A FRIEND IN NEED.
The steamer was now ready to sail, and Robert went ashore with a
number of others who had come aboard to see their friends off.
Just as he left the gang-plank a belated passenger came rushing on the
ship. It was the man who purchased Frederic Vernon's ticket at the
cut-rate office.
It must be confessed that Robert was much downcast as he walked slowly
away from the dock. Here he was in Liverpool without a shilling in his
pocket, and the mission he had undertaken for Mrs. Vernon had proved a
miserable failure.
"I was a chump not to watch Vernon more closely," he muttered to
himself. "I might have known that he was just waiting to get the best
of me."
Presently the idea struck him that Frederic Vernon might be watching
the steamer to learn whether or not his victim would come ashore or
set sail in the ship.
"I'll see if he is anywhere around," he thought, and set out on the
hunt without delay.
The docks were piled high with merchandise of all sorts, and thus
afforded numerous hiding places.
Robert made his way from one corner to another, until he reached a
tall pile of lumber. On the top of this were seated half a dozen boys
and a young man.
The latter individual was Frederic Vernon, who had returned to the
dock to do just as our hero had suspected.
Vernon saw Robert at the same instant that the boy spotted him, and
before our hero could reach the place he leaped from the lumber pile
and started on a dead run for the street beyond the dock.
"Hi, stop!" cried Robert, giving chase. "Stop the thief!"
The boys and a number of others took up the cry, and in a few minutes
fully a score of people were following Frederic Vernon.
Down one street and up another went the crowd, Vernon keeping fully a
square ahead of them. Robert was nearest to him, and presently saw the
rascal dart into an alleyway. When our hero reached the alleyway
Vernon was out of sight.
Robert and the crowd searched the alleyway from end to end, but
without success. Vernon had slipped all of his pursuers, and had hired
a cab to take him to another part of the city.
The rascal remained in hiding at an obscure boarding house for nearly
a week, and then took passage for Boston, satisfied that since Robert
had not sailed for Australia, it would be worse than useless for him
to appeal again to his aunt.
After the chase was over Robert found himself tired out and as hungry
as a bear. Moreover his head, which the ship's doctor had patched up
with court-plaster, hurt him not a little.
"Another failure," he muttered disconsolately. "Did ever a fellow have
such a run of bad luck before!"
Had Vernon not been a close relative of the lady who employed him,
Robert would have put the case in the hands of the Liverpool police,
and got them to telegraph to Mrs. Vernon for him for aid. But this he
knew would not suit the lady at all.
"I must find some means of getting back to Chishing without the aid of
the police," he told himself. "Perhaps I'll run across somebody I
know."
He scanned every face he met, but for several hours was unsuccessful.
At last he met a farmer he had seen on the River Thames several times.
Farmer Goodall had come to Liverpool to see his son off, who was bound
for America. Father and son had just separated when our hero ran
across the former.
"How do you do, Mr. Goodall," said Robert, extending his hand. "I
trust you remember me."
"Indeed I do, Mr. Frost," answered the farmer, as he shook hands.
"What brings you here? Are you going back home?"
"Not yet. I came on a little business for Mrs. Vernon. You know I am
her private secretary."
"So they told me in the village, sir."
"I was just looking for somebody I might know," went on the youth.
"I've got myself into trouble."
"Indeed, and how is that?"
"I've been robbed of my watch, my scarfpin and my money."
"Gracious me! is it possible, Mr. Frost? It must have been a bold
thief that could do that."
"He caught me in an out-of-the-way spot and hit me over the head."
Robert showed the plastered cut. "I just wish I could get hold of
him."
"I've no doubt of that, sir. So he stole your pocketbook, eh? Then
perhaps you are out of money."
"I am, and I was just looking for somebody who would advance me enough
with which to get my dinner and a railway ticket to Chishing. Of
course as soon as I get back Mrs. Vernon will, I am certain, make good
the amount."
"Then in that case I'll advance what you need," answered Farmer
Goodall. "But I am going back myself, and perhaps we can travel
together, if you don't mind."
"Not at all."
"I generally travel second-class, but if you----"
"Second class will suit me well enough, Mr. Goodall. In America, you
know, we have no classes at all, although in the South we have coaches
for white folks, and coaches--we call them cars--for colored people."
"So I've heard. I suppose my son John will see many strange sights
when he gets to New York. I've just been seeing him off."
"He will, for New York is somewhat different from any city you have
over here. Is he going to remain in New York?"
"No, he's going to Chicago first, and then to what they call the West.
I don't know much about it, but I hope the buffaloes and Indians don't
kill him, that's all. Come on and have something to eat."
"I don't believe the buffaloes and Indians will trouble him," said
Robert, as they moved toward an eating house. "There are very few
buffaloes left, and none around the cities and towns, and as for the
Indians they are quite peaceful now and live on the reservations the
government has allotted them."
"It must be a great country. I wanted to go there when I was a young
man, but my wife objected. She didn't want to take the long voyage
over the ocean."
"That I presume was before we had the swift ocean steamers."
"Yes. Those that went over took the sailing vessels, and the trip
lasted about a couple of months or so."
They entered a modest but respectable eating house, and here Farmer
Goodall ordered a substantial dinner for two. He looked curiously at
Robert when the youth turned down his glass.
"What, lad, won't have a bit of ale with your eating?" he queried.
"No, Mr. Goodall, thank you just the same. I never drink."
"Don't like to mix good ale with your eating?"
"I never drink at all."
The farmer dropped his knife and fork in sheer amazement.
"So you are temperance. Well, well! you Americans are queer folks, I
must allow."
"All our folks are not temperance, I can assure you of that," laughed
Robert. "Some of them drink far more than is good for them."
"I've been used to my ale from childhood; I couldn't get along without
it," answered the farmer, and then fell to eating, and Robert did the
same.
The dinner finished, the two walked around to the railway station, and
learned that they could get a train for Chishing in an hour and a
half.
"I guess I had better spend the time in looking around for that
thief," said Robert.
"Shall I go along?"
"If you wish to do so, Mr. Goodall."
"Yes, since I haven't anything else to occupy the wait with," answered
the farmer.
But the hunt amounted to nothing, and ten minutes before train time
the two reached the station again.
Promptly on time the train rolled in, and Robert and his friend
entered one of the second-class coaches.
Luckily they were the only passengers, so to the boy it was quite like
riding in a special car.
Had he had the money he would have purchased some books and newspapers
with which to while away the time, but he did not care to make any
further calls upon the farmer's generosity, so contented himself with
gazing at the scenery along the road and in talking with his
companion.
It was long after nightfall when they reached Chishing.
"You can settle up with me to-morrow," said Farmer Goodall. "I want to
get home now and tell Dora how John got away," and so they separated.
It must be admitted that Robert's heart was heavy when he walked to
the Cabe boarding house.
"I've made a bad mess of it," he told himself. "Perhaps Mrs. Vernon
will not like it at all. Who knows but what she may discharge me for
what has happened."