air, 
 and Guy, with a piercing cry of terror, sprang away 
 and took to his heels; but not in time to escape the 
 blow. The rope fell across his shoulders with such 
 crushing force that Guy wilted under it as if every bone 
 in his body had been broken by the concussion. As he 
 scrambled to his feet he was met by the captain. 
 
 "■ Go for'ard — don't come back here," said that officer, 
 emphasizing his command with a jmsh that once more 
 made Guy measure his length on deck. "^ You don't 
 belong here. Go for'ard, you lubber." 
 
 "Come here," said the mate, shaking his fist at Guy. 
 " Come here and get a handspike." 
 
 Guy understood this order. He knew what a hand- 
 spike was and what to do with it after he had got it. 
 Dodging around the other side of the deck to avoid 
 passing the mate, he found one of the implements, and 
 shipping it into the capstan began heaving around with the 
 rest, who were by this time at Avork hoisting the anchor. 
 He kept one eye on the mate all the while, for he Avas 
 afraid that he might have more punishment in store for 
 him. And he had. When Guy came around Avithin 
 reach of him the officer suddenly lifted a short roj)e 
 which he had kept concealed behind him, and rained 
 the bloAvs upon the boy's shoulders in a perfect shoAA^er. 
 Guy endured it until he believed that the mate had de- 
 termined to beat him to death, and then he dropped the 
 capstan bar and run for his life. 
 
 '' Come back here!" shouted the mate. 
 
 "Murder! murder!" screamed Guy,- crouching close 
 against the side, and holding both hands before his face. 
 
 " Yes, yes," said the officer, seizing him by the collar 
 and throAving him back toAvard the capstan. "You'll 
 sing that tune a good many times before you see the last 
 of me. I'll learn you hoAV to rate yourself the next time 
 you ship." 
 
 " I didn't want to ship as able seaman," sobbed Guy, 
 "but Smith " 
 
 " Heave aheadj there!" interrupted the mate, again 
 
AN UNWELCOME DISCOVERY. 137 
 
 raising the rope. " ISTo back talk allowed here. I'm 
 going to haze you beautiful." 
 
 That was a long and dreary night to Guy, and he 
 scarcely knew how he lived through it. He did not 
 understand a single order that was issued, and of course 
 could lend no hand in the working of the vessel. 
 
 He did his best, fearing the rope's-end, but his clumsy 
 efforts only got him deejDer into trouble. The sailors 
 swore at him and pushed him roughly out of the way, 
 and the mate cuffed and kicked him every time he came 
 within reach. Guy really thought he was doomed. He 
 never expected to live to see the sun rise again. 
 
 The vessel was kept under way about three hours, 
 and at twelve o'clock came to anchor under the lee of a 
 high, wooded point which jutted out into the sea, 
 
 Guy drew a long breath of relief when he heard the 
 cable rattling through the hawse-hole, and told himself 
 that his labors and troubles were over for that night at 
 least. But as usual he was disappointed. 
 
 The captain, not caring to go to sea short-handed, had 
 stopped here to wait until his crew should become sober, 
 and to perform some necessary work, such as getting on 
 chafing gear, lashing spars and water-butts and stowing 
 the boats. And Guy, with all the rest, was kept busy 
 until half-past three o'clock, when he was ordered below 
 to sleep until five. But he never once closed his eyes — 
 he was in too much agony, both mentally and physically. 
 He passed the hour and a half in rolling about in his 
 bunk bemoaning his hard fate, and resolving over and 
 over again that if he Avere spared to put his foot on shore 
 once more he would never, as long as he lived, go with- 
 in sight of salt water. 
 
 As the first gray streaks of dawn were seen in the east 
 two men came doAvn into the forecastle. Guy gave a 
 start of surprise when his eyes rested on them, for he 
 knew them both. 
 
 The first was the mate, of whom he had already 
 learned to stand in abject fear, and he knew now what 
 he had all along suspected — that he was the same man 
 
138 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 Avhom he had met at the board ing-honse. He recog- 
 nized liiin in a moment, for his face was not concealed 
 as it had been tlie night before. Guy wondered what 
 evil genius had sent him aboard the Morning Light, 
 
 In regard to the identity of the mate's companion 
 there was no sort of doubt in the boy's mind, although 
 he took two good looks at him, and then rubbed his eyes 
 and looked again before he was willing to credit the 
 evidence of his senses. He knew those gray clothes 
 and that mottled face and fur cap. He had seen them 
 all in the court-room the day before. The man to whom 
 they belonged was the robber against whom he had testi- 
 fied, and who had looked at him so savagely while he 
 was giving his evidence. 
 
 This man, as the sequel proved, was the first mate of 
 the vessel, who had left his bondsmen in the lurch. He 
 had just come off in a shore boat, not having considered 
 it safe to join the vessel while she was in the harbor, for 
 fear there might be some one on the watch. Guy, of 
 course, Icnew nothing of this, but having become very 
 suspicious of late, he made a remarkably shrewd guess 
 as to the real facts of the case. 
 
 A thrill of terror run through the boy's frame like a 
 shock of electricity when he reflected that he was com- 
 pletely in this villain's power, and that if he felt dis- 
 posed to take revenge on him for the evidence Guy had 
 given against him he would have every ojjportunity to 
 do it. 
 
 With a cautious movement Guy pulled the blanket 
 over his head, leaving a little opening chrough which he 
 could watch the movements of the two men. They had 
 come down there to arouse the crew. They ste|)i:)cd up 
 to one of the bunks and seizing the occupant by the 
 shoulder shook him roughly, 
 
 "Halloo!" exclaimed the first mate, ''this is one of 
 our old hands, Jim Upham, and dead as a log yet.'" 
 
 " Yes,'" returned his companion with a chuckle, "' and 
 if he knows when he is well off he will stay that way as 
 long as he can. I've a fine rod in pickle for him and 
 
AN UNWELCOME DISCOVERY. 139 
 
 his mate yonder in the next bunk, for it was owing to 
 them that we were four clays in finding a crew." 
 
 Tlie two officers proceeded to make tlie circuit of the 
 forecastle, stopping at each bunk long enough to give 
 the occupant a good sound shaking. The sober ones— 
 those who had been on duty the night before — quickly 
 responded, and as soon as they were dressed were ordered 
 to rig the liead-pump and get ready to wash down the 
 deck; but the others — those who had been brought olf 
 in Ivupert's yawl — could not be aroused. The effects of 
 the drug, whatever it was, that the landlord had put into 
 their "last glass," had not yet been slept off. 
 
 "Never mind," said the first mate, "if they don't 
 come around directly we'll put them under the pump. 
 Who's this?" he added, pulling the blankets off Guy's 
 head. 
 
 " Oh, he's a young sneak who has come aboard to be 
 hazed. He shipjied for a sailor-man, and don't know a 
 marlinspike from the starboard side of the vessel." 
 
 "Eh?" exclaimed the first mate, stepping back a little 
 out of the light and bending over until his face almost 
 touched Guy's, "haven't I seen this young — oh, he's a 
 lubber, is he? Well, roll out and turn to." 
 
 The expression in the mate's eye and the tones of his 
 voice indicated that he was about to say something else; 
 but he recollected himself just in time. Guy knew that 
 he had been on the point of referring to the sce]ie in the 
 court-room, and he was afraid that he might yet hear 
 from the man concerning it, and at no distant day 
 either. He did hear of it before a cpiarter of an hour 
 had passed away. While he was busy at work washing 
 the deck the first mate came up, handed him a swab, 
 and under pretense of showing him where to use it, lecl 
 him out of earshot of the sailors at the pump. 
 
 " I didn't think I should have a chance to scjuare yards 
 with you so soon, my lad," said he, with a savage 
 emphasis. " Now I am going to make you think this 
 ship is a frying-pan; and if I hear you lisp a word about 
 what happened yesterday, I will Ic ill you. Do you un- 
 derstand that? Answer me; do you understand it?" 
 
140 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "Yes, sir," Guy managed to reply. 
 
 "Well, bear ifc in mind, for it is gospel. I mean just 
 what I say — no less." 
 
 Guy did not doubt it in the least. A man who carried 
 a face like that of the mate was capable of any atrocity. 
 Between him and the second officer it was very probable 
 that the ship Avould be made a great deal warmer than a 
 frying-pan. He knew that he was utterly defenseless, 
 and that there was no possible way to avoid the punish- 
 ment the mates intended to inflict npon him. The "only 
 thing he could do was to perform his duty to the best of 
 his ability, and that too with the disheartening convic- 
 tion all the while forcing itself upon his mind, that no 
 matter how hard he tried, the officers would find some 
 excuse for using a rope's end on him. 
 
 While Guy was busy with his swab, performing his 
 work as well as he could see to do it through eyes blinded 
 with tears, he happened to glance toward the forecastle 
 and saw Flint slowly ascending the ladder. Guy could 
 hardly believe that it was he. The sailor looked, as he 
 afterward said he felt — " as dilapidated as a last year's 
 bird's nest." His hair was disheveled, his face haggard 
 and j)ale, his eyes blood-shot, and had he been seen in 
 the woods just then, he would have been taken for a wild 
 man. Never in his life had Guy seen such an expression 
 of utter amazement and bewilderment as that which his 
 friend's face wore as it arose slowly above the combings 
 of the hatchway. Flint Avas lost, and it took him some 
 time to get his bearings. He looked around the deck, 
 and finally his eyes fell ujoou Guy. 
 
 "' Halloo, mate I" said he, with a sickly smile and an 
 abortive attempt to appear cheerful; " I knew you were 
 somewhere about, for I couldn't think of anybody else 
 who would put a blanket under my head for a pillow, 
 and spread another over me to keep me warm. What 
 ship is this?" 
 
 "The clipper Morning Light," said Guy. "You 
 don't know how glad I am to see you in your sober senses 
 again. I want to talk to you." 
 
Aisr UNWELCOME DISCOVERY. 141 
 
 ''Clipper be — -blessed," said Flint, looking all around. 
 That wasn't just the word he used, but it is as strong 
 a one as we care to put in print. " Where are we 
 bound ?" 
 
 ''Up the Mediterranean," 
 
 " Mediterranean be blessed !" said Flint again. " Lirer- 
 pool or the Horn more likely. 'But, Jack, how did I get 
 aboard, and when?" 
 
 "You came last night. The landlord — Eupert is his 
 name — brought you and the rest off in a yawl, and you 
 were as drunk as a beast," said Guy reproachfully, at the 
 same time hoping that Flint could clear himself of the 
 charge. 
 
 "No, I wasn't," answered the sailor emphatically, 
 "You nor nobody else ever saw me drunk on a pint of 
 brandy, and that's all I took." 
 
 "A pint!" cried Guy in surprise — "a whole pint?" 
 
 "Heavens and earth! what's the matter?" exclaimed 
 Flint sharply. " I know to a drop how much I can stow 
 away. I can sail on and never keel under a quart, I 
 was doctored," 
 
 "But what made you touch it? You said you 
 wouldn't," 
 
 "I know it, but I had to do it to settle the fight we 
 got into. The landlord said if we'd take a drink all 
 around he'd call it square, and we did, I tried to keep 
 the others from falling into a trap, and fell into it 
 myself. How did you come here, Jack?" 
 
 " I shipped aboard this vessel because I was told you 
 had done so," 
 
 "What's your rate?" 
 
 "The agent put me down as an A, B.," said Guy 
 hesitatingly, 
 
 "He did!" exclaimed Flint, opening his eyes in 
 amazement, " Well, you are a soft Tommy, that's a 
 fact. What made you let him do it? You've got 
 yourself into hot water," 
 
 "I know it," replied Guy, with tears in his eyes, 
 "I've been whipped a dozen times already, and the sec- 
 
143 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 011(1 mate says he's going to liaze me heantifully. What 
 does that mean, Flint?" 
 
 " He says that, does he?" cried the sailor. " Then you 
 had best jump over the side while you've got the 
 chance. He's going to haze you, is he? That means 
 that he won't let you have a minute's peace as long as 
 this voyage lasts, and that you won't get a wink of sleep 
 more than jnst enough to keep you alive. I pity you, 
 my boy." 
 
 Guy thought he stood in need of sympathy. He 
 knew that there were hard times before him, but he 
 had never dreamed of anything so dreadful as this. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 STILL ANOTHER. 
 
 LINT looked at the boy for a moment with 
 an expression of great concern on his hag- 
 gard face, and continued: 
 " I was in a ship once when the whole crew 
 was hazed, and I wonkln't go through it again for no 
 money. It was awful." 
 
 "But why did you submit to it?" asked Guy, in sur- 
 prise. " Were there not enough of you to whip the 
 officers?" 
 
 " Yes, but that would have been mutiny; and if we 
 had tried it Ave would have been shot dov:n like dogs. 
 There's no way out of the scrape. Jack, rinless you go 
 overboard. You're held as tight as if you were in jail." 
 
 " But I haven't yet told you all," said Guy, who 
 seemed to find a gloomy satisfaction in talking about his 
 ti'oubles. " The first mate is an enemy of mine, too. 
 You remembei", do you not, that when you had the fight 
 at the boarding-house I ran out?. Well, I went to the 
 dock, and there I found a man who was being robbed. 
 I saved him by calling the police, and through me one 
 of the robbers was captured. I Avas taken to thcAvatch- 
 house and locked up until the next morning, Avhen I 
 appeared as a Avitness against the prisoner; and Avho do 
 you suppose he turned out to be? I Avas never more 
 astonished in my life. Don't say a Avord about it. 
 Mint, for he threatens to kill me if I lisp it, but it was 
 our first mate. He says he is going to make me think 
 this ship is a frying-pan." 
 
 " And he will keep his promise, too; you can bet high 
 on that," said Flint, greatly amazed. " Have you told 
 me the Avorst yet?" 
 
 " Yes, I think I have. Haven't I told you enough?" 
 
144 <^l^y HARRIS. 
 
 " I should say so. I told you that a boy who goes to 
 sea always gets more kicks than ha'pence^ and now you 
 find that I spoke the truth." 
 
 "But is there nothing I can do?'' asked Guy anx- 
 ionsly. 
 
 " Nothing — nothing in the world. You must take 
 your kicks and say not a word. One of these days, 
 when you are an officer, you can take it out of the green 
 hands who ship under you. That's your only chance to 
 get even.'' 
 
 Flint, having offered Guy all the consolation in his 
 power — and very poor consolation it was, too — now be- 
 thought him of his own troubles. Thrusting his hand 
 under his shirt he drew ont his ' monk-bag" — a small 
 leather purse which was suspended from his neck by a 
 string. The last time he saw the purse it was well filled 
 with bills and coin, but now it was empty. 
 
 "I have been eased of my wealth," said he. "Do 
 you know what has become of it ? I had eighty dollars 
 in here, and never spent a cent of it." 
 
 " Is that gone, too?" exclaimed the boy, astonished at 
 the calmness with which his friend announced the dis- 
 covery of his loss. " I don't know any thing about it, 
 but I do know where your advance went." 
 
 With this Guy begun, and hurriedly described the 
 scene that had been enacted when Flint and his insensi- 
 ble companions were fia'st brought on board, dwelling 
 witli much indignation on the fact that he had seen 
 Eupert steal his friend's money, and had tried to make 
 him give it up, but had only succeded in bringing down 
 upon himself the wrath of the captain, who choked him 
 until he could scarcely see. 
 
 When Guy finished, he looked at Flint, expecting 
 that he would be very angry, and that he would at once 
 seek the skipper and demand satisfaction for the man- 
 ner in which he had been treated; but the sailor did 
 nothing of the kind. He simply smiled, and said, with 
 an effort to ar)pear cheerful: 
 
 " I've seen that same trick done more'n once, but it 
 
UTILL Af^OTHER. 145 
 
 was never played upon me before, and never shall be 
 again/" 
 
 "But what are you going to do about it?"" asked Guy. 
 
 "What can I do?" 
 
 " Why, arrest Euj^ert for robbery. I will be a witness 
 against him."" 
 
 " Ha!'" laughed the sailor. " He'd bring a dozen men 
 to prove that I owed him every cent of my advance, and 
 more too. Besides, there's no telling where Kupert will 
 be by the time our cruise is ended."" 
 
 " But you need not go on this voyage. You were not 
 legally shipped. You don't remember of signing articles, 
 do you?"" 
 
 " Of course not; but it will do no good to make a fuss 
 about it, for the old man will say I had too much liquor 
 in me when I did it to remember anything." 
 
 " Suppose he does. I have heard my father say that a 
 note obtained from a person in a state of intoxication is 
 not good in law, and the same principle ought to apply 
 in this case."" 
 
 "Well, it won't,"" said Flint. "LaAV was made for 
 land-lubbers, not for sailors. Nobody cares for a sailor." 
 
 Guy begun to think so, too. It v/as utterly incompre- 
 hensible to him that men who had been kidnapped and 
 robbed, as Flint and his companions had been, must put 
 up with it, having no redress in law. He could not see 
 Avhy it was so. 
 
 Just then there was a movement in one of the bunks 
 below, and presently a head appeared at the foot of the 
 ladder. Another of the sailors had slept oft' the effects 
 of the drug, and was coming up to see where he was. 
 He was a man considerably older than Flint, and his hair 
 and Avhiskers were as white as snow. 
 
 Guy's heart bled for him. That a man at his time of 
 life should be treated worse than a brute, and be obliged 
 
 to submit to it too, it was Guy's indignation got 
 
 the better of him, and he could only wish that he could 
 be the master of the vessel for an hour or two. "Wouldn't 
 he straighten out things in a hurry ? 
 
146 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 The old sailor came slowly up the ladder, taking no 
 notice of Guy and his friend, and swept his eyes over the 
 deck. No sooner had he done so than he started as it he 
 had seen something frightful, took another good look, 
 and his face turiied ghastly pale. 
 
 '' What ship is this?" he asked, backing down the lad- 
 der a step or two. 
 
 "The clipper Morning Light, bound ujj the Mediter- 
 ranean," replied Guy. 
 
 '^Morning Light be blessed!" said the old sailor. " I 
 know her. She's the Santa Maria." 
 
 Guy's under jaw dropped, and the swab fell from his 
 hand. His worst fears were confirmed. 
 
 He did not have time to digest this most unwelcome 
 piece of news; for the second mate, thinking that he was 
 devoting considerable time and attention to swabbing 
 that particular part of the deck — for he had kept 
 steadily at work during his conversation with Flint — 
 came forward to see about it. He might have said or 
 done something not altogether pleasant to Guy's feel- 
 ings, had he not been diverted from his object by the 
 discovery of the two sailors on the ladder. 
 
 "Well, my hearties, you have slept it off at last, have 
 you?" he exclaimed. " Then tumble up and turn to." 
 
 Flint and the gray-headed sailor promptly obeyed the 
 order, while the mate went into the forecastle to renew 
 his efforts to arouse the sleepers. 
 
 This time he was successful. One by one the poor fel- 
 lows came up the ladder, all of them, as Guy noticed, 
 wearing the same expression of blank amazement which 
 he had observed on Flint's face, and, seeming to under- 
 stand their situation as well as if it had been explained 
 to them, went to work without uttering a word of com- 
 plaint. 
 
 As soon as the deck was Avashed down the ship was got 
 under way, and, when studding-sails had been set alow 
 and aloft, the men were mustered on deck and divided 
 into watches. This done, the captain stepped before 
 them and said, in a stentorian voice, as if he were hailing 
 the mast-head: 
 
STILL ANOTHER. 147 
 
 ''Now, men, we have shipped together for a long 
 voyage, and whether or not it is to be a pleasant one de- 
 pends entirely on yourselves. You all claim to be able 
 seamen, and if you do your duty cheerfully and without 
 any grumbling, you will find me the easiest ship-master 
 you ever sailed under; but if there's any nonsense among 
 you. 111 make this vessel the hottest place for you this 
 
 side of " Here the captain pointed Avith his finger 
 
 toward the deck, indicating, no doubt, the regions be- 
 low. "The rule of this ship is, the forenoon watch 
 below, and all hands on deck in the afternoon; and if 
 that regulation is changed, it will be your fault. Mark 
 you, now: That gentleman, Mr. Evans, is my first mate, 
 and that one there, Mr. Schwartz, is my second mate. 
 I'm the captain; and when you have taken a good look 
 at me, go for'rd. That's all I have to say to you." 
 
 "Go below, the watch," commanded the second mate. 
 
 Guy, Flint, the gray-headed sailor, and the others be- 
 longing to the port watch, lost no time in obeying the 
 order. There were none among them who felt like doing 
 duty. Guy certainly did not, for he was so completely 
 exhausted that it did not seem possible he could live to 
 draw another breath. He threw himself upon his hard 
 bed, drew the blankets over his shoulders, and listened 
 to the conversation of the sailors, who now had leisure 
 to talk over their situation. 
 
 To Guy's great surprise there was not one of them 
 who exhibited the least indignation, or had a harsh 
 word to say against the author of their troubles. Some 
 flung themselves helplessly upon their bunks as if it 
 mattered little to them whether they ever got up again 
 or not, others overhauled their bundles or chests to see 
 if any of their dunnage was missing, and the faces of 
 all wore a look of sadness and dejection that was pain- 
 ful to see. The furtive glances that they cast about the 
 forecastle, and the listening attitudes they assumed 
 whenever any unusual sound was heard, was enough to 
 satisfy Guy that they were all aware that they had been 
 shipped aboard the very vessel they had been most anx- 
 ious to avoid. 
 
148 GUY lUkRlS. 
 
 "You needn't be a looking and a listening now, 
 lads/' said the gray-hairod sailor, whose name was Up- 
 ham, and who had made one voyage in the ship. " The 
 Santa Maria is as quiet as old Davy's locker in the day- 
 time, but wait until midnight, if the wind freshens a 
 bit, then you'll hear something," 
 
 " The creaking and groaning of the cordage, most 
 likely," said Guy. "I've heard it often aboard the Os- 
 sipee." 
 
 " You'd better take a sheep-shank in that tongue of 
 yours," said Upham sharply. " When you have sailed 
 the blue water till your hair is as white as mine, you'll 
 know more than you do now." 
 
 So saying the sailor drew the blankets over him, and 
 Avith a sigh of resignation turned his face to the bulk- 
 head and prepared to go to sleep. The rest of the 
 watch, one after the other, followed his example, and 
 Guy was left to commune with his own thoughts. He 
 would have been glad to know just how and when the 
 ghosts of the Santa Maria were accListomed to appear, 
 so that he might be on the lookout for them; but Up- 
 ham did not seem inclined to say more on tlie subject, 
 and he had shown himself to be such a gruff, irritable 
 old fellow that Guy did not care to ask him any ques- 
 tions, being certain of getting a shai'p and unsatisfac- 
 tory reply. While he was thinking about it he fell into 
 a deep, untroubled slumber. 
 
 Guy that day learned by experience what "hazing" 
 meant, and he found, too, that Flint's description of 
 this mode of punishment was not in the least exagger- 
 ated. Long before night came he was so nearly ex- 
 hausted that the fear of the rope's end, with which the 
 second mate constantly threatened him, was tlie only 
 thing that kept him moving. 
 
 It was his watch below from six to eight o'clock, but 
 he was too tired to sleep, and the time was so short that 
 he got very little rest. He was called on deck again at 
 eight o'clock, and kept busy until midnight, for the 
 wind which arose at sunset fresliened rapidly, and on 
 
STILL ANOTHER. 149 
 
 several occasions it was found necessary to shorten sail. 
 Of course Gruy could lend no assistance in the execu- 
 tion of this Avork, but he bustled about in response to 
 every order that was issued, and only succeeded in get 
 ting himself into trouble by his misdirected activity 
 and zeal. 
 
 Once, Avhen he was sent headlong against the rail by 
 a push from an angry sailor, he clung to it for a mo- 
 ment with a half-formed resolution in his mind to 
 jump into the waves wliich were tossing the vessel so 
 widely about, and put an end to his misery at once, but 
 prudence stepped in in time to prevent him from doing 
 anything rash, 
 
 " The voyage can't last forever," thought Guy, trying 
 hard to keep up his courage. " We must reach some 
 port at last, and in less than half an hour after we are 
 tied up to the wharf I shall be missing. I am going to 
 desert. I have money enough in my pocket to keep me 
 in food until I can find something to do. I'd rather be 
 a wood-sawyer than a sailor." 
 
 Midnight came at last, and the starboard watch was 
 called. Guy liappened to be standing near the heel of 
 the bowsprit as they came up the ladder, and he Avas as- 
 touislied to see that every one of them was as Avhite as 
 a sheet. When the}^ reached the deck they all cast sus- 
 picious glances back into tlie forecastle, as if they Avere 
 afraid that there might be something following them. 
 Beyond a doubt the ghosts had manifested themselves 
 in some Avay. So thought Guy, and his opinion Avas 
 confirmed by some Avhispered Avords he overheard. 
 
 " What is it, mate?" asked Flint of the sailor AvhoAvas 
 the first to reach the deck. '' Your face is as Avhitc as 
 a landsman's Sunday shirt." 
 
 " And maybe your face Avill be Avhite, too, after you 
 have been doAvn there a fcAv minutes," answered the 
 man, avIio was the gray-haired sailor's crony, and aa'Iio, 
 like him, had made one vovage in the Santa Maria. 
 " Where's XJpham?" 
 
 '"Here," replied the oAvner of that name. "Have 
 you seen 'em?" 
 
150 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "No; but I've heard 'em. He'll be uj) directly/^ 
 
 " He! Who?" asked Flint uneasily. 
 
 "AVhy, the ghost of the man who was lost overboard 
 a few years ago," said Upham. " You see, one night, 
 during a gale, some of the crew were sent aloft to cut 
 away the main topsail, for it was blowing too hard to 
 furl it. One man was lost overboard — he was blown 
 fairly off the foot-rope, they tell me — and every night 
 after that his ghost used to get up on the main topsail 
 yard and sing out: ' Stand from under!' I never heard 
 him speak, but I've seen him often." 
 
 " So have I," said Upham's crony. " He looks like a 
 rat." 
 
 ''But what did you see in the forecastle?" asked 
 Flint. 
 
 " Nothing; but we heard 'em talking and going on. 
 They're in the hold now." 
 
 " Go below, you lubbers!" shouted the second mate. 
 '' This is the third time I have spoken to you, and if 
 you don't pay some attention I'll start you down faster 
 than you want to go." 
 
 The men belonging to the port watch ran quickly 
 down the ladder to avoid the handspike which the offi- 
 cer began to swing about in close proximity to their 
 heads. 
 
 Gruy was the last to leave the deck. Tired and utterly 
 discouraged as he was he would rather have spent the 
 rest of the night in work than go into the forecastle. 
 He scouted the idea of ghosts, but when such men as 
 Flint and Upham showed signs of fear, he believed that 
 it could not be without good reason, and that there must 
 be something to be afraid of. He trembled violently, 
 and his face was as pale as those of the rest of the watch. 
 
 "Aha! see him now, mates!" exclaimed the gray- 
 headed sailor pointing to Guy as he came down the 
 ladder. " Here's the chap that knows more'n all the 
 rest of us put together! — a regular sea-lawyer. Now 
 look at him!" 
 
 "Listen! listen!" said one of the watch suddenly. 
 
STILL ANOTHER. 151 
 
 The sailors all held their breath, and a silence deep 
 as that of the grave reigned in the forecastle. This con- 
 tinued for a few seconds, and then a low, moaning 
 sound, like the wail of some one in intense bodily agon}^ 
 fell upon their ears with startling distiiictness. It 
 seemed to come to them through the bulk-head that 
 separated the forecastle from the hold. 
 
 Guy listened in great amazement. The cold chills 
 begun to creep all over him, and his face grew a shade 
 paler than ever. 
 
 " Don^t be afraid, my son,^' said Upliam mockingly. 
 " It's only the creaking and groaning of the rigging. 
 You've heard it often, so it needn't scare you." 
 
 "No, it isn't the rigging," said Guy; "it's the boxes 
 of freight rubbing against one another." 
 
 " Well, 1 never knew before that boxes of freight 
 could talk," said one of the watch. " Just listen to 
 that!" 
 
 " Oh, heavens! I can't stand it! I can't stand it!" 
 came in muffled tones from tiie hold. " Take it oif, or 
 I shall die!" 
 
 This was followed by a low, murmuring sound, as of 
 several persons in earnest conversation, and tben all was 
 still. 
 
 Guy's philosophy was not proof against such a mani- 
 festation as this. There was something in the hold be- 
 yond a doubt, and what else could it be but the ghostly 
 crew the Santa Maria was supposed to carry? 
 
 " There's been awful things done aboard this craft," 
 said Upham, shaking his gray head solemnly. "JSTobody 
 knows how many poor fellows have been knocked over- 
 board on dark nights by them two mates," 
 
 " Great Scott!" soliloquized Guy, jumping into his 
 bunk and drawing the blankets over his. head. "I 
 never thought of that. Who knows but that the first 
 mate may be Avatching for a chance to knock me over- 
 board?" 
 
 The old sailor's words had excited a train of serious 
 reflections in Guy's mind. A man who could deliber- 
 
153 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 ately attack another with the intention of robbing and 
 throwing him into tlie harbor, would be none too good 
 to make an end of the boy who had given evidence 
 against him. There was but one thing he could do in 
 his helpless situation, he told himself, and that w\is to 
 watch the mate closely and be in readiness to seize the 
 first opportunity to desert the vessel. 
 
 The night wore slowly away, and another miserable 
 day dawned for the runaway. He was kept very busy, 
 for the mates always found some work that he could do, 
 but still he had leisure to observe that there was some- 
 thing unusual going on among the men. They gathered 
 in little groups to converse when the officers Avere not 
 looking at them, and Uj)ham talked privately with 
 every one of the crew, Guy alone excepted. He seemed 
 to be urging some sort of a movement among the sailors, 
 but what it was Guy could not find out, for no one, not 
 even Flint, would enlighten him. 
 
 Was it a mutiny? Guy hoped it was, and placed a 
 handspike where he could seize it at a moment's warn- 
 ing. If force were resorted to, he would get in at least 
 a blow or two in return for the barbarous treatment to 
 which he had been subjected. 
 
 Nothing was done until three o'clock, and then the 
 captain came on deck as usual to smoke his after-dinner 
 cigar. His appearance seemed to be the signal the 
 sailors were waiting for. They dropped their work at 
 once and, headed by Upham, marched aft in a body. 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE GHOSTS OF THE SANTA MAEIA. 
 
 ALLOO ! what do yon want here, you hib- 
 bers?" demanded the captain, as the sailors, 
 headed by Upham, ranged themselves on the 
 quarter-deck in front of him and took oif 
 their caps. "I don't allow any such doings as this 
 aboard my ship. Go for'ard where you belong." 
 
 " TTe haven't come for any mischief, cap'n," said 
 Upham, who had been chosen to do the talking for his 
 companions. "We're all sailor men, and know our 
 duty." 
 
 " Then go for'ard and do it, "said the skipper angrily. 
 ''Away you go." 
 
 " AYe're ready to obey orders, cap'n, and you sha'n't 
 have a word of fault to find with none of us, if you will 
 only think up some way to git rid of them other fellows. 
 It's more than human liesh and blood can stand to have 
 them aboard here." 
 
 "What other fellows?" 
 
 " Why, them in the hold that keeps up such a wailing 
 and groaning all the while." 
 
 " Get out o' this!" shouted the captain, looking about 
 the deck as if he were searching for something to throw 
 at U]Dham's head. " I've heard enough. You pulled 
 the wool over the eyes of a lot of soft Tommys on shore 
 and kept us waiting three days for a crew, but you can't 
 talk any of your ghost stories into me. Go to your 
 duty. " 
 
 " We've done our duty since we've been aboard, 
 cap'n," returned Upham, " and we're ready to keep on 
 doing it if you will only get rid of that other crew, but 
 not a tack or sheet do we touch till this thing has been 
 looked into. We've all made up our minds to that." 
 
154 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " Oh^ you're going to mutiny, are you?" roared the 
 skipjjer, his face growing purple with fury. " I'll show 
 you how I deal with such men. Mr. Schwartz, just step 
 down into the cabin and bring up my pistols." 
 
 The second mate started in obedience to the order, 
 but the sailors, who were drawn up in line across the 
 deck, moved forward as one man, and stood between 
 him and the companion-way. 
 
 Things were getting serious, and Guy, who stood on 
 the outskirts of the crowd, began edging his way toward 
 the bow. Was he going after his handspike? No; he 
 intended to dodge into the forecastle, where he would 
 be safe. If the captain was going to use fire-arms to 
 bring his crew to their senses, he did not want to be 
 found in the way of the bullets. 
 
 The skipper's actions indicated that he was in just the 
 right humor to do something desperate. He stamped 
 about the deck and swore at the top of his voice, but it 
 was plain that, in spite of all his bluster, he was cowed 
 by the bold front of his crew. When he paused to take 
 breath, Upham spoke. 
 
 " We don't want to go agin yer, cap'n," said he, 
 '' and we don't want to talk no ghost stories into you, 
 neither. All we ask of you is to come down into the 
 forecastle and listen to 'em with your own ears. I've 
 heard 'em, and I hain't a boy to be scared at nothing. I 
 snufPed salt water before you ever saw daylight." 
 
 The captain seemed on the point of making an angry 
 reply, but just then the second mate, after holding a 
 short consultation Avith the first officer, stepped up and 
 said something to him in a wliis2)er. The sailors could 
 not hear what it was, but they saw the skipper's face 
 brighten at once." 
 
 "It may be possible," said he, aloud. "I did not 
 think of that. Come on, men; I'll soon get at the bot- 
 tom of the matter." 
 
 The captain led the way into the forecastle, and the 
 sailors flocked down the ladder after him, Guy bring- 
 ing up the rear. 
 
THE GHOSTS OF THE SANTA MARIA. 155 
 
 " Now fetch on your ghosts," said the skipper, seat- 
 ing himself on one of the bunJis. 
 
 " Avast heaving a minute, cap'n, and you'll see 'em," 
 said Upham. 
 
 The silence that followed continued so long that the 
 sailors began to get impatient, but not so the captain. 
 The few words the second mate whispered in his ear had 
 aroused some suspicions in his mind, and he was re- 
 solved that they should either be confirmed or entirely 
 set at rest before he left the forecastle. 
 
 Ten minutes passed, and then the groans that had 
 startled the crow the night before were distinctly 
 heard, followed by the low murmur of conversation. 
 The captain seemed very much annoyed. He arose 
 from his seat, and placing his ear close against the bulk- 
 head, stood there listening intently until the sounds 
 ceased. 
 
 "They're there sure enough, cap'n," said Upham. 
 "You see that we wasn't complaining of nothing." 
 
 " I am satisfied of it now," was the reply. "Get lan- 
 terns, a couple of you, and all the port watch come with 
 me into the hold. Bring handspikes every mother's son 
 of you." 
 
 " Handspikes won't do no good," growled Flint, after 
 the captain had ascended from the forecastle. 
 
 "No," assented Upham. "I never yet heard of a 
 ghost being knocked down and put in irons." 
 
 Judging by the expression on the faces of the sailors, 
 there was not a man in the port watch who did not wish 
 that somebody besides himself had been called ujDon to 
 accompany the captain. The alarm that j^revailed 
 among them was contagious, and even Guy began to 
 give way to it. He believed, with Flint and Upham, 
 that there was something in the hold that could not be 
 overcome with weapons, and when he went aft with his 
 watch, armed like the rest with a handspike, he sta- 
 tioned himself at the heels of the captain with the de- 
 termination to keep close to him. He had faith in the 
 skipper's courage and prowess, and, moreover^ he saw 
 
• 156 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 that the latter carried pistols in his pockets. Pistols 
 were better than handspikes any day^ even in an en- 
 counter with ghosts. 
 
 In obedience to the orders of the mate, one of the 
 hatches was opened, and the captain descended into the 
 hold, followed by the port watch. Slowly they made 
 their way along a narrow passage toward the place where 
 the water-butts were stowed, and when they came 
 within sight of them they stopped, astonished by the 
 scene presented to their gaze. Some of the sailors took 
 Just one look, and then uttered exclamations of alarm 
 and turned to retreat. Guy would have done the same, 
 only he could not. He was so badly frightened that he 
 could neither move nor speak. 
 
 A portion of the cargo had been broken out, forming 
 a clear space about six feet square and as many feet 
 deep, and in it Avere seated the objects that had excited 
 his alarm — not ghosts, but living men, who held cocked 
 pistols in their hands, and whose faces denoted that 
 they were anything but pleased at the discovery of their 
 hiding-place. In the center of this clear space was a 
 fourth man, lying flat on his back, and pinned down by 
 a box of goods which had doubtless been thrown upon 
 him by the lurching of the vessel. The box was so 
 large and heavy, and his companions had so little room 
 to work in, that they had not been able to release him; 
 and there the poor fellow had lain for long hours suffer- 
 ing intense agony, which was increased by every lurch 
 the vessel gave. He it was who had given utterance to 
 the groans which had so greatly alarmed 'the crew. The 
 men, whoever they were, had come on board prepared 
 for a long voyage, for they had brought with them a 
 large bag of provisions, and had tapped one of the 
 butts to get a supply of water. 
 
 " Well,^'' said the captain, as soon as the volley of ex- 
 clamations which arose from the sailors had subsided, 
 so that he could make himself heard, "this thing has 
 turned out just as I expected it would. You^re the lads 
 that robbed the jewelry store, I suppose." 
 
THE GHOSTS OF THE SANTA MARIA. 15? 
 
 "Why, so the}^ are!" exclaimed Guy, Avho now com- 
 13rehended the matter perfectly; " I knew they couldn't 
 be ghosts." 
 
 " Who and what we are is no business of yours," an- 
 swered one of the men grufiiy. 
 
 "It isn't, 'eh?" exclaimed the captain. "I am mas- 
 ter of this ship, if you only knew it. Come up out of 
 that." 
 
 "No, we'll not go up, and if you know when you are 
 well off you'll not come down to us, either. AYe are 
 all armed, as you see, and the first man who makes a 
 move to lay a hand on us win sJ'et a bullet through his 
 head." 
 
 " Cap'n," said Flint, who was brave enough now that 
 he knew they had live men and not dead ones to deal 
 with, "just say the word and I'll junq) down there and 
 toss that fellow out before he knows wdiat is the matter 
 with him." 
 
 "No, no," said the captain. "Stay where you are. 
 I know how to deal with 'em. Where are you lads 
 going?" he added, holding one of the lanterns over the 
 robbers' hiding-place and taking a good survey of it. 
 
 " AVe're going wherever the ship goes," was the surly 
 reply. 
 
 " Well, you'll have a good long ride. This cargo will 
 not be broken out under seven or eight months. Have 
 you got provisions enough to last you that long?" 
 
 " You needn't lose no sleep in worrying about that." 
 
 "I won't, for it's your lookout, not mine. Hadn't 
 you better let me rig a whip and hoist that box off that 
 man? It's a pity to keep him in that f x." 
 
 " And after you get it hoisted oif you would try to 
 come some of your sailor tricks over us," said the rob- 
 ber. " We ain't quite so green as that. You just go 
 off and attend to your own business. We'll take care 
 of him." 
 
 "All right. Mark you now, my fine lads, I'm going 
 to close and batten down my hatches, and they sha'n't 
 be opened again until we reach port, no matter Avhat 
 
158 CUY HARRIS. 
 
 happens. If the ship goes to the bottom you go with 
 her, and without a chance to save yourselves." 
 
 Tlie skijiper turned and crawled back toward the 
 hatchway as he said this, and the watch followed him. 
 They found their companions on deck impatiently 
 awaiting their return, and when they heard what the 
 captain had to say to his mates, and learned that the 
 men in the hold were not ghosts, as they had supposed, 
 but a gang of burglars, who, in sjsite of the vigilance 
 of the watch, had succeeded in smuggling themselves 
 on board before the ship left port, their surprise knew 
 no bounds. Their faces, too, as well as the long, deep 
 sighs which came up from their broad chests showed 
 that their relief was fully as great as their astonish- 
 ment. 
 
 Guy and the four men he had found on board the 
 Santa Maria when he first joined her, knew more about 
 the matter than anybody else, except the oflBcers, they 
 having been on deck while the policeman was talking 
 with the captain about the burglars. They were obliged 
 to repeat all they had heard over and over again, first 
 to one and then to another, and Guy always wound up 
 by declaring that that was the way all ghost stories 
 turned out — they could be explained easily enough if 
 people would only take the trouble to look into them. 
 
 ''Avast there I" said Uj)ham, who happened to over- 
 hear this last remark. " You ain't done with the old 
 Santa Maria yet. You hain^t seen the ghost who gets up 
 on the main tojasail-yard every night during a gale and 
 says: 
 
 " Stand from under!" 
 
 By the time the hatches had all been closed and 
 securely fastened, the captain came up out of his cabin, 
 where he had been busy with his chart. A few rapid 
 orders, which Guy, as usual, failed to comprehend, were 
 issued, and the ship stood ofi on another course. 
 
 " The old man isn't letting grass grow under his feet," 
 said Flint to Guy, as he came down out of the top. 
 " He^s going to get rid of them fellows." 
 
THE GHOSTS OF THE SANTA MARIA. 159 
 
 "What is lie going to do with them?" asked Guy. 
 
 " He's going to put 'em asliore. We're heading for 
 some port now." 
 
 "Are we?'' exclaimed Guy, highly delighted at this 
 piece of news. " I wish we were there now/' he added, 
 sinking his voice to a whisper, and looking all about to 
 make sure that there was no one within hearing. '' You 
 wouldn't see me in half an hour from this time. I am 
 going to desert." 
 
 "And I don't blame you," said Flint. 
 
 " You will go with me, won't you ?" 
 
 "What are you going to do?" asked the sailor; "find 
 another ship?" 
 
 "No, sir," said Guy emphatically. "If I ever put 
 my foot on the deck of another vessel as a foremast 
 hand, I hope she will go to the bottom w^ith me. I am 
 going to stay ashore; you may depend upon that." 
 
 " Then I don't see what good it will do me to go with 
 you. Jack. I'd have to ship again at once, for I've got 
 no money, and I couldn't find any work to do ashore, 
 not being a landsman. I might as well stay here. JSTow 
 that I knov/ we've got no ghosts aboard I shall like the 
 Santa Maria as well as any other ship." 
 
 "Then I shall have to go alone, I suppose," said Guy. 
 "I don't like to leave you, Flint, but I can't stand this 
 any longer. I am black and blue all over from the 
 poundings I have received." 
 
 "And you're getting as thin as the royal yard," said 
 Flint. " You'll be bait for the crows if you stay aboard 
 this craft till we reach the Sandwich Islands, and that's 
 where we're bound." 
 
 " The Sandwich Islands I" repeated Guy. " I thought 
 we were going up the Mediterranean." 
 
 " Oh, that's only one of the jDack of lies that shipping 
 agent told you," said the sailor, with a laugh. "If you 
 had looked at the articles you signed, you would have 
 found out all about it. We're going to discharge our 
 cargo at San Francisco, take another from there to Hon- 
 olulu, and fill up again for New Orleans. Where we 
 shall go after that I don't know," 
 
160 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 ^'^ We're going round the Horn, I suppose?" 
 
 '•"Of course. They don't take ships over the isthmus 
 yet.- 
 
 ''Then I understand why Smith made me buy so 
 many thick clothes. He said ]3erhaps I'd see some cohl 
 weather. " 
 
 " And so you will," said Flint. " I'll help you to get 
 off if I can, but I don't see the use of going with you. 
 I'd have to leave you again, unless you would go to sea 
 in some other vessel." 
 
 "And that I'll never do. I'll starve on shore first." 
 
 " And I'll stay aboard the Santa Maria. Have you 
 got any money?" 
 
 " Yes, I have sixty dollars and a little over. Do you 
 want some of it?" 
 
 "No, I don't," said the sailor quickly. "I sha'n't 
 need any while I am at sea, but you'll need it ashore. 
 Here," he added, taking off his monk-bag and handing 
 it to Guy, "keep this to remember me by. Put your 
 money in it, and tie it around your neck, and you won't 
 be likely to lose it. You can't take your bundle with 
 you, of course, so when we reach port you had better put 
 on another suit of clothes under those you've got on now, 
 and stow away all the dunnage about you that you can 
 without making yourself look too fat. If yon put on too 
 much you miglit as well try to leave the ship with a chest 
 on your shoulder, for the mates will know in a minute 
 what you're up to. They're posted in all sailor tricks. 
 We sha'n't be long in port, so you had better be in a 
 hurry. Whatever you do, don't be caught, or you'll sup 
 sorrow with a spoon as big as a water-butt."' 
 
 This made Guy open his eyes. He had not expected 
 to find any serious obstacle in his way. If the ship came 
 to anchor in the harbor to which they were bound, 
 especially if they arrived there during the night, it 
 would be but little trouble for him to drop overboard 
 from the fore-chains and swim ashore, provided the dis- 
 tance were not too great; and if she were made fast to 
 the dock, it would be still less trouble to leave her. But 
 
THE GHOSTS OF THE SANTA MARIA. 161 
 
 now he knew that the officers would be on the watch, 
 that they well understood every device that could be re- 
 sorted to by deserters, and that if he were caught in the 
 act of leaving the vessel, the treatment he had hitherto 
 received would be mild in comparison with the punish- 
 ment that would be inflicted upon him. The thought 
 almost took Guy's breath away, but it did not discourage 
 him. He had fully made up his mind to desert the ves- 
 sel if it were within the l)ounds of possibility, and was 
 not to be easily frightened from his purpose. 
 
 He conferred with Flint at every opjiortunity, and 
 made all necessary preparations, selecting the clothes he 
 intended to take with him, and tying them up in a sep- 
 arate bundle together with the "Boy Trappers, ^^ the 
 book that belonged to Henry Stewart. This book Guy 
 had carefully preserved. It was the only thing he had 
 left of the hunting outfit which he had brought Avith him 
 from home. 
 
 On the third day after the discovery of the robbers in 
 the hold, land was in sight once more, and at nine o^clock 
 in the evening the Santa Maria entered the port toward 
 which the captain had shaped her course, and was made 
 fast to the wharf. 
 
 Guy did not know what the name of the toAvn was or 
 what country it was in, and he did not think to inquire. 
 All he cared for was to get safely oft' the vessel; he could 
 get his bearings afterward. 
 
 As soon as the ship touched the dock the captain 
 jumped ashore, and hurried away in the darkness — he 
 was going after some officers to arrest the men in the 
 hold, Flint said — and Guy ran into the forecastle to 
 make ready for his attempt at desertion. He hastily 
 pulled on the clothes he had selected, secured the " Boy 
 Trappers" about his person, and having examined his 
 monk-bag to make sure tnat his money was safe, pre- 
 sented himself before his friend, who nodded approv- 
 ingly. 
 
 '•'It's all right," said the sailor. "You'll pass in the 
 dark, Now stand here by the side, and I'll go aft and 
 
162 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 keep an eye on the mates. When I see that they are not 
 looking toward you, I'll cough this way — here Flint gave 
 an illustration — and do you jump ashore, and run as if 
 Old Nep was after you with his three-pronged pitchfork. 
 I can't shake hands with you for fear they'll see me and 
 suspect something; but you won't forget me, will you, 
 Jackr 
 
 " Never," replied Guy. ''You have been very kind 
 to me, and I wouldn't leave you under any other 
 circumstances."' 
 
 Flint, who did not care to prolong the interview, 
 walked leisurely aft, and Guy leaned over the side and 
 impatiently waited for the siguai. 
 
CHAPTEK XVIII. 
 
 ON SHORE AGAIN". 
 
 OE TEN minutes — it seemed an hour to liim 
 
 — Guy stood there with his hands on the side 
 
 waiting for the signal which was to tell him 
 
 that the moment had arrived for him to make 
 
 a strike for his liberty ; but Flint did not give it. 
 
 Guy began to get impatient. He looked about the 
 deck, but although the crew were in sight, none of them 
 seemed to be paying any attention to him or his move- 
 ments. The first mate Avas standing at the head of the 
 companion ladder, gazing toward the light-house at the 
 entrance of the harbor, and the second mate, the one he 
 most feared, was nowhere to be seen. But for all that, 
 he was close by, and on the watch, too. Flint saw him, 
 and that was the reason he did not give the signal for 
 which Guy was so impatiently waiting. 
 
 The vigilant officer, who seemed to see everything that 
 took jjlace on board the vessel, knew Guy's plans as Avell 
 as he knew them himself, for he had crouched at the 
 head of the ladder and looked down into the forecastle 
 while Guy was prej)aring for his attemj^t at escape. 
 
 The mate's first thought was to seize him as he came 
 on deck and shake him out of his superfluous clothing; 
 but after a little reflection he decided to adopt another 
 mode of punishment. He would wait until Guy was 
 about to leave the ship and then give him a lesson that 
 he would remember as long as he lived. 
 
 As Flint turned away after taking leave of his young 
 friend, he saw the mate crouching behind the long boat, 
 holding in his hand a stick of wood which he had 
 caught up as he passed the galley. 
 
 The sailor knew in an instant why he was there, 
 and would have turned back to warn Guy, but the 
 
164 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 officer, divining liis intention, made an impatient gest- 
 ure with liis hand, and Flint was obliged to pass on. 
 
 Guy waited and listened, growing more and more im- 
 patient, until at last he could no longer control himself. 
 The wharf was almost within reach of him, and if his 
 feet were once firmly planted upon it, his escape could 
 be easily accomplished. A few quick bounds would 
 carry him out of sight in the darkness, and if he were 
 followed, he could creep into some alley or door-way 
 and remain there until the danger was past. He re- 
 solved to try it. 
 
 He put one leg over the rail, paused an instant to 
 make sure that the movement had not attracted attention, 
 then threw the other over, and lowered himself slowly 
 toward the wharf. His feet had almost touched it, and 
 Guy was already congratulating himself on his escape, 
 when a stick of stove-wood, propelled with all the force 
 of a sinewy arm, whistled through the air, and striking 
 the rail within an inch of his head, bounded off, and fell 
 into the Avater. Had it struck him, as the mate fully 
 intended it should when he sent it Hying from his hand, 
 it would have knocked him senseless. 
 
 While Guy was looking all around to see where the 
 missile came from, the officer arose from his conceal- 
 ment and showed himself. 
 
 "That was a pretty good shot," said he, ''but the 
 next one will come closer than that. Crawl back, you 
 lubber. Now," he added, as the boy tremblingly 
 obeyed, "go below, and stay there till I call you." 
 
 As Guy started off in obedience to the order, the mate 
 hastened his movements by aiming a blow at him with 
 his fist, and following it up by a vicious kick with his 
 heavy boot; but the boy, having learned to be always on 
 the lookout for these favors, nimbly eluded them both. 
 
 ''I wish I were a man for a few minutes," thought 
 Guy, as he ran down the ladder into the forecastle and 
 began pulling off his extra clothing; '* I'd settle with 
 you, Mr. Schwartz, and pay you back in your own coin. 
 I've failed once, but I'll not fail the next time I try it. 
 
OJ\r SffOkE AGAIN, 165 
 
 ni have more time at San Francisco, for Flint sa3^s 
 we're going to discharge our cargo there. Perhaps it is 
 just as well, after all," he added, determined to look on 
 the hright side, if there was any, " because when I reach 
 San Francisco I shall be but a short distance from the 
 Eocky Mountains, and can begin the life of a hunter as 
 soon as I please. Don't I wish I was there now with a 
 good horse and gun, and such a dog as the boy trappers 
 had ? Never mind, I'll have them one of these days, if 
 I only live to get off this vessel." 
 
 About the time Guy was ordered below by the second 
 mate, the captain returned, accompanied by three or 
 four policemen. Guy heard them open the hatch and 
 go into the hold, aud remembering that the robbers had 
 promised to make a desperate resistance, he listened to 
 their movements with no little anxiety, momentarily ex- 
 pecting to hear the sounds of a fierce struggle going on 
 among the freight, biit nothing of the kind hajDpened. 
 
 The sight of the locusts and badges borne by the offi- 
 cers of the law took all the courage out of the burglars, 
 who quietly passed up their weapons and allowed hand- 
 cuffs to be slipped on their wrists. The box was then 
 hoisted off the other burglar, and he was placed upon a 
 stretcher and carried ashore. It was all done in five 
 minutes, and when Guy was ordered on deck to assist in 
 getting the vessel under way — or rather to stand by 
 and look on while the others did it — the policemen 
 and their prisoners had disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 This was the last incident worthy of record that hap- 
 pened while Guy remained on board the Santa Maria. 
 Nothing occurred to break the monotony of the voyage, 
 wliich continued two hundred and ten days, and which 
 our runaway afterward looked back upon as the dreari- 
 est part of his existence. 
 
 With the robbers disappeared all traces of that "^other 
 crew " of which the sailors stood so much in fear. The 
 most superstitious among them kept a close watch for a 
 few nights, starting at every unusual sound; and when 
 the wind freshened during the mid-watch, casting 
 
166 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 anxious glances toward tlie niain-toj)sail yard, where the 
 ghost who shouted " Stand from under!" was accus- 
 tomed to station himself. But nothing startling was 
 ever seen or heard, and the men finally ceased to speak 
 or think of the matter. 
 
 Flint came in for some slight punishment for assist- 
 ing Guy in his attempt to desert the A'essel, and Upham 
 and his crony wore hazed for a day or two for keeping 
 the ship waiting in port for a crew; but the maters ill- 
 will seemed to wear itself out at last, and then things 
 went on smoothly with everybody except the runaway. 
 
 Mr. Schwartz could not forget that Guy had tried to 
 impose upon him by rating himself as able seaman, 
 when he scarcely knew the maintruck from the kelson, 
 and he did not intend that Guy should forget it either. 
 He never allowed him a moment's peace while he was 
 on duty, and sometimes, when he felt particularly vin- 
 dictive, he would keep him on deck long after the rest of 
 the watch had gone beloAv. Guy's life almost became a 
 burden to him. The only pleasure he found was in 
 looking at the pictures in the "Boy Trappers," and 
 dreaming of the easy, glorious existence he Avould lead 
 when once he became a hunter. 
 
 When he tumbled into his bunk he would lie awake 
 for hours building his gorgeous air-castles. Under the 
 influence of his lively imagination the walls of his dingy 
 quarters would seem to widen out and loom up until 
 they became lofty, snow-capped mountains; the dreary 
 forecastle, smelling of tar and bilge-water, would be- 
 come a beautiful glade decked with flowers and embow- 
 ered with trees; the smoky lantern would grow into a 
 cheerful camp-fire; the weather-beaten walls would 
 change into tall, broad-shouldered hunters and trappers; 
 the chests, which were ranged on one side of the fore- 
 castle, would take the shape of horses staked out to 
 graze; and the clothing hanging about would be trans- 
 formed into buffalo humps and juicy haunches of 
 venison. 
 
 Then Guy would imagine himself stretched out on 
 
ON' SHORE again: 167 
 
 his blanket among these wild, congenial spirits, wearing 
 a coonskin cap and dressed in a full suit of buckskin, 
 gaudily ornamented (he couldn't be a full-fledged hun- 
 ter without a coonskin cap and a suit of buckskin, es- 
 pecially the latter, which, according to the cheap novels 
 he had read, always set off the wearer's "slender, well- 
 knit frame to such good advantage"), his " deadly rifle, 
 with which he could drive a nail or snuff a candle at 
 sixty yards' distance," lying by his side; his tomahawk, 
 hunting-knife and lasso hanging from a tree over his 
 head, his fierce wolf-dog that could pull down a buck or 
 throttle an Indian with all ease, reposing at his feet, 
 and his horse, an animal which had carried him safely 
 through many a desperate fight with savages and Avild 
 beasts, and which for speed and endurance was never 
 equaled, grazing a little apart from the others and ren- 
 dered conspicuous by his great size and exceeding beauty. 
 
 "And suppose this horse was the celebrated white 
 pacer of the plains," soliloquized Guy, carried fairly up 
 to the seventh heaven of happiness by his wild dream- 
 ings; " a horse that no living man had ever ridden until 
 I caught him with my own lasso and tamed him with 
 my own hands ! Ah ! And suppose these men were 
 government scouts and I was the chief of them? 'The 
 Boy Chief of the Kough Riders of the Eocky Mount- 
 ains!' Whew! AVouldn't that be a sounding title, 
 though? Oh, I'm bound to make myself famous before 
 I am ten years older. Dear me, I wonder if this misera- 
 ble vessel will ever reach San Francisco ?" 
 
 When Guy dropped to sleep at last it would be to revel 
 in such scenes as this, until the hoarse voice of the 
 second mate brought him back to the realities of earth 
 again. He lived in this way just seven months — how 
 careful he was to count the days as they dragged slowly 
 by — and when at last he was beginning to despair and 
 to believe that the voyage never would have an end, 
 Flint one day pointed out something in the horizon 
 which looked like a cloud, but which he said was land, 
 adding that he had heard the first mate say that if they 
 
168 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 had no bad luck they would pass the Golien Clate in 
 about three days. 
 
 Guy had been waiting most impatiently for this an- 
 nouncement, and now he could not have told whether 
 he was glad or sorry to hear it. He longed to feel the 
 solid ground under his feet once more, but there was an 
 obstacle in the way of his getting there that he dreaded 
 to encounter. 
 
 That was the second mate, whose eyes followed every 
 move he made while he was on deck. Since he de- 
 tected the boy in his attempt to desert the vessel, the 
 officer had been more brutal than he was before; and he 
 had promised, too, that if he caught Guy in any more 
 tricks of that kind he would knock him overboard the 
 very first good chance he got. 
 
 Guy believed that the mate fully intended to carry it 
 out. Flint thought so, too, and advised extreme cau- 
 tion. He and Guy held many a long consultation, but 
 could decide upon no definite plan of operations. The 
 only thing the boy could do was to be governed by cir- 
 cumstances, and this time be careful not to act in too 
 great a hurry. 
 
 On the afternoon of the fourth day after land was dis- 
 covered the Santa Maria entered the harbor of San 
 Francisco and came to anchor, where she was to remain 
 a day or two — so Guy heard — before she was hauled into 
 the wharf. No sooner had she swung round to her 
 anchor than one of the boats was put into the water, 
 and when it had been manned the captain came ou 
 deck carrying a basket on his arm. 
 
 ^' Pass the word for Thomas," said he. 
 
 Guy heard the call, and was hurrying aft in res]^onse 
 to it when he was met by the second mate. 
 
 " Look here, my hearty," said the officer, "3-ou're to 
 go ashore to carry the captain's basket. But listen 
 now — no nonsense. I know every hole and corner in 
 'Frisco, and if you don't come back with the old man 
 I'll be after you with a sharp stick, and if I catch you — • 
 well, you know me." 
 
ON SHORE AGAIN. 169 
 
 The mate finished with a peculiar nod of his head, 
 which had a peculiar meaning in it. 
 
 Guy picked up the captain's basket in obedience to a 
 gesture from that gentleman, and followed him into the 
 boat. His mind was in such a whirl of excitement and 
 uncertainty that he took no note of what was going on 
 around him. Here was a chance for liberty, but he did 
 not know whether to improve it or not. He had noth- 
 ing with him except his money, and that he always 
 carried in his monk-bag, which was slung around his 
 neck. The blankets and extra clothing which he would 
 probably need before he could have time to earn others, 
 were in his bundle in the forecastle, and so was that 
 book of Henry Stewart's, which was to him what chart 
 and compass are to the mariner. 
 
 Guy set great store by that book. It would, he thought, 
 be of as much service to him as the blankets and extra 
 clothing, for he knew nothing about hunting and trajj- 
 ping; in fact, he had never tired a gun half a dozen 
 times in his life, and he could make but poor headway 
 until he had received instructions from some source. 
 
 Having no mind of his own and knowing next to 
 nothing outside of school books, he had leaned upon 
 somebody ever since he had been away from home — Bob 
 Walker first, and then Flint — and he had expected 
 when he left the vessel to have the book for a counselor. 
 It told how to build camps, how to cook squirrels and 
 venison on spits before the fire, how to travel through 
 the thickest woods without the aid of a compass or the 
 sun, and how he ought to conduct himself in all sorts of 
 terrible emergencies, such as fights with Indians and griz- 
 zly bears. It would bo a rather risky piece of business for 
 him to depend on his own judgment and resources, and 
 it would be equally risky to wait for another oppor- 
 tunity to desert, for it might never be presented. 
 
 Guy did not know what to do, and there was no one 
 to whom he could go for advice. 
 
 " Thomas, you stay here till I come." 
 
 These words aroused Guy from his reverie. He 
 
170 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 looked iip and found himself standing at tlie foot of a 
 long, wide stairway leading np into a building whicli 
 looked like a warehouse. The Santa Maria was hidden 
 from his view by the masts and rigging of the vessels 
 lying at the wharf, the boat in which he had come ashore 
 was out of sight, and so was the captain, who went 
 quickly up the stairs and disappeared through a door, 
 which he slammed behind him. Now or never was the 
 thought that passed through Guy's mind, and without 
 stopping to dwell upon it an instant, he dropped the 
 basket and darted away as fast as his legs could carry 
 him, turning down every street he came to, and putting 
 as many corners as possible between himself and the 
 harbor. 
 
 Guy had learned at least one thing during the eight or 
 nine months he had been on the water, and that was that 
 in all seaport towns the sailors' quarters are located near 
 the docks, hence his desire to leave that part of the city 
 behind him in the shortest possible space of time. He 
 never wanted to meet a seafaring man again — he had 
 learned to despise the name as well as the calling. Be- 
 sides, he knew that if the second mate fulfilled his threat 
 of searching the city for him, that part of it to which the 
 sailors most resorted would be the very first place lie 
 would visit. Guy wondered if there was a hunters' 
 boarding-house in town. The officer would never think 
 of looking for him there. 
 
 The deserter made remarkably good time for a boy who 
 had been worn almost to a shadow of his former self by 
 hard fare and harder treatment, settling down in a rapid 
 walk at intervals, and then breaking into a run again 
 when he reached a street in which there were but few 
 people to observe his movements, and was finally brought 
 to a stand-still by a sign which caught his eye — J. 
 Brown, gunsmith. 
 
 The words drove all thoughts of the mate out of his 
 mind, and suggested to him a new train of reflections. 
 He was out of danger for the present — he had been run- 
 ning fully half an hour^^ as nearly as he could guess at the 
 
01^ SHORE AGAIN. Yl\ 
 
 time — and had leisure to ponder upon a question which 
 Just then arose in his mind. Here was a chance to pro- 
 vide himself with as much of a hunter's outfit as his 
 limited supply of money would purchase. Should he 
 improve it, or wait until some future day? It was a 
 matter that could not be decided on the spur of the mo- 
 ment, so Guy seated himself on a dry-goods box in front 
 of a store opposite the gunsmith's, and thought about it. 
 
 After he had recovered a little of his wind, and got his 
 brain in working order, Guy walked across the street and 
 looked in at the gunsmith's window. He saw there 
 everything a hunter could possibly need — rifles, shot- 
 guns, hunting-knives, revolvers, game-bags, traps, and 
 fishing-tackle — such a variety, in fact, that Guy could 
 not at once make up his mind what he wanted most. 
 The window on the other side of the door was filled with 
 saddles, bridles, blankets, spurs and ponchos. As Guy 
 looked at them a second question arose in his mind. 
 
 "Now, how am I going to get my horse?" he asked 
 himself. ''I must have one, for I never heard of a 
 hunter traveling about on foot. It wouldn't look well. 
 Besides, what if I should happen to get into a fight with 
 Indians or grizzly bears? Why, I'd be rubbed out sure. 
 And if I can think up some way to get a horse, how am 
 I going to earn the money to buy a saddle and bridle for 
 him? Great Scott! there's always some drawback to my 
 plans." 
 
 And this seemed to be a serious drawback, too. When- 
 ever Guy had indulged in his day-dreams, he had always 
 imagined himself a prosperous and famous hunter, with 
 all the comforts and luxuries of his calling at his com- 
 mand. The question had sometimes forced itself upon 
 his mind, how was he to get all these things? But it 
 was always an unwelcome one, and was dismissed with 
 the comforting reflection that it would be time enough 
 to worry about such little matters Avhen he stood in need 
 of them. That was the way he disposed of the horse 
 question now. 
 
 *'ril get my gun and other things I need, and think 
 
172 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 about a horse some other time," he thought. " Perhaps 
 1 can buy one already trained from some friendly Indian 
 lor a plug or two of tobacco; and, by the way, I guess I 
 had better get some tobacco for that purpose. Or, I may 
 find a hunting-ground ^o well stocked with game that I 
 can trap and shoot enough beaver and otter in a few days 
 to pay for a good horse. But the mischief of it is, I don't 
 know how to hunt and trap those animals, and there^s 
 tliat book I need so much on board the Santa Maria. No 
 matter, I'll wiggle through some way. "What I want 
 just now is a shooting-iron." 
 
 So saying, Guy opened the door and went into the 
 gun-shop. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE EAXCHMAN". 
 
 'D LIKE to look at a rifle,'' said Guy to the 
 guusmith, who came up behind the couuter 
 to atteud to his wants. 
 " Sometliing pretty nice?" asked the man. 
 
 *' No, sir. I can't afford anything fancy." 
 
 "'You want a squirrel-rifle, I suppose?" 
 
 "No, I don't," rei^lied Guy. ."I don't waste time 
 on such small game. I want one carrying a ball large 
 enough to knock over a buffalo or a grizzly bear." 
 
 "Oh!" said the gunsmith. He looked curiously at 
 Guy for a moment, and then opening a glass door be- 
 hind him, took out a plainly finished rifle, and handed 
 it over the counter. " There's one carrying fifty to the 
 pound," said he, " and Til warrant it to shoot two hun- 
 dred yards with accuracy. Only fifteen dollars." 
 
 Guy took the weapon, and it was so much heavier 
 than he expected to find it that he came very near drop- 
 ping it on the floor. 
 
 The gunsmith said it weighed twelve pounds, but his 
 customer thought he meant to say forty, for when he 
 lifted it to his shoulder and glanced along the barrel as if 
 he were taking aim at something, it was all he could do 
 to hold it, and the muzzle " wobbled " about so violently 
 that it was doubtful if ho could have hit the side of a 
 barn at twenty paces. He noticed, too, that the weapon 
 "was provided with two triggers and two sights, and he 
 did not see Avhat use they could possibly be; but of 
 course he could not ask questions without showing his 
 ignorance. 
 
 " I want something I can depend upon in any emer- 
 gency," said Guy after he had looked the rifle OA^er 
 with an air of profound wisdom, " A man who follows 
 
174 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 the business of a hunter sometimes finds himself in a 
 tight place." 
 
 ''Why, I thought you were a sailor," said the gun- 
 smith. "You look like one." 
 
 "A sailor!" repeated Guy contemptuously. "Well, 
 I have been, that's a fact," he added, suddenly recollect- 
 ing that he had not yet donned his coonskin cajD and 
 suit of buckskin; "but I'm a hunter now. Did you 
 never hear of the Wild Eough Eiders of the Eocky 
 Mountains?" 
 
 This was the name Guy intended to give to his band 
 when he got it organized, and he thought he might as 
 well begin to let people hear of it. 
 
 "No," said the man, looking at Guy as if he were on 
 the point of laughing outright, " I never did." 
 
 " Well, I am one of them, and I want a good rifle." 
 
 " This is a weapon I can recommend," said the gun- 
 smith. "Here are the molds that go with it. You 
 can see that it carries a large ball. If a bear gets one 
 of them in his head, it will be the last of him." 
 
 "I'll take it," said Guy. " Xow I want some other 
 things to go with it." 
 
 The gunsmith, who was all attention, handed out the 
 other articles as Guy called for them — a game-bag, a 
 powder-horn (which he filled with rifie-powder), a box 
 of caps, a hunting-knife, two pounds of bullets to fit 
 the rifle, as many j^ounds of bar lead and a ladle to melt 
 it in, and also a poncho and a Mexican blanket, Avhich he 
 tied up in a bundle so that Guy could carry them over 
 his shoulder. The trading was all done in tv/enty min- 
 utes, and when Guy walked out of the store he had 
 thirty-flve dollars less in his purse, and his first hunter's 
 outfit on his back. 
 
 "Now I begin to feel like somebody," thought the 
 boy, as he lifted his rifle to his shoulder and hurried 
 down the road. " Mr. Schwartz has laid a rope's end 
 over my back for the last time. Don't I wish I could 
 see him just now? I'd show him how we rough riders 
 are going to clean out the Indians. I'll turn into the 
 
THE RANCHMAN. 175 
 
 first hotel I find, get a square meal, and go to bed, 
 knowing that there'll be no one to awaken me with, 
 'All you port watch, ahoy! Roll out lively, Thomas, 
 or I'll be down there after you.' But after to-night I 
 shall live in the open air altogether. I wish I had a 
 horse. Those mouutains seem a long way off. I shall 
 find my first hunting-grounds among them." 
 
 Guy trudged along the dusty road for the next two 
 hours indulging in such thoughts as these, and very 
 pleasant traveling companions he found them. Now 
 and then he would be aroused by the sound of wheels, 
 when he would wake up long enough to step out of the 
 way of some j^assing vehicle, and then he would go on 
 with his dreaming again. 
 
 At last he found what he was in search of — a hotel, 
 the existence of which was made known to him by a 
 faded sign swinging from the top of a high post, and 
 which conveyed to those who passed that way the in- 
 formation that entertainment for man and beast was 
 there furnished by Tom Davis. The hotel itself was 
 a weather-beaten, tumble-down sort of a building, and 
 was better calculated to repel than to attract customers; 
 but Guy did not stop to look at it. If it could furnish 
 him with plenty to eat and a bed to sleep in, that was 
 all he cared for. 
 
 Attracted by the sound of voices, he turned the cor- 
 ner of the building Avhere the principal entrance seemed 
 to be, and found himself in the presence of a dozen or 
 more men who Avere congregated on the porch, some 
 lounging on benches, and others sitting with their chairs 
 tipped back against the side of the house and their feet 
 elevated on the rounds. They were all taking loudly, 
 and the appearance and actions of some of them indi- 
 cated that they had had something besides water to 
 drink. They raised their eyes as the boy appeared 
 among them, and after giving him a good looking over, 
 went on with their conversation. 
 
 The landlord was among them, and he made himself 
 known to Guy by pointing with his thumb over his 
 
176 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 slioulder toward the open door — an invitation for him 
 to enter and make himself at home. At any rate Guy 
 took it as such and acted upon it. In the bar-room he 
 found another rougli-looking individual, who relieved 
 him of his rifle and pack and asked what he could do 
 for him. 
 
 " I want a room and something to eat/'^ said Guy. 
 
 ''\ don't know how it'll be about a room," replied the 
 man. " We're pretty full — we always are — but I can 
 give you a shake-down somewhere. Grub is plenty, 
 and you look as though you needed a good tuck-out." 
 
 "So I do," said Guy. "I am almost starved to 
 death. I haven't eaten anything but salt horse and 
 hard-tack for the last seven months." 
 
 The man showed some curiosity to know where Guy 
 had been that he was obliged to live on such fare, and 
 the latter told him as much of his history as he cared to 
 have him know. He did not tell him, however, where 
 he was going and what he intended to do, for fear the 
 man might laugh at him. He had a suspicion that the 
 gunsmith laughed at him when he was buying his out- 
 fit. Indeed, everybody who knew that he wanted to be 
 a hunter thought the notion a wild one — they looked it 
 if they did not say it — and Guy could not bear to have 
 his grand idea made sport of. 
 
 Guy passed a comfortaljle night at the hotel in sjtite 
 of its unpromising exterior, enjoyed a good sleep, which 
 was something he really needed, ate a hearty breakfast 
 the next morning, and felt more like himself than he 
 had felt for many a long day. Having settled his bill 
 he stood for a moment on the porch with his rifle in his 
 hand and his pack over his shoulder, looking down the 
 long, straight road before him and wondering how many 
 steps it would take to bring him to his hunting-grounds, 
 when he was accosted by one of the guests of the house 
 who sat on a heavily loaded wagon Avith his whip and 
 reins in his hand. 
 
 "I say, stranger, if you're travelin' my way, you 
 might as well get up an' ride," said he. 
 
THE RANCHMAN. 177 
 
 '' Are yon going to the mountains?'^ asked Guy. 
 
 *' Wal, I'm goiu' down to the San Joaquin.'' 
 
 *'Is there any hunting there?" 
 
 " Hantin'! Now you're talkin'. Thar's bars an' 
 antelope till you can't rest." 
 
 "' Then that's the place I'm looking for, and I'll 
 ride." 
 
 So saying Guy handed up his rifle and pack and 
 mounted beside the man, who cracked his whijD and 
 drove off. 
 
 Mr. Wilson, for that was the man's name, was an old 
 miner, having immigrated in '49. Like many others of 
 his class, he believed that California was completely 
 "petered out," now that the placer diggings had failed, 
 and he had taken to farming, not because he liked 
 it or it was a profitable business, but because he had to 
 do something for a living, and nothing else olferedc 
 He did not own an acre of land, but he raised any num- 
 ber of fine horses and cattle for market, and had one of 
 the best paying stores in the San Joaquin valley. He had 
 been to 'Frisco for supplies, and was now on his way 
 home. 
 
 Gny learned this much from two hours' conversation 
 with his new acquaintance, and during that same time 
 Mr. Wilson had heard all about Guy's history and in- 
 tentions. He must have had a high ojjinion of the boy, 
 too, if he believed all he said, for Guy, like everybody 
 else who tries to make himself appear something better 
 than he realh^ is, was a great boaster. The stories he 
 told of the Avonderful feats he had performed with his 
 rifle, and his skill in catching and breaking wild horses, 
 were enough to make one open his eyes. 
 
 Guy should have known better than this. He had 
 received a lesson that ought to have broken him of his 
 propensity to boast. He had induced Smith, the ship- 
 ping agent, to rate him on the articles as ?n able sea- 
 man, and that one act, performed in five minutes' time, 
 had brought him seven long months of haziug. But 
 Guy never thought of it now. The privations he had, 
 
178 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 undergone, and the cruel treatment he had received 
 while he was on board the Santa Maria, seemed to him 
 like a troubled dream. Besides, Mr. Wilson Avould 
 never have an opportunity to catch him in any of his 
 falsehoods, for in a few days Gay expected to leave 
 him, never to meet him again. 
 
 " So you're a hunter, '' said the ranchman at length, 
 " You don't look to me like you was made of the right 
 kind of stuff fur that business. It takes them Avho has 
 been born in it to foller it. I don't know nobody about 
 here who makes a livin' at it. Even the Injuns don't.'' 
 
 "They don't?" exclaimed Guy, "^ How do they 
 make a living then ?" 
 
 " Why, they work on the ranches — herd cattle an' 
 sheep, an' raise garden truck. If I was goin' to be a 
 hunter I'd go at it right." 
 
 " That's just what I intend to do," said Guy. "I am 
 going to hunt about here till I get a horse and find a 
 conpanion, and then I'm going to strike for the plains." 
 
 " Then my man Zeke is jest the feller you want to 
 see," said the ranchman. " He's a reg'lar hunter, an'* 
 you'd know it the minute you sot eyes onto him, fur 
 you have to get a tree in line with him when he's movin' 
 to see if he's goin' ahead any. He's the laziest man I 
 ever see, an' I've seed a heap. He b'longs out on the 
 prairy, kills buffaler fur a livin'. Last season he shot 
 two thousand an' better. Got a dollar apiece fur the 
 hides, an' come down to 'Frisco to see the elephant. He 
 seed him, too, I reckon, fur when I found him he was 
 flat busted, an' as hungry as a wolf. He's herdin' cattle 
 fur me now to get a boss an' a new outfit, an' when he 
 gets 'em he's goin' back to the plains." 
 
 ''Did you say he was working for a horse?" asked 
 Guy. 
 
 "Wal, he's arned the boss already, an' now he's 
 workin' fur a kit — a rifle, blankets an' so on. He takes 
 'em outen my store, you know." 
 
 " Have you any other horse you'd like to sell?" 
 
 *' Wal, 1 dunno, " said the ranchman with a smile. 
 
THE RANCHMAN. 179 
 
 " I've got a matter of six or seven hundred, mebbe, an' 
 might spar' one more." 
 
 " What do yon ask for them?" 
 
 " All prices — twenty-five to seventy-five dollars." 
 
 " I should like to get one," said Guy, '• and I am 
 willing to work for it." 
 
 " Wal, I've got plenty that you can do — I never yet 
 heard that work was scarce in this country — an' if you've 
 a mind to set in with me, I'll give you twenty dollars a 
 month an' find you." 
 
 "^Find me?" repeated Guy. "^ Am I going to get 
 lost?" 
 
 "■ Eh? Lost! No. I mean I'll give you twenty dol- 
 lars a month an' all the grub you want to eat an' all the 
 bosses you need to ride. I give Zeke thirty dollars, but 
 you don't know nothin' about herdin' cattle. You talk 
 like a high larnt boy. Did you ever have any schoolin'.^" 
 
 "Oh, yes," said Guy. "I've been to school all my 
 life — that is almost all my life. I've been a hunter five 
 years, you know." 
 
 "Then mebbe you're jest the feller I Avant to tend 
 store fur me. Did you ever do anything of the kind?" 
 
 It would not be safe to boast now, for there was a 
 chance of being found out, so Guy gave a truthful 
 answer. 
 
 "No, I never did," said he, "but I know I could 
 learn." 
 
 " Sartin you could. It's easy larnt. Now I'll tell 
 you what I'll do. If you're a mind to work about the 
 rauch on week days an' tend store on Sundays, I'll give 
 you what I told you an' let you have your pick of my 
 bosses, an' I've got some good ones, too. Only you 
 must promise one thing — if you want to leave me you 
 must give me a month's notice, so that I can get some- 
 body to fill your place. I make that bargain with all 
 my hands." 
 
 "All right," said Guy, "I'll do it." 
 
 And so the matter was settled. Guy had found a 
 way to get the horse he so much needed, and he was in 
 ecstasies over it. 
 
180 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 The journey to M)\ Wilson's ranch occupied nearly a 
 Aveek, and during that time Guy learned something of 
 the outdoor life he expected to lead all the rest of his 
 days. The change from the close, cramped forecastle 
 of the Santa Maria to the freedom of the country was a 
 most agreeable one, and he thoroughly enjoyed his 
 liberty. He talked to Mr, Wilson every day about Zeke, 
 and made up his mind that he should like him. If he 
 only proved to be a genial, talkative companion and as 
 good a hunter as Flint was a sailor, Guy would ask 
 nothing more of him. Every day he grew more and 
 more impatient to meet him, and was glad indeed when 
 Mr. Wilson pointed out a house in advance of them 
 and informed him that when they reached it they would 
 be at their journey's end. 
 
 ''All this land" you see here," said the ranchman, 
 waving his whip toward the broad, level plain which 
 stretched away on both sides of the road, "used to be 
 Congress land. AVhen I first squatted here I had it all 
 to myself, but other fellers kept comin' in all the while 
 with their bosses an' cattle an' locatin' their farms right 
 in the best part of my pastur', an' at last they got to 
 crowdin' me so heavy that I had to send Zeke with the 
 most of my stock about forty miles farther down the 
 valley. I'm goin' to send you down to him to-morrer 
 with some supplies." 
 
 "But what if I should get lost?" said Guy. "You 
 must remember that I don't know the country yet." 
 
 " You can foller a plain trail, can't you?" 
 
 *'Yes, I can do that." 
 
 "Then you needn't get lost unless you're a mind to, 
 "cause the road's as plain as daylight. Besides, I'll put 
 the pack on the ole clay-bank, an' she knows every step 
 of the way." 
 
 80 saying, Mr. AVilson cracked his whip, and urging 
 his tired horses into a trot brought his heavy wagon up 
 before the door of the rancho in fine style. 
 
 The rancho was a roomy, rambling structure built of 
 unplaned boards^ and like the hotel at which Guy had 
 
THE RANCHMAN. 181 
 
 stopped in San Francisco, gave promise of anything but 
 comfortable accommodations. The inside proved on 
 closer acquaintance to be quite as cheerless as the ex- 
 terior. There was no stove, no fire-place, no chairs, not 
 even a bedstead in the house that Guy could discover. 
 It looked perfectly poverty-stricken. But nevertheless 
 the rancho, and its occupants, too, were as clean as new 
 pins. The earthen floor had evidently just been swept; 
 the table and the benches which served in lien of the 
 chairs were as white as sand and water could make 
 them; the Mexican wife of the proprietor was neatly 
 dressed, and the children, who crowded about him as he 
 jumped down from the wagon, had just received a 
 thorough scrubbing in anticipation of their sire's re- 
 turn. 
 
 Guy carried his rifle and pack into the house, and 
 during the next half-hour worked hard enough to get 
 up a splendid appetite for supper, although an un- 
 pleasant incident that happened drove it all away again. 
 
 The first thing Mr. Wilson did was to take a key from 
 a nail under the porch, and open a door leading into a 
 small room adjoining the main building. This proved 
 to be the store of ^\hich he had spoken. Here the 
 ranchman kept a variety of useful and salable articles; 
 among the latter tobacco and grape brandy, which, as he 
 told Guy, formed his principal stock in trade. He 
 further informed his new hand that although the rancho 
 was dull enough on week days, it was the very reverse on 
 Sundays, for then it was the headquarters of all the 
 ranchmen and Indians for fifteen miles around, who 
 congregated there to drink, shoot, and run horses. Mr. 
 Wilson liked to join in these sports, and he wanted 
 somebody to take care of the store, so that he could give 
 his undivided attention to them. 
 
 After the wagon had been unloaded and the contents 
 stowed away in the store, Guy assisted j\Ir, Wilson in 
 taking care of the horses. This was done in a very few 
 minutes, for all that was necessary was to unharness 
 them and turn them loose on the prairie. 
 
182 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 "^Are you not afraid they will stray away ?^* asked 
 Guy. 
 
 "I don't care if they do/' replied the ranchman. 
 ^' I've got plenty more." 
 
 ''But you might lose them altogether," 
 
 "No fear of that. They've got my brand on 'em, an' 
 everybody knows it. Now/' he added, throwing the 
 harness into the wagon, and leading the way toward a 
 small corral into which twenty or tliirty horses had just 
 been driven by an Indian vacquero, I'll show you the 
 hoss I'm going to sell j^ou. You can try him now an' 
 see how you like him, an' to-morrer you can ride him 
 down to Zeke." 
 
 If there was any part of his hunter life on which Guy, 
 during his day-dreaming, had dwelt Avith more satisfac- 
 tion than another, it was that Avhich he expected to 
 spend in the saddle. Although he had never mounted 
 a horse in his life, he had somehow got it into his head, 
 along with his other foolish notions, that he had in him 
 the qualities of v/hich accomplished and fearless riders 
 are made. He would render himself famous, not only 
 by shooting grizzly bears and Indians, but by riding 
 horses that nobody else dared to mount. He hoped dur- 
 ing his wanderings to meet that celebrated white pacer, 
 which, according to a certain cheap novel he had read, 
 had often been captured by strategy but never ridden. 
 This famous horse always threw those who attempted to 
 mount him, trampled them to death, and then made off, 
 fairly distancing the fleetest nags that could be brought 
 in pursuit of him. 
 
 Guy believed in the existence of this animal as firmly 
 as he believed in the existence of the boy-trapj)ers, and 
 hoped s~>me day to own and subdue him; but now that 
 he had a chance to begin his career as a rough rider, he 
 felt very much like backing out. He found that there 
 is a vast difference between thinking about things and 
 doing them. The actions of the horses in the corral 
 frightened him. They were such restless fellows! They 
 danced and curveted, reared, flourished their heels in the 
 
THE RANCHMAN. 183 
 
 air, and dashed about the inclosure like veritable wild 
 horses. 
 
 The vacquero, in obedience to his master's order, en- 
 tered the corral, lasso in hand, and in a few minutes 
 came out again leading a small, clean-limbed horse, 
 which seemed very much averse to leaving his com- 
 panions, and showed his disapproval of the whole pro- 
 ceeding by furious kicks and plunges. 
 
 "Thar he is!" exclaimed the ranchman. "Twenty- 
 five dollars fur him, an' that's dog cheap. Gentle as a 
 kitten, as anybody can see." 
 
 " No," said Guy, "/can't see it." 
 
 "Oh, he's lively, of course. He hain't lieen doin' 
 nothing fur three or four months, you know, an' never 
 had a saddle on him but two or three times. If he 
 hain't the next thing to a lightnin' express train, you 
 jest take my hat an' say no more about it. Purty as a 
 red wagon wheel, too, he is. Jump? I should say he 
 could. And last! You can't tire him down. He's 
 made of iron. Thar he is. Jump on him an' put him 
 through his paces." 
 
 While this conversation was going on, the vacquero 
 had with wonderful dexterity slipped a bridle over the 
 horse's head, strapped a deep Spanish saddle on his back, 
 and now stood holding him in readiness for Guy to 
 mount. 
 
CHAPTEE XX. 
 
 GUT, THE ROUGH EIDEE. 
 
 UY HEAED scarcely a word of Mr. Wilson's 
 glowing description of the merits of his 
 horse, for his mind was busy with something 
 else. He was trying to think up some good 
 excuse for declining to mount the animal. He made 
 one praiseworthy resolution then and there, and that was 
 that he would never again indulge in boasting. He 
 had never done it yet without being exposed. 
 
 '' Thar he is!" repeated the ranchman. "Jump on! 
 an' if he don't take you througli San Joaquin a leetle 
 trifle faster than you ever traveled afore on hoss-back 
 I'll give him to you for nothing. Hand us your foot 
 an' I'll throw you on." 
 
 Guy's pride was stronger than his fear. He could see 
 no way to get out of the difficulty into which he had 
 brought himself by his reckless boasting except by a 
 frank confession, and that, of course, was not to be 
 thought of. He noticed that the animal became quieter 
 since the bit was put into his mouth, and consoling 
 himself with the hope that perhaps he was not so bad 
 after all, Guy seized the horn of the saddle, gave his 
 foot to Mr. Wilson, and in a twinkling was seated on 
 the animal's back. 
 
 The horse seemed astonished at his presumption. 
 He turned his head first one way and then the other, 
 looking at Guy over each shoulder, while the ranchman 
 and his vacquero begun to back away, as if in anticipa- 
 tion of something that was about to happen. 
 
 "Put your feet in the stirrups," said Mr. Wilson, 
 " an' I'll give him a good send off." 
 
 Before Guy could obey the horse begun his antics. 
 He put his head down between his knees, humped up 
 
ISi; GUY HARRIS. 
 
 liis back, bronght his four feet together, and bounded 
 from the ground, commg down as solid as a rock, and 
 with a concussion tliat was terrific. Guy arose in the 
 air about a foot and a half, and then settled into the 
 saddle again with a jar that fairly made his teeth 
 chatter. 
 
 "Ha, ha!" laughed the ranchman, who appeared to 
 be as highly delighted as he would have been over an 
 exhibition of fancy riding in a circus; " that was well 
 done! He bucks beautiful, don't he?" 
 
 " Ye — yes," said Gruy, who had not the least idea 
 what Mr. Wilson meant. '''But why don't he go 
 ahead? Get up here!" 
 
 The horse did get up- — this time higher than before — 
 and he executed the movement with a vigor and vicious- 
 ness which showed that he meant business. He made a 
 most terrific stiff -legged jump — a "buck," Mr. Wilson 
 called it — and when he came down, Gu}', with his arms 
 and legs flying wildly about, went up like a rocket, 
 hung suspended in the air for a moment, and then 
 whirled over and came down on his head and shoulders 
 with a crushing force. 
 
 " Wal, I deciar ! he got you off'n him that time, didn't 
 he?" exclaimed the ranchman, hastening to Guy's assist- 
 ance. " Now I'll try him, an' if you will keep an eye 
 on me I'll larn you how to ride a buck-jumj^er." 
 
 Guy was too nearly senseless to keep an eye on any- 
 thing. He could not stand without holding fast to 
 something. Mr. Wilson leaned him up against the side 
 of the corral as if he had been a stick of wood, and then 
 addressed an order in Spanish to his vacquero, who 
 hurried ofl^ to the house, presently returning with a 
 pair of huge Mexican spurs. These, with the assistance 
 of the Indian, the ranchman quickly fastened to his feet, 
 and walking up to the horse, which had scarcely moved 
 from his tracks since he rid himself of Guy, placed one 
 hand on his back, and with a quick bound, sprung into 
 the saddle. No sooner was he fairly seated than he 
 brought his armed heels against the sides of the animal. 
 
GUY THE k O UGH RIDER. 187 
 
 which sprung away at the top of his speed, and the last 
 Guy saw of him, he was making rapid headway across 
 the plain, while his rider was urging him to greater 
 efforts by merciless applications of his persuaders. 
 
 When the ranchman returned, at the end of a quarter 
 of an hour, he found his new hand stretched out on the 
 porch, suffering from a severe headache, and in no 
 humor to listen to his description of the manner in 
 which he had conquered the buck-jumper. 
 
 Guy had been hungry a few minutes before, but he 
 did not want any supper now. The tortillas, beans and 
 beef, with which the table was loaded, had no attraction 
 for him; he simply drank a cup of coifee, without any 
 milk (ranchmen in California raise cattle for the hides 
 and meat, and not for the sake of milk and butter), and 
 intimated to Mr. Wilson that he would be glad to be 
 shown to his room. 
 
 "Eh?" exclaimed the ranchman, as if he did not 
 quite understand his request. 
 
 "I say I should like to go to my room," repeated 
 Guy. '' I want to see if I can't sleep olf this headache." 
 
 " Oh, you want to go to bed, do you? All right." 
 
 As Mr. Wilson said this, he walked out into the yard 
 to light his pipe at the fire over which the sup|)er had 
 been cooked, and when he came back he carried over his 
 shoulder a saddle, which he placed at one end of the 
 porch. Then he went into the house and brought out 
 Guy's blanket and poncho; and when he had spread 
 them beside the saddle, the bed was made. 
 
 " Thar you are," said he, "an' you can tumble down 
 as soon as you please." 
 
 Guy was astonished. The porch was the only room 
 he was to occupy while he remained in that house, and 
 his saddle and blankets were to foru^ his bed. This was 
 rather a primitive way of living, but it was the style at 
 Mr. Wilson's rancho, as he found when the rest of the 
 family were ready to retire. The farmer's wife and 
 cliildren stowed themselves away somewhere in the 
 house, but the man himself made his bed a short dis- 
 
18S GUY HARkiS. 
 
 tance from Guy's, while two Indian herdsmen found 
 sleeping apartments at the opposite end of the porch. 
 
 The first part of the night Guy passed in anything but 
 an agreeable manner. The saddle proved to be a hard, 
 uncomfortable pillow for an aching head and, more- 
 over, one of the small army of dogs, which Mr. Wilson 
 kept about the house, insisted on occupying a portion of 
 his bed, and showed a disposition to be snapj^ish if the 
 boy happened to crowd him as he tossed uneasily about. 
 Guy stood the imposition for a while, but becoming 
 angry at last, he kicked the dog ofE the porch, re- 
 arranged his bed, folded his jacket and spread it over 
 the saddle, and then lay down again and slept soundly 
 until he was awakened by footsteps and the continued 
 murmur of conversation. 
 
 He opened his eyes to find that it was broad daylight, 
 and that preparations were being made to start him otf 
 on his journey. There was the "old clay-bank," a 
 cream-colored mare, which was to carry the supplies to 
 Zeke, the buffalo hunter, and act as Guy^s guide at the 
 same time. A large jDack-saddle was strapped on her 
 back, and if one might judge by the appearance of it, it 
 was well filled. The buck-jamper was there, too, stand- 
 ing quietly by the horse-trough, saddled and bridled, 
 and waiting for his rider. Guy's rifle leaned against 
 the wall at the head of his bed, with his powder-horn, 
 game-bag, a pair of spurs, and a long rawhide hanging 
 from the muzzle. 
 
 "Halloo! you're awake at last, are you?" exclaimed 
 the ranchman, who just then stepped out of the house 
 to arouse Guy. " I thought that seein' you had the 
 headache I'd let you sleep this mornin', but it's time to 
 get up now." 
 
 Guy scrambled to his feet, looking none the worse for 
 his accident of the night before, and when he had 
 dipped his head in the horse-trough a few times, he felt 
 as sprightly and vigorous as though he had never told a 
 lie, and received in consequence the hardest fall of his 
 life. 
 
GUY, THE ROUGH RIDER. 189 
 
 The morning was fresh and glorious, as mornings al- 
 ways are in California at that season of the 3'ear, the air 
 was exhilarating — every breath of it seemed to infuse 
 new life into him — and Guy was elated with the pros- 
 pect of a pleasant journey and an interview with the 
 buffalo hunter, who was the very man he most wished to 
 see. He could have looked forward to a day of uninter- 
 rujDted enjoyment but for one thing, and that was the 
 presence of the buck-jumper. It had a depressing ef- 
 fect upon him. He did not see why the ranchman 
 should give him that horse to ride when he had so nearly 
 dashed his brains out the night before. 
 
 " Come in an' get some coffee an' slapjacks," said Mr. 
 Wilson, at the same time tossiiig Guy a piece of a gunny 
 sack on which to wipe his hands and face. 
 
 The boy's appetite having come back to him by this 
 time, he made a hearty breakfast, and while he was eat- 
 ing it, listened to his employer's advice and instructions 
 concerning the journey he was about to undertake. 
 
 ''Zeke is forty miles away, as I told 3'ou," said the 
 ranchman, "^an' as your trail, part of the way, leads 
 over the mountains, you won't be able to travel very 
 fast; but the ole clay-bank is a right smart walker, an' 
 if you have no bad luck you had oughter be in Zeke's 
 camp by four this arternoon. About midday you'll 
 cross Deer Eun, an' thar the mar' will want to stop an' 
 pick about a bit, an' while she's doin' it, you can set 
 down under a tree an' eat your dinner. You'll see 
 plenty of antelojDe thar, an' 5'ou'll have no sort of trouble 
 in knockin' over one fur your dinner, if you know how 
 to hunt 'em ; but fur fear you don't, I've put a leetle 
 something in your game-bag. You'd best kill an ante- 
 lope, howsomever, if you get the chance, 'cause mebbe 
 it'll help you to make friends Avitli Zeke." 
 
 '^How shall I know him Avlien I see him?" asked 
 Guy. 
 
 " Know him!" said the ranchman. " The mar'll know 
 him, an' he'll know the mar. The fust question he'll 
 ask you will be, ' You got any tobacker in that thar 
 
190 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 pack-saddle?' When you see a man who says that to 
 you, tell him 'hallo/ ^cause that's Zeke. He'll be a leetle 
 trifle cross an' ugly at fust, 'cause he's been outen to- 
 backer now three or four days; but a chaw or tv/o will 
 set him all right, an' you'll find him a mighty palaverin' 
 sort o' feller, I want you back by to-morrer night so 
 that you can take your fust lesson in the store on Sun- 
 day." 
 
 "■ I should be much more eager to undertake the jour- 
 ney if I had a gentler horse to ride," said Guy. 
 
 "A gentler hossi" repeated the ranchman, opening 
 his eyes in amazement. "It can't be found on this 
 farm nor in Calif orny nuther, a gentler boss than that 
 thar boss can't. Why, a baby could ride him." 
 
 " But I am out of practice, you know," said Guy 
 meekly. 
 
 " Yes, I seed that ; but you won't have no trouble 
 while the ole clay-bank is with him. He'll go along 
 like an old cow." 
 
 Guy's fears were by no means set at rest by this assur- 
 ance, but he raised no further objections to the horse, 
 and haviug satisfied his appetite, he arose from his cliair 
 and begun preparations for his journey, in which he was 
 assisted by the ranchman. His poncho and blanket 
 were rolled iip and strapped behind his saddle ; the 
 game-bag containing his dinner Avas suspended from the 
 2:)ommel ; his spurs were adjusted ; the long rawhide, 
 which was intended as a persuader for the clay-bank, 
 was tied to his wrist by a thong of buckskin; and when 
 Guy, after the display of a great deal of awkwardness, 
 had managed to seat himself in the saddle, the farmer 
 handed him his rifle and spoke to the mare, which set 
 off at a rapid Avalk, the buck-jumjier following quietly 
 at her heels. 
 
 Guy ought to have been supremely happy now, for 
 he was in the very situation he had so often dreamed of 
 and longed for. He had a "good horse under him," a 
 "trusty rifle on his shoulder," and everything that was 
 necessary to set him up in business as a hunter. But 
 
GUV, THE ROUGH RIDER. 191 
 
 still things were not jnst to his liking — there were al- 
 ways some drawbacks. 
 
 In the first place horseback-riding Avas by no means 
 the easy, agreeable way of getting over the ground that 
 he had imagined it to be, particularly to one who was 
 entirely unaccustomed to it and who did not know how 
 to sit in a saddle. 
 
 The buck-jumper may have been very fleet, but he 
 was an uncommon hard traveler, especially when he 
 found it necessary to quicken his pace in order to keej) 
 up with the fast-walking old clay-bank. On these 
 occasions he exhibited a style of progression peculiarly 
 his own, and which was j^erfect torture to his rider, who 
 was churned up and down, jerked backward and for- 
 ward, and jolted from side to side in a way that was 
 quite alarming. 
 
 Then, too, the horse showed by the way he sometimes 
 arched his back and looked over his shoulder at Guy 
 that there was plenty of mischief in him still, and every 
 few minutes he Avould further exhibit it by making a 
 jum]) to one side or the other, and doing it so quickly 
 that Guy would certainly have been thrown to the 
 ground had he not clung with all his strength to the 
 horn of the saddle. The reason for this Avas that Guy, 
 forgetting he had spurs on, kept his heels close to the 
 animaFs side in order to secure a tirm seat, and thus the 
 rowels were pricking him continually. 
 
 Another thing that seA'erely tested his patience and 
 endurance Avas his rifle. If it Aveighed tAvelve pounds 
 when he left the rancho, it Aveighed a hundred before he 
 had gone a quarter of a mile, judging b}^ the Avay it 
 pressed into his shoulders and made his arms ache. 
 
 Guy felt a good deal of satisfaction in carrying the 
 Aveapon about Avith him, for it Avas the first thing of the 
 kind he had ever owned; but at the end of a mile he 
 Avished most heartily that he had left it at the rancho. 
 
 At the end of tAvo miles he told himself that if he Avere 
 ever required to make this journey again, he would leave 
 his horse at home and follow the clay-bank on foot. At 
 
103 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 the eiid of three he came to the conchision that he had 
 mistaken his calling; and by the time he had put four 
 miles between himself and Mr. Wilson's rancho, he 
 wished from the bottom of his heart that he Avas back on 
 board the Santa Maria. 
 
 At last, when Guy could endure it no longer, he set 
 himself at work to find some way to alleviate his misery. 
 He saw hanging from the horn of his saddle a lariat witli 
 which the thoughtful ranchman had provided him, so 
 that he might stake out his horse Avhen he went into 
 camp. With this he formed a sling for his rifle, and 
 tied tlie weapon securely to his saddle. This eased his 
 arms and shoulders, and to relieve the rest of his tired 
 muscles he jumped down and walked a mile or two; and 
 so, by alternate riding and walking, finally reached Deer 
 Run, where he was to stop and rest wliile the clay-bank 
 was "picking about." 
 
 Following the instructions of his employer, he staked 
 out his own horse, leaving the mare to do as she pleased, 
 and, too tired to eat or do anything else with comfort, 
 threw himself on the grass under the spreading branches 
 of a live oak, and heartily wished himself among civilized 
 people once more. He thought of the antelope which 
 the ranchman had told him ho would here find in abun- 
 dance, but was much too dispirited to make any effort to 
 secure one. Besides, his ritle was empty, and he did not 
 know how to load it. 
 
 "' And if it was loaded I would not know how to shoot 
 it," thought Guy; "and neither do I k,now how to hunt 
 antelope. I've heard that it takes one who understands 
 their nature and habits to hunt them successfully, so I 
 guess I won't bother with them. I'd rather rest. I be- 
 lieve Mr. Wilson told the truth when he said that I 
 hadn't the right sort of stuff in me to make a hunter or 
 trapper. They must be made of something besides flesh 
 and blood if they can stand such a jolting as I have liad 
 to-day." 
 
 Guy rolled restlessly about under the oak Avhile the 
 clay-bank was cropping the grass, and when she had 
 
GUY, THE ROUGH RIDER. I93 
 
 eaten lier fill she gave him notice of the fact by slaking 
 her thirst at the run and setting off on her journey again 
 of her own accord. With a groan of despair Guy 
 mounted his horse and followed her. 
 
 The tortures he had already experienced were aggra- 
 vated ten-fold during the afternoon; for the trail, which 
 had hitherto led him orer a level j^lain, now crossed a 
 range of hills almost higli enough to be called mount- 
 ains, and the traveling was rough indeed. The sudden 
 springs and lunges which his horse made in going up the 
 steep ascent racked him in every muscle. Only once did 
 he dismount to walk, and then he was glad to scramble 
 back into his saddle again, for the tireless horses went 
 ahead at such a rate that he could not keep pace with 
 them. Ui3 hill and down he went, through a wilderness 
 which seemed to have no end; and when at last he 
 became so exhausted that it was only by a strong exercise 
 of will that he could keep himself in his saddle, he was 
 electrified by the appeai-ance of an apparition in greasy 
 buckskin, who came before him so suddenly that it 
 frightened him. 
 
 "Say, you!" it exclaimed, "you brought any to- 
 backer?" 
 
 Guy had reached his journey's end at last. 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE BUFFALO HUNTER. 
 
 S GUY straightened np in his saddle he 
 took a good look at the man who had so sud- 
 denly appeared before him. There was no 
 need that he should ask who he Avas, for he 
 knew^ by his words of greeting, that he could be none 
 other than Zeke, the buffalo hunter. He was the first 
 hunter Guy had ever seen, and of course he gazed at him 
 with no little interest. 
 
 He was not very favorably impressed with the man's 
 appearance, for he was certainly the roughest and most 
 rejDulsive specimen of humanity that Guy had ever put 
 eyes on. He could form no idea of the expression of his 
 features, for his face was so effectually concealed by 
 thick, bushy whiskers that nothing but a pair of eyes 
 and a low, retreating forehead could be seen. His hair, 
 coarse and matted, hung down upon his shoulders, and 
 his hiinds were terribly soiled and begrimed. He would 
 have been a tall man if lie had stood erect, but he walked 
 almost half-bent, in an attitude similar to that a wild 
 beast might assume when about to spring upon its prey, 
 and moved along in a shambling, loose-jointed manner, 
 as if he had scarcely enei'gy enough to keep himself from 
 falling to pieces. His garments were a strange mixture 
 of the civilized and savage, and Guy thought they ought 
 long ago to have been replaced by better ones. He wore 
 a tattered slouch hat on his head, held a rifle in his hand, 
 and carried a powder-horn and bullet-pouch over his 
 shoulder. Taken altogether, he was very unlike Guy's 
 heau ideal of a hunter. 
 
 '^Say, you!" repeated Zeke impatiently; "you got any 
 tobacker? That's what I want ter know." 
 
 " Plenty of it," replied Guy. " You'll find it in the 
 
GUY, THE ROUGH RIDER. 195 
 
 pack-saddle. Mi-. Wilson thought you would want a 
 good sujDply." 
 
 "Then why didn't he send it afore?" growled the 
 hunter. 
 
 " He sent it as soon as he could. He came from 
 Frisco only yesterday," 
 
 Zeke leaned his rifle against the nearest tree, plunged 
 his hands into the pack-saddle, and while he was search- 
 ing for the tobacco, repeatedly ran his eyes over the face 
 and figure of the boy, Avho seemed to be a great curiosity 
 to him. 
 
 He said nothing, however, until he had found a plug 
 of the coveted weed, and thrust a good portion of it into 
 his cheek. After he had chewed on it a while the effects 
 became perceptible. The discontented, almost savage, 
 look his face had v/orn, gave place to an expression a 
 trifle more amiable, and when he spoke his voice 
 sounded more like a human being's, and less like the 
 growl of an angry bear. 
 
 "■ Who be you?" he demanded. " I never seed yon in 
 these parts afore." 
 
 "No," said Guy, "you never did. My name is Har- 
 ris, and I 'ised to be a sailor; but I'm a hunter now." 
 
 "You!" exclaimed Zeke, with undisguised contempt 
 in his tones and looks. What do you hunt — squirrels?" 
 
 "Well, I have never hunted anything yet," said Guy, 
 who thought it best to tell the truth; " but I want to be 
 a buffalo hunter like yoa; so I hoi)e that we shall be 
 fast friends, and that you will teach me all you know. 
 Will you ?" 
 
 " Humph!" grunted Zeke. " Let's go to camp." 
 
 " How far is it from here?" asked Guy. 
 
 " A matter ot five mile, mebbe. I got tired of waiting 
 an' come up to see if thar was anybod}^ goii^' to fetch 
 me any tobacker." 
 
 "Five miles?" echoed Guy. " 1 am almost tired out 
 with riding, and should be glad to walk it the horses did 
 not go so fast." 
 
 " Let 'em go," said Zeke. " I'll walk with you. The 
 mar' knows the way, an' the other'll toiler. " 
 
196 GUY HA KRIS. 
 
 Gruy was glad to act upon this suggestion. While he 
 was dismounting, the hunter picked up his rifle and 
 examined it with a critical eye. Guy was astonished at 
 the ease with which he drew it up to his face, and 
 the steadiness with which he held it while glancing 
 along the barrel. 
 
 " This your'n?" asked Zeke. 
 
 "^ Yes; I bought it in Frisco — paid fifteen dollars for 
 it, and haven't had time to shoot it yet. Suppose you 
 try it, and see if it is a good one. Here are the bullets, 
 powder and caps in my game-bag. It carries a ball 
 large enough to kill a buffalo — doesn't it?" 
 
 ^' Sartin." 
 
 " Well, I hope you will give me a chance to try it on 
 one some day, Avill you ?" 
 
 "Humph!" was the answer Zeke deigned to give. 
 
 In accordance with Guy's request the hunter pro- 
 ceeded to load the rifle, and as the boy knew that it was 
 one of the first tilings he must learn, he kept a close 
 watch of his movements. 
 
 Zeke first took from the game-bag a bullet, which he 
 placed in the palm of his liaiid, and then from the horn 
 poured powder enough on it to cover it. This done he put 
 the bullet into his mouth, and after pouring the powder 
 down the barrel and hitting the weapon a knock or two 
 on the ground to drive it into the tube, begun searching 
 in Guy's game-bag for something. 
 
 Failing to find the article, v/hatever it was, he took 
 from the string which hung suspended from his button- 
 hole, a small piece of thick cloth, which Guy saw Avas 
 greased on one side. This the hunter placed over the 
 muzzle of the rifle — the greased side down — put the 
 bullet uiDon it, and drove it home with the ramrod. It 
 was all done then except putting on the cap, and that 
 occupied scarcely more than a second's time. 
 
 Taken altogether it Avas a complicated operation, Guy 
 thought, and he did not know whether he could remem- 
 ber all the details or not. He found that he had for- 
 gotten one thing, and that was the cloth Avhich the 
 
THE BUFFALO HUNTER. If)*^ 
 
 Ininter wrapped around the bullet. No doubt that was 
 the "patching" he had often read about. 
 
 When the rifle was loaded the hunter raised it to his 
 shoukler and started down the trail, Guy following with 
 his game-bag in one hand and Zeke's rifle in the other. 
 He was anything but pleased at the manner in which his 
 advances had been received, but still he was not dis- 
 heartened by it. 
 
 No doubt the hunter was wearied with his day's work 
 — Guy knew that he had been in the saddle ever since 
 sunrise watching the cattle under his charge — and per- 
 haps after the tobacco had had time to have its full 
 effect, and Zeke had taken a good supper and smoked 
 a pipe, he would be better-natured. Then Guy could 
 make another effort to work his way into his good 
 graces. 
 
 While on the way to the valley in which Zeke's camp 
 was located, Guy had frequent opportunities to witness 
 his companion's skill with the rifle. Squirrels were 
 abundant, and the hunter, without leaving the trail, 
 succeeded in bringing down a dozen or more, and every 
 one of them shot through the head. This was Guy's 
 first lesson in hunting, and he watched every move 
 Zeke made. He now saw how the man came by that 
 stealthy, crouching style of progression which he had 
 noticed. He had practiced it so often while in j)ursuit 
 of game that it had become a part of his nature. 
 
 At the foot of the mountains the woods termi- 
 nated, and of course there were no squirrels to be found 
 on the open plain. By the time they reached this 
 point the tobacco, aided perhaps by the fine shooting 
 he had enjoyed, was beginning to tell upon the hunter, 
 who showed a disposition to throw off his reserve alto- 
 gether. He found his way to Guy's heart by assuring 
 him that his rifle was as "fine a we'pon as he had 
 ever drawed to his face," and followed it up by in- 
 qiriring very particularly into the boy's history. And 
 Guy was quite Avilling to tell him everything he wanted 
 to know. He told him how long he had been away 
 
108 Guy HARRIS. 
 
 from liome, why he had left it, what he had done 
 .since he had been adrift in the world, and what he 
 wanted to do next. Being anxious to make a friend 
 of the hunter he concealed nothing, not even the fact 
 that he had twenty-five dollars in money, Avhich he 
 was willing to tui'n over to Zeke to be expended in 
 any Avay the latter saw fit, so long as it benefited 
 them both. 
 
 The hunter became more and more interested as Guy 
 proceeded, and the mention of the money and the sight 
 of the purse the boy carried about his neck broke down 
 the last barrier between them. tSuddenly stopping and 
 facing Guy, he extended to him one of his huge, dirty 
 paws. 
 
 " Put it thar, pard,'' said he. " I'll take you." 
 
 '"^ Will you, really?" exclaimed Guy, almost beside 
 himself with excitement and delight. 
 
 " Sartin I will. I've been a-lookin' an' a-waitin' fur 
 two years in hopes some feller would come along Avho 
 would do fur a chum, an' here he is, come at last. 
 You're just the chap fur me. I'll make you the best 
 buffaler hunter that Kansas ever seed. I'll larn you to 
 ride an' shoot, an' make a man of you." 
 
 "And will you teach me how to fight Indians and 
 catch wild hoi'ses?" asked Guy. 
 
 "^In course I will." 
 
 '' How far is Kansas from here?" 
 
 *' Wal, it's a right smart jDiece." 
 
 ^' Shall we go there on horseback?" 
 
 ^SSartin." 
 
 ^'And camp out on the way?" 
 
 ^^In course." 
 
 ^MVhen shall we start?" 
 
 "We'll be on our way to-morrow night." 
 
 "To-morrow night!" repeated Guy. "Why, Mr. 
 Wilson told me that he never hired a man without mak- 
 ing him promise to give at least a month's notice when 
 he wanted to quit." 
 
 " What do I care for Wilson ?" asked Zeke contemptu- 
 
THE BUFFALO HUNTER. 199 
 
 ously. ^' A free hunter does what he likes. I can trust 
 yon, I reckon." 
 
 " Certainly you can." 
 
 " Cause if I can't^, I don't want anything to do with 
 you," said Zeke. 
 
 "Oh, you can trust me, I assure you," declared Guy 
 earnestly, fearing that the hunter was about to go back 
 from his promise. " What do you want me to do?" 
 
 "I'll tell you arter supper. I've got an idee in my 
 head an' want to put on my thinkin' cap an' think it 
 out; so don't say nothin' to me till I speak. Let's go 
 an' eat some of them squirrels. In a few days from now 
 we'll be livm' on buiialer hump an' marrer bones, an 
 that's livin', I tell you! I say agin, you're jest the feller 
 I've been a-lookin' fur." 
 
 The hunter relaj^sed into silence, and so did Guj^, who 
 marched along by his side, and although he carried a 
 ponderous rifle on his shoulder and a heavy string of 
 squirrels in his hand, he Avalked as if he were treading 
 on air. He forgot that he had that day ridden forty 
 miles on a rough-going horse. He did not bestow a 
 thought upon his weary body, for his mind was too fully 
 occuiDied with the future. In a few hoiirs more, he kept 
 saying to himself, his bright dreams would all be 
 realized. He had got on the right side of the hunter at 
 last — there could be no doubt of that. Zeke was as 
 cordial as one could possibly be — more so, in fact, than 
 any man he had ever before met. Perhaps if Guy had 
 been more experienced in the ways of the world, this 
 would have aroused his suspicions and made him a little 
 more guarded in his intercourse with his new friend. 
 That caution was necessary, we can see by following 
 Zeke for a moment in his meditations. 
 
 " If I hain't found a way outer this diffikilty now, I'm 
 a buffaler myself," thought the hunter. " This onsus- 
 pectin' leetle cub wouldn't a-been more welcome to my 
 camp if he'd been a hangel loaded down with pijDes an' 
 tobacker enough to do me all my life. I'm monstrous 
 tired of herdin' cattle, 'cause it's too hard work. I've 
 
200 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 clone it fur a hull month, an' all I've got to shoAV fur it 
 is my hoss. The rifle I used, the powder, lead, an' 
 blankets, all b'long to Wilson, an' has got to be paid fur. 
 It'll take me two months longer to 'arn everything I 
 need, an' I had oughter be on my way to the prairy 
 now. I had kinder thought that mebbe I'd steal the hull 
 kit an' put out with it, but I'm a'most afeard to do it. 
 Wilson, he's lightnin' on wheels when his dander's riz, 
 an' he'd have all the settlers in the valley arter me so 
 quick that it would make a feller's head swim; an' if 
 they ketched me " 
 
 Here Zeke threw his head over on his right shoulder 
 and made a motion with his hand as if he Avere winding 
 a rope about his neck and hauling himself up with it — a 
 proceeding which made Guy look at him in great sur- 
 j^rise. 
 
 " I didn't say nothin'," said the hunter. 
 
 " I know it," said Guy, '"'and I didn't say anything 
 either." 
 
 Zeke shifted Guy's rifle to his other shoulder and went 
 on with his soliloquy. 
 
 "Now this cub has got a good fittin' out, a fine rifle, 
 huntin'-knife, blankets, an' powder'n lead enough to last 
 me as fur as Laramie anyways. When I get thar the 
 twenty-five dollars he's got will buy me more powder'n 
 lead, an' the traders will advance the other things I want. 
 I can steal everything he's got an' put out as easy as 
 fallin' olf a log. He can't foller me up an' ketch me, 
 an' he ain't got no friends to do it fur him. I would be 
 off this very night, only I must first make things squar' 
 with Wilson, to keep him off'n my trail. Now how am 
 I goin' to do it? That's what I put my thinkin' cap on 
 fur, an' that's what I want to think out." 
 
 While Zeke was turning this problem over in his mind 
 he and his young companion arrived at his camp, which 
 Avas located under an oak tree near the middle of a beau- 
 tiful valley. Guy Avould not have known Avheu he 
 reached it had he not seen his OAvn horse and the mare 
 grazing near a third Avhicli Avas picketed a short distance 
 
THE BUFFALO HUN-TER. ^01 
 
 from the tree^, for there was but little to indicate the ex- 
 istence of a camp — nothing, in fact^ but a pair of 
 blankets, a small piece of beef hanging from one of the 
 branches of the oak, and a few embers and ashes which 
 marked the spot where a fire had once been kindled. 
 
 The hunter at once took possession of the blankets, 
 where he lay gazing intently into the branches above his 
 head, and Guy set about putting the camp in order. It 
 was novel business to him, but he liked to do it, and 
 ^ke, being too lazy to lift a finger unless it was abso- 
 lutely necessary, was perfectly willing that he should. 
 
 Guy first led the mare to the tree, and begun the work 
 of unloading the pack-saddle. The supplies, consisting 
 for the most part of coffee, tea, sugar, flour, and tobacco, 
 were piled about the roots of the tree and covered with 
 branches, as a slight protection from the Aveather and 
 any prowling beast that might happen along during the 
 hunter's absence. 
 
 Then he relieved the mare of the pack-saddle, re- 
 moved the saddle and bridle from his own horse, and 
 after staking out both the animals and arranging his 
 bed, proceeded to kindle a fire and make ready his sup- 
 per. 
 
 After a thorough search of the camp he found some- 
 thing which had evidently done duty as a coffee-pot, and 
 when he had filled it with water and set it on the coals, 
 he stopped, not knoAving what else to do. Tortillas he 
 could not make, and he had not yet learned the art of 
 skinning squirrels and cooking them before the fire on 
 spits. However, he could get on without the squirrels. 
 He had a supply of eatables in his game-bag, and the 
 cold bread and meat, with tbe addition of a cup of hot 
 coffee, would make him a good supper. If the hunter 
 wanted anything he could get up and cook it himself. 
 
 Guy, having arranged his table to his satisfaction, 
 jDOured some of the coffee into a cup which the ranch- 
 man had been thoughtful enough to put into his game- 
 bag with luncheon, and settled back on his elbow, be- 
 lieving that he could do full justice to the meal, not 
 
202 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 having tasted a mouthful since leaving the rancho sliort- 
 ly after daylight. 
 
 All these movements had been closely watched by 
 Zeke, who was by no means so fully occupied with his 
 meditations as he pretended to be. Seeing that Guy 
 was eating the bread and meat with evident relish, he 
 crawled slowly off his bed and joined him at his meal. 
 
 The supper disappeared rapidly after that, Zeke using 
 both hands to crowd the food into his mouth, and 
 emptying Guy's cup at a draught whenever he was 
 thirsty. In a very short space of time the last of the 
 bread and meat was out of sight and the coffee-pot 
 emptied. 
 
 Zeke gave a grunt of satisfaction, but had nothing to 
 say until he had filled his pipe and lighted it with a 
 brand from the fire. Then, between his long, deliberate 
 puffs, he managed to utter the words: 
 
 '' I've got it." 
 
 '' Got what?" asked the boy. 
 
 '■'■ I know what we'll do. I've thought my plans out." 
 
 "All right, pard," said Guy, who believed that if he 
 was going to be a hunter he might as Avell begin to use 
 the language of one. " What are they? SjDit 'em out." 
 
 "I can do that," said Zeke, "an' it won't take me 
 long, nuther. In the fust place, I s'pose Wilson told 
 you to go back to-morrow, didn't he? I thought so. 
 Wal, you go back 'cordin' to orders, but instead of 
 takin' your own gun an' huntin' rig with you, take 
 mine an' leave your'n. Understand? You see, the 
 rifle an' things b'longin' to it that I've got here ain't 
 mine; they're Wilson's. I took 'em outen the store 
 agreein' to work fur 'em an' the other things I need to 
 take me back to the other side of the mountains Avhar 
 I b'long an' Avhar I'll stay if I onct git thar agin, I bet 
 you. But if I stop to 'arji everything I Avaut it will take 
 me two months more, an' by that time we must be 
 among the buff'aler, if we're goin' to get any hides this 
 season. You've got things enough and money enough 
 to last us till we get to Laramie, an' thar I can get what 
 
THE BUFFALO HUNTER. 203 
 
 else "\ve want from the traders. One rifle an' one blanket 
 will last us till then." 
 
 'MVill one horse be enough ?'' asked Guy. 
 
 " No; we must have a hoss apiece, an' I've got 'em — 
 that one that I 'arned from Wilson, an' I've bought an- 
 other from a feller li\in' up the valley." 
 
 It occurred to Guy right here to ask how Zeke could 
 have bought another horse, seeing that he had no 
 money and had been working for Mr. Wilson ever since 
 he had been in that part of the country, but before ho 
 could speak the hunter went on; 
 
 ''Now you go back to-morrow mornin', like I was 
 tellin' you, an' take the rifle an' all the other things that 
 b'longs to W^ilson, an' give 'em to him an' tell him 
 thar's his things — I don't want 'em — an' he must send a 
 man down here to onct to take care of these yere cattle, 
 'cause I hain't goin' to stay no longer. You needn't 
 say nothin' else to him, howsomever. Don't tell him of 
 the bargain me an' you has made, but when it comes 
 dark you slip away from the house an' meet me at the 
 water-tank. You know Avhar that sjDoutin' well is, don't 
 you ?" 
 
 '' Yes," said Guy, '• I saw it last night." 
 
 ''Wal, you come thar as soon as it comes dark, an' 
 I'll be on hand with two bosses — this one an' another, 
 an' all we'll have to do will be to put off. Understand ?" 
 
 " Yes," replied Guy, ''I understand it all." 
 
 '' Arter you leave here in the mornin' I'll go an' get 
 my other hoss that I was a tellin' you of," continued 
 Zeke. " You see the reason why I am leavin' AVilson in 
 this way, an' without sayin' nuthiu' to him, is 'cause I 
 agreed to give him notice when I wanted to quit, but I 
 can't afford to waste a month's time layin' around here 
 doin' nothin', when the buff'aler is comin' in by thou- 
 sands an' waitin' to be shot. Understand, don't you ?" 
 
 Yes, Guy was sure he understood the hunter's plans 
 and intentions perfectly, and Zeke was equally certain 
 he did not, and so he repeated them again and again, 
 until the boy knew them by heart. After that he 
 
204 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 launched off into glowing descriijtions of bnffalo hunts 
 and told of fights Avith Indians and bears, and ad- 
 ventures with wild horses, until Guy was almost beside 
 Inmself with excitement and impatience. Then Zeke 
 said he was tired, and crawled back to his blankets, but 
 Guy tended the fire and sat by it for two hours longer, 
 thinking of the future; and when he went to sleep it 
 was to dream over the thrilling scenes the hunter had 
 just described to him. 
 
CHAPTEE XXII. 
 
 BUSTED AND DISGUSTED. 
 
 HE NEXT morning, after a hearty breakfast, 
 during which he listened once more to Zeke's 
 plans and instructions, Guy mounted his 
 horse, and led by the old clay-bank, set out 
 for Mr. Wilson's rancho. 
 
 The journey did not seem nearly so long and tire- 
 some now as it did the day before, for he had some- 
 thing beside his bodily aches and pains to think of. He 
 had seen alive hunter, had made a friend of him, and by 
 that time to-morrow, if nothing happened to prevent, 
 he would be on the way to his hunting-grounds. Dream- 
 ing of the glorious life he was so soon to commence 
 made the way seem short to him. 
 
 About four o'clock in the afternoon he drew up 
 with his little train in front of Mr. "Wilson's hous'3, 
 and found that gentleman waiting for him. 
 
 " Wal, you done it, didn't you?" exclaimed the ranch- 
 man, as Guy swung himself from the saddle, " an' 
 didn't get lost, nor throwed, nuther. Whose rifle have 
 you got thar?" 
 
 "Zeke's — or rather yours," said Guy. ''Zeke 
 doesn't want it, for he can't stay long enough to earn 
 it. He's going back to his hunting-grounds, and 
 wants you to send a man down to relieve him." 
 
 "Oh, he does, does he?" exclaimed Mr. Wilson. 
 " Whar's your huntin' kit?" 
 
 " I left it with Zeke. He wants to try the rifle." 
 
 " Wal, if you hain't the most confidin' boy I ever see 
 in all my tsorn days, I don't want a cent," said the 
 ranchman. "■ I told you that you'd find him a mighty 
 palaverin' sort of a feller, an' I thought that would put 
 you on your guard. You'll never see them things of 
 
206 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 yonr'n agin. Zeke's gettin' ready to run away. I can 
 see that j^lain enough; but if he takes any of my prop- 
 erty with him, ef it's even so much as a bar of lead, I'll 
 have all the constables in the valley arter him in the 
 shake of a buck's tail. He's 'arnecl a boss since he's 
 been here, and that's all he can take with him. I'll 
 ride down myself, to-morrow, an' see what he means 
 by such actin'. 
 
 Mr. Wilson's words made Guy rather uneasy. He 
 did not want to doubt the hunter — Zeke had been 
 so very cordial and so profuse in his promises of 
 friendship and assistance that the boy had implicit 
 faith in him — but still he begun to think that he had 
 been rather hasty in trusting him. If Zeke run away 
 with his hunting-kit, he would be just thirty-five dollars 
 out of pocket. But he need not have been under any 
 apprehensions. The hunter certainly intended to 
 possess himself of all Guy's property, but he wanted 
 at the same time to get his hands on the twenty-five 
 dollars the boy carried in his monk-bag. 
 
 Mr. Wilson begun fishing up from the capacious 
 depths of the pack-saddle the things Zeke had stowed 
 away there, and Guy thought he looked a little disap- 
 ]3ointed when he found that his projiert}' had all been 
 returned to him. The hunter, knowing the disj^osition 
 of the man Avith whom he had to deal, had sent back 
 everything. 
 
 The hours between four o'clock and dark passed away 
 very slowly. Knowing that he had many a mile of hard 
 riding yet to do before he could go to sleep, Guy re- 
 freshed himself with a hearty supper, and then lay 
 down on a bench under the porch. He grew very rest- 
 less and impatient as the appointed time drew near, and 
 although he longed for its arrival, he almost dreaded to 
 have it come, for if Zeke broke his word, there Avas an- 
 other bright hope dashed to the ground. 
 
 It begun to grow dark at last, and Guy stepped doAA^n 
 from the porch, and Avalked sloAvly toward the "spout- 
 ing Avell," as Zeke had called it, looking back every few 
 steps to make sure that he was not folloAved. 
 
BUSTED AND DISGUSTED. 207 
 
 He was not obliged to wait even a moment at the 
 water-tank, for liis new friend, faithful to his promise, 
 was there with two horses. Guy was greatly relieved. 
 
 "Halloo, pardi" said he. "I'm glad you have come, 
 for I begun to feel a little shaky. Mr. Wilson told me 
 that I'd never see my things again." 
 
 " You got that money with you?" asked Zeke. 
 
 " Of course I have." 
 
 "Whar isit?" 
 
 " In my monk -bag around my neck. Have you got 
 my rifle and other things?" 
 
 " Sartin. We couldn't well travel cl'ar to Kansas 
 without ""em, I reckon. So Wilson tried to make you 
 believe I was a-goin' back on you, did he? What else 
 did he say?" 
 
 "He says he is going to ride down to see you to- 
 morrow, and find out what you mean by such actions." 
 
 "All right. That will give us a hull day the start of 
 him if he tries to toiler us. Here's your boss." 
 
 Guy was aching in every bone and muscle after his 
 long ride (eighty miles in two da3's was quite an achieve- 
 ment for a boy who had never ridden on horseback be- 
 fore), and it was only after considerable trouble and 
 some assistance from the hunter that he succeeded in 
 climbing into his saddle. It was hard work, too, to 
 keep up with Zeke, who at once put his horse into a 
 gallop and went ahead, as if he were in a great hurry. 
 He never drew rein, even long enough to speak to Guy, 
 until midnight, and then the only reason he stopped 
 was because the moon Avent down and it was too dark to 
 travel. 
 
 He and Guy stretched themselves out under a tree be- 
 side the road without lighting a fire, and slept soundly 
 until morning. At the first peep of day they ate a lit- 
 tle of the dried beef with which Zeke had filled Guy's 
 game-bag, and then resumed their rapid ride, halting 
 only for a few minutes at noon to rest their horses and 
 eat a hasty luncheon. 
 
 Guy was fast giving out, in spite of the excitement 
 
208 G (J Y HARRIS. 
 
 which had tlius far kept him ujo, and when, just as the 
 sun was sinking, they entered a little glade surrounded 
 by a wilderness of trees and rocks, he doggedly threw 
 himself from his horse and declared that he could not 
 ride a step farther. 
 
 "How far are we from Mr. Wilson's ?" he asked. 
 
 "A matter of sixty or seventy miles, mebbe," replied 
 Zeke. 
 
 " Well, tliat added to eighty makes a hundred and 
 forty or fifty miles that I have ridden on horseback dur- 
 ing the last three days," groaned Guy. "An iron boy 
 couldn't stand more. I dont see the need of so much 
 haste anyhow. '^ 
 
 " Thar was need of it," said Zeke, " but I reckon 
 we're out of danger now." 
 
 Guy not being av/are that they had been in any danger, 
 could not imagine wdiat Zeke meant; but he was too 
 tired to ask any questions. 
 
 "I reckon we'd best stop here two or three days an' 
 take a good rest and hunt," continued Zeke. " I'll give 
 you some lessons in shootin' and throwin' the lasso. It 
 won't take me long to learn you to be jest as good a 
 hunter as I am; an' if thar's any a-goin' that can beat 
 me, I never seed 'em. Now lay down an' I'll go out an' 
 shoot something fur supper." 
 
 "I don't want any supper," said Guy. "All I want 
 is rest and sleep. If the second mate of the Santa Maria 
 had been pounding me with a rope's end for an hour, I 
 couldn't be any nearer used up than I am noAV." 
 
 Zeke became very officious all at once. He raked to- 
 gether a pile of leaves under the shelter of a huge rock, 
 placed Guy's saddle at one end of it for a pillow, and 
 when the boy had stretched his weary limbs upon the 
 couch thus hastily made up for him, the hunter threw 
 his poncho and blanket over his shoulders, and tucked 
 them snugly about him. Before the operation was com- 
 pleted Guy was sound asleep. 
 
 He slept in blissful ignorance of what was passing near 
 him. Once he thought that the blankets were pulled. 
 
BUSTED AND DISGUSTED. 209 
 
 cautiously off his shonlclors and a hand thrust into liis 
 pocket; but so firmly were his senses locked in slumber 
 that he was not fairly aroused by these movements. He 
 knew nothing for twelve long hours, and then he was 
 awakened by the neighing of a horse. 
 
 He started up feeling very much refreshed, but almost 
 dropped back upon his bed again when he saw that his 
 monk-bag had been turned inside out and was resting on 
 his breast. 
 
 His pockets, too, had been pulled out, and some of the 
 articles they had contained were missing, while others 
 were scattered about over the ground. His rifle, game- 
 bag and blankets had disappeared, and even Zeke and 
 his horse were nowhere to be seen. 
 
 There were no signs that the hunter had kindled a fire 
 during the night. He must have robbed Guy and made 
 off as soon as the latter was fairly asleep. All he had 
 left him was the clothes he had on his back, the horse 
 he had ridden, and the saddle and bridle. 
 
 Guy realized his situation the instant his eyes Avere 
 fairly opened. Utterly discouraged at last, he threw 
 himself back upon the ground, wishing from the bottom 
 of his heart that he was dead. 
 
 " I've been robbed! I've been robbed!" he kept saying 
 to himself. "And here I am in these mountains with- 
 out a bite to eat or a friend to help me! What shall I 
 do! what shall I do!'^ 
 
 Guy lay for fully an hour in a sort of stupor, from 
 which he was aroused at last by the pangs of hunger. 
 There Avas no need that he should stay there and starve, 
 he told himself, while Zeke had been considerate enough 
 to leave him a horse. Perhaps the animal could carry 
 him to some human habitation. The experiment was at 
 least worth a trial. 
 
 The horse proved to be very uneasy, and Guy, being 
 unaccustomed to such business, was nearly half an hour 
 in putting the saddle and bridle on him. But at last he 
 got everything fixed to his satisfaction, and climbing 
 upon the animal's back, he started — he knew not 
 whither. 
 
210 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 After trying in vain to find a, road or trail leading 
 from the glade, he plunged blindly into the woods, and 
 during the next two days lived in a state of agony, both 
 of body and mind, that I cannot describe. He rode 
 while daylight lasted without a mouthful to eat, and 
 slept at night on the hard ground. 
 
 Sometimes he would alloAV his horse to have his own 
 way, believing that the animal's instinct would lead him 
 out of the wilderness, and then again he would resume 
 contrc^ of him, and try to find his own way out. 
 
 How often during those two days did Guy tell himself 
 that if he lived to get out of that scrape he would lose 
 not an hour in starting for the States; and if he once 
 reached them he would never again be tempted to leave 
 them. 
 
 He had seen enough of the woods, and of the ocean, 
 too. Other boys might think as they pleased, and 
 story-tellers might write as they pleased about the joys, 
 the ease and romance of a hunter's and a sailor's life, but 
 as for him, give him a quiet home on shore and among 
 civilized people. 
 
 At last, when Guy was so weak with fasting that he 
 could scarcely keep his seat in the saddle, and so dis- 
 heartened that he Avas more than once on the point of 
 throwing himself under the nearest tree and resigning 
 himself to his fate, his deliverance came, and so suddenly 
 that it almost took his breath away. His horse, which 
 during the last few hours had been allowed to go 
 where he pleased, plunged through an almost impassable 
 thicket of bushes, carrying his rider into a broad, well- 
 beaten road that led down the mountains. 
 
 The animal seemed as delighted at this evidence of 
 civilization as Guy did. Xo sooner was he fairly in the 
 road than he broke into a gallop, and in less than five 
 minutes brought his rider to a little tumble-down 
 shanty, where half a dozen miners were lounging on 
 the porch. They all started up and looked at Guy in 
 amazement, seemingly unable to make up their minds 
 whether he Avas a live boy or a ghost. 
 
BUSTED AND DISGUSTED. gH 
 
 ^^ Halloo !'' exclaimed one of the men, "who on earth 
 are yon, and where did you come from?'' 
 
 '' I have been lost in the mountains for the last two 
 days, and am almost starved to death/'' answered Guy, in 
 a faint voice. 
 
 " Well, I should say you were, if one can judge by 
 your looks. Come in. Such as we've got you're wel- 
 come to." 
 
 The man approached to assist Guy to dismount, and it 
 was well he did so, for he was just in time to receive him 
 in his arms. The boy was utterly overcome with weak- 
 ness, and when he tried to swing himself from his saddle 
 his head reeled, and he would have fallen to the ground 
 if the man had not supported him. 
 
 '' He's pretty near gone up," said one of the miners, 
 " but I guess a bit of something will bring him around 
 all right." 
 
 The speaker secured Guy's horse, another assisted him 
 into the house and seated him on a bench, a third 
 brought from a cupboard an abundant supply of bread 
 and meat, which he placed before him, and the others 
 stood around, waiting with no little curiosity and impa- 
 tience to hear his story. 
 
 The miners had seen any number of hungry men since 
 they had been in the mountains, but that was the first 
 time they had ever seen food disa^ijoear so rapidly before 
 a boy of Guy's size. The latter was perfectly raven- 
 ous. He stopped at last, not because he had eaten 
 enough, but because his host interfered and took away 
 the eatables. 
 
 "Thar, now," said the man, "you've stowed away 
 about enough of that grub for this time, and you had 
 better let up or you'll bust." 
 
 "I am busted already," said Guy, wiping his lij)s; 
 " busted and disgusted." 
 
 " Broke?" asked the man. 
 
 " Flat as a pancake," said Guy. " I am very grateful 
 for your kindness, sir, and am sorry I cannot in some 
 way repay it. I am able to go on now, and would be 
 
212 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 glad if yon would show me the nearest road to the 
 States/' 
 
 " Going to leave Californy?" 
 
 " Just as fast as horse-flesh can carry me." 
 
 ^^ But how did you come to get lost?" 
 
 Guy's story was a short one, and was soon told. Some 
 of the miners seemed to believe it, Avliile others looked a 
 little incredulous. Bat Guy did not care for that. He 
 had the best of evidence that every word he uttered was 
 the truth. 
 
 While he was telling his story a horseman drew up be- 
 fore the shanty, and dismounting, proceeded to give 
 Guy's steed a good looking over, closely examining a 
 brand on the animal's flank, and referring occasionally 
 to a note-book which he drew from his pocket. The 
 miners watched every move he made, now and then ex- 
 changing winks with one another, and looking toward 
 Guy in a way the latter could not understand. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIII. 
 
 GUY BECOMES A TEAMSTER. 
 
 HIGH of you owns this horse," asked, the 
 man at length, thrusting his iiead in at the 
 door. 
 
 The question was addressed to the party in 
 general but the man fastened his eyes upon Guy as if 
 expecting an answer from him. 
 
 " He is in my possession,'" said the boy, " but he be- 
 longs to Zeke." 
 
 ^^Zeke! Zeke who?" 
 
 "I don't know his other name. He is a buffalo 
 hunter, and has Just started for Kansas." 
 
 *' AVhere did he get him, do you know?" 
 
 "He bought him of somebody down in San Joaquin." 
 
 ''Yes; well, that story won't go down, young man," 
 said the new-comer, who was an officer of the law. 
 " That horse was stolen down in San Joaquin a few days 
 ago." 
 
 "Oho!" exclaimed Guy's host, "that accounts for 
 the milk in the cocoanut." 
 
 "I thought all the time that there was something 
 streaked about this business," observed another. 
 
 "Ain't he a desperate one, though," remarked a 
 third. " He steals a horse and is so determined to keep 
 him that he stays in the mountains until he is almost 
 starved to death." 
 
 " Oh, now, you don't know what you are talking 
 about," cried Guy, who was frightened almost out of 
 his senses. "I didn't steal that horse. I got him just 
 as I told you I did." 
 
 The constable listened Avhile Guy repeated the story 
 of his two days' acquaintance with the buffalo hunter, 
 and when it was concluded gave it as his opinion that 
 
214 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 the boy's statements would hardly wash, lie might be 
 all right — he wis free to confess that Guy didn't look 
 like a horse-thief — but he had been instructed to detain 
 that animal if he found him, and to put whoever had 
 him in his possession into the calaboose and keep him 
 there until the owner of the horse could be sent for; so 
 Guy had better come along and be locked uji and say no 
 more about it. 
 
 Guy remonstrated loudly, but it was all in vain. The 
 officer Avas firm, and the boy was obliged to accompany 
 him doAvn the mountain and through the little village 
 that lay at its foot, to the calaboose — a small, strongly 
 built log cabin, provided with a heavy oaken door and 
 grated windows. There Avas but room in the building, 
 as Guy found Avhen the door was opened, and just then 
 it had no occu23ants. 
 
 '■'■ Now, then," said the officer giving his pi'isoner a 
 push, "^go in there, and stay till the rope comes up 
 from San Joaquin. We hang horse-thieves in this 
 country." 
 
 This was the second time Guy had been made the vic- 
 tim of the man he had trusted so implicitly. He under- 
 stood his situation as Avell as if Zeke had been there to 
 explain it to him. The hunter, not daring to rob him 
 in the settlements for fear that Mr. Wilson Avould in- 
 terest himself in the matter, had enticed him into the 
 mountains, Avhere he could accomplish his purpose Avith- 
 out danger to himself. He had stolen the horse for Guy 
 to ride, and then, in order to draAV suspicion from him- 
 self, had left him in the boy's possession. Avell-knoAving 
 that if he shoAved himself in the settlements during the 
 day-time, he Avould be arrested and charged Avith the 
 theft. And horse-thieves Avere hanged in that country, 
 so tlie constable had told him! If the man said this to 
 frigliten him, he certainly succeeded in his object. Al- 
 most overcome Avith terror at the bare thought, Guy 
 thrcAv himself upon a dirty mattress in one corner of 
 the jail and cried bitterly, until exhausted nature gave 
 way and he forgot his troubles in sleep. 
 
GUY Secom^s a teamster. 215 
 
 He slejit until it was almost dark, and was then awak- 
 ened by the sound of voices. He started \\\) to find the 
 door of his prison open, and the entrance crowded with 
 excited, struggling men. Conspicuous among theni 
 was a gigantic fellow, clad like a miner, whose wrists 
 and ankles were loaded with irons. The others were 
 trying to push him into the jail, and he was trying as 
 hard to prevent them. Incumbered as he was he fought 
 desperately for his liberty, and once seemed almost on 
 the point of escajoiug from his captors, but he was at 
 last thrown headlong upon the floor of the calaboose, 
 and the door was slammed behind him. 
 
 Guy's companion in misery acted more like a wild 
 beast than a human being. No sooner had he gained 
 his feet than he threw himself with all his strength 
 against the door; but seeing that he made no impression 
 uj)on it, he turned his attention to one of the windows, 
 seizing the bars with his hands and exerting all his 
 strength to tear them from their fastenings. 
 
 Failing in this, he drew himself up by the bars of the 
 window and butted his head against the logs wliicii 
 formed the ceiling, but nothing gave way under his 
 fierce attacks, and finding at last that escape was im- 
 possible he fell to pacing the narrow jail, rattling his 
 chains and swearing and threatening at the top of his 
 voice. 
 
 Guy was afraid of him. Slowly and cautiously he 
 drew himself off the mattress, and retreated into the 
 farthest corner of the room, where he sat cowering and 
 trembling and watching the movements of this wild 
 beast in human form, who continued to pace backward 
 and forward, clanking his chains and uttering impre- 
 cations. Guy was glad indeed when the night settled 
 down and concealed him from the man's sight. 
 
 At last a murmur of voices outside the building at- 
 tracted the attention of the prisoner, who paused in his 
 walk and gazed eagerly toward the door, bending for- 
 ward in a listening attitude. The noise grew louder and 
 louder. Then a short struggle was heard outside the 
 
216 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 cabin, the door flew open, admitting a flood of light 
 which streamed from a dozen hmterns, and a crowd of 
 armed men rushed in. They seized the prisoner, wound 
 a rope about his neck, and in sjoite of his resistance 
 pulled him out of the calaboose. 
 
 Guy, hardly realizing what was going on, was borne 
 with the crowd, wdiich filled every corner of the jail, 
 out through the door, past the constable, who was 
 lying bound and helpless beside the building, and up 
 the road leading to the mountains. Then somebody 
 l)ushed him roughly aside, and he found himself stand- 
 ing alone. He was free, the road was open, and he 
 could go where he pleased. 
 
 Frightened as he was, Guy was prompt to seize npon 
 the opportunity for escape thus unexpectedly ofl:ered to 
 him. Very slowly and deliberately he drew himself 
 further away from the crowd, and when the last man 
 had passed him and hurried up the mountain, and there 
 was no one in sight to observe his movements, he broke 
 into a run and made the best of his way through the 
 now deserted village and along the road that led to the 
 plains beyond. 
 
 He knew something about lynch-law now. He had 
 received an illustration of the manner in which fron- 
 tiersmen sometimes dealt with oft'enders, and shivered 
 as if he had the ague when he reflected that the same 
 fate might have been his in a few hours more had not a 
 way been opened for his escape. 
 
 •'I'll not stay in this country an hour longer," 
 thought Guy, speeding along the road as if he had been 
 furnished with wings. " I had no idea that there were 
 such men as these in the world. I wonder if that con- 
 stable saw me when I came out? I thought he looked 
 me squarely in the face, and if he did, he must have 
 recognized me. If they will only keep him tied hard 
 and fast until morning, I don't think he will ever catch 
 me again. Halloo! Great Scott!" 
 
 This exclamation was called forth by an unexpected 
 siglit which just then met his eyes. It was a cam2>fire, 
 
GUY B£:COMES A TEAMSTER. ^17 
 
 and he did not see it until he was close upon it. Two 
 covered wagons were drawn up in front of the fire, and 
 beside one of them stood a stalwart fellow in his shirt- 
 sleeves, who was looking ruefully at a broken axle-tree 
 and scratching his head in deep perplexity. Discover- 
 ing Guy as he came up, he greeted him with : 
 
 " Halloo! stranger. May be you're a wagon-maker." 
 
 '' No, I am not," rejolicd the boy. 
 
 " Then I don't suppose you could hold uj) one end of 
 this rail for me while I fix this axle, could you ?" asked 
 the emigrant. 
 
 *•■ Yes," said Gruy, ^'I can do that." 
 
 After casting a long and anxious glance down the 
 road he had just traveled to make sure that there was 
 no one following him, Guy walked up to the wagon and 
 held one end of the rail, as the man requested, making 
 several suggestions as the work progressed, which the 
 emigrant was prompt to adopt, and which led him to 
 say when the repairs were all completed: 
 
 "Now, stranger, may be you would be willing to set 
 up and take a bite with us. Supper's ready." 
 
 Guy was not only willing, but eager. The sense of 
 security he had felt since his arrival in the emigrant's 
 camp, aided by the savory odor of the viands that were 
 cooking over the coals, had put a sharp edge on his ap- 
 petite, and he did full justice to the meal that was 
 served up. While he was eating he had leisure to look 
 about him and to examine into something that had at- 
 tracted his notice when he first entered the camp. 
 There were some words painted in large letters on one 
 of the wagon covers, and after a little study, Guy 
 made them out to be, "Sonora or Bust." 
 
 He read the words over slowly while he was munch- 
 ing his corn bread and bacon, and then turned his 
 attention to the emigrant's family, on whom he had 
 thus far bestowed only a passing glance. 
 
 There were eight of them — two women and six chil- 
 dren; and as both the women were addressed as mother, 
 Guy thought there ought to be another man about the 
 
218 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 camp; but as he did not put in an appearance, he finally 
 asked after him. 
 
 " Where is your partner?" said he to the emigrant. 
 
 " You ask that question, I suppose, because you see 
 two families here," rejalied the man. " One of them is 
 mine, and the other was my brother's. He is dead, and 
 so I have his wife and little ones to care for till I get 
 them back among their friends." 
 
 Guy helped himself to another piece of bacon and 
 looked up at the words that were painted on the wagon 
 cover. 
 
 " Did you get through, or bust?" said he. 
 
 '' Both," rej)lied the emigrant. '' I came through all 
 right, and busted afterward. My brother, he died, the 
 placer diggings give out, so that Calif orny ain't worth 
 staying in, and now I want to get back to Missouri, 
 where I came from, before I am clean broke. These 
 women folks can't drive horses — this is the third time 
 they have run into stumps and rocks, and broke that 
 wagon down, between here and Sonora — and I'll give 
 any man ten dollars a month that's a mind to set up 
 there and drive for us." 
 /'Are you going straight to the States?" asked Guy. 
 
 "Just as straight as the nearest trail runs." 
 
 " Then I'm your man. I'll drive one wagon for you.'^ 
 
 " Talk enough," said the emigrant. "■ I can rest easy 
 now. That miserable wagon has been more bother to 
 me than it is worth." 
 
 And so the matter was settled, and Guy became a 
 teamster and a member of the emigrant's family. 
 
 For the next three months he led a dreary, monoto- 
 nous life, during which not a single incident happened 
 that was worth recording. He arose from his blankets 
 at daybreak, ate a breakfast of corn bread and bacon, 
 and then climbed to his seat in the wagon, where he 
 remained, with the exceiDtion of an hour's halt at noon, 
 until long after dark. Even this work was hard, and 
 the longer it continued the more disgusted with frontier 
 life Guy became, i.nd the firmer grew his resolution, 
 
GUY BECOMES A TEAMSTEk. 219 
 
 that if he evci" lived to get among civilized people again, 
 he would stay among them. The journey, like the 
 voyage around the Horn, seemed endless, but at last, to 
 his immense relief, Omaha appeared in sight. 
 
 By this time Gruy had made up his mind what he was 
 going to do. From the emigrants he met on the road 
 he learned that the States were at war, that one portion 
 of the Union was in arms against the other, and that 
 men were wanted on both sides. 
 
 This seemed almost a godsend to Guy, for it settled 
 a question which he had long been revolving in his 
 mind, namely: What should he do for a living? He 
 would go into the Union army. He would save every 
 cent of the money he earned during his term of service, 
 and if he lived to come out, he would have enough to 
 enable him to take a course at some commercial college, 
 and thus fit himself for business. He was a boy of 
 peace — he had no taste for fights and broils — but he 
 must do something to earn a livelihood, and this seemed 
 to be just what he wanted. 
 
 When they reached Omaha Gruy was paid off by his 
 employer, receiving thirty-five dollars in money, and 
 after taking leave of him and his family, he started at 
 once for the levee. Finding there a steamer bound for 
 St. Louis, he shipped on it as deck hand. He could not 
 afford to go as passenger, for his clothes were almost in 
 tatters, and he needed the little money he had to pur- 
 chase a resjjectable outfit when he reached St. Louis. 
 
 The steamer arrived at the city early one morning, 
 and Guy having received his wages, bent his stejjs to- 
 ward the nearest clothing store, and when he came out 
 again, half an hour afterward, he looked more like Guy 
 Harris than he had looked for many a long day. He 
 had purchased a neat, durable suit of clothing, and still 
 had a few dollars left in his pocket. He was not 
 ashamed now to show himself on the principal streets. 
 
 The first thing was to get a good breakfast, and the 
 next to hunt up an officer to enlist him. There was 
 a restaurant close by, and while he was eating a dish 
 
220 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 of liam and eggs, and drinking a cup of coffee, he 
 talked with the proprietor, who directed him to the 
 nearest recruiting office. It was on Fourth Street, the 
 man said, and Guy having paid his hill started out to 
 find it. 
 
 Guy felt now as if he were among friends from whom 
 he had long been separated. He was delighted to find 
 himself among the sights and sounds of the city again, 
 and not a single incident that happened as he jjassed 
 along the street did he regard as too trifling to be 
 noticed. 
 
 He had now been adrift in the world nearly fifteen 
 months, and during this time he had seldom thought of 
 his home and those he had left there. It is true that 
 when he was in trouble he had wished himself safe 
 under his father's roof once more, just as a storm-tossed 
 mariner wishes himself back to the comfortable haven 
 he left a few days ago; but if he had ever thought of 
 his father and his father's wife, it was with a feeling 
 of bitterness which seemed to grov/ stronger and 
 deeper as he grew older. He thought of them now, 
 but without a single pang of regret or a single long- 
 ing in his heart to see them. The world had treated 
 him harshly since he had been out in it; but which was 
 the worst, he asked himself — to receive hard words and 
 hard usage from those of whom he had a riglit to 
 expect nothing better, or to submit to daily exhibitions 
 of indifference and partiality, and acts of petty tyranny 
 and injustice from those of whom he had a right to ex- 
 pect nothing It encouragement, sympathy and love? 
 Guy asked himself tliis question, and a hard expres- 
 sion settled about the corners of his mouth, which did 
 not soften when he suddenly discovered among the 
 numerous pedestrians one whom ho thought he had 
 seen before. It Avas a tall, dignified gentleman, who 
 was just at that moment crossing the street, evidently 
 with the intention of intercepting him. Guy stared at 
 him in amazement. It was liis father! 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 FATHEK AXD SOIs". 
 
 UY COULD scarcely believe his eyes. His 
 father was the last man on earth he had ex- 
 pected to see in St, Louis — the last one he 
 wanted to meet, if the truth must be told — 
 and he hoped that he was mistaken. 
 
 But the approaching gentleman was really Mr. Harris 
 — there could be no doubt about that; for, as far as his 
 personal appearance was concerned, he had not changed 
 in a single particular since Guy last saw him. His face 
 wore the same iierce frown, before which the boy had 
 so often trembled, and which seemed habitual to him, 
 and he carried himself as stiffly as ever. But he came 
 up Avith some eagerness in his manner, and for once ap- 
 peai'ed to be glad to see his son. 
 
 "Guy I" said he, seizing the boy's outstretched hand 
 and speaking with more cordiality than he had ever be- 
 fore thrown into his tones when addressing him. 
 
 "Father!" replied Guy. 
 
 " How do you do?" said Mr. Harris. " When did you 
 arrive here, and where have you been?" 
 
 Guy noticed, with some of the old bitterness in his 
 heart, that his father did not say he was glad to meet 
 him, but he was not much surj)rised at it. He could 
 not recollect that his father had ever exhibited any af- 
 fection for him. He saved all that for Ned, and Guy 
 was obliged to be contented with the few crumbs that 
 fell to his share in the shape of Christmas presents and 
 a religious book once or twice a year. 
 
 "■ I have just now come from the plains," replied Guy. 
 " I have been to sea since I saw you last." 
 
 "To sea!" repeated Mr. Harris — "as a common 
 sailor?" 
 
223 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 ' ' Yes, sir. I have made two voyages as a foremast 
 hand, one of them around the Horn. I came from San 
 Francisco overland." 
 
 A few minutes' silence followed. The two stood 
 holding fast to each other's hands, and each was busy 
 with his own thoughts, Mr. Harris was running his 
 eyes over Guy's face and figure, and was plainly sur- 
 prised, and perhaps a little disappointed, to see him so 
 neatly di-essed and looking so well. 
 
 The conventional runaway always turns up ragged 
 and in a starving condition; but this one looked as 
 though he had been living on the fat of the land. Guy 
 was waiting with some anxiety to hear what his father 
 would have to say next, and wondering if his long sei^a- 
 ration from him had softened his heart in any degree. 
 At last Mr. Harris sjooke. 
 
 "I am stopping at the Planter's House," said he. 
 " Come over there with me. I want to talk to you." 
 
 As he said this he drew his son's arm through his 
 own and led him away. This movement on his part 
 was a great surprise to Guy. Never before had his 
 father treated him with so much familiarity. 
 
 Perhaps he was beginning to see that he had made a 
 woful mistake in keeping the boy at such a distance 
 from him. Had his eyes been opened to this fact 
 eighteen months sooner Guy would never have been a 
 runaway. 
 
 Arriving at the Planter's liouse Mr. Harris led the 
 Avay to his room, and as he locked the door behind him 
 and handed Guy a chair, the latter felt very much as he 
 had felt in former days when his father had ordered 
 him into the library for some offense ho had committed, 
 and followed him there with an apple-tree switch in his 
 hand. 
 
 "Are you on your way home, Guy?" asked Mr. Harris 
 as he seated himself in a chair opposite his son. 
 
 "No, sir," was the reply. "1 came to St. Louis in- 
 tending to enlist in the army." 
 
 " You must not do that, Guy," said his father ear- 
 
FA THER AND SON. 223 
 
 nestly. '^ There are euougli beside you to risk tlieir lives 
 ill this war. I want you to go back Avith me. Home is 
 the place for you/' 
 
 "^iSTo, father, I can't do it," said Guy. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I have two good reasons. In the first place, I sup- 
 pose that all my acquaintances know by this time that I 
 ran away from home." 
 
 " I suppose they do," said his father, "^ and that is all 
 the punishment you will have to stand." 
 
 '"Eor the ojoinions of the majority I cai-e nothing. 
 Those who know all the circumstances will not judge 
 me too harshly," said Guy, astonished at the readiness 
 with which he expressed himself. But then his heart 
 was full of this matter. He had thought of it often 
 and words came easy to him. 
 
 Mr. Harris elevated his eyebrows and looked sur- 
 prised. 
 
 "Yes, sir," continued Guy, who easily read the 
 thoughts that were passing in his father's mind. " I 
 mean to say that every man and woman in Norwall who 
 is intimate with our family will tell you to-day, if they 
 tell you anything, that I had good reason for wishing to 
 leave home. I never saw a moment's peace there in my 
 life." 
 
 " Then why did you not come to me like a man and 
 say so, instead of sneaking away like a thief in the 
 night?" asked Mr. Harris with all the old sternness in 
 his voice, 
 
 "I knew better. 1 did not care to put myself in the 
 way of a whipping, and that is all the satisfaction I 
 should have got." 
 
 Whatever may have been Mr. Harris' other faults, he 
 was not dishonest. He did not deny this — he could 
 not, so he hastened to change the subject. 
 
 "■ What was the reason you were not happy at home?" 
 he asked. " Ned seems to enjoy himself very well." 
 
 "I suppose he does," returned Guy bitterly. "He 
 has a father and mother who try to make home pleasant 
 
224 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 for him. Any boy can enjoy himself under such cir- 
 cumstances. " 
 
 "Didn't you have all yon wanted to eat, and drink, 
 and wear?" 
 
 " Yes, sir; but is that all a boy wants to make him 
 happy? No, indeed. He wants a kind word now and 
 then. He likes to be told once in a while chat there is 
 some good in him, and that ho is not altogether wicked 
 and depraved. , He wants privileges occasionally, not 
 those granted Avith hesitation and grumljling and cau- 
 tions innumerable, for he cannot enjoy them, but those 
 which are extended willingly and smilingly, as if the 
 parent found as much pleasure in giving as the boy does 
 in receiving them. He wants somebody who will love 
 him, and who is not ashamed to show it. Where is 
 Henry Stewart?" asked Guy suddenly. 
 
 "He is still at home," replied Mr. Harris, " studying 
 hard to fit himself for college. Mr. Stewart seems to 
 be particularly blessed iii his children. Henry is a 
 model boy. He never does anything behind his father's 
 back that he would be ashamed to do before his face." 
 
 "And what is the reason?" asked Guy. 
 
 " I don't know, I am sure. I suppose it is nature." 
 
 " Yes, the nature of the boy has a good deal to do 
 with his behavior, of course, but believe me, father, 
 when I say that the parents have a great deal to do with 
 it, too," said Guy earnestly. "If you vrill go into Mr. 
 Stewart's yard some night and watch his family through 
 the window, as I did on one occasion, the mystery will 
 be solved in two minutes' time. Henry can't help being 
 a good boy, because he has a good home. It isn't what 
 he has to eat and drink and wear that makes him so, 
 either." 
 
 " Well, have yon been so much happier since you have 
 been out in the world than you were at home?'' 
 
 "I have been so much better satisfied that I don't 
 Avant to go back," replied Guy. 
 
 " Have you never regretted your rash act? Have you 
 never wanted to see us?" 
 
FA THER AND SON. 225 
 
 " Yes, sir, to both yonr questions. I "wished myself 
 at home a good many times during the first three months 
 I was away, not because I was sorry I had left it, but be- 
 cause I was disheartened by the misfortunes I met with 
 and tlie abuse I received from some of tliose with whom 
 I came in contact. The world isn't what I expected to 
 find it by any means. I have been cured of a good many 
 foolish notions since I left home." 
 
 " You must have had some plan in your head when 
 you ran away," said Harris. " AVhat did you expect to 
 do?" 
 
 " I intended to become a hunter," said Guy, with some 
 hesitaj;ion. 
 
 " There ! " exclaimed his father, suddenly brightening. 
 "I have at last reached the root of the matter. Don't 
 you see now that my judgment was better than yours ? 
 If you had respected my wishes and let those miserable 
 works of fiction alone, you would have saved yourself a 
 great deal of trouble. Be honest now. Confess that the 
 only reason why you left home was because you got some 
 wild idea into your head from those books." 
 
 '^ I have already told you why I left home, and why I 
 don't want to go back," said Guy. " If works of fiction 
 are such awful things, how does it come that Henry 
 Stewart is so good a boy ? He has a whole library of such 
 books, and he doesn't have to hide away in the carriage- 
 house or attic to read them either, as I did. I don't deny 
 that the stories I read had something to do with my 
 choice of an occupation, but I do deny that they had any- 
 thing to do with my leaving home. The home itself was 
 the cause of that. It was such a gloomy, dismal place, 
 that I couldn't stay there. But I've had enough of life 
 on the frontier and on the ocean wave. It is all well 
 enough to sit down by a comfortable fire in an easy- 
 chair, and read about the imaginary adventures that fall 
 to the lot of hunters and sailors who never existed, but 
 when one comes to follow the business, he finds that it is 
 a different matter altogether." 
 
 " Well, what are you going to do here in St, Louis ? " 
 asked Mr. Harris, 
 
226 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 '^ I don't know. I must find work of some kind, and 
 that very soon, for I have but a few dollars left. I know 
 nothing of business, consequently if I Avent into a store 
 I should have to accept the lowest position, which would 
 not bring me enough to board and clothe myself. The 
 only way I can see is to enlist. I shall save every cent 
 of my money — I think I know the value of it — and when 
 my term of service expires, I shall have enough to 
 enable me to take a course at the Commercial College. 
 Perhaps after that I can find some paying situation." 
 
 ''You must not go into the service, Guy," said Mr. 
 Harris. " I should never expect to see you again. I 
 can give you something to do." 
 
 Guy opened his lips to decline this proposition with- 
 out waiting to hear more about it. The thought of 
 working under his father's supervision was most dis- 
 tasteful to him — indeed, it could not be entertained for a 
 moment. He could not bear to meet, every hour in the 
 da}^, that stern, gloomy man, who never smiled. But 
 Mr. Harris went on without giving him time to speak. 
 
 "I have prospered since the war begun," said he. 
 ''I have had two profitable government contracts, and 
 have established a business house in this city. Mr. 
 Walker, who is now my partner, has charge of it. I will 
 stej) around and see him about it, and perhaps we can 
 make some satisfactory arrangements, if you v/ill promise 
 to keep out of the service." 
 
 ''But, father," said Guy, "do you live here \\\ this 
 city?" 
 
 "No; I have charge of our business in Norwall. I go 
 back there by this evening's train. What do you say?" 
 ' "I shall be grateful for any Avork that will bring me 
 my board and clothes, and "will promise to keep out of 
 the service," said Guy. 
 
 " Suppose you come around here and take dinner with 
 me at three o'clock. I shall then be able to tell you what 
 arrangements Mr. Walker and myself have made." 
 
 "Very well, sir," said Guy. 
 
 Mr. Harris arose to his feet, and Gu}^ taking this as a 
 
FA THE J? AND SON, 227 
 
 hint that he wished the interview brouglit to a close, 
 picked up his hat and left the room. 
 
 " Thank goodness, it is over at last/^'said he, drawing 
 a long breath of relief. " I didn't say half I meant to 
 have said, and I am glad I didn't, for I could see that he 
 felt badly. 1 didn't want to hurt his feelings, but at the 
 same time I wanted to let him see how impossible it is 
 for me to go back to Norwall with him. I shall always 
 remember that interview, for it is an event in my life. 
 It is the first time I ever spent half an liour in private 
 with my father without getting a scolding or a whipping. 
 He was distant enough, mercy knows, but still he was 
 kinder and more cordial than I ever knew him to be be- 
 fore. Why didn't he exhibit a little of that spirit years 
 ago? I would have done anything for him that I could 
 do." 
 
 " I never in my life heard of such impudence," solilo- 
 quized Mr. Harris, as he i)aced up and down his room 
 after Guy's departure. " It Avas all I could do to keep 
 my hands off that boy. He had the audacity to tell me 
 to my face that I and his mother are the cause of his 
 wrong-doing — that we made his home so unpleasant for 
 him that he couldn't stay there. If that is the case what 
 is the reason Ned doesn't run away? Guy must be de- 
 mented. That bosh he used to read so much has turned 
 his head." 
 
 How very unwilling we are to confess ourselves in 
 fault for any unhappiness that befall us — it is so much 
 easier to lay the blame upon somebody else. Said a 
 father in my hearing, not long ago, while speaking of a 
 reckless, dissolute son who had caused him a world of 
 trouble: 
 
 " Tom always Avas a peculiar boy. I never could un- 
 derstand him. He seemed to prefer any place on earth 
 to his home, and he never would stay there if he could 
 go anywhore else. Why it was so I am sure I don't 
 know. I tried my best to do my duty by him, and it is 
 a great comfort to me now in my old age to know that 
 nobody can tell me I spoiled him by sparing the rod. I 
 
228 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 was as strict witli him as a father conld be. When he 
 was not at school I shut him np inside the yard to Jceep 
 him out of the company of bad boys. I never allowed 
 him to go to a theater or circus, but made him read his 
 Bible every day and learn a portion of the New Testa- 
 ment every night before he went to bed. In the even- 
 ing, as soon as the gas was lighted, I compelled him to 
 bring out his scliool-books and study them until nine 
 o'clock. I exercised the strictest supervision over his 
 reading, and burned every story paper, novel, book of 
 travel, and trash of that sort that he brought into the 
 house. I saw that he was regular in his attendance at 
 church and Sunday-school, and on Sunday afternoons 
 never permitted him to touch any books or papers ex- 
 cept those of a religious character. In short, I tried to 
 keep his mind so fully occupied with good and useful 
 things that wicked and trifling ones could find no place 
 in it. And how has my kindness been returned?" added 
 the father sorrowfully. '■' Tom run away from home 
 when the war broke out, and has never been near me 
 since. He is now among those rough characters on the 
 border, and if everything I hear is true, he is one of the 
 worst of them. How a bad man can come from such a 
 home as Tom had in his boyhood, is a mystery to me." 
 
 But it was*no mystery to me, for I had heard the other 
 side of the story. A few weeks previous to this, Avhile 
 on my way to visit some friends in the East, it was my 
 fortune to meet this same Tom in a distant State. I 
 could scarcely recognize in him the innocent, meek- 
 ap23earing boy I had known in years gone by. He was 
 dressed in a red shirt, thrown open at the throat, coarse 
 trousers thrust into a pair of high-top boots, and a tat- 
 tered slouch hat which he wore cocked over his left ear. 
 In a belt which encircled his waist he carried a navy 
 six-shooter and a monstrous bowie-knife, both oi which 
 had been used with terrible effect in more than one per- 
 sonal encounter. He was a swaggering, swearing, boast- 
 ful, dissipated fellow, and always seemed on the lookout 
 for a chance to pick a quarrel Avith some one. 
 
FA thEr and soM. 229 
 
 '' You're going home, Harry/" said lie, as lie grasped 
 my hand at parting, "and I wish yon joy of your visit. 
 Would to Heaven I had a home to go to." 
 
 " You have, Tom," said I, " and your father would 
 be glad to see you." 
 
 "Don't talk to me in that way," he said, almost 
 fiercely. " I know there is a house in an Eastern town 
 where I used to stay when I was a boy, because I 
 could go nowhere else, where I found shelter, food and 
 clothing, and was daily strapped and scolded, but does 
 that constitute a home? If it does, you writers and 
 poets are all liars. You tell us home is a place around 
 Avhich one's warmest affections cluster — a place conse- 
 crated by a mother's presence, by her prayers and holy 
 tears, whoso sacred influence goes with us through life, 
 and whose pleasant memories come thronging upon us 
 Avhen the tempter is near to keep us from being led 
 astray. Such is the home of my dreams, but it is one I 
 never knew and never shall know. I never knew a 
 mother's love, but was early made acquainted with the 
 weight of a father's hand. He was such a tyrant that I 
 never could breathe easy in his presence. He denied me 
 every boyish privilege and indulgence, and brought me 
 up so strictly that I learned to despise everything good 
 simply because he liked it. I hated the Sabbath, I 
 hated the Bible, being held to so unreasonably strict an 
 observance to the one, and so often compelled against 
 my wishes to commit to memory whole pages of the 
 other. I resolved, as far back as I can remember, that 
 if I could once free myself from home, I'd see life and 
 make up for lost time, and you know as well as I can 
 tell you how I have kept that resolution. I am sorry 
 for it now, but it is too late. I can't live my life over 
 again. I have come to such a pass that nobody cares 
 for me." 
 
 Tom's under lip begun to quiver and his eyes to fill 
 with tears. Ashamed of the weakness, he dashed his 
 hand across his face, uttered an oath under his breath 
 and swaggered off to the nearest saloon. What will his 
 
230 (^UY HARRIS. 
 
 end be? The rope of a vigilance cominittee, or the bul- 
 let of some fellow desperado? 
 
 Parents, it is a serious matter to send a boy into the 
 world with no pleasant recollections of yourselves or of 
 home to restrain him in the hour of temptation. 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER. 
 
 ELL, GUY, whicli way shall we go to-night? 
 Do you feel inclined for a game of billiards 
 before supper?" 
 
 The speaker adjusted his hat in front of a 
 looking-glass, drew a stray lock of hair over one of his 
 ears, turned his head from side to side to assure himself 
 that his toilet had been completed, and looked over his 
 shoulder toward Guy Harris, who, having just rendered 
 to the book-keeper an account of the cash that had 
 passed through his hands during the day, was buttoning 
 his coat preparatory to leaving the store. The question 
 was asked in a low tone and was accompanied by a side- 
 long glance toward Mr. Walker, who was standing at 
 the book-keeper's desk. 
 
 "1 don't know,'' replied Guy hesitatingly. "I've 
 been out a good deal of late, and I think I had better 
 begin to stop at home once in a while of an evening." 
 
 "Oh, nonsense!" exclaimed the first speaker, whom 
 we will call Jones, and who was one of the drummers or 
 commercial travelers employed to sell goods for the firm 
 of Harris & Walker. " What is the use of moping in 
 the house all the while? When one has been hard at 
 work all day he wants some recreation in the evening, I 
 take it." 
 
 " I know that," said Guy, "but to tell the truth, 
 Jones, I don't get as much money for my services at 
 you do, and I can't stand this ' bumming round ' as you 
 call it." 
 
 " Funds giving out? Then run your face." 
 
 "I have been doing just that very thing. I am 
 deeply in debt, too." 
 
 " Oh, that's nothing when you get used to it. Show 
 
232 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 me a clerk in this city wlio is not in debt^ and I will 
 show you five that are." 
 
 "But my creditors want me to pay up; at least I 
 judge so from the way they are beginning to look at me 
 every time I see them." 
 
 " Well, if they become impatient, just say to them that 
 if they get the money before you do, you would be pleased 
 to know it. Are you all ready? If you are, come on. 
 1 have only this evening and one more that I can spend 
 with you, for I must start ofE on my travels again early 
 on Wednesday morning. 
 
 This conversation took place one Monday evening in 
 the store in which Guy was eznployed, and about two 
 months subsequent to the events recorded in the last 
 chapter. In accordance with his promise Mr. Harris 
 consulted with his new partner, Mr. Walker, and the 
 result of the conference was that Guy was employed to 
 do the outdoor business of the firm — to act as city col- 
 lector and shipping clerk, at a salary of four hundred 
 dollars a year. His working hours were from eight 
 o'clock in the morning until six at night, with an hour's 
 intermission at noon for dinner. His evenings were at 
 his own disposal. 
 
 This last was an arrangement with which Mr. Harris 
 was not altogether pleased. He knew by experience the 
 manifold temptations which beset those who live in 
 large cities, and believed there was something in the 
 night air morally injurious to young peoj)le; but he 
 thought that perhaps Guy had learned the value of time 
 and money during his wanderings, and hoped that his 
 evenings would be devoted, as he said he intejided to 
 devote them, to the acquirement of the rudiments of a 
 business education. To further this end Mr. Harris 
 purchased for Guy a scholarship at the Commercial Col- 
 lege, and he also found lodgings for him at a small 
 boarding-house kept by a widow lady in a retired part 
 of the city. 
 
 For a month no fault could be found with Guy. He 
 was as steadv as an old coach-horse. He had learned to 
 
The COMMEkClAL TRAVELEk. %^% 
 
 appreciate the privileges and comforts of civilized life, 
 and knew how to enjoy them. Having been made 
 aware of his deficiencies, he applied himself manfully to 
 the task of overcoming them. He was always on hand 
 during business hours, and performed his duty faith- 
 fully. Mr. Walker began to take a deep interest in 
 him, and sent encouraging reports to Norwall concern- 
 ing him. 
 
 " Guy is a splendid fellow!" so Mr. Walker, who was 
 the only one in the city acquainted with his clerk's past 
 history, wrote to his partner. '' He is very industrious 
 and painstaking, and a word of encouragement or ap- 
 proval stimulates him to extra exertions. You know I 
 always thought he was a good boy.'" 
 
 Guy's landlady, Mrs. Willis, also took a wonderful 
 interest in him; he looked and acted, she said, so much 
 like her own son, who had gone to California to better 
 his fortune. Guy appreciated every little kindness she 
 showed him, and learned to love her as devotedly as he 
 had once loved his father's Avife. 
 
 But Guy's goodness was rather of the negative sort. 
 He did nothing very wrong, simply because he was 
 never tempted. Everything was going smoothly with 
 him. He was aiming high now, had formed resolutions 
 which he had not yet had time to forget; his whole 
 mind was occupied with the duties of his new vocation, 
 and it is easy to work and be good under such circum- 
 stances. But time makes changes, and soon Guy begun 
 to learn that even a shipping clerk has troubles and per- 
 plexities, which, in their way, are just as vexatious and 
 hard to Ijear as those that fall to the lot of other people. 
 The routine of the store, the performing of the same 
 duties over and over again, became tiresome to him; it 
 was too much like a tread-mill. When night came, his 
 mind as well as his body was weary, and he was in no 
 condition to di]) into the mysteries of double-entry book- 
 keeping, or wrestle with the hard problems in Bryant & 
 Stratton's Mercantile Arithmetic. This led him to be- 
 come irregular in his attendance at the college, and he 
 
234 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 begun to spend his leisure hours at home. Reading and 
 conversation with Mrs. Willis interested him for a few 
 evenings, but became a bore at last, and Guv fell into 
 the habit of strolling out after supper for a breath of 
 fresh air; and to enable him to enjoy it fully, he almost 
 always smoked a cigar. 
 
 The place at which he purchased his cigars was a beer 
 saloon, and after a few visits Guy found that it vvas the 
 headquarters of half a dozen dashing young fellows, 
 clerks like himself, who spent all their evenings there. 
 They would come in after supper, singly and in couples, 
 take a glass of beer or cigar at the bar, and then pass 
 out of sight through a door that led into a back room. 
 
 Acquaintances are easily made in places like this — 
 more is the pity — and Guy very soon got into the habit 
 of nodding to these young fellows every time he met 
 them; then one of them treated him to a cigar, and 
 asked him if he wouldn't " step back and take a hand." 
 Guy, who had often wondered what there was in the 
 back room that brought those clerks there so regularly, 
 rejjlied ih the affirmative, and following them through 
 the door just spoken of, found that it led into an apart- 
 ment devoted to pigeon-hole, dominoes and cards. 
 
 The acquaintances Guy formed that night ripened 
 rapidly into a sort of friendship. He became a regular 
 visitor at the saloon, and although he was a remtrkably 
 lucky card j^layer, and was seldom '^^v.i\\\" for a game, 
 the money he had carefully saved during the time he 
 had been employed in the store — and it amounted to a 
 respectable sum — slipped through his fingers almost be- 
 fore he knew it, and at last he had not a single dollar 
 remaining. ' One night he surprised his new friends by 
 seating himself near the card-table, but declined to take 
 part in the game. 
 
 ' ' What's the matter ?" they all asked at once. 
 
 " Why, I might be beaten, and if I do I have no 
 money to pay the bill. I forgot my pocket-book," said 
 Guy, ashamed to acknowledge that he did not own a 
 cent in the world. 
 
TH£ COMMERCIAL TRAVELEk. 235 
 
 "Is that all?" cried one of the players, '^ That's 
 easily enough got over. Say, Jake," he added, calling 
 to the proprietor of the saloon, " if Harris gets stuck 
 for this game, you^'ll chalk it, won't you?"' 
 
 "Oh, sure," replied the Dutchman readily. "I 
 drusts him all de peer he vants.^' 
 
 The boy had been a good customer, and he could 
 afford to accommodate him to a limited extent. 
 
 This was a new chai^ter in Guy's experience. He had 
 never thought of going in debt before, and ere many 
 weeks had passed away he had reason to wish that no 
 one had ever thought of it for him. 
 
 About the time Guy first met these new friends he 
 made the acquaintance of ]\Ir. Jones, the commercial 
 traveler, who was presented to him by his brother, Will 
 Jones, the junior clerk. These two young gentlemen, 
 Mr. Jones and his brother, haci private reasons for 
 hating Guy most cordially. Will had been an applicant 
 for the position of shipping clerk, and indeed Mr. 
 Walker had partly promised it to him; but yielding to 
 the wishes of his partner, he gave Guy the situation in- 
 stead, and made Jones junior clerk, with the promise of 
 something better as soon as there was an opening. 
 
 Will, of course, was highly enraged. Being rather a 
 fast young man, he had got deeply in debt, and needed 
 the extra hundred and fifty dollars — in his subordinate 
 position he received but two hundred and fifty — to sat- 
 isfy his creditors, who were becoming impatient. His 
 brother, the commercial traveler, was absent selling 
 goods for the firm, and not knowing what else to do, 
 Will wrote him a full account of his troubles, and ended 
 by begging the loan of a few dollars. The commercial 
 traveler replied as follows: 
 
 "You have been shamefully treated. That place was 
 promised to you, and you shall have it if I die for it; 
 but I can't lend you any money. You ought to have 
 better sense than to ask me, for I have often told you 
 that my commission does not begin to support me. If 
 it were not for my other business, I should be in a hard 
 
236 GUV HARRIS. 
 
 row of stumps directly. Smoke fewer cigars and drink 
 less beer till I come, and I'll see what can be done. In 
 tlie meantime watch Harris — watch him so closely that 
 you can tell me every one of his habits. If I can get a 
 hold on him I'll have him out of that store, no matter 
 if he is the son of the senior partner. '^ 
 
 In accordance with these instructions, the object of 
 which Will fully comprehended, he set himself to act as 
 a spy upon the shipjiing clerk, and every movement 
 that young gentleman made during business hours and 
 afterward, was carefully noted. 
 
 At first Will saw nothing encouraging in Guy's behav- 
 ior, for his habits bore the strictest investigation; but 
 from the time he got into the way of going to Dutch 
 Jake's saloon for cigars and beer, the spy collected 
 abundant evidence against him. Wlien the commercial 
 traveler returned he listened with interest to the story 
 liis brother had to tell, and when it was finished said: 
 
 " Then Harris drinks beer, does he? That's all right. 
 I am certain of success." 
 
 " But you mustn't put faith in that," said Will. " He 
 never takes too much." 
 
 '' No matter," said the commercial traveler, " he takes 
 a little, and when alcohol is in, wit is out, always. I 
 will bet you a suit of new clothes tliat you are shipj^ing 
 clerk in less than a month — provided, of course, that 
 you have been guarded in your own conduct, and given 
 old Walker no reason to distrust you." 
 
 At the very first opportunity the commercial traveler 
 was introduced to Guy, and the latter was highly flattered 
 to see that he had made a very favorable impression iipon 
 the gentlemanly Mr. Jones. He could not help seeing 
 it, for Mr. Jones did not attempt to conceal his admira- 
 tion for Guy. He accompanied him on his business 
 tours about the city, dropped in to see him every night, 
 and never appeared to be easy while he was away from 
 him. And Guy was glad to be in his company. He was 
 proud to be seen on the streets with such a well-dressed, 
 elegant young fellow. 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRA VELER. 237 
 
 '' Harris/'' said Mr. Jones one clay, "^Mr. Walker tells 
 me that he will not start me out again imder two or three 
 weeks, and I must have a home somewhere. If you and 
 your worthy landlady have no objections, I should like 
 to board and room with you. You are a fellow after my 
 own heart, and I like your society." 
 
 ^'1 have no objections, certainly," said Guy. '^I 
 should be delighted with the arrangement. Go home 
 and take supper with me to-night, and I will propose it 
 to Mrs. Willis." 
 
 Of course Mr. Jones jumped at the invitation. He 
 made a favorable iaijoression upon the unsuspecting land- 
 lady, as Guy knew he would — he did not see how any- 
 body could help liking Mr. Jones — and the consequence 
 was that he paid a week's lioard in advance, and was 
 that same evening duly installed in Guy's room. 
 
 The intimacy thus formed begun to result disastrously 
 to Guy before two days had passed away. The shipping 
 clerk in his simplicity imagined that his new friend 
 looked up to him as a superior being, Avhile the truth was 
 that Mr. Jones, by skillful handling, was molding him 
 to suit his own purposes. He led Guy into all sorts of 
 extravagance. In the first place he made such a display 
 of his abundant wardrobe that the plain, durable cloth- 
 ing with which the shipping clerk had provided himself, 
 and which he believed to be quite good enough for any 
 young man in his circumstances, begun to look, in the 
 eyes of its owner, rather shabby when compared with the 
 elegant broadcloth suits that Mr. Jones wore every day. 
 He had not money sufficient to buy better, but Mr. Jones 
 had both cheek and credit, and through him Guy was 
 made acquainted M'ith a fashionable tailor on Fourth 
 Street, who, in three day's time, furnished him with an 
 outfit that made his eyes dance with delight, and charged 
 the price of it against Guy on his books. Then, of 
 course, other things had to be purchased to correspond 
 with these new clothes, for coarse pegged boots, cottc/i 
 gloves, and a felt hat would not look well with a suit of 
 German broadcloth. Guy must have patent leathers. 
 
238 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 fine linen, a stove-pipe hat, and imported French kids, 
 all of which were procured from merchants recommended 
 by Mr. Jones, and each of whom expressed himself will- 
 ing to wait, not only tor the amount of that bill, but for 
 any other that Guy might be pleased to run at his store. 
 
 In fine, the advent of Mr. Jones produced a wonderful 
 change in Guy's circumstances and feelings in two short 
 weeks. The commercial traveler had a large circle of 
 acquaintances in the city, and Guy was everywhere in- 
 troduced as the son of the senior member of the well- 
 known and Avealthy firm of Harris &Walker, wholesale dry 
 goods merchants, and from being an obscure clerk whom 
 nobody noticed, found himself riding on a high wave 
 of popularity. Elegant young gentlemen touched their 
 hats to him in the streets, and now and then invited him 
 to take a cigar or a glass of wine with them; perfumed 
 and obsequious bar-tenders in gorgeous saloons leaned 
 respectfully over the counter while he gave his orders, 
 and executed them with alacrity; the clerks in a certain 
 "billiard parlor" took particular pains to keep his 
 private cue locked up so that nobody else could get at it, 
 and to see that his favorite four-pocket table Avas unoc- 
 cupied when he dropped in at six o'clock to phiy his 
 regular game; and livery-stable keepers trotted out their 
 best stock, and furnished him with their finest carriages 
 when he wished to go out riding of a Sunday afternoon. 
 
 For the first time in the whole course of his existence 
 Guy was "seeing life," and that, too, without a cent in 
 his pocket. He was bewildered, intoxicated with pleas- 
 ure, and there was but one thing to throw a cloud over 
 his enjoyments. That was the way his landlady looked 
 at him when he came down to breakfast in the morning 
 with trembling hands, and red and swollen eyes, and de- 
 clined to take anything more than a cup of cofi'ee. On 
 such occasions there was an expression on the good lady's 
 face that cut Guy to tlie heart, and somehow always led 
 to the mortifying reflection that for the last six weeks he 
 had not paid her a cent for his board. Then he would 
 seem for the moment to come to his senses; but the 
 
THE COMMERCIAL TRAVELER, 239 
 
 observant Mr. Jones was always ready to step in and nip 
 in the bud any resolutions of amendment he might make. 
 As they walked toward the store he wonld draw a glow- 
 ing contrast between Guy's present circumstances and his 
 former old-fogy manner of living, and wind up by hum- 
 ming over a verse of doggerel something like the follow- 
 ing: 
 
 "As we journey through life, let us b've by the way, 
 
 And our pilgrimag-e g-ladden with feasting-, not fasting; 
 Let us banish dull care, and keep sorrow at bay, 
 Tor our days are all numbered, and life is not lasting," 
 
 His plans were not yet fully matured, and conse- 
 quently he was not ready for Guy's awakening. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVI. 
 
 GUY RECEIVES A PROPOSITIOJST. 
 
 HE shipping clerk and commercial traveler 
 walked out of the store arm-in-arm, and bent 
 their steps toward a billiard saloon. Mr. 
 Jones talked incessantly. The sober face 
 Guy wore, and the words he had let fall a while ago, 
 were small things in themselves, but much too import- 
 ant to be disregarded, for they were signs of the awaken- 
 ing which was sure to come, but which Mr. Jones, for 
 reasons of his own, wished to postpone for a day or two 
 longer. So he tried to keep up Guy's spirits, and be- 
 lieving that a little assistance might not come amiss, lad 
 him into Dutch Jake's saloon, where they had a glass 
 of beer and a cigar apiece, Jones paying for one and 
 Guy treating to the other. 
 
 " Chalk it, Jake," said Guy, as he walked around the 
 end of the counter for a match to light his cigar. 
 
 ''Veil," said the Dutchman with some hesitation, 
 " I shalks dis, but I don't likes dis shalking pisness 
 pooty veil, nolaow. You peen shpending monish like 
 plazes, Meester Harris — you knoAv it? Your pill joeen 
 running dwo months.'^ 
 
 Guy reddened to the roots of his hair. This was a 
 gentle hint that Jake wanted him to pay up, and he 
 had never been dunned before. 
 
 '' How much do I owe you?" he asked, 
 
 "Eight tollars und vorty zents; you know it now," 
 
 " Eight dollars and — Great Scott! how can that be?" 
 exclaimed Guy, almost overwhelmed with astonishment, 
 *' I haven't been stuck for a game of cards for the last 
 two weeks." 
 
 ''Veil, it's all fair, every zent!" almost shouted the 
 Dutchman, bringing his fist down on the counter with 
 
GUY RECEIVES A PROPOSITION. 241 
 
 a sounding whack. " You dinks I sheats you, 2?v dun- 
 der?" 
 
 " Oh, now, Jake, you needn't get on the rampage," 
 said Jones, interposing to cahn the rising storm. '' Guy 
 is not disjDuting your bill — he is a gentleman. He will 
 pay every cent of it in a few days." 
 
 "Veil, dot's all right, put it's petter he bays it j^ooty 
 gwick. Ven a man gomes here mit vine glose und a 
 vine vatch und shain, und runs me a pill here in mine 
 house von ei£"ht tollars und vorty zents, I don't likes 
 dis pisness." 
 
 While the Dutchman was talking himself hoarse Guy 
 and his companion beat a hasty retreat. Jones seemed 
 to look upon the matter in the light of an excellent 
 joke, and laughed heartily over it, but Guy said noth- 
 ing. He was in a very serious frame of mind. He did 
 not in the least enjoy the game of billiards that fol- 
 lowed, for his thoughts were full of the unpleasant in- 
 cident that had just happened. He was learning now 
 what all people who go in debt must learn sooner or 
 later — that a bill, like the snow-ball a boy rolls up to 
 build his mimic fort, accumulates rapidly. He was 
 glad when the game was finished. He and Jones took 
 a cigar at the counter, and were about to move away 
 when the bar-tender beckoned to Guy. 
 
 "I don't want you to think hard of me, Harris," 
 said he, leading Guy out of earshot of his companion, 
 "but I just thought that I would suggest to you that 
 perhaps your bill here is rather larger than you think. 
 It has been running five weekb, and we like to have 
 our customers settle up at least once a month." 
 
 " How much is it?" asked Guy with as much indiffer- 
 ence as he could throw into his tones. 
 
 "Only twenty-four doUars. Don't misunderstand 
 me now. I am not dunning you, for I know that you 
 are a thoroughbred, and that you are able to pay it at 
 any moment. I merely wish to call your attention to 
 it." 
 
 " I am glad you did," said Guy. " I'll see to it. 
 Good-evening." 
 
242 GUY HA R I? IS. 
 
 Had Guy suddenly been knocked over by some invisi- 
 ble hand he could not have been more amazed. Thirty- 
 two dollars in debt, and several creditors yet to hear 
 from! Had he been asked an hour before to name the 
 sum he owed these two men, he would have said not 
 more than five dollars. He had kept no account of the 
 bills he had run at other places, and if they exceeded 
 his estimate of them in the same proportion that these 
 two did, what would become of him? Where could he 
 raise the money to pay them? He could not bear to 
 think about it. He overtook his companion at the 
 door, and the latter saw very plainly that the awakening 
 had come. 
 
 *' Well, perhaps it is as well that it should come now 
 as at a later day,^' soliloquized the commercial traveler. 
 "I've got him just where I want him, and I'll make 
 him a proposition to-night. I have another whole day 
 to operate in before I start out on my travels, and a 
 great deal can be accomplished in that time. How much 
 is it, Guy? Twenty-four dollars! That is less than I 
 thought it would be. Billiards at twenty-five cents a 
 game, and fancy drinks at fifteen cents each count up, 
 you know. When are you going to pay it?'' 
 
 ''I don't know. I can't pay Jake's bill, much less 
 this one." 
 
 "'AVell, now, I say! Look here, my dear fellow, this 
 won't do, you know!" exclaimed Mr. Jones, suddenly 
 stopping in the street and turning a most astonished 
 face toward Guy. " liemember, if you please, that these 
 people to whom I have introduced you are my personal 
 friends, and that I brought you to their notice supjDos- 
 ing you to be a gentleman. You must pay these bills. 
 My honor is at stake as well as your own, because I 
 introduced you. If you don't do it, 3-our creditors will 
 call upon Mr. W^ilker." 
 
 " Great Scott!" ejaculated Guy, who had never thought 
 of this before. 
 
 " Certainly they will," continued Mr. Joues. "And 
 just consider how I should feel under such circum- 
 
GUY RECEIVES A PROPOSITION. 243 
 
 Stances! I should never dare to look a white man in 
 the face again. I didn't think you were dishonest." 
 
 "And I am not, either/' returned Guy with spirit. 
 " I should be glad to settle these bills, but how can I do 
 it without money?" 
 
 "Oh, that's the trouble, is it? It isn't want of in- 
 clination, but a lack of means. Is that it?" 
 
 " That's just the way the matter stands," answered 
 Guy. 
 
 " Then I ask your pardon," said Mr. Jones, grasping 
 Guy's hand and shaking it cordially. "I misunder- 
 stood you. Bvit are you really out of money?" he 
 added, with a look of surprise, although he knew very 
 well that Guy was penniless, and had been for weeks. 
 
 " I haven't a red," was the despairing reply. 
 
 "Don't let it trouble you. I can remedy that." 
 
 " You can!" exclaimed Guy, astonished and delighted. 
 
 ^^Of course. I earn three or four thousand every 
 year, outside of my commission, and in an hour I can 
 explain the mode of operating, so that you can do the 
 same." 
 
 " And will you?" asked Guy. 
 
 "I will, I assure you. Harris, when I am a friend to 
 a man I am a friend all over. And what is the use of 
 my professing to think so much of you if I am not will- 
 ing to prove it?" 
 
 " You are a friend, indeed," returned Guy with en- 
 thusiasm, " and if you will help me out of this scrape I 
 will never go in debt again as long as I live." 
 
 "Oh, as to that," said Mr. Jones indifferently, "it 
 doesn't signify. The best of us get short sometimes, 
 and then it is very convenient to have a friend or two 
 who is willing to credit us. All one has to do is to get 
 up a reputation for honesty, and then he can run his 
 face as long as he chooses." 
 
 " What is this plan you were speaking of?" asked Guy. 
 
 " I will tell you this evening. After supper we will 
 go up to our room, and while we are smoking a cigar 
 we'll have a long, friendly talk. " 
 
244 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 '' Guy did not want any supper. He could think of 
 nothing but his debts and his companion's friendly offer 
 to help him out of them, and he was impatient to learn 
 how his relief was to be accomplished. He urged Jones 
 to reveal the secret at once, but the latter could not be 
 prevailed upon to say more on the subject just then, and 
 Guy was obliged to await his pleasure. 
 
 Supper over, the cigars lighted, and the door of their 
 room closed to keep the smoke from going out into the 
 hall where the landlady would be sure to detect it, Guy 
 and the commercial traveler seated themselves, one in 
 the easy chair and the other on the bed, and proceeded 
 to discuss matters. 
 
 ''In the first place," said Mr. Jones, "in order that 
 I may know just what to do, you must tell me how 
 much you owe, and give me the names of those to whom 
 you are indebted — that is, if you are perfectly willing to 
 do so." . 
 
 "Of course I am," returned Guy readily. " I will 
 meet your friendly advances half-way. To begin with, 
 there are my bills at Dutch Jake's and the billiard sa- 
 loon, amounting to thirty-two dollars and forty cents. 
 Then I am indebted thirty dollars to Mrs. Willis, and if 
 I may judge by the way she looks at me now and then, 
 she would be wonderfully 23leased if I would pay ujx" 
 
 " Oh, she doesn't need the money," said Jones. " She 
 has a little fortune of her own, and only keeps boarders 
 for company. If she says anything to you, there are 
 i:)lenty of ways to put her off. Tell her that you will 
 settle up as soon as you draw your next quarter's 
 salary." 
 
 "That woitld be a good joke on her, wouldn't it?" 
 said Guy with a forced laugh. " To tell the truth," he 
 added, with some hesitation, "I — that is — you know 
 Mr. Walker allows me to be my own paymaster, and I 
 have already drawn and spent my last quarter's salary. 
 I shall not get a cent of money from the firm for five 
 weeks." 
 
 "I am overjoyed to hear it," said Mr. Jones to him- 
 
GUY RECEIVES A PROPOSITION. 245 
 
 self. " Tilings are working better than I thought. I've 
 got you in a tight corner, my lad, and all that is re- 
 quired is a little careful handling to get you in the way 
 of embezzling." Then aloud he said: " That is a very 
 bad state of affairs, Gruy, These people must be paid at 
 once." 
 
 "I know they ought to be jiaid, and you said you 
 would put me in the way of doing it." 
 
 " So I will. I'll come to that directly. But who else 
 do you owe?" 
 
 Guy went on with the list of those to whom he was in- 
 debted, checking each one off on the fingers of his left 
 hand as he j)ronounced his name. Jones listened in 
 genuine amazement, for Guy had been carrying things 
 with a much higher hand than he had supposed. His 
 debts, according to his own showing, footed up one 
 hundred and twenty-five dollars, and if the amounts 
 charged against him on the books of his creditors ex- 
 ceeded his exjjectations as greatly as Jones hoped they 
 would, he owed at least two hundred dollars. The com- 
 mercial traveler took down the names and amounts as 
 Guy called them off — a i^roceeding that Guy could not 
 see the necessity of. 
 
 "You mustn't show that to anybody," said he. 
 
 "Certainly not," replied Jones with an injured air. 
 "I wish to ascertain just how much you owe, so that I 
 may know how large a sum of money it will take to put 
 you on your feet again. One hundred and twenty-five 
 dollars," he continued, after he had added up the col- 
 umn of figures. "That is a bad showing, Guy — a very 
 bad shoAving indeed. It is a large sum to one whose 
 salary amounts to only four hundred dollars a year, but 
 it must be paid. Are you ready to listen to my plans 
 now?" 
 
 " I am," said Guy. " I am all ears." 
 
 "I do not suppose that you will like them at first," 
 said Mr. Jones, "but if you will take my advice you 
 will consider well before you reject them. I can only 
 say that I am about to describe to you a business to 
 
M6 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 which, as I happen to know, a great many people re- 
 sort to enable them to eke out a resjDcctable livelihood." 
 
 With this, Mr. Jones took a long pull at his cigar by 
 way of inspiration, settled back on his elbow on the bed, 
 and proceeded with a minute and careful explanation of 
 the business to which he had referred. He had not said 
 many words before Guy's eyes begun to open with sur- 
 prise, and the longer he listened the more amazed he 
 became. When Mr. Jones drew from his pocket the 
 implements of his trade and exhibited them to Guy, the 
 latter jumped from his chair in high indignation. 
 
 " I'll never do it!" said he with emphasis. " I haven't 
 amounted to much during the time I have knocked about 
 the world, but I have never yet been mean enough to 
 play confidence man." 
 
 " This is the way you repay the interest I take in you, 
 is it?" demanded Mr. Jones angrily. "I offer you a 
 friend's advice and services, and you abuse me for it." 
 
 ''You are no friend when you try to get me into 
 danger," said Guy. 
 
 " There's no need of getting excited over it," said Mr. 
 Jones, as the shipping clerk begun pacing nervously up 
 and down the room. " I am not trying to get you into 
 danger. I have followed this business for years, and 
 know that there is no trouble in carrying it out success- 
 fully; but mark you — there will be trouble if you don't 
 pay your debts, and serious trouble, too. What will Mr. 
 Walker say? He thinks everything of you now — says 
 you're one of the finest young fellows in St. Louis." 
 
 "Does he say that?" asked Guy, Who could not re- 
 member that any one had ever spoken a word in his 
 praise before. 
 
 " Yes, he does; and if I were you I Avould work hard 
 to retain his good opinion." 
 
 " I don't see tliat I can retain it by becoming a 
 swindler," said Guy. 
 
 " He will never know it; but he will know there's 
 something Avrong when your creditors carry their bills 
 to him, as they certainly will, if you don't settle up 
 soon/^ 
 
GUY RECEIVES A PROPOSITION. 247 
 
 "Great Csesar!" gasped Guy, who trembled at the 
 bare mention of the merchant's name in connection with 
 his debts. " Is there no other way out? Can't you lend 
 me some money?" 
 
 " Not a red, my dear fellow. I manage to spend all I 
 make as soon as it gets into my hands. There is 
 no other way out that I can think of now. As I told 
 you before, I did not expect that you would like the busi- 
 ness at first — I know I objected when it was proposed to 
 me — but you will find that it will grow less distasteful 
 the longer you think about it. It is a sure road to ease 
 and fortune, and you had better take time to consider 
 before you refuse to try it. But you are getting down- 
 hearted, Guy. Let's go out for a breath of fresh air. It 
 will liven you up a bit." 
 
 '^JSTo, I don't care to go out," said Guy. " I am in 
 no mood to enjoy anything." 
 
 " Then you will excuse me, won't you? I have an en- 
 gagement at this hour. I will be back at eleven, and in 
 the meantime you had better smoke another cigar, and 
 think the matter over." 
 
 " There's no need that I should think it over. I'll 
 never consent to it — never. My creditors will not drive 
 me to such extremities." 
 
 '^' Oh, they won't, eh?" said Mr. Jones to himself as he 
 closed the door and paused a moment on the landing 
 outside. "We'll see about that, my fine lad. I'll have 
 them following you like so many sleuth-hounds before 
 twenty-four hours have passed over your head. You'll 
 find that they won't care what becomes of you so long as 
 they get their money. There is another way out of the 
 difficulty, but I don't think it quite safe to propose it to 
 Guy to-night. I will tell him of it to-morrow. By that 
 time he will be cornered so tightly that he will be glad 
 to do anything to get out." 
 
 So saying the commercial traveler laughed softly to 
 himself, and slowly descended the stairs. 
 
CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED AT THE STORE. 
 
 K THE hall Mr. Jones met his landlady. 
 The sight of her seemed to recall something 
 to his mind, for he quickly thrust his hand 
 into his pocket, and said as he approached: 
 
 "^I am ashamed of myself, Mrs. Willis, but I never 
 thought of it before, I assure you." 
 
 ''Why, what do you mean, Mr. Jones?" asked the 
 lady in surprise. 
 
 "I mean that, contrary to my usual custom, I have 
 neglected to pay my week's board." 
 
 " Pray don't mention it," said Mrs. Willis, accepting 
 the bill her lodger tendered her. " If I had needed the 
 money I should not have hesitated to ask for it. But, 
 Mr. Jones, I am really afraid that I shall have to si)eak 
 to your friend, Guy." 
 
 The commercial traveler spread out his feet, placed his 
 hands behind his back, and gazed fixedly at the oil-cloth 
 on the floor, but had nothing to say. 
 
 " It isn't the money I care for," said the landlady, 
 '' but I can see very plainly that Gfuy is getting into bad 
 habits. He is going to ruin as fast as he can, and I 
 think it is your duty to advise him to do better." 
 
 "I do, Mrs. Willis; indeed 1 do, ver}^ frequently," re- 
 plied Jones, in a sorrowful voice; " but I find that it is 
 of no use. I have no more influence with him than I 
 have with the wind. I am surprised to hear that he 
 owes you," he added, with some indignation in his 
 tones, ''but I know the reason for it. It isn't because 
 Guy isn't able, or doesn't want to pay, but simply be- 
 cause he is so careless. If you will take my advice you 
 can get your money to-morrow." 
 
 "What must I do?" 
 
tVHA r HAPPEKfED A T THE STORE. 249 
 
 '' Do as the rest of liis creditors do — call upon liim at 
 the store. Suppose you come about six o'clock in the 
 evening? You will be sure to find him in then." 
 
 " Oh, I can't do that," said Mrs. Willis quickly. " I 
 don't want to dun Mr. Harris." 
 
 " Of course not; you merely wish to remind him that 
 he is in your debt, that's all." 
 
 ''Why couldn't I speak to him here and now?" 
 
 ''You could, certainly, but it would do no good. He 
 would promise laithfully to pay up at once, and never 
 think of the matter again. He is just so forgetful. I 
 really wish you could make it convenient to call on him 
 to-morrow evening at six o'clock," added Mr. Jones, 
 " for by so doing you will benefit G-uy as w^eil as yourself. 
 He will draw his quarter's salary then, and if you can 
 get your money out of him it will keep him from spend- 
 ing it for beer and billiards — a practice to which he has 
 of late, 1 am sorry to say, become very much addicted." 
 
 The argument was a clincher, and put all the good 
 lady's scruples to rout. She did not need the money, 
 and neither did she want to dun Guy; but if by that 
 means she could keep him from spending his hard earn- 
 ings foolishly, it was her duty to do it. So she prom- 
 ished to follow Mr. Jones' advice, and the latter, after 
 begging her not to say a word to Guy concerning what 
 had just passed between them, leisurely pulled on his 
 gloves and left the house. 
 
 " There's one hound I have put on your track, Mr. 
 Harris," muttered the commercial traveler when he had 
 gained the street. " If I could only raise a susj^icion 
 in her mind that her money is in danger, wouldn't she 
 make things lively though? For good, fine, ornamental 
 dunning, commend me to a mad landlady, who can do 
 more of it in five minutes than any ten men can do in 
 half an hour. I know, for I have had experience with 
 them." 
 
 With this reflection Mr. Jones pulled his coat collar 
 up around his ears, for the evening air was chilly, and 
 hurrying down Fourth Street turned into the door of a 
 
^50 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 fashionable tailoring establishment. Meeting the pro- 
 prietor as he entered he exclaimed: 
 
 " Now^ Mr. Warren, I am quite sure that you were 
 on the point of starting for my boarding-house to dun 
 me for that bill I owe you. I am really ashamed of my- 
 self — but here's the " 
 
 "Halloo! what's the matter with you, Jones?" inter- 
 rupted the tailor. " Your bill is a mere trifle, not 
 more than ten or fifteen dollars, and if I had wanted 
 the money I should not have failed to let you know it 
 But, Jones, I intend to make you a present of that and 
 more, too. You have recommended our house exten- 
 sively during your travels, and in that way have hel])cd 
 us many a dollar. If you Avill step into the back part 
 of the store we'll take your measure and put you w^ a 
 fine business suit." 
 
 "You are very kind," said Mr. Jones gratefully. " I 
 accept your offer with thanks. I should like a now 
 business suit, one something like that you made for 
 Harris a few weeks ago. By the way, if it is a fair 
 question, what did he pay you for it ?" 
 
 " Not one dime," said tlie merchant with a laugh. 
 
 "How ? I don't understand you." 
 
 "I mean that we have never seen a cent of his money 
 since he began trading with us." 
 
 " Is it possible ?" exclaimed Mr. Jones. " I declare 
 I never saw that fellow's equal for putting off things. 
 Send your bill down to the store to-morrow evening at 
 six o'clock, and give him a first-class overliauling." 
 
 " Oh, I guess I won't do that. He may be a little 
 short just at present, and if he is I don't want to press 
 him. We are not in need of money." 
 
 " But Guy isn't sliort; he's got plenty of funds." 
 
 " Then perhaps I should make him angry, and that 
 wouldn't pay, for he's a good customer." 
 
 " No, you'll not make him mad," said Mr. Jones, 
 "for he has got so in the habit of being dunned that he 
 expects it, and never thinks of paying a bill without it. 
 You'll have to talk right up to him, for he is as full of 
 
WI/A T HAPPENED A T THE STORE. 251 
 
 excuses as an egg is of meat. He's perfectly honest, 
 but so peculiar. You needn't tell him that I suggested 
 this plan of operations to you." 
 
 " Of course not/' said Mr. Warren. 
 
 The conversation ran on in this channel while the 
 tailor was taking Mr. Jones' measure, and the result 
 was that the merchant announced his determination to 
 send his bill to his debtor at the store on the following 
 evening at six o'clock. 
 
 When Mr. Jones went out he bent his steps toward a 
 livery stable, where a conversation of a like character 
 with the above took place between him and the proprie- 
 tor, and with the same result. Then he called at a 
 billiard saloon, dropped into Dutch Jake's for a mo- 
 ment, and wound up his walk by visiting a hat store and 
 one or two furnishing establishments. Having then 
 called upon all of Guy's creditors, he lighted a cigar 
 and strolled slowly homeward, well satislied with his 
 evening's work. Guy's debts amounted to two hundred 
 and seventy-five dollars. 
 
 ''He'll never be able to pay them out of the salary he 
 draws now," thought Mr. Jones. "' There are only two 
 courses of action open to him, and no matter which 
 one he chooses, he is doomed as surely as his name is 
 Guy Harris. I ought to manage some way to bring 
 this business to old Walker's ears," added Sir. Jones, 
 stopping suddenly and looking down at the sidewalk in 
 a brown study. "I have it. Hyslom is just the man. 
 He is mean enough for anything." 
 
 Mr. Jones turned, and hastily retracing his steps to a 
 billiard saloon he had visited a few minutes before, beck- 
 oned to a seedy-looking man he found there, who fol- 
 lowed him to the farthest corner of the room. A whis- 
 pered conversation was carried on between them for a 
 few moments, and was brought to a close by Mr. Jones, 
 who slipped a five-dollar bill into the hand of his seedy 
 companion and went out. 
 
 His plans against Guy were now all perfected, and 
 making his way homeward with a light heart, he turn- 
 
252 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 bled into bed and slept soundly beside bis victim, who 
 all the nigbt long tossed uneasily about, never once clos- 
 ing his e3^es in slumber. 
 
 Mr. Jones and the shipping clerk ate breakfast to- 
 gether the next morning as usual, and set out in com- 
 pany for the store. Neither of them referred to the 
 matters that had been discussed the night before. They 
 were so disagreeable that Guy did not want to talk 
 about them if he could help it, and Mr. Jones was much 
 too cunning to speak of them himself. He knew that 
 the leaven was working, and he wanted to give it plenty 
 of time. 
 
 When they reached the block in which the store was 
 located, Mr. Jones begun casting anxious glances about, 
 as if he were looking for some one. Presently he dis- 
 covered a man, dressed in a shabby genteel suit of black, 
 standing in a door-way on the opposite side of the street. 
 This individual, seeing that Mr. Jones' eyes were fast- 
 ened upon him, nodded his head, slapped the breast- 
 pocket of his coat, and made other signs which must 
 have been perfectly intelligible to Mr. Jones, for he re- 
 plied to them by various gestures of approval and 
 delight. 
 
 Guy remained at the store but a few minutes — just 
 long enough to receive some instructions from Mr. 
 Walker — and then went out and hurried toward the 
 levee. 
 
 As soon as he had disappeared, Mr. Jones Avalked to 
 the door and flourished his handkerchief once or twice 
 in the air; whereupon the shabby individual in the 
 opposite door- way hurried down the sidewalk to the 
 nearest crossing, came over to Mr. Jones' side of the 
 street, and with an air of bustle and business entered the 
 store and inquired for Mr. Walker. 
 
 On being shown into the private office he placed his 
 hat on the floor, and pulling out a memorandum-book, 
 which was filled with papers, folded and indorsed like 
 bills, said: 
 
 " You may have heard of me, Mr. Walker. My 
 
WHA T HAPPENED A T THE STORE. 253 
 
 name is Hyslom, and my business is collecting bad 
 debts. I am a professional dun, at your service. If it 
 will not conflict with the rules of your establishment, 1 
 should like a few minates' interview with Mr. Harris." 
 
 At this the merchant begun to prick up his ears. 
 
 "'The shipping clerk is absent just now," said he. 
 " May I be allowed to inquire into the nature of your 
 business with him ?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir," replied the pretended collector. 
 '' It is no more than right that you should be made ac- 
 quainted with the habits of your employes. Mr. Har- 
 ris, it seems, has been rather fast during the last few 
 months, spending money w:lth a lavish hand, and run- 
 ning in debt to livery stables, billiard saloons, tailoring 
 establishments and beer gardens. I have bills against 
 him to the amount of two hundred dollars and over. I 
 am well aware of the fact that he is perfectly good, for 
 as he is a very wealthy young man and a nephew of 
 yours, I really " 
 
 " Sir," said the merchant, " Mr. Harris is no rela- 
 tion to me." 
 
 " Indeed!" exclaimed the collector, starting up in his 
 chair. " Then he is sailing under false colors. He says 
 you are his uncle, and has repeatedly told his creditors 
 to send their bills to you, and they would be promptly 
 settled." 
 
 " I know nothing about his debts," said Mr. Walker, 
 greatly astonished. " You must see Mr. Harris him- 
 self. Good-day, sir." 
 
 The bogus collector returned his memorandum-book 
 to his pocket, picked ujd his hat, and bowing himself 
 out of the private office, hurried through the store, and 
 down the street, like a man driven to death with business. 
 
 Mr. AValker watched him as long as he was in sight, 
 and then arose slowly to his feet. 
 
 " I expected better things of Guy than this," said he 
 to himself. " If I have been deceived in him I shall be 
 tempted to distrust everybody. Where did he get the 
 money he has been spending so foolishly? He must 
 have used some belonging to the firm," 
 
254 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 So saying, Mr. Walker left his private office to begin 
 a thorough investigation of Guy's accounts. 
 
 Business went on as smoothly as usual in the store 
 that day Avith everybody except Guy. lie was kept so 
 busy, both in doors aud out, that he had but little time 
 to devote to his troubles; but his work dragged heavily, 
 and every thing he undertook seemed to go wrong end 
 foremost. Six o'clock came at last, and while Guy, 
 wearied in body and mind, was standing at the book- 
 keeper's desk, rendering an account of his day's work, a 
 clerk hurried up with the information that a lady had 
 called to see him on private business. 
 
 "A lady — on private business?" repeated Guy. "^I 
 am not acquainted with any ladies in St. Louis." 
 
 There was one lady, however, with whom he was 
 pretty well acquainted, and that was Mrs. Willis; and 
 she it was who had called to see him. 
 
 '^Mr. Harris," said she, as if she hardly knew how 
 to make known her errand, " I have come to ask you if 
 you could make it convenient to settle your board bill 
 this evening?" 
 
 "'Ho, ma'am, I cannot," said Guy, reddening. "I 
 have no money." 
 
 "But you draw vour quarter's salary to-day, do you 
 
 \otr 
 
 "1^0, ma'am. I haven't a cent due me from the 
 firm. I know this ought to have been paid long ago, 
 Mrs. Willis, and I am sorry indeed that I Jiave kejDt you 
 waiting. 1 will hand you the very first dollar I get." 
 
 It was i^lain that the landlady's heart was not in the 
 business. She had undertaken it merely from a sense 
 of duty, and having, as she believed, fulfilled that duty, 
 she was ready to drop the board bill aud talk about 
 something else. 
 
 After a few commonplace remarks about the weather, 
 and the lively appearance of the streets, she bowed 
 pleasantly to Guy and went out. 
 
 The clerk, feeling like a criminal, walked slowly 
 back to the book-keeper's desk, but scarcely had he 
 
IVHA T HAPPENED A T THE STORE. 255 
 
 reached it when he was informed that there was another 
 visitor waiting to see him in the front part of the 
 store. 
 
 This time it proved to be a gentleman — one of the 
 clerks in the emplo}'^ of the tailor he joatronized so ex- 
 tensively. He shook Gny cordially by the hand, asked 
 him how business was prospering, and i^roduced a bill 
 from his pocket-book. 
 
 "That's the Avav you stand on our books/^ said he, 
 "and I thought I would droj) in and see how you were 
 fixed," a slang exj^ression for ' ' see if you had any money." 
 
 The clerk b'^at a tattoo with his fingers on the coun- 
 ter, whistled " Dixie," and run his eyes about the store 
 as if he were taking a mental inventory of the stock. 
 He had been told by his employer that he might find it 
 necessary to give Guy a good talking to, and he was 
 screwing up his courage. 
 
 " Eightj'-seven dollars!" exclaimed Guy, as he run his 
 eye over the bill. "Impossible! The last time I spoke 
 to Mr. Warren about my account he told me it was only 
 fifty dollars." 
 
 " But that suit of clothes you have on your back now 
 came from our 'louse since then," said the clerk. 
 
 " That's zz," returned Guy. "I forgot that. But it 
 beats me how these bills do run up." 
 
 "Yes; one can't get dry goods for nothing in these 
 times. Are you going to ante?" 
 
 " Not now. I can't." 
 
 " Oh, that's played out. Come down!" said the clerk, 
 extending his hand toward Guy and rapping his 
 knuckles on the counter. "Short settlements make 
 long friends. Pay me now.'" 
 
 " But I tell you I can't. I haven't a cent of money." 
 
 "Now, Harris," said the clerk, raising his voice, 
 "permit me to say that this thing is getting monoto- 
 nous. If you don't pay, and that too in short order, 
 we'll snatch you bald-headed." 
 
 "Don't talk so loud," whispered Guy, in great ex- 
 citement. " I'll pay you as soon as I can. Tell Mr. 
 Warren that I'll call and see him about this bill." 
 
256 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " All right. If yon know which side of your bread is 
 buttered you won't waste time in doing it. The old 
 man talks of sending your bill to Mr. Walker. '^ 
 
 The clerk departed, and his place was almost immedi- 
 ately filled by Dutch Jake, who entered with an air 
 which said very plainly that he wasn't gc ing to stand 
 any nonsense. Guy's heart sunk within him. 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THE PARTNERSHIP. 
 
 EE GATES, Meester Harris?" said Dutch 
 
 Jake;, in a voice so loud that Guy trembled 
 
 in apprehension. " How ish dis pisness? 
 
 You got mine mcnish — mine eight tollars 
 
 und vorty zents?" 
 
 " No/' said Guy, " I haven't got it." 
 
 Jake's Avhole appearance changed in a second; his red 
 face grew redder than ever; he squared himself in front 
 of the counter, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and 
 doubling up his huge fist, begun flourishing it in the 
 air above his head in readiness to emphasize the words 
 he was about to utter. 
 
 Guy saw that there was a crisis at hand, Jake was 
 fairly boiling over with fury, and unless he was appeased 
 on the instant, something dreadful would happen. Guy 
 thought rapidly, and spoke just in time. 
 
 ^' Hold on!" said he, '^and hear me out. I haven't 
 got the money now, but I'll get it as soon as the book- 
 keeper is through Avith the cash account, and on my 
 way home I'll drop in and hand it to you." 
 
 These words produced another magical change in the 
 angry German. The fierce frown vanished and a genial 
 smile overspread his face. The sledge-hammer fist was 
 opened and extended in a friendly manner across the 
 counter toward Guy. 
 
 " Dot's all right, Meester Harris," said he. ''Dot's 
 all right. Ven you comes around ve has a glass of peer 
 at mine exbenses, ain't it? Oh, yah!" 
 
 Jake departed, and then came the hatter, the livery 
 stable keeper, the jeweler, the man who had furnished 
 the young spendthrift with the fine shirts and neck-ties 
 he wore, and lastly, the proprietor of the billiard saloon 
 
258 GUY HARRIS, 
 
 — all of whom presented bills which greatly exceeded 
 Guy's calculations. They all appeared to be satisfied 
 with their debtor's promise to pay up at once. But 
 some of them left him with the assurance that if money 
 were not speedily forthcoming, they would place their 
 accounts before Mr. Walker. 
 
 Guy was utterly confounded. He could not imagine 
 what had caused all his creditors to become so pressing 
 in their demands. Like one in a dream he went through 
 his business with the book-keeper, and when it was com- 
 pleted, hurried away to fi.nd his friend and counselor, 
 Mr. Jones. 
 
 In the back part of the store was a small apartment 
 which was used as a wash-room, and to which light was 
 admitted througli a single pane of glass set in the door. 
 In this room Guy found Mr. Jones, busy performing his 
 ablutions. He had retreated there immediately on the 
 entrance of Mrs. Willis, and through the pane of glass 
 before mentioned had watched all that went on in the 
 store. He could not hear what was said, but he knew 
 by the impatient gestures of some of the creditors and 
 the despairing expression that frequently overspread 
 Guy's face, that some bitter things had been said and 
 some alarming threats made. 
 
 " Great Scott!'" whispered Guy as he entered and 
 closed the door behind him. "What does this mean, 
 Jones? The whole city of St. Louis has been here with 
 bills against me." 
 
 '•' It means, dear fellow, that these people want their 
 rights," returned the commercial traveler in a tone of 
 voice which led Guy to believe that his friend deei:)ly 
 sympathized with him in his troubles. 
 
 "But do they imagine that I am made of money — 
 that I can raise almost nine months' wages at a mo- 
 ment's warning?" cried Guy, whose distress was painful 
 to behold. "I owe two hundred and seventy-five dol- 
 lars. Jones, I am ruined!" 
 
 " It certainly looks that way," was the thought that 
 passed through the mind of the commercial traveler, 
 but he looked down at the floor and said nothing. 
 
THE PARTNERSHIP. 259 
 
 ''If you have the least friendship for me suggest 
 something/^ continued Guy in a trembling voice — 
 ''something — anything — no matter what it is if it will 
 only put two hundred and seventy-five dollars in my 
 pocket. I must have it, for these men have almost all 
 threatened to call upon Mr. Walker if I don't settle up 
 at once. If he should hear how I have been going on he 
 would discharge me." 
 
 " Yes, I believe he would," answered Mr. Jones, twirl- 
 ing his mustache and gazing through the window into 
 the store. " It Avould doubtless make him angry, for 
 merchants, you know, are very particular in regard to 
 the habits of their clerks. It is a hard case, Guy — a 
 desperate case; and I confess that it is one I cannot 
 manage, although I am fruitful in expedients. I have 
 thought the matter over since I have been in here, but 
 have hit upon no honest plan to get you out of your 
 difficulties. It is true," added Mr. Jones, speaking as 
 if he were communing with himself, "you handle con- 
 siderable of the firm's money, and might borrow tAvo or 
 three hundred of it just to shut up the mouths of these 
 im]3atient creditors." 
 
 " Oh, no," exclaimed Guy quickly; "I can't do that." 
 
 " I didn't suppose you would," continued the com- 
 mercial traveler, in his oily tones, "but it is an ex- 
 pedient often resorted to by business men to help them 
 out of desperate straits like yours, and I can't see that 
 there would be any danger in it in your case. A good 
 many of our customers are settling their business pre- 
 paratory to going to war. Suppose that one of them 
 pays you four or five hundred dollars, goes into the army 
 and gets killed, and you use the money! Who would be 
 the wiser for it? Of course you would not be dishonest 
 enough to steal the money — you would ordy borrow it 
 until such time as you could replace it out of your salary; 
 and if you felt any conscientious scruples about it, you 
 might pay interest for the use of it." 
 
 " But how could I account for the money being in my 
 possession when I got ready to pay it over?" asked Guy. 
 
260 GUY HARRIS, 
 
 *' Easily enough. You could say to Mr. Walker some 
 morning: ' I received a letter from Mr. So-and-So last 
 night. He went into the service six months ago, you 
 know, without settling with us. Here's the amount of 
 his bill with interest to date.^ That's all fair and square, 
 isn't it?" 
 
 ''But Mr. Walker or the book-keeper would want to 
 acknowledge the receipt of the money," said Guy. 
 
 "Of course they would. You could give them some 
 fictitious address, and as you have all the letters to mail, 
 you could easily see that that jjarticular letter did not 
 go into the office." 
 
 " But you said something about the man being killed. 
 Suppose that happens before I have had time to save 
 enough out of my salary to replace the money I have 
 borrowed. Then what ? He can't pay his debt after he 
 is dead." 
 
 " Of course not; and in that case you'll be smart 
 enough to say nothing to nobody about it. Just keep 
 mum. The amount of his bill will go on the debtor 
 side of the profit and loss account, but you'll be just that 
 much ahead." 
 
 As Mr. Jones said this he looked sharply at Guy, and 
 told himself that his specious arguments were beginning 
 to have their effect. The shipping clerk was gazing 
 steadily at the floor, and there was an expression on his 
 face that had never been seen there before. 
 
 " I am afraid I couldn't carry out that plan success- 
 fully," said Guy, after a few moments' reflection. " It 
 is somewhat complicated, and my knowledge of business 
 is so limited that I might make a mistake somewhere. I 
 would much rather go into partnership with you, as you 
 suggested last night." 
 
 Mr. Jones hastily seized the towel and buried his face 
 in it to conceal his exultation. He had Guy under his 
 thumb at last. 
 
 " I think myself that it would be the safer plan, ''said 
 he, as soon as he had controlled himself so that he could 
 speak with his usual steadiness of voice, ''and it is the 
 surest way, too." 
 
THE PARTNERSHIP. 261 
 
 '^It is a way I don't like," said Guy. "It is swin- 
 dling." 
 
 "■ But it brings in the money by the handful, and 
 money is what makes the mare go in these times," re- 
 turned Mr. Jones. " We'll go home and talk it over." 
 
 " You must be very particular in your explanations," 
 said Guy. "It is a new business to me, 'you know, and 
 I might spoil the Avhole thing." 
 
 " Never fear. It is easily learned, and I will go over 
 it so often that you can remember everything I say and 
 do. This is your last chance, you know, for I leave the 
 city on the eleven o'clock train to-uight, to be gone at 
 least three weeks." 
 
 The commercial traveler had already been more than 
 a quarter of an hour in making his toilet, and had got 
 no further than the washing of his hands and face; but 
 noAV he begun to bestir himself. The most complicated 
 part of it all — the brushing of his perfumed locks and 
 the adjusting of his hat and neck-tie before the glass — 
 occupied just one minute, about one-tenth of the time 
 Mr. Jones usually devoted to it. Then he was ready to 
 give Guy his first lesson in playing the part of confidence 
 man. 
 
 In order that they might be free from all interruption, 
 they went directly home and locked themselves in their 
 room, where they remained in close consultation, coming 
 out when the supper-bell rung, and returning immedi- 
 ately after disposing of a very light meal. By that time 
 Guy had thoroughly mastered the part he was to perform, 
 and all that remained to be done was to hunt up some- 
 body with plenty of money, and try the effect of their 
 scheme upon him. As soon as it begun to grow dark 
 they left the house, and sauntered away, arm-in-arm, as 
 if they had determined upon nothing in particular. 
 Arriving at Fourth Street, they stationed themselves in 
 a dark door-way, and Mr. Jones, settling into an easy 
 position, closely scrutinized every man who passed, 
 finally singling out one as an object worthy of their 
 attention. 
 
263 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 There was nothing particularly noticeable abont this 
 man, either in his clothing or manners, for he was as 
 well dressed as the majority of the pedestrians who were 
 constantly passing along the street, and there was none 
 of that " country air " about him which seems to be in- 
 separable from so many who live in the rural districts. 
 From what Guy had learned of the nature of the busi- 
 ness in hand, he inferred that their act could be practiced 
 with safety and success only on green countrymen, and 
 this individual seemed to him to be a most unpromising 
 object to operate upon. But Mr. Jones thought differ- 
 ently. 
 
 '' He's the fellow we're looking for," said he, in a 
 whisper. "The only question is whether or not he is 
 well fixed; but that is something we've got to find out. 
 Follow him up and speak to him at the first opportunity. 
 If he doesn't give you a chance make one for yourself. 
 Be careful now." 
 
 With a beating heart Guy stepped down from the 
 door-way and set out in pursuit of the gentleman; and 
 before he had gone a block an opportunity to accost him 
 presented itself. When the gentleman reached a cross- 
 ing he stopped and looked up at the building, searching 
 no doubt for the names of the streets. Guy came up 
 behind him and also stopped and looked about with a 
 bewildered air, as if he did not know Avhich way to 
 turn. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," said he; " will you be kind 
 enough to tell me which way to go tc find Robinson's 
 hardware store?" 
 
 "I should be glad to tell you if I knew, but 1 am a 
 stranger here," was the reply. 
 
 " Are you, indeed?" said Guy. '''So am I; and the 
 worst of it is, I fear I am lost." 
 
 " I am in the same situation," said the stranger. '••' I 
 am trying to find my hotel, and if I don't succeed very 
 soon I shall call a carriage," 
 
 " Why, so you can. I never thought of that." 
 
 *' Where are you from?" asked the stranger. 
 
THE PARTNERSHIP. 263 
 
 " Brattleboro, Vermont/' replied Guy, " and I never 
 before was so far away from home. I have one friend 
 here, a brother-in-law, if I could only find him, who 
 owns an extensive liardAvare store, AVhere do you live, 
 sir?" 
 
 "A few miles from Ann Arbor, Michigan, and this 
 is my first visit to St. Louis. I am stopj^ing at the 
 Olive Street Hotel." 
 
 " So am I; but, to tell the truth, I haven't funds 
 enough to pay for such expensive lodgings, and that's 
 another reason why I am so anxious to find Robinson. 
 My father wouldn't give me much money for fear I 
 should fall into the hands of — sharpers, I believe he 
 called them." 
 
 " Yes, that's what they are," said the stranger with 
 an air of superior Avisdom. "'Your father is a sensible 
 man. It isn't just the thing to trust an innocent young 
 fellow like you alone in a great city with plenty of 
 money in his pocket. He is almost sure to lose it." 
 
 " Are you not afraid ?" asked Guy. 
 
 "Me? No. I've traveled." 
 
 "Then you will let me stay with you, won't you? I 
 shall feel safe in your company." 
 
 "Certainly, I wilL" 
 
 " Well, suppose we go and see if we can find our hotel. 
 I'd rather walk than call a carriage. Your name is " 
 
 " Whitney," replied the stranger. " And yours?" 
 
 "Benjamin — Rufus Benjamin, at your service," said 
 Guy. 
 
 The embryo confidence man had the satisfaction of 
 seeing that he was making rapid headway, and when 
 Whitney moved away with him he took his arm, and the 
 two walked along conversing as familiarly as though 
 they had been acquainted for years. 
 
 Guy seemed so innocent and confiding and made him- 
 self appear so ignorant of city life, that Whitney won- 
 dered how his father came to trust him so far away 
 from home, and repeatedly assured him that it was a 
 fortunate thing for him that they met just as they did. 
 
264 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 for had Guy been left to find his way back to his hotel 
 alone, he would have been almost certain to get himself 
 into trouble of some kind. 
 
 Finally, as they were jjassing a beer-garden their at- 
 tention was attracted by the strains of music, and Whit- 
 ney proposed that, as it was yet early in the evening, 
 they should step in and see Avhat was going on. Guy 
 agreed, and when tbey had seated themselves at a table 
 in a remote corner of the garden, he called for cider. 
 He never drank anything stronger, he said, for his 
 father didn't allow it. But the German had no cider, 
 and Guy, after a great deal of persuasion, was as last 
 prevailed upon to indulge in a glass of soda-water, 
 while Whitney solaced himself with a mug of beer. 
 For nearly half an hour they sat at the table conversing 
 upon different topics, smoking their cigars and sipping 
 at their glasses^ and then the door opened and Mr. 
 Jones came in. 
 
 "There's the very man I have been looking for," said 
 Guy joyfully. " How very fortunate! Eobinson, come 
 here." 
 
 Mr. Jones approached the table at which his partner 
 was sitting, and after looking at him for a moment as if 
 trying to recollect where he had seen him before, sud- 
 denly seized him by both hands, and began pulling him 
 about over the floor as if he were overjoyed to meet 
 him. 
 
 "Why, Rufus Benjamin, is this you?" he exclaimed. 
 " You don't know how glad I am to see you." 
 
 "And neither do you know how glad lam to see 
 you," returned Guy. "I have been looking foi you all 
 the afternoon. Mr. Eobinson, permit me to introduce 
 my friend, Mr. Whitney, from Ann Arbor, jMichigan." 
 
 " HajDpy to meet you, Mr. Whitney," said Jones, ex- 
 tending his hand. "I am always glad to make the ac- 
 quaintance of any of Benjamin's friends." 
 
 " I never met him before this evening," said Whitney, 
 "but I think I have acted the part of a friend in taking 
 him under my charge. When I first saw him he was as 
 pale as a sheet, and trembling as if he had the ague." 
 
THE PARTNEkSHlP. 365 
 
 '^Well, I was lost/' said Guy, who wondered what 
 Whitney would think if he knew the real cause of his 
 nervousness and excitement. " I have never been alone 
 in a big city like this, you know/' 
 
 '^I don't su]3pose the boy has been outside of the 
 State of Vermont half a dozen times in his life," said 
 Jones. "^How are things prosj^ering in that out-of-the- 
 way part of the world anyhow, Rufus?" 
 
 " We've had a very good season in our parts, and the 
 crops have done well," replied Guy, " But, Eobinson, 
 why didn't you meet me at the depot?" 
 
 " Why did you not write and tell me when to expect 
 you ?" asked Jones. 
 
 " I did." 
 
 ''Well, I have not received the letter. I have just 
 returned from Washington, and no doubt I shall find it 
 waiting for me at home. Where are you stopping, gen- 
 tlemen?" At the Olive Street House, eh? You must 
 permit me to take charge of you now, and to say that 
 you sliall not stop at a hotel any longer. I will call a 
 carriage presently and take you home with me. I know 
 that Mollie will be glad to have you come, Rufus — she's 
 my wife, you know, Mr. Whitney, Benjamin's sister — 
 for it is fully two years since she has seen you." 
 
 The conversation thus commenced continued for a 
 quarter of an hour. Mr. Jones was in no hurry to be- 
 gin his business operations, for Guy was playing a part 
 that was entirely new to him, and he was afraid to trust 
 him. In a few minutes, however, he had learned a 
 good deal of Whitney's history and habits, and having 
 satisfied himself that he was a good subject to operate 
 upon, he gave Guy the signal, and the latter prepared 
 for action. 
 
CHAPTEE XXIX. 
 
 THE PARTNERS IN" ACTION. 
 
 OBINSON," said Guy, after a preliminary- 
 cough and a desperate attempt to subdue his 
 increasing excitement, " I understood you a 
 while ago to say that you have just returned 
 from Washington. You went there on some business 
 connected with politics, I suppose?" 
 
 '*0h, no," replied Mr. Jones. "1 don't trouble my 
 head about politics. I have always made my living 
 honestly, and I always intend to do so. I went there to 
 take out a patent on a recent invention of mine." 
 
 "What is it?" inquired Mr. Whitney, with some 
 eagerness. " I am interested in every new invention, for 
 I do a little business in that line myself sometimes. I 
 own the rights for several washiug-machines, pumps, 
 and scissor-sharpeners in our county." 
 
 " And this is just what you need to complete your 
 list," said Mr. Jones. " It is a fine thing, and is bound 
 to make somebody independently rich one of these days. 
 You know, Rufus, that about a year ago I wrote you 
 that my store had been entered by burglars, who broke 
 open my safe and robbed it of six thousand dollars." 
 
 " I recollect the circumstance," said Guy. 
 
 "Well," continued Mr. Jones, "that convinced me 
 that business men ought to take more precautions to 
 guard their property from the assaults of outlaws, so I 
 set my wits at work, and I finally succeeded in perfect- 
 ing a burglar-proof lock — an arrangement which is at 
 once simple and convenient, but which can neither be 
 cut with a cold-chisel, blown open with gunpowder, or 
 even unlocked by any one who does not understand its 
 construction. I gave away a good many models while I 
 was in Washington, but I think I have one or two left. " 
 
THB PARTNERS IiV ACTION: ^67 
 
 So saying, Mr. Jones begun to oyerbaul his pockets, 
 and finally produced a small brass padlock, similar in 
 size and shape to those sometimes nsed on dog-collars. 
 
 "Ah! yes, here is one," said he, "'and I defy any man 
 in the world to open it without breaking it. This 
 model, you will, of course, understand, Mr. Whitney, is 
 intended merely to illustrate the principles of the inven- 
 tion. The locks, when ready for use, will be made of 
 the best of steel and be large and heavy. I have one 
 attached to the safe at my store, and to-morrow you will 
 have an opportunity to see how it looks and operates. I 
 Avill give it to you on easy terms, and will warrant — by the 
 way, there's my partner, Mr. Benton. I want to see 
 him on particular business, so I beg that you will ex- 
 cuse me. I will return in one moment." 
 
 As Mr. Jones said this he jumped to his feet, and dis- 
 ap23eared through the door, evidently in pursuit of a 
 gentleman who had just gone out. He left his inven- 
 tion on the table, and Whitney picked it up and exam- 
 ined it. The key was tied to it by a piece of ribbon, 
 and this Whitney inserted in the lock, Avhen, behold! it 
 opened like any other common padlock. He was aston- 
 ished at his success. He closed the lock again, and 
 opened it with all ease. Then he handed it to Guy, 
 and he did the same, and appeared to be as much sur- 
 prised thereat as was Mr. Whitney. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Jones came back. 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," said he, hurrying to the table 
 and picking up the lock. " I have just made an 
 appointment with my partner, and it is necessary that I 
 should run down to the store for a few minutes. Will 
 you accompany me?" 
 
 " No," replied Guy; " Ave'll stay here. I am too 
 tired to run around any more to-night." 
 
 "Very well," said Mr. Jones, without giving Whitney 
 time to say whether he would go or not. "Til return 
 in a quarter of an hour with a carriage, and then we'll 
 go round to the hotel after your luggage. In the mean- 
 time, enjoy yourselves to the best of your ability. I 
 
2(58 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 will leave my invention with you, and yon can examine 
 it at yonr leisure." 
 
 ''We have already inspected it to our satisfaction," 
 replied Whitney with a smile. " I couldn't make a for- 
 tune by selling an arrangement like that. We opened 
 it very easily." 
 
 "You did!" exclaimed Mr. Jones. 
 
 '' Certainly," said Guy. "If I were a burglar, and 
 wanted to get into your safe, that lock would not keep 
 me out." 
 
 Mr. Jones looked from one to the other of his com- 
 panions, and then dropped into a chair, a]3parently over- 
 whelmed Avith amazement. 
 
 "Is it possible that I have made a failure after all?" 
 said he. " If the secret mechanism of the invention 
 can be so easily discovered, how does it come that the 
 officials in AVashington did not see through it at once? 
 Gentlemen, you are either dreaming or joking." 
 
 " No, we are awake and in sober earnest," said Guy. 
 " We certainly did open that lock, and to convince you 
 of the fact, we'll do it again. Hand it out here." 
 
 Again Mr. Jones Avas silent. 
 
 "I may have made a mistake," said he, after gazing 
 thoughtfully at the floor for a fev*^ moments, " but I can 
 hardly believe it." 
 
 " Give me the lock," repeated Guy, "and I will bet 
 you any sum you j^lease that I will 02:)en it at the first 
 trial." 
 
 "■ Oh, I never bet," said Jones, quickly rising to his 
 feet and buttoning up his coat. "I regard the taking 
 of ■ money gained in that Avay as but little better than 
 highway robbery." 
 
 " You can't have much faith in your invention," said 
 Whitney. 
 
 "Yes, I have unbounded faith in it." 
 
 " I left the most of my money at the hotel in charge 
 of the clerk, but here's a small amount Avhich says that 
 I did open that lock, and that I can do it again," said 
 Guy, drawing from his jDocket a twenty-dollar bill, 
 
THE PARTNERS TV ACTION: 269 
 
 whicli his friend and partnei* had furnished him for this 
 very purpose. 
 
 Jones drummed with his foot on the floor, puffed 
 out his ch'^eks, and scratched his head like a man in 
 deej) j)erplexity. He looked first at Whitney, then at 
 Guy, then down at the money that had been placed on 
 the table, and finally dropped into his chair again. 
 
 " I believe I'll take a hand in this,'^ said Whitney. 
 " I don't often do things of this kind, in fact never, un- 
 less I see a chance to make something, but I'll stake 
 twenty-five dollars on it just for luck." 
 
 Mr. Jones again arose to his feet and nervously rub- 
 bed his chin as if he were completely bewildered by this 
 turn of events, all the Avhile Avatching the movements of 
 Whitney, who produced his pocket-book and counted 
 out the sum he had named. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said the commercial traveler, " when I 
 see persons willing to Avager such large sums of money 
 as those you have laid upon the table, I always know 
 they are betting on a sure thing." 
 
 This remark had Just the effect that Mr. Jones in- 
 tended it should have. It led Whitney to believe that 
 in spite of all he had said, the patentee had suddenly 
 lost faith in his invention. 
 
 After a moment's hesitation he brought out his 
 pocket-book again and counted down twenty-five dol- 
 lars more, which he also placed ui3on the table. 
 
 '■'Now, Robinson, Avhat are you going to do about 
 it?" asked Guy. 
 
 " AVhy, when I am among gentlemen I do as gentle- 
 men do, of course," replied Mr. Jones. " But to tell 
 the truth, the confident manner in which you act and 
 sj)eak convinces me that I have made a grand mistake." 
 
 Having said this Mr. Jones paused in the hope that 
 Whitney would take courage and go down into his 
 pocket-book after more money. And in fact this little 
 piece of strategy came very near being successful, for 
 Whitney put his hand into his pocket, but after think- 
 ing a moment he pulled it out empty. 
 
270 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " I knoio I have made a mistake/' said Mr. Joiiy,s. 
 
 Here another long pause was made, but as Whitney 
 showed no disposition to increase his wager^ Mr. Jones 
 continued: 
 
 " But it is too late to remedy the matter now, and 
 the invention must stand or fall according to its 
 merits." 
 
 Mr. Jones counted out seventy dollars Avith which he 
 covered Guy's bet and Whitney's, after wliich the money 
 was raked into a pile and placed under a hat, to hide it 
 from the view of the other people in the garden. Mr. 
 Jones then put his hand into his pocket and produced 
 his patent lock — not the one he had exhibited before, 
 but another that was not to be opened. In shape and 
 size it was so exactly like the first that had they been 
 seen together no dill erence could have been detected be- 
 tween them. 
 
 "Now,'' he said, ''if I have made a failure, I am 
 willing to give seventy dollars to be convinced of the 
 fact." And as he pushed the lock across the table to- 
 ward Whitney, his hand trembled so naturally that the 
 dupe really believed that this accomplished sharper had 
 made the first bet of his life, and that it had excited 
 him. 
 
 Whitney took the lock with a confident smile and in- 
 serted the key into it, expecting of course to open it as 
 he had opened the other ; but his smile suddenly gave 
 way to a look of astonishment and alarm, and his face 
 lengthened out wonderfully when he found that the key 
 would not turn. He tried it over and over again, shook 
 the lock, and even pounded it on the table, but it was 
 all in vain. Then he handed it to Guy, and he met with 
 no better success. 
 
 "What do you suppose can be the matter with it?" 
 asked the latter, after he had made several attempts to 
 open the lock. 
 
 "I'm sure I don't know," replied Whitney. "Let 
 me try again." 
 
 " We opened it without the least trouble before," 
 continued Guy. 
 
THE PARTNERS IN ACTION. 271 
 
 '' Oh, you are certainly mistaken, Kufus,"^ said Mr. 
 Jones blandly. 
 
 "No, he isn't!" exclaimed the dupe. "\ am not 
 blind, and I know that we both opened this lock not 
 ten minutes since. But we can't do it now," he added, 
 handing the invention back to its owner, who put it 
 back into his pocket and took charge of the money. 
 
 ''This is the first I ever made by betting," said he. 
 " Now I must be off to fulfill my engagement with my 
 partner. I'll return very shortly, and then we will go 
 home." 
 
 So saying Mr. Jones disappeared, leaving Guy and 
 Whitney to talk the matter over at their leisure. 
 
 "What an idiot I was to risk my money on that 
 thing," said the latter regretfully. "I ought to have 
 known that a man who has spent a whole year in perfect- 
 ing an invention is better acquainted with it than a 
 stranger. I am nearly strapped. I haven't money 
 enough to pay my fare to Chicago, and I don't know a 
 soul this side of there." 
 
 " Don't lei; it trouble you," said Guy soothingly. 
 "Eobinson will return that money in the morning, and 
 then he will read us a long lecture on betting." 
 
 "Do you really think he will give it back?" asked 
 Whitney, in a more hopeful tone. 
 
 " I am sure of it. He does not intend to keep it, for 
 he was brought up in New England, and according to 
 his idea, betting is no better than gambling. Some 
 more cigars, waiter. I've got a quarter left." 
 
 The cigars were brought, and Guy, receiving the 
 matches from the hand of the waiter, deposited them in 
 a little pool of beer upon the table, so that when 
 he wanted to light their cigars the matches would not 
 burn. Guy grumbled at this, and said he would go to 
 the bar for a light. He went; and Whitney, who was 
 deeply occupied with his own thoughts, bemoaning his 
 folly for risking his money on that patent invention, and 
 wondering if Robinson would be generous enough to re- 
 turn it in the morning, did not see him when, after 
 
272 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 ligliting his cigar, he slipped through the door into the 
 street. 
 
 Guy's first attempt at swindling had met with success, 
 but it did not bring with it those feelings of happiness 
 and independence which he had so confidently looked 
 for. There was not a criminal in St. Louis who felt so 
 utterly disgraced as he did at that moment. The reac- 
 tion had come after his hour of excitement, and his 
 spirits were sadly depressed. He looked upon it now as 
 a most contemptible proceeding to wheedle one's way 
 into a stranger's good graces, and then seize the first op- 
 portunity to do him an injury. Accompanying this 
 reflection was the thought — and his mind would dwell 
 upon it, in spite of all he could do to jirevent it — that he 
 had rendered himself liable to legal punishment, and 
 that he was every moment in danger of being arrested 
 and thrust into jail. Had AVhitney's money been in his 
 pocket just then, he would have lost not a moment in 
 returning it to its rightful owner; but it M'as safely 
 stowed away about the good clothes of his friend and 
 partner, Mr. Jones, who was seated in a certain bowling 
 alley, Avhich had been designated beforehand as the 
 place of meeting, solacing himself with a cigar, and 
 anxiously awaiting Guy's appearance. 
 
 When the latter came in, Mr. Jones beckoned with 
 his finger, and Guy followed him to the furthest corner 
 of the saloon. 
 
 ''Well," said the commercial traveler, " how do you 
 like it as far as you have gone? Twenty-five dollars for 
 an hour's work I call pretty fair wages. If you make 
 that amount every night, it will not take you long to pay 
 your debts." 
 
 " I don't like the business at all," said Guy, '' and I 
 will never attempt it again." 
 
 Mr. Jones settled back in his chair, looked up at the 
 ceiling through the clouds of smoke that arose from the 
 cigar, and said to himself: 
 
 "1 don't know that it makes any diSerence to me 
 whether you do or not. If you don't pay your debts in 
 
THE PARTNERS IN ACTION: %^% 
 
 this way, you must use some of the firm's money. When 
 you do that your days as shijDping clerk are numbered, 
 and my brother will step into the j)Osition/' 
 
 Then aloud he asked: 
 
 " How did you get away from him?" 
 
 "^I did just as you told me," replied Guy, rather im- 
 patiently, for it was a matter that he did not like to talk 
 about. "I dampened the matches, went to the bar for 
 a light, and stepped out when he wasn't looking." 
 
 " He didn't bleed as freely as I hoped he would," con- 
 tinued Mr. Jones; " but, after all, we did very well. 
 Here's your share of the spoils — twenty-five dollars." 
 
 It was on the point of Guy's tongue to refuse to accept 
 it; but he thought of Dutch Jake, who was probably at 
 that very moment stamping about his little groggery like 
 a madman, because his eight dollars and forty cents had 
 not been paid according to promise, and knowing that 
 the man must at all hazards be prevented from making 
 another visit to the store, he took the money and put it 
 into his pocket. 
 
 " Now I must run down and say good-by to my 
 brother," said Mr. Jones, "and by that time the 'bus 
 will be along to take me across the river. " When I re- 
 turn I hope to find you on your feet, and with money in 
 your pocket. Take care of yourself." 
 
 Mr. Jones hurried out, and in a few moments more 
 was standing in the presence of his brother, and recount- 
 ing in glowing language the success of his plans. 
 
 Will was in ecstasies. 
 
 "I will put the finishing touch to them," said he. 
 " I will find Whitney, tell him that he has been swin- 
 dled, and put him up to have Guy arrested." 
 
 "That would be a cunning trick, wouldn't it?" said 
 Mr. Jones. 
 
 "■ Why, it will bring the matter to the notice of Mr. 
 Walker," said Will, "and that's just what I want." 
 
 " Well, it is just what I don't want," said Mr. Jones. 
 " If Guy is arrested, I lose my situation, for of course he 
 will blow on me. You let him alone. I've given him 
 
274 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 plenty of rope^, and if he doesn^t succeed in hanging 
 himself by the time I get back, I can easily do it for 
 him." 
 
 The commercial traveler hurried out to catch the 
 omnibus, and Will tumbled into bed to dream of Guy^s 
 disgrace, and his immediate accession to the office of 
 shipping clerk. 
 
CHAPTEE XXX. 
 
 WORDS FITLY SPOKEN". 
 
 UY LEFT the bowling alley shortly after Mr. 
 Jones went out, and avoiding all the princi- 
 pal thoroughfares, and taking all the back 
 streets in his way, finally reached Dutch 
 Jake's saloon. He had ample time to think over his situ- 
 ation, and was fast giving Avay to that feeling of desper- 
 ation which all criminals are said to experience. He 
 was ruined beyond all hope of redemption, he told him- 
 self, and he might as well go on. He must go on, for it 
 was too late to turn back. 
 
 Guy remained at Dutch Jake's saloon three hours, 
 apparently the gayest of the gay, and driven by this 
 spirit of recklessness and desperation that had taken pos- 
 session of him to commit excesses that astonished every- 
 body present. About one o'clock he got into an alter- 
 cation with somebody, which threatened for a time to 
 end in a free fight, but Dutch Jake promptly put a stoj) 
 to the trouble by dragging Guy out of the saloon by 
 i\\i collar, throwing him headlong upon the pavement, 
 and then slamming and locking the door to prevent his 
 return. 
 
 The boy's pockets were empty. The last cent of his 
 ill-gotten gains had found its way into Jake's money- 
 drawer, and all Guy had got for it in return was more 
 alcohol than he could carry and an appellation which, 
 in his maudlin condition, tickled his fancy wonderfully. 
 Some one had called him "the prince of good fellows," 
 and during the last hour his fuddled companions had 
 dropped his name and addressed him entirely as 
 "Prince." 
 
 "But if I'm a prince," stammered Guy, holding fast 
 to a lamp-post and looking in an uncertain sort of way 
 
376 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 toward tlie door that had just been closed behind him, 
 '• wha's ye nse lockin' m' out? Do zey want to (hie) 
 'suit me? Zey'd bet-better mind zer eyes!" 
 
 That is the way with saloon-keepers, Guy. It is a 
 part of their business. They have no respect or friend- 
 ship for you— it is your money they want, and when 
 they have emptied your pockets of the last cent, and the 
 accursed stulf they have sold to you mounts to your 
 brain and steals away your wits, and the Evil One has 
 taken full possession of you, they thrust you into the 
 street, leaving you to shift for yourself. 
 
 The next few hours were an utter blank to Guy. He 
 did not know how he got home, but that he got there 
 in some way was evident, for when he came to himself 
 (about daylight) he was lying across the foot of his bed 
 with all his clothes on, and the door of his room was 
 standing wide open. 
 
 The instant his eyes were unclosed the events of the 
 night came back to him, accompanied by a sjDlitting 
 headache and a feeling of nervousness and prostration 
 that was almost unbearable. 
 
 With scarcely energy enough to move, he staggered to 
 his feet and closed the door ; as he did so he caught a 
 glimpse of his face in the mirror. He could scarcely 
 recognize himself. Was that pale, haggard countenance, 
 set off with blood-shot eyes and a black and blue spot 
 on his left cheek, which he had received by coming in 
 contact with some lamp-post on his way home — was that 
 face the face of Guy Harris? Without the beauty spot 
 he looked for all the world as Flint looked on the morn- 
 ing he came creeping out of the forecastle of the Santa 
 Maria, after sleeping off the effects of the drug that had 
 been administered to him. 
 
 Sick at heart and so dizzy that he could not stand 
 without holding fast to something, Guy turned and was 
 about to throw himself upon the bed again, when he 
 heard a light stejD in the hall and a tap at his door. 
 
 "Mr. Harris,"' said the landlady's gentle voice, "it 
 is almost eight o'clock." 
 
WORDS FITL V SPOKEN. 277 
 
 "■ Great Scott I'' thouglit Guy, "and I ought to be at 
 the store this very moment. I don't see how I can 
 stand it to work all day, feeling as I do. I'll have to 
 fill up on beer again before my hand will be steady 
 enough to hold a pen. Yes, ma'am," he added aloud. 
 "I will be down immediately. I declare my voice has 
 changed, too. I'm not myself at all. I feel as if I were 
 going to drop all to pieces.'^ 
 
 The announcement that it was time for him to be at 
 work infused some life into Guy. By the aid of a clean 
 shirt and collar and copious ablutions he made a little 
 improvement in his appearance, but the general feeling 
 of worthlessness and the overwhelming sense of shame 
 that joressed upon him, could not be touched by cold 
 water and clean linen. The thought that he must 
 sj)end the next ten hours in contact with his fellow-men 
 was terrible. He did not want to see anybody. He 
 0]3ened the door very carefully, and went down the 
 stairs with noiseless footsteps, intending to leave the 
 house before his landlady should see him ; but she was 
 on the watch. She met him in the hall, and there was 
 something in her eye which told Guy that she knew at 
 least a part of the incidents that had happened the 
 night before. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Harris," said she, with her 
 usual pleasant and motherly smile, " I have kept your 
 breakfast warm for you. " 
 
 " Thank you, Mrs. Willis," said Guy, in a very un- 
 steady voice, "but I cannot stop to eat anything; I am 
 late now. Besides, I am not hungry." 
 
 " No matter; you can't work all day without taking 
 something nourishing," returned the landlady, and as 
 she spoke she took Guy's arm, and paying no heed to his 
 remonstrances led him into the cozy little dining-room, 
 and seated him at the table. 
 
 A tempting breakfast, consisting of his favorite 
 dishes and a cup of coffee, such as Mrs. Willis only 
 could make, was placed before him, but Guy could not 
 eat. He wished he could sink through the floor out of 
 
278 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 the lady's sight. He wished she would go away and 
 leave him to the companionship of his gloomy thoughts; 
 but she had no intention of doing anything of the kind. 
 She closed all the doors, and then came and stood by 
 the boy's side Avith her hand resting on the back of his 
 chair. 
 
 "Guy," said she sorrowfully, "^^ what made you do it?" 
 
 The clerk stirred his coffee, but could make no reply. 
 
 "■ I know you will forgive me for sjieaking about 
 this," said Mrs. Willis, laying lier soft, cool hand on 
 Guy's feverish forehead. "I do it because I feel a 
 mothers interest in you. I have a son somewhere in 
 the wide world, and if he should fall into sucli ruinous 
 habits as these, I should feel very grateful if some kind 
 soul would whisper a word of warning in his ear. Stop 
 and think of it, Guy! Stop now, while you can. What 
 would your dear mother say?" 
 
 As Mrs. Willis uttered these words — the first really 
 kind, affectionate words that had fallen upon his ear 
 from the lips of a woman for long, long years — Guy's 
 heart softened, a great lump came up in his throat, and 
 tears started to his eyes. Mrs. Willis was in a fair way 
 to accomplish something until she spoke , ' his mother. 
 Then Guy thought of his father's wife, ana the old feel- 
 ing of desperation came back to him. 
 
 " I have no mother," said he. " She is dead." 
 
 ''Then think of your father," urged Mrs. Willis. 
 ''MVhat would he say? Surely he loves you, and you 
 ought to respect his feelings." 
 
 "^ Well, if he loves me he has never showm it," re- 
 torted Guy bitterly. '' I don't care what he thinks. He 
 never respected my wishes or feelings while I was at 
 home, and I don't see why I should respect his now." 
 
 "Oh, Guy, don't talk so. There must be some one 
 whose good opinion you value — some one you love. 
 Who is it?" 
 
 Guy was silent. He could not recollect that during 
 the time he had been absent from home he had thought 
 of more than one of his relations with any degree of 
 allection. 
 
WORDS FITL Y SPOKEN. 279 
 
 "I don't know of anybody," said he at length, " ex- 
 cept my Aunt Lucy — and you." 
 
 " Then for your aunt's sake — for my sake, Gruy, 
 promise me that this shall never happen again. Promise 
 me faithfully that, as long as you live, you will never 
 touch a drop of anything intoxicating, and that you Avill 
 never again go inside a billiard saloon or a card-room. 
 Promise me." 
 
 Again Guy was silent, not because he was unwilling to 
 answer, but because he could not. His heart was too 
 full. Mrs. Willis was satisfied that if the promise was 
 once made, it would be religiously kept. She had read 
 Guy as easily as she could read a printed page, and was 
 well enough acquainted with him to know that when he 
 once fully made up his mind to a thing, he was like 
 Hosea Biglow's meeting-house — too "sot" to be easily 
 moved. So she was resolved to have the promise, and 
 she took a woman's way to exert it. She put her arms 
 around Guy's neck, and drew his face up so that she 
 could look into it. When she saw that his eyes were 
 filled with tears, she knew that she had conquered. 
 
 "Promise me," she repeated. 
 
 "■ I promise," said Guy in a husky voice. 
 
 " Heaven help you," said Mrs. AVillis fervently; and 
 as she said it she kissed him and glided out of the 
 room. 
 
 " Great Cassar!" exclaimed Guy as soon as she had dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 He jumped to his feet, overturning his chair as he 
 did so, ascended the stairs four steps at a time, entered 
 his room and slammed the door behind him. He was 
 not accustomed to such treatment as this, and he hardly 
 knew what to make of it. It was some minutes before 
 he had collected himself so that he could think calmly. 
 
 " I looked for nothing but a good scolding and an in- 
 vitation to make myself scarce about this house," said 
 Guy to himself; "and if Mrs. Willis had treated me in 
 that way she would have served me just right. But she 
 lias given me a chance for my life. If she will only 
 
280 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 stand by me I will come out all right yet, for I'll keep 
 that promise no matter what happens. >She doesn't 
 know about my swindling operations, but Mr. Walker 
 must know of them. I am going to rub this thing all 
 out and begin over again; and, in order to do it as it 
 ought to be done, I must tell him everything. If it 
 brings me my walking papers I shall have nobody to 
 thank but myself." 
 
 Gruy put on his hat and went down the stairs and out 
 of the house, walking with a firm step and his counte- 
 nance wearing a determined expression. He scarcely 
 looked to the right or left while he was passing along 
 the street, and when he arrived at the store he went 
 straight to the private office, where Mr. Walker sat 
 busy with his correspondence. 
 
 "May I have a few minutes' private conversation 
 with you, sir?" he asked. 
 
 '' Certainly, Gruy," replied the merchant, looking up 
 with some surprise. "Lock the door and sit down." 
 
 Guy did as he was directed, and then, without any 
 preliminary words by way of apology or excuse for his 
 conduct, begun and told the story of his mistakes from 
 beginning to end. He kept back nothing except the 
 name of the confederate who had assisted him in fleec- 
 ing Mr. Whitney, and that he revealed only when it 
 was demanded. Mr. Walker was greatly astonished. 
 When Gruy finished his story he sat for some moments 
 in silence. 
 
 " I wish the boy had a pleasant home to go to," 
 thought the merchant. " That's the place he ought to 
 be, and there's where he would be safe. But I am sorry 
 to say he hasn't got it. If he goes back to JSTorwall his 
 father's unreasonable strictness and partiality, and his 
 mother's indifference will drive him straight to ruin. 
 He ought to have kind words now, for he has had more 
 than his share of harsh ones." 
 
 " Don't hesitate to speak out, Mr. Walker," said Gi;y, 
 who believed that the merchant Avas thinking how he 
 could best communicate to him the fact that his 
 
WORDS FITL V SPOKEN. 281 
 
 services were no longer needed. " If I am to be dis- 
 charged, please say so." 
 
 Mr. Walker understood and fully a]opreciated the situ- 
 ation. Guy was thoroughly penitent — there could be 
 no question about that; but there was an ominous glit- 
 ter in his eye and a determined set to his tightly closed 
 lips' which the merchant did not fail to noticC;, and 
 which told him as plainly as words that if there ever 
 was a moment in one's life when his future was to be de- 
 cided for good or ill, that moment in Guy's life had ar- 
 rived. The right word just then would have buried his 
 resolutions of amendment beyond all hope of resurrec- 
 tion, and sent him down hill with lightning speed. Mr. 
 Walker was not an instant in deciding on his course. 
 
 " My dear boy/*' said he, rising and taking Guy's 
 hand in his own with a cordial grasp, '"' I have no inten- 
 tion of saying anything of the kind. Why should I 
 discharge you when 1 have all faith in you? You are 
 a capable, painstaking clerk, and until yesterday I never 
 knew there was anything in your conduct with which 
 anybody could find fault. It has been a bitter lesson, 
 Guy, you know. Will you profit by it?'" 
 
 " Indeed I shall, sir," replied the boy with tears in 
 his eyes. 
 
 " Then I shall rest perfectly satisfied that you will 
 never make these mistakes again. My confidence in 
 you is as strong as it ever was, for there is always hope 
 for one who voluntarily confesses a fault. So take cour- 
 age and begin over again. You have the making of a 
 smart man in you, Guy, and I hope to live to see you 
 honored and respected." 
 
 These words were too much for Guy. Had Mr. 
 Walker upbraided him, as he knew he deserved, the old 
 spirit of recklessness and desperation, which Mrs. Willis 
 had so nearly exorcised, would have come back to him, 
 and he could have kept up a bold front; but the accents 
 of kindness touched his heart. 
 
 He covered his face with his hands and wept bitterly. 
 Mr. Walker waited until the violence of his grief had 
 subsided and then continued: 
 
282 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 " You have made all tlie amends in your power, Guy, 
 and now I will help you to do the rest, so that you can 
 begin over again in good shape. In the first ]}\'dQ,Q, you 
 must return Mr, Whitney's money,*' 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Walker!" exclaimed Guy. 
 
 ''It must be done!" said the merchant. "No half- 
 way work will answer. I will furnish the funds, and I 
 will also provide means for the payment of all your 
 debts. I will be your only creditor. And when you 
 have settled with all these men, Guy," he added ear- 
 nestly," make a resolution and stick to it, that as long 
 as you live you will never again go in debt. Wear a 
 threadbare coat, if you must, but wear one that is paid 
 for," 
 
 As Mr. Walker said this, he turned to his safe, and 
 counting out a sum of money in bank-notes, handed it 
 to Guy. 
 
 "1 don't deserve this kindness, sir," said the boy, 
 his tears starting out afresh, 
 
 "Yes, you do, Guy. I regard you as well worth 
 saving." 
 
 The merchant passed out of the private ofRce, and 
 Guy, hastily wij^ing his eyes, went into the wash-room, 
 where he spent a few minutes in removing all traces of 
 his tears, after which he hurried out of the store and 
 bent his steps toward the Olive Street Hotel. 
 
 " Bob Walker was a fool," thought Guy, feeling of 
 his well-filled pocket-book to make sure that the scene 
 through which he had just passed was a reality, and not 
 a dream. " A boy who will run away from a father 
 like that deserves to be hanged." 
 
 It required the exercise of all the courage Guy 
 possessed to face Mr. Whitney, but being determined to 
 go through with the good work so well begun in sjoite 
 of every hazard, he boldly entered the hotel, and almost 
 the first man he saw when he entered the reading-room 
 was the swindled gentleman from Ann Arbor, who was 
 pacing back and forth, with his hands under his coat- 
 tailsj and au expression of great melancholy ou his face. 
 
WORDS FITL V SPOKEN. 283 
 
 "When he saw Gny approacliing, he stopped and stared 
 at him as if he could scarcely believe his eyes. 
 
 "Why, Benjamin,'' he cried, "is this really you? 
 What made you two fellows run away and leave me in 
 such a hurry last night?" 
 
 Guy did not know Avhat to say to this. He did not 
 want to spoil things by telling lies, so he concluded that 
 it would be best not to answer the question at all. 
 
 ''That man you saw me with last night left the city 
 at eleven o'clock on business, and I have come to return 
 your money," said Guy, taking out his pocket-book. 
 
 "Have you I" exclaimed Whitney, so overjoyed that 
 his voice was husky. 
 
 " Yes. There are your fifty dollars, and if you will 
 take a friend's advice, you will never make another bet 
 with strangers." 
 
 " I don't think I ever shall," said Whitney, pocketing 
 his recovered cash. "You have read me the best lesson 
 I ever received. Do you know, it had been running in 
 my head all the morning that I fell among thieves last 
 night? Curious, wasn't it? Why, I have several times 
 been on the point of starting for the police headquar- 
 ters. That burglar-proof arrangement of Kobinson's is 
 a fine thing, I'll warrant. I guess it wasn't locked 
 when we opened it the first time. I should like to go 
 down to his store and see how it looks on his safe, but I 
 ha 3 just received a telegram asking me to come imme- 
 diately, for my mother is very ill, so I must be off by the 
 first train. I could not have gone through, if you had 
 not been good enough to return my money. Let's go 
 and take something." 
 
 "No, sir; nothing for me," said Guy. 
 
 "A cigar, then?" 
 
 "No, I am obliged to you. Good-day. Thank 
 goodness that job is done," said Guy, as he left the 
 hotel, " and I am glad to get through with it so 
 easily. Suppose Whitney had given the police a de- 
 scription of Jones and myself, and had us arrested. 
 Whew! I'll not run another such a risk.'^ 
 
284 GUY HARRIS. 
 
 Guy made good use of his time, and by twelve o^clock 
 he had called upon every one of his creditors and paid 
 all his debts in full. The invitations to drink and 
 smoke which he received were almost as numerous as 
 the places he visited, but he firmly declined every one of 
 them. He carried home with him a much lighter heart 
 than he had brought away. He went straight to Mrs. 
 Willis with the story of Mr. Walker's kindness, and 
 had she been his own mother — as Guy wished from the 
 bottom of his heart she was — she could not have been 
 more delighted with the turn affairs had taken. 
 
 That day proved most emphatically to be the turning 
 point of Guy's life. His choice had been made for all 
 time. His subsequent career showed that Mrs. Willis 
 had not been mistaken in her estimate of his character. 
 His stability and fixedness of purpose surpassed her ex- 
 pectations. Never once did he forget his promise. And 
 his performance in well-doing met with its reward. 
 Long before he had time to repay the money advanced 
 him by Mr. Walker, that gentleman promoted him to 
 the position of assistant book-keeper, and Guy never 
 gave him reason to regret the step. 
 
 Will Jones and his brother terminated their connec- 
 tion with the store on the very day Guy held his memo- 
 rable interview with Mr. Walker. The former was dis- 
 charged, and a dispatch sent after the commercial 
 traveler commanding his immediate return to St. Louis; 
 but Mr. Jones, scenting danger from afar, did not see 
 fit to obey. Guy never heard of him afterward. 
 
 The scenes in the life of Guy Harris which I have at- 
 tempted to describe in this story were enacted more than 
 twelve years ago, and Guy has now become a man. 
 Strict regard for truth compels me to say that he is 
 neither a governor nor a member of the legislature; but 
 he is a prosperous man and a hapj^y one, and in the city 
 in which he has taken up his abode there are none who 
 are held in higher esteem than he. 
 
 Now and then he visits his father at Norwall, but he 
 does it from a sense of duty and not for pleasure, for his 
 
WORDS FITL V SPOJi^EAT. 285 
 
 old home has no more attractions for him now than it 
 had in the days of his boyhood. Between him and his 
 relatives there is a great gulf fixed which they can all see, 
 and which they know can never be bridged over. Mr. 
 Harris is painfully conscious of the fact, and would will- 
 ingly give every cent of his possessions to have it other- 
 wise, but it is too late. "It might have been," but the 
 favored hour has gone by. Guy's affections were long 
 ago alienated. There are two people in the world, how- 
 ever, upon whom he bestows all the love of his ardent 
 nature, and they are Mrs. Willis and Mr. Walker. If 
 there is joy in heaven over one sinner that repenteth, 
 are there not rich blessings laid up in store for those 
 who lead that sinner to repentance? 
 
 THE ElfD. 
 
THE BO YS' HOME SERIES. 
 
 XJniforixL ^vith. this Volunie. 
 
 This series affords wholesome reading for boys and girls, and all the 
 volumes are extremely interesting. — Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. 
 
 JOE'S LUCK; or, A Boy's Adventures in California. By Hora- 
 tio Alger, Jr. 
 
 JULIAN MORTIMER; or, A Brave Boy's Struggles for Home 
 and Fortune. By Harry Castlemon. 
 
 ADRIFT IN THE WILDS; or, The Adventures of Two Ship- 
 wrecked Boys. By Edward S. Eli. is. 
 
 FRANK FOWLER, THE CASH BOY. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 GUY HARRIS, THE RUNAWAY. By Harry Castlemon. 
 
 BEN BURTON, THE SLATE-PICKER. By Harry Prentice. 
 
 TOM TEMPLE'S CAREER. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 TOM, THE READY ; or, Up From the Lowest. By Randolph 
 
 Hill. 
 THE CASTAWAYS; or, On the Florida Reefs. By James Otis. 
 
 CAPTAIN KIDD'S GOLD. The True Story of an Adventurous 
 
 Sailor Boy. By James Franklin Fitts. 
 TOM THATCHER'S FORTUNE. By Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 
 LOST IN THE CANON. The Story of Sam W^illett's Adventures 
 on the Great Colorado of the West. By Alfred R. Calhoun. 
 A YOUNG HERO; or. Fighting to Win. By Edward S. Ellis. 
 
 THE ERRAND BOY; or, How Phil Brent W^on Success. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 THE ISLAND TREASURE; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By 
 
 Frank H. Converse. 
 A RUNAW^AY BRIG ; or, An Accidental Cruise. By James 
 
 Otis. 
 A JAUNT THROUGH JAVA. The Story of a Journey to the 
 
 Sacred Mountain by Two American Boys. By Edward S. 
 
 Ellis. 
 THE KING OF APELAND. The Wonderful Adventures of a 
 
 Young Animal-Trainer. By Harry Prentice. 
 TOM, THE BOOT-BLACK; or. The Road to Success. By 
 
 Horatio Alger, Jr. 
 ROY GILBERT'S SEARCH. A Tale of the Great Lakes. By 
 
 William P. Chipman. 
 THE TREASURE-FINDERS. A Boy's Adventures in Nicara- 
 gua. By James Otis. 
 BUDD BOYD'S TRIUMPH ; or, The Boy Firm of Fox Island. 
 
 By William P. Chipman. 
 
 The above stories are printed on extra paper, and, bound 
 in Handsome Cloth Sinding, in all respects tiniform tvith 
 this volume, at $1.00 per copy. 
 
 For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on receipt of price, 
 by the publisher. A., i. BUKX, 36 JBeehnian St., New Xorh. 
 
mmil and gractiat ^00^1 
 
 Why, When and Where. A dictionary of rare and curious 
 information. A treasury of facts, legends, sayings and their explan- 
 ation, gathered from a multitude of sources, presenting in a conven- 
 ient form a mass of valuable knowledge on topics of frequent inquiry 
 and general interest that has been hitherto inaccessible. Carefully 
 compared with the highest authorities. Edited by Robert Thorne, 
 M.A. 500 pages. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 
 
 " In fact it is a miniature encyclopedia devoted to concisely stated facts on 
 matters of every-day interest, yet beyond the scope of every-day knowledge." 
 — Hartford Times. 
 
 A Cyclopedia of Natural History. Comprising descriptions of 
 Animal Life : Mammals, Birds, Reptiles, Batrachians and Fishes. 
 Their Structure, Habits and Distribution. For popular use. By 
 CHAitLES C. Abbott, M. D. 620 pages. 500 illustrations. Cloth, 
 12mo, price $1.00. 
 
 " The author has shown great skill in condensing his abundant material, 
 while the illustrations are useful in illustrating the information furnished in 
 the text." — Times, Troy. 
 
 The National Standard Encyclopedia, A Dictionary of Lit- 
 erature, the Arts and the Sciences, for popular use ; containing over 
 20,000 articles pertaining to questions of Agriculture, Anatomy, Archi- 
 tecture, Biography, Botany, Chemistry, Engineering, Geography, 
 Geology, History, Horticulture, Literature, Mechanics, Medicine, 
 Physiology, Natural History, Mythology and the various Arts and 
 Sciences. Prepared under the supervision of a number of Editors, 
 and verified by comparison with the best Authorities. Complete in 
 one volume of 700 pages, with over 1,000 illustrations. Cloth, 12mo, 
 price $1.00. 
 
 Lav? Without Lawyers. A compendium of Business and Domes 
 tic Law, for popular use. By Henry B. Corey, LL.B., member of 
 New York Bar. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 
 
 " The volume before us is a vei-y convenient manual for every-day use, con- 
 taining a general summary of the law as applied to ordinary business transac- 
 tions, social and domestic relations, with forms for all manner of legal docu- 
 ments."— TV'oy Times. 
 
 Dr. Danelson's Counselor, with Recipes. A trusty guide for 
 the family. An illustrated book of 720 pages, treating Physiology, 
 Hygiene, Marriage, Medical Practice, etc. By J. E. Danelson, M. D. 
 Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 
 
 " The Counselor is pure and elevating in its morals, and wise and practical 
 in the application of its counsels. It can but be a helper in homes following 
 its directions."— ^eii. ./. V. Ferguson, Pastor M. E. Churcf>, Mohaicl\ y. Y. 
 
 The National Standard History of the United States. A com- 
 plete and concise account of the growth and development of the 
 Nation, from its discovery to the present time. By Everit Brown. 
 600 pages. Illustrated. Cloth, 12mo, price $1.00. 
 
 In this most interesting book our country's history is told from the discovery 
 of America down to the election of Benjamin Harrison as President of the 
 United States. 
 
 For sale by all Booksellers, or will be sent post-paid on receipt of price, by the pub- 
 lisher, ^. L. BT7ItT,56 Heekmau St., New Tofk.