THE MEANING OF SOME QUEER SIGNS.
Arthur said he would gladly read to the tramps if they cared to hear
him, and at the same time he wondered what valuable information the man
could possibly give him.
Then all the tramps gathered as near to him as they could, and Arthur,
sitting where the firelight shone brightest, with one hand laid
protectingly on little Rusty, opened his precious book, and read the
first story he came to, which happened to be that of “The Ugly
Duckling.”
It was a striking picture, that of the fair-haired child, sitting in the
red glow of the firelight, and reading a fairy tale to the rough men
crowded about him, their uncouth figures half disclosed and half hidden
in the dusky shadows. Close behind the big tramp, who was his father,
sat the boy with whom Arthur had fought, still looking sullen and
crestfallen over his recent defeat, and occasionally casting glances of
mingled envy and hate at his rival.
As the tale proceeded, his hard, young face took on a softer expression,
and when it was finished he heaved a great sigh.
“Well, Kid,” said the big tramp, turning to him at the conclusion of the
story, “what do you think of that for a yarn? You are a pretty ugly sort
of a duck yourself, and who knows but what you may turn out to be a swan
after all, some of these fine days.”
“It’ll be a goose more like,” muttered one of the men; and Arthur,
looking pityingly at the lad, wondered which it would be.
Now it was the big tramp’s turn to fulfil his part of the bargain. This
he began to do by taking a bit of chalk from his pocket and drawing with
it several rude figures like these, ❌︎ ❌︎ ɸ — ✓ on a piece of birch
bark. Showing them to Arthur, he told him that these were signs
understood by all the tramps of the country, and that whenever they saw
them chalked on gate-posts or fences or other conspicuous places near
houses, they knew at once what they meant. “This, for instance,” he
said, pointing to one of the signs, “means ‘Stingy people in this house;
won’t give a poor tramp anything.’ This one means, ‘Savage dog in here’;
and this, ‘Good people, and plenty to eat.’” Another meant, “Man here
keeps a gun for tramps”; and still another, “Only women folks here; no
danger.” He also said that the older and best-known tramps had their
private marks or autographs, which were very generally known and
recognized by all the others along their particular lines of travel.
Arthur was greatly interested in this, and made copies of several of the
marks thus shown him, so as to impress them upon his memory, though at
that time he could not foresee that they would ever be of any use. At
the close of this novel lesson, the big tramp told him that his name was
Sandy Grimes, and showed him his own private mark or autograph, which
was M̥, and said that Arthur was at liberty to use it, in proof of their
friendship, whenever he found himself in company with any other tramps.
The boy thanked him politely for this favor, though thinking to himself
that he hoped the time would never come when he should care to claim
such a friendship. Then Arthur said he was tired, and would like to go
to sleep, whereupon Sandy Grimes showed him a bed of dry leaves beside a
big log near enough to the fire to feel its warmth, and told him he
could lie down there. So there the tired little fellow lay, with Rusty
nestled close beside him, and watched the stars twinkling overhead until
he fell asleep.
Although on this occasion Arthur breathed great quantities of the night
air that his Aunt Nancy had declared to be poison, its injurious effects
were not apparent when he awoke the next morning, looking as bright and
fresh as though he had slept in the downiest of beds. To be sure he felt
somewhat stiff and sore; but after his encounter with the young tramp,
it would have been most surprising if he had not.
The sun was just rising as he made his way to the brook to dip his face
in its cool waters; but the camp was already astir. Tramps are
proverbially lazy, but they are always among the earliest of risers.
From the cheap lodging-houses and police-stations of the city they are
turned out at daylight. The same thing happens in the country, where the
thrifty farmer routs them out from his barn or haystacks, and hunger
drives them from their camps at the same early hour. A want of food was
what set this particular camp astir by sunrise on this occasion; for its
occupants had exhausted their entire supply on the feast of the previous
evening. Now they were setting forth to beg, or steal, something to eat
at the nearest farm-houses and villages.
Some of them, careless of their promise made the night before to go with
Arthur and help him and Uncle Phin get their boat afloat, had already
left, while others sullenly refused to keep their word, now that they
were reminded of it. However, five of them, including the big tramp and
his boy, said they were going that way anyhow, and didn’t mind giving
the youngster a lift with his scow if it didn’t take too long and prove
too hard work. So, in a few minutes after leaving his bed by the old
log, Arthur found himself walking down the ravine toward the river in
company with five as disreputable and rascally-looking tramps as could
be found in the country.
He had not forgotten poor little Rusty. Oh, no indeed! Nor had the dog
forgotten him, but now followed close at his heels without paying the
slightest attention to any other person in the party. He had been stolen
by the “Kid” from the Chapmans’ house during the excitement caused by
the burning oil tank, and had evidently suffered much at the hands of
his captor, for never after that day did he see a tramp without growling
and showing his teeth at him.
The tramps’ camp was located but a few hundred yards from the road that
ran along the river bank, and the relief party had hardly turned into it
before Arthur, with a cry of joy, sprang forward and flung himself into
the arms of Uncle Phin, who, looking the picture of misery and utter
dejection, was hobbling toward them.
The old man was so overcome by joy and bewilderment that for a few
moments he was utterly speechless. Then he broke out with “Tank de good
Lawd, Honey, I is foun you! Ole Phin die ob de heart broke shuah if he
didn’t fin you pretty quick, an he’s bin sarchin fo you all de night
long.” This was said with such a heartfelt earnestness, that the boy
realized in a moment how greatly his old friend had suffered.
Although Uncle Phin had found several houses during his absence of the
afternoon before, none of their inmates had been willing to return and
help him get the Ark afloat. He had not got back to it until after
sunset, and then, to his dismay, had found it dark and deserted.
Too greatly distressed to eat or sleep, he had spent the night in
wandering up and down the road hunting, and calling for, his “lil
Marse,” and now that he had found him, his joy was almost too great for
expression.
It was but a short distance to where the Ark lay aground, and it was but
a five minutes’ job for those sturdy tramps to work her off the sand-bar
and set her once more afloat.
The last thing Arthur did before scrambling aboard was to shake hands
with the boy whom he had fought the evening before, and, as he bade him
good-bye, he said: “I hope you won’t be an ‘ugly duckling’ much longer.”
Then, with its three passengers safely aboard, the Ark slowly drifted
away with the current, while the tramps watched it and waved their
tattered hats in farewell to the bravest twelve-year-old boy they had
ever known.