A BRAVE STRUGGLE WITH POVERTY.
The following day Conductor Tobin introduced his guests to a freight
conductor on the Northern Central road, who, when he had heard their
story, willingly consented to carry them on his train, which was to go
out that night, as far as Baltimore.
This he did; and when they got there, they had not spent one cent of the
money with which they had left Pittsburgh, and yet they had accomplished
two thirds of their journey.
As the weather was pleasant, they decided to walk from Baltimore, at
least as far as Washington. So the Northern Central conductor set them
down at a small station just outside the city limits of Baltimore. Then,
after pointing out the direction they were to take, he bade them
good-by, and left them to pursue their journey on foot, with light
hearts and a firm faith that they would speedily accomplish it.
From the very outset of this walk Arthur began to realize the value of
the information given him long before, in the tramps’ camp on the
Alleghany, regarding their peculiar signs, as inscribed on fences and
gate-posts. While he and Uncle Phin had some money, it was so very
little for the long journey still ahead of them, that they must use
every means possible to save it. They did not expect to live at
first-class hotels during their travels, or even in cheap
lodging-houses. They only hoped to obtain permission to sleep in barns,
or under haystacks if nothing better offered, and to buy their food of
such farmers’ wives as would let them have what was left over from their
own tables.
Therefore it became very important for them to know who were the
liberal, good-natured people along their route, and which were the ones
from whose doors they would be chased away by dogs, or threatened with
shot-guns. To discover this Arthur kept a sharp look-out for signs by
the roadside.
It was surprising, now that he began to look for them, and to discover
for himself where to look, how many he found. There was hardly a
dwelling along the way but what had the character of its inmates denoted
by rude chalk marks on some conspicuous object in its immediate
vicinity. So by applying only at the houses whose signs were favorable,
they got along very nicely for three days. They were allowed to sleep in
comfortable barns each night, and had several meals given to them
without charge, though they always offered to pay for what they
received. Thus, on the fourth day, when they expected to reach
Washington, they had spent but one dollar of their little store.
As neither of them was used to walking, and as to Uncle Phin’s rheumatic
stiffness of limb was now added a severe pain in the knee that had been
injured by falling on the platform at Arden, their progress was very
slow. It was so slow, in fact, that Arthur began to despair of ever
completing their long journey on foot, and to wonder if no other means
of travel could be found.
He was so busily thinking over the several plans that proposed
themselves, on the evening of that fourth day, that he hardly paid any
attention to the great white dome of the Capitol at Washington that,
looming high above the city, marked the end of this stage of their
journey. Nor did he pay much attention to the black clouds gathering
overhead, until Uncle Phin, who was hobbling painfully along beside him,
said: “We’se er gwine hab a storm, Honey, an I spec hits comin down
rambumptious.” As he spoke there came a wild gust of wind accompanied by
a flurry of rain.
They were on such a lonely stretch of road that there was no house in
sight, and only a haystack in a neighboring field offered the slightest
shelter. So they hurried to it, and burrowing under its leeward side,
found there comparative protection from the storm, which they hoped
would be of short duration.
But it lasted all night, with the wind shifting and blowing from every
quarter; so that, after long hours of sleepless misery, the gray dawn
found them soaked to the skin by the pitiless rain, faint with hunger,
and shivering with cold.
With the first daylight they tried to move on in search of a house; but
when poor Uncle Phin attempted to rise from his cramped position, he
sank back with a groan. His injured knee had swollen and stiffened
during the night, so that every effort to move it now gave him
excruciating pain. He was entirely helpless; and the twelve-year-old
boy, upon whom this new responsibility had so suddenly fallen, was, for
a few moments, overwhelmed by it. Then he rallied bravely, and, saying,
“I am going for help, Uncle Phin, but I’ll be back just as quick as I
can,” he started on a run across the sodden field, toward the road.
In less than half an hour he returned with a team that he had discovered
on its way to the city. Its driver agreed to take them as far as he went
for two dollars, which sum Arthur gladly promised him. He would have
given everything he possessed, and even willingly have resigned his
prospects of finding a home, for the sake of getting his dear old friend
to some shelter in which he could have warmth and food.
With great difficulty they got Uncle Phin into the wagon, where he lay
with his head in Arthur’s lap. Two hours later they were established in
an humble negro boarding-house, to which the driver of the wagon had
taken them. Here they could have a small but neat and well-warmed room
for a dollar a week, payable in advance.
Procuring a cup of hot tea and some broth for Uncle Phin, besides food
for himself and Rusty, completely exhausted Arthur’s slender stock of
money. So, when he had got Uncle Phin to bed, and seen that he was as
comfortable as possible, the brave, tired little fellow started out into
the strange city to try and earn some more.
That day he made twenty-five cents, by holding a horse for several
hours, while its rider was attending to some business in one of the
public buildings. Then, for several days, his fortunes fluctuated; on
one of them he made a whole dollar by running errands, holding horses,
carrying parcels for ladies who were shopping, and by doing, cheerfully
and faithfully, from morning to night, everything that offered, no
matter how hard or disagreeable it was. On other days he made nothing.
At length a piece of good fortune befell him. The holiday season was
drawing near, and the business of the retail stores was greatly
increased. The proprietor of one of them, who had noticed this cheerful
little errand-boy waiting for odd jobs in front of his store, finally
offered him regular work, for a few weeks, at fifty cents a day. For
this he was always to be on hand to open the doors of carriages, carry
parcels for shoppers to the horse-cars, and make himself generally
useful outside the store.
In the meantime, poor Uncle Phin, stricken with rheumatic fever, lay
suffering and groaning in his bed through the long, lonely days of
several weeks, before he was again able to hobble about.
During these weeks of toil, suffering, and anxiety, little Rusty was
Arthur’s constant companion and sole comforter, and the boy grew to love
him better than anything on earth, except Uncle Phin. In going to and
fro from his work each day, he passed a certain house, in which lived a
gentleman who was very fond of dogs. This gentleman noticed Rusty, and
took such a fancy to him that he several times offered to buy him.
Arthur steadily refused these offers, until at length, when Christmas
was past, and there was no more work for him at the store. Then he went
to the gentleman’s house, and trying to speak bravely, but with
quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, told him he might have the dear
little dog for two tickets to Richmond.
Uncle Phin was again able to travel, and intensely anxious to continue
their journey, so as to reach his old home “befo de dawn ob de New
Yeah.” Arthur’s travels had taught him that railroad tickets cost money;
but with all his efforts and self-denials, he had been unable to save
anything from his scanty earnings. So, for Uncle Phin’s sake, he finally
decided to sacrifice his dear Rusty, if by so doing he could obtain the
means of getting to Richmond.
The gentleman gladly, and without asking any questions, accepted this
strange offer, and sent a servant to procure the required tickets. Then
the poor little fellow, after giving Rusty a long parting hug, ran home,
with a heavy heart, and a suspicious moisture glistening in his eyes.
The next day they travelled in the cars to Richmond, and the mere
knowledge that he was once more in old Virginia, seemed to infuse new
life into Uncle Phin. Without a moment’s delay, they started to walk the
ten miles of rough, frozen road that lay between the city and Dalecourt.
The old man’s strength lasted wonderfully, but it gave out when they
were still two miles from their destination; and, tottering to the
doorway of a dilapidated and deserted cabin, that stood on the roadside,
he declared that he could go no farther, and begged his boy companion to
go on without him.
To this Arthur would not listen for a moment; but, helping the old man
into the cabin, he declared they could rest there very comfortably until
morning. Then he gathered a quantity of sticks, broken branches, and
small logs, which he piled in the big fireplace that filled one end of
the cabin’s single room. He had just one match, but it did its duty, and
soon a cheerful blaze was roaring up the old earthen chimney.
Grateful for its warmth, and for even this poor shelter, they prepared
to pass, as best they might in this lonely place, the last night of the
old year. There were no doors or windows to the cabin, so that
everything they did might be plainly seen by any chance passers along
that wintry road.
Arthur still had his book of fairy tales; and, as darkness set in, the
old man begged him to read “jes one lilly story” from it, to help them
forget their wretchedness. So, sitting in the brightest glow of the
firelight, the boy bent his brave, careworn young face over the pages,
and read the touching story of “The Little Match-Girl.”
Her situation and theirs were so much alike, that the story seemed very
real to him; and as he started at the sound of a rustle behind him just
as he closed the book, he looked up, almost expecting to see some
beautiful vision. Nor was he disappointed. A dainty, richly-clad figure
stood in the doorway. As the boy lifted his eyes he uttered a cry of
mingled fear, amazement, and joy. The face into which he was looking was
that of the beautiful lady who had given him this precious book, and who
had written in it “To Prince Dusty, from his Fairy Godmother.”
[Illustration: THE FAIRY GODMOTHER FINDS PRINCE DUSTY. (_Page 198._)]