Samuel's money was gone, but he was suffering too keenly from hunger and
thirst to worry about it for more than a minute. Then the thought came
to him--he was here in a lonely place at night, and the train was going!
If he were left he might still starve.
He ran over and caught the iron ladder of one of the freight cars and
drew himself up and clung there. Later on he climbed on top of the car;
but the wind was too cold--he could not stand it, and had to climb
down again. And then he realized that he had left the bundle of his
belongings in the empty car.
Fortunately for him the train began to slow up at the end of an hour or
so, and peering out Samuel saw lights ahead. Also there were lights here
and there in the landscape, and he realized that he had come to a large
town. The east was just beginning to turn gray, and faint shadows of
buildings were visible.
Samuel got off and walked up the track very carefully, for he was stiff
as well as weak. There was a light in one of the offices at the depot,
and he looked in at the window and saw a man seated at a desk writing
busily. He knocked at the door.
“Come in,” said a voice, and he entered.
“Please, may I have a drink of water?” he asked.
“Over there in the corner,” said the man, scarcely looking up from his
papers.
There was a bucket and dipper, and Samuel drank. The taste of the water
was a kind of ecstasy to him--he drank until he could drink no more.
Then he stood waiting. “I beg pardon, sir,” he began timidly.
“Hey?” said the man.
“I'm nearly starved, sir. I've had nothing to eat for I don't know how
long.”
“Oh!” exclaimed the other. “So that's it. Get out!”
“You don't understand,” began Samuel, perplexed.
“Get out!” cried the man. “That don't go in here. No beggars allowed!”
Beggars! The word struck Samuel like a whip-lash.
“I'm no beggar!” he cried wildly. “I--” And then he stopped. He had been
going to say, “I will pay for it.”
He went out burning with shame, and on the spot he took his
resolution--come what might, he would never beg. He would not put a
morsel of food into his mouth until he had earned it.
Across from the depot was a public square, and a broad street with
trolley tracks. Samuel walked down the street; and then, feeling weak
and seeing a dark doorway, he went in and crouched in a corner. For a
while he dozed; and then it was daylight. People were passing.
He got more water at a fountain and felt better. He went down one of
the poorer streets where a man was opening a shop. There was food in the
window--fruit and bread--and the sight made him ravenous. But he asked
for work and the man shook his head.
Samuel went on. Shops were opened here and there; and everywhere he
asked for a job--for any little thing to do--and always it was No. Now
and then he caught a whiff of some one's breakfast--bacon frying, and
coffee or hot bread in a bake shop. But each time he gripped his hands
together and set his teeth. He would not beg. He would find work.
And so on through the morning. He went into stores, big and little.
Sometimes they answered politely--sometimes gruffly; but no one
hesitated a moment. He went past warehouses, where men were loading
wagons--surely there would be work here.
He spoke to a busy foreman in his shirt sleeves.
“How often must I tell you no?” cried the man.
“But you never told me before,” protested Samuel with great earnestness.
“Get out!” said the man. “There are so many of you--how the devil can I
tell?”
There were so many! And suddenly Samuel realized that he had passed a
good many poor-looking men upon the streets. And were they all hunting
jobs and not finding them? Perhaps some were even begging and getting
nothing by that.
He went on with a blank terror in his soul. He gazed at the people he
passed on the street; some of them had kindly faces--surely they would
have helped him had they known. But there was no way for him to let them
know--no way but to be a beggar!
He came to the suburbs and asked at the houses. But no one wanted
anything done. It was noon and people were at luncheon--he caught odors
as doors were opened. He went back into the city, because he could not
stand it. He was feeling weaker, and he was afraid with a ghastly fear.
Pretty soon he might not be able to work!
It was a new idea to Samuel, that a man might starve in the midst of
civilization. He could hardly believe it, and grew half-delirious as he
thought about it. What would happen at the end? Would they let him lie
down and die in the street? Or was there some place where starving men
went to die?
So the day passed, and he found nothing. Several people advised him
to get out of town--this was no place to look for work, they said.
Apparently something was the matter with the place, but they did not
stop to tell him what.
This was the first large town Samuel had ever seen, and under other
circumstances he would have gazed at it with wonder. He passed great
buildings of brick and stone, and trolley cars, and a fire-engine house,
and many other strange sights. He came to a great high fence, inclosing
many acres of buildings, dingy and black with smoke; there were tall
chimneys, and rows of sheds, and railroad tracks running in. He passed
other factories, huge brick buildings with innumerable windows; and many
blocks of working-men's houses, small and dirty frame structures, with
pale-faced children in the doorways. The roads and sidewalks here were
all of black cinders, and it was hot even in May.
And then he came to a steel bridge and crossed a river and the road
broadened out, and he climbed a hill and found himself walking upon
a macadamized avenue lined with trees, and with beautiful residences
overlooking the ridge. Rich people lived here, evidently; and Samuel
stared, marveling at the splendor. He came to a great estate with a
stone gateway and iron railings ten feet high, and an avenue of stately
elm trees; there were bright green lawns with peacocks and lyre birds
strutting about, and a great colonial mansion with white pillars in the
distance. “Fairview,” read the name upon the gates.
And then again Samuel remembered his appetite. Surely amid all this
luxury there would be some chance for him! He started up the path!
He had got about halfway to the house when a man who was tending the
flowers caught sight of him and came toward him. “What are you doing
here?” he called, before he had come halfway.
“I'm looking for some work,” began Samuel.
“Do you want to get your head punched?” shouted the man. “What do you
mean by coming in here?”
“Why, what's the matter?” asked the boy perplexed.
“Get out, you loafer!” cried the other.
And Samuel turned and went quickly. A loafer!
So for the first time it occurred to him to look at his clothes, which
were muddy from his tumble in the ditch. And no doubt his face and hands
were dirty also, and his hair unkempt, and his aspect unprepossessing
enough for an applicant for labor. At any rate it was clear that this
was not the part of the town to seek it in; so he went back across the
bridge.
Twilight had fallen and the stores were shutting up. Soon everything
would be closed; and that night he felt that he would perish. And so at
last desperation seized him.
He bolted into the first lighted place he saw.
It was a saloon--empty, save for a man in white behind the bar.
“I'm no beggar!” shouted Samuel.
“Hey?” said the man.
“I say I'm no beggar! I'll come back and pay you. I'm starving. I must
have something to eat.”
“Gee whiz!” said the man.
“I was never in a saloon in my life before,” added Samuel, as he
realized the character of the place. “But please--please give me
something to eat.”
“Hully gee, young feller!” exclaimed the bar-keeper. “You do it great.
You ought to be an actor. Step up and feed your face.”
“What?” stammered Samuel, perplexed.
“EAT!” said the other, and pointed. “Maybe you understand that.”
And Samuel turned and saw a lot of food set out upon a counter. He
rushed to it and began. At the first taste a kind of madness seized him,
and he ate like a wild beast, gulping things.
For several minutes he did this, while the other watched curiously. Then
he remarked, “Say, you'd better quit.”
“What?” asked Samuel, seizing more food.
“I say quit,” said the man. “Just for your own good. I see your story's
true, an' a little rest won't hurt you.”
Samuel gazed longingly at the food, desiring more handfuls. “Come over
here,” said the man. “What happened to you?”
“I was locked in an empty freight car.”
“Humph! That's a new one! How long?”
“What day is this?”
“Friday.”
“I was locked in Wednesday morning. It seemed longer.”
“It's long enough,” commented the barkeeper.
“I was robbed,” Samuel went on. “A man took all my money.” And then the
old shame started up in him. “Don't think I'm a beggar. I'll work and
pay for this.”
“That's all right,” said the barkeeper. “Be easy.”
“Haven't you anything I can do? Some wood to split?”
“We don't burn wood.”
“Or some cleaning up?” Samuel looked round. The place did not seem very
neat to him. “I'll scrub the floors for you,” he said.
“We have 'em scrubbed in the early morning,” replied the man.
“Well, let me come and do it,” said Samuel.
“Go on!” said the other. “You'll be ready for more feed then.”
“I'll come, just the same, sir.”
“If you take my advice,” the bartender observed, “you'll get out of this
town. Lockmanville's a poor place to hunt jobs in.”
Samuel started. “Lockmanville!” he gasped.
“Yes,” said the other. “Don't you know where you are?”
“I didn't know,” said the boy. “Lockmanville! The one where the big
glass works are?”
“That's the one.”
“And where old Henry Lockman lived!”
“What about it?” asked the other.
“Nothing,” said Samuel, “only my father invested all his money in
Lockman's company, and lost it.”
“Gee!” said the bartender.
“Maybe if I told them,” said the boy, “they'd give me some work here.”
“Maybe,” said the other--“only the works is shut down.”
“Shut down!” cried Samuel; and then added, “On account of his death?”
“No--they always close in summer. But this year they closed in March.
Times is bad.”
“Oh,” said Samuel.
“So there's plenty of men looking for jobs in Lockmanville,”. the other
continued, “an' some of the other factories is closed, too--the cotton
mill is only runnin' half time.”
“I see.”
“Old Lockman used to say there was too many glass works,” the barkeeper
added. “An' the fellers he bought out went an' built more. So there you
are.”
There was a pause. “I'm coming back in the morning,” said Samuel
doggedly.
“All right,” said the other, with a smile--“if you don't forget it.”
Then a couple of customers entered. “Run along now,” said he.
And Samuel went--the more readily because he realized that he had been
all this time in a saloon, a place of mystery and wickedness to him.
He started down the street again. A fine cold rain had begun to fall.
What was he to do?
He felt warm, having feasted. But there was no use in getting wet. He
glanced into the doorways as he passed, and seeing a dark and empty one,
crouched inside.
Lockmanville! What a curious coincidence! And there were hundreds in the
town out of work. It seemed a strange and terrible thing. Could it be
that they let people starve as he was starving--people they knew? Could
it be that they went on about their business and paid no attention to
such a thing?
He must get out, they told him. But how? Would the railroad take him, if
he explained? Or would the people on the way give him work? He had got
some food at last, but only by begging. And was he expected to beg?
There came footsteps outside. A man strode into the doorway and took
hold of the door and tried it. Then he turned to go out. Samuel moved
his foot out of the way.
“Hello!” said the man. “Who's that?”
“Only me,” said Samuel.
“Get up there,” commanded the other.
He got up and a hand seized him by the collar. “Who are you?”
He was jerked into the light before he had a chance to reply. “More
bums!” growled the voice; and Samuel, terrified, saw that he was in the
grasp of a policeman.
“Please, sir, I'm not doing any harm,” he began.
“Come,” said the policeman.
“Where to?” he cried.
But the other merely jerked him along. A sudden wild horror seized
Samuel. “You're not going to arrest me!” he exclaimed.
“Sure,” said the other. “Why not?”
“But,” he exclaimed, “I've not done anything. I can't help it. I--”
He started to drag back, and the man twisted a huge hand, in his collar,
choking him. “Do you want to be hit?” he growled.
So Samuel went on. But sobs shook him, convulsive sobs of terror and
despair, and tears of shame rolled down his cheeks. He was going to
jail!
“What's the matter with you?” said the policeman after a bit. “Why don't
you be quiet?”
“You've no business to arrest me,” wailed the boy. “I haven't done
anything, and I couldn't help it. I've no place to go and no money. And
it's not my fault.”
“You can tell that to the judge,” replied the other.
“But--but what have I done? Why--”
“Shut up!” said the officer, and gave another twist at his throat. And
after that Samuel was quiet.