to climb. Luckily he was good at gym work. While he climbed he counted
the stories. At the 50th floor he risked turning around. The trees had
grown very small, and the glass windmill was hardly recognizable. But,
oh, horrors! the train was running right up, up the side of the house.
Emil climbed higher and higher. And the train snorted and clumped up
the ladder rungs just as if they were tracks.
[Illustration: Emil ran away as fast as he could.]
The 100th floor, 120th, 140th, 160th, 180th, 190th, 200th floor. Emil
stood on the roof and had no idea what to do next. He could hear the
neighing of the horses. Then the boy ran to the other end of the
roof, took his handkerchief out of his pocket, and spread it out. And
as the sweating horses came creeping over the edge of the roof with the
train after them Emil stretched his handkerchief high above his head
and sprang off into space. He could hear the train behind him knocking
the chimneys over. Then for a little while he could neither hear nor
see anything.
And then, crash! He plumped down into a meadow. At first he lay there
exhausted with his eyes closed, and would have liked to dream a
beautiful dream. But because he didn’t feel quite safe yet he looked up
at the house, and there he saw the twelve horses on the roof, opening
umbrellas. And Officer Jeschke had an umbrella too and was driving the
horses on with it. They sat back on their haunches, gave themselves a
jerk, and sprang off into the depths. And then the train sailed down
toward the meadow, growing bigger by the minute.
Emil jumped up again and ran across the meadow toward the glass mill.
It was transparent, and he saw his mother in there washing Frau
Augustin’s hair. “Thank goodness!” he thought and ran through the back
door into the mill.
“Mummy,” he called, “whatever can I do?”
“What’s the matter, my child?” asked his mother, and scrubbed away
busily.
“Look through the wall!”
Frau Tischbein looked out just in time to see the train and the horses
land in the meadow and come tearing across to the mill.
“Why, that is Officer Jeschke,” said his mother, and shook her head in
astonishment.
“He has been chasing after me the whole time like mad.”
“Well, what in the world?”
“A while ago I painted a red nose and a mustache on the Grand Duke Karl
Crooked Face in the market place.”
“Yes, and where else should you paint mustaches?” asked Frau Augustin,
and sneezed violently.
“Nowhere else, Frau Augustin. But that isn’t the worst. He wants to
know who else was there. And that I can’t tell him. That’s a question
of honor.”
“Emil is right about that,” agreed his mother, “but what shall we do?”
“Put on the motor, dear Frau Tischbein,” said Frau Augustin.
Emil’s mother pushed down a lever that was underneath the table. The
windmill sails began to turn, and as they were made of glass and the
sun was shining on them, they shimmered and shone so that one could
hardly bear to look at them.
And the twelve horses running with their train became so frightened
that they shied and reared up and refused to take another step. Officer
Jeschke swore so they could hear him through the glass walls. But the
horses didn’t stir from the spot.
“There, now we can wash my scalp in peace,” said Frau Augustin.
“Nothing more can happen to your boy.”
Frau Tischbein accordingly went on with her work. Emil sat down on a
chair that was also made of glass and whistled to himself. Then he
laughed out loud and said, “This is marvelous. If I had known before
that you were here I’d never have climbed up that blamed house.”
“I hope you didn’t tear your suit,” said his mother. Then she asked,
“Did you take good care of the money?”
At that Emil gave a great jump. And with a crash he fell off the glass
chair.
And woke up.
Fifth Chapter
Emil Gets Off at the Wrong Station
As Emil awoke the train was just getting under way again. He had
fallen off the seat in his sleep and was lying on the floor, frightened
almost out of his wits without knowing why. His heart was beating like
a trip hammer. There he squatted in the train and had almost forgotten
where he was. Bit by bit it all came back to him. Right—he was going to
Berlin. And he had fallen asleep. Just like the man in the stiff hat....
Emil sat bolt upright with a jerk and whispered, “Why, he’s gone off.”
His knees trembled. Very slowly he got up and mechanically brushed the
dust off his suit. Then the next question was, “Is the money still
there?” And at that question he felt an indescribable terror.
For a long time he stood leaning against the door, not daring to move.
Just over there that man Grundeis had sat and slept and snored.
And now he was gone. Of course, everything might be all right. It was
absurd to be suspicious right away. Just because Emil was going to
Friedrich Strasse Station in Berlin was no reason why everyone else
had to go there too. And the money, of course, was safe in its proper
place. First, it was in his pocket. Second, it was in the envelope. And
third, it was fastened to the lining with a pin. And then he reached
slowly into his right inside pocket.
The pocket was empty! The money was gone!
Emil burrowed around in his pocket with his left hand while he pushed
and poked at it from the outside with his right hand. There was no
doubt about it—the pocket was empty and the money was gone.
“Ouch!” Emil pulled his hand out of his pocket. And not only his hand,
but in it the pin with which he had pinned the notes. Nothing but the
pin was left. And that was pricking his left forefinger so that it bled.
He wound his handkerchief around the finger and began to cry.
Naturally, not for that tiny bit of blood. Two weeks before he had run
into a lamp pest so hard that it was almost broken off, and Emil still
had the bump on his forehead from it. And he hadn’t cried one second.
He wept now about the money. And he wept because of his mother. Anyone
who can’t understand that, no matter how brave he may be, is beyond
help. Emil knew how his mother had economized for months to save the
hundred and forty marks for his grandmother and for his trip to Berlin.
And hardly was her young Mr. Son in the train before he settled himself
back in the corner, dreamed a crazy dream, and allowed himself to be
robbed by that pig of a man. Wasn’t it enough to make him cry? What was
he to do now? Get off in Berlin and say to his grandmother, “Here I am,
but you might as well know you’ll get no money? Instead you had better
give me my train fare back to Neustadt. Otherwise I’ll have to walk.”
That was splendid! His mother had economized for nothing. His
grandmother would not get a penny. He couldn’t stay in Berlin. He dared
not go back home. And all because of a rascal who gave chocolate to
children and pretended to be asleep. And then he robbed them. Boy, oh,
boy! what a swell world it was!
Emil dried his tears and looked around.
If he pulled the bell cord the train would stop at once. And then a
brakeman would come, and another, and still another. And they would all
ask, “What’s the matter?”
“My money is stolen,” he would say.
“Another time take better care of it,” they would answer. “Please get
on again. Who are you? Where do you live? To pull the bell once
costs a hundred marks. The bill will be sent.”
In the express trains there are corridors so that you can run through
the whole thing from one end to the other, even to the caboose, and
report a burglary. But not in the third class! In such a stupid train!
Here you must wait till the next station because you have to step off
one car and walk along outside to get to the next car. And meantime
the man with the stiff hat could be miles and miles away. Emil did not
even know at what station he had got off. How late was it, anyway? When
would they reach Berlin? Great houses and villas with gay gardens and
then high dirty red chimneys ambled past the windows. Apparently this
was Berlin already. At the next station he would have to call the guard
and tell him all about it. And he would promptly notify the police.
Now, to top it all, he had to get mixed up with the police, and
naturally Officer Jeschke could keep silent no longer but would have
to admit officially, “I don’t know why, but that schoolboy, Emil
Tischbein of Neustadt, doesn’t quite please me. First he daubs up noble
monuments. And then he allows himself to be robbed of a hundred and
forty marks. Perhaps they weren’t stolen at all?
“A boy who daubs up monuments will tell lies. I have had experience
with that. Probably he has buried the money in the woods or has
swallowed it and plans to go to America with it? There’s no sense
trying to capture the thief, not the slightest. The boy Tischbein
himself is the thief. Please, Mr. Chief of Police arrest him.”
Horrible! He could not even confide in the police!
He took his bag out of the rack, put on his cap, stuck the pin back in
his coat lapel, and got ready to go. He had not the slightest idea what
he would do. But stay another five minutes in this compartment he would
not. That was certain.
Meanwhile the train was slowing down. Emil saw rows of tracks shining
outside. Then they came into a station.
Some porters ran along by the car to get the baggage.
The train stopped!
Emil looked out of the window and saw a sign high up over the tracks.
It said “Zoölogical Gardens.” The doors flew open. People climbed
out of the compartments. Other people were waiting for them with
outstretched arms.
Emil leaned ’way out of the window looking for the conductor. Some
distance off and almost hidden in a crowd of people, he saw a stiff
black hat. If that were the thief? Perhaps after he stole Emil’s
money he did not get off the train but just went into another car?
In the next second Emil was standing on the platform. He put down his
bag, climbed back into the train, because he had forgotten his bunch
of flowers in the baggage rack, got out again, picked up his bag in a
hurry, and ran as fast as he could to the exit.
Where was the stiff hat? The boy stumbled over people’s legs, banged
into someone with his suitcase, and ran on. The crowd was getting
thicker and harder to press through.
There! There was the stiff hat! Good heavens, over there was another!
Emil could hardly carry his bag. He wished he could leave it right
there. But if he did probably that too would be stolen.
Finally he got up close to the stiff hat.
That must be the one. Was it?
No.
There was the next one.
No. That man was too small.
Emil wound himself in and out of the crowd like an Indian.
There, there!
That was the fellow. Thank goodness! That was the Grundeis. He was just
pushing through the gate and seemed to be in a hurry.
“Just wait, you beast,” growled Emil, “we’ll get you!” Then he gave
up his ticket, took his bag in the other hand, clamped his flowers
under his right arm, and ran downstairs behind the man.
Now it’s do or die!
Sixth Chapter
Street Car Line 177
Emil wished he could run up to the fellow, post himself in front
of him, and shout, “Give me my money!” But he didn’t look as though he
would answer, “Gladly, my good boy. Here it is. I will surely not do it
again.” The affair was not as simple as that. For the moment the most
important thing was not to let the man out of his sight.
Emil hid himself behind a tall and ample woman who was walking ahead of
him and peered out from behind her, now to the right, now to the left,
to make sure that the man was still in sight and not suddenly running
off in another direction. Meanwhile the man had reached the main
entrance of the station and was looking around him, scanning the crowd
as if he were trying to find someone. Emil kept close behind the large
lady and came nearer and nearer. What would happen now? Soon he would
have to pass the man, and there would be an end to all the secrecy.
Perhaps the lady would help him? But she surely would not believe him.
And the thief would say, “Pardon me, madame, what gives you such an
idea? Do I look as if I had to rob little ♦children?” And then all the
people around would look at the boy and cry, “That is the limit! Lies
about the grown-ups. Boys to-day are altogether too impudent.” Emil’s
teeth were chattering already.
♦ ‘children? And’ replaced with ‘children?” And’
Fortunately, just then the man turned his head away again and stepped
out into the open. Quick as a flash Emil jumped behind the door, put
down his bag, and peered out of the window grating. Heavens! how his
arm ached!
The thief crossed the street slowly, looked backward once more, and
then walked on, apparently reassured. Then from the left came a street
car and trailer, Number 177, and stopped. The man hesitated a second,
stepped into the front car, and seated himself at a window.
Emil grabbed his bag again, ducked past the door, down the corridor,
out of another door onto the street and reached the trailer from behind
just as the car was starting again. He threw his bag up, climbed after
it, shoved it into a corner, placed himself in front of it, and took a
deep breath. So that was over!
But what now? If the other got off on the way the money would be
gone for good. Because it wouldn’t do to jump off with his bag. That
would be too dangerous.
These autos! They rushed past the street car, honked and squeaked,
signaled for left turns and right, and swung around corners; other
autos pushed right after them. What a jam! And so many people on
the sidewalks! And from every side street, cars, delivery carts,
double-decker busses! News-stands on every corner. Wonderful show
windows with flowers, fruits, books, gold watches, clothes, and silk
underwear. And tall, tall buildings.
So that was Berlin.
Emil would have liked to observe it all in peace. But there was no
time for that. In the forward car sat a man who had Emil’s money, who
might get off at any moment and disappear in the crowd. Then Emil might
as well give up. Because out there among the cars and the people and
the motor busses you couldn’t find anyone again. Emil stuck his head
out. What if the fellow were gone already? Then he alone would be
riding on—he didn’t know where, he didn’t know why. And meanwhile his
grandmother was waiting at the Friedrich Strasse Station at the flower
stall and had no notion that her grandson was careering across Berlin
on Line Number 177 and was in great trouble.
It was maddening.
The car stopped for the first time. Emil kept his eyes on the forward
car. But no one got off. Just a crowd of new passengers streamed into
the car. They tramped past Emil too. One man grumbled because the boy
had his head stuck out in the way.
“Don’t you see that people want to get on?” he growled.
The guard who was selling tickets in the car pulled a cord. The bell
rang. And the cars went on farther. Emil got back in his corner, was
squeezed and had his feet stepped on, and all of a sudden was terrified
to think, “I have no money! When the conductor comes back here I’ll
have to buy a ticket. And if I can’t buy one he’ll put me off. And then
I might as well be buried.”
He looked over the people standing around. Could he twitch one of them
by the coat and say, “Please lend me money for my fare”? Oh, dear, they
all had such solemn faces. One was reading a paper. A couple of others
were talking about a great bank robbery. “They dug a regular tunnel,”
one of the men was saying, “and working from that they cleared out all
the bank vaults. The loss probably amounted to several millions.”
“It’s almost impossible to determine what was really in the vaults”
said the second, “because the people who rent the safety deposit
boxes do not have to tell the bank what is locked up in them.”
“Yes, some people would declare that they had diamonds worth a hundred
thousand marks when in reality they had only a bunch of worthless paper
or a dozen plated spoons.” And both of them chuckled.
“That’s just what will happen to me,” thought Emil sadly. “I will say,
‘Herr Grundeis stole a hundred and forty marks from me’—and nobody will
believe me. The thief will say I am just being impudent and it was only
three marks and a half! What a nasty fix!”
The conductor was coming nearer and nearer the door. He was already
standing in the doorway and calling, “Tickets?”
He tore off long white strips of paper and made rows of holes with a
punch. The people on the platform gave him money and got their tickets.
“Now, you?” he questioned the boy.
“I lost my money Mr. Conductor,” answered Emil. Because no one would
have believed about the robbery.
“Lost your money? I know that one. And where do you want to go?”
“I—I—don’t know yet,” stammered Emil.
“So? Well, you get off at the next station and find out where you want
to go.”
“Oh, no, that won’t do. I must stay here, Mr. Conductor, please.”
“If I tell you to get off, you get off. Understand?”
“Give the youngster a ticket!” said the man who had been reading the
paper. He gave money to the conductor. And the conductor gave the
ticket to Emil, saying to the man, “If you only knew how many young
ones get on here every day with a story of forgetting their money. And
then they laugh at us behind our backs.”
“This one won’t laugh at us,” answered the man.
The conductor stepped back inside the car.
“Thank you very, very much,” said Emil.
“Oh, that’s all right!” answered the man and buried himself in his
paper again.
Then the cars stopped once more. Emil leaned out to see if the man in
the stiff hat got off. But there was nothing to see.
“Might I ask you for your address?” Emil asked the man.
“What for?”
“So I can give you back your money when I get some. I’m staying about a
week in Berlin, so I could bring it to you. Tischbein is my name. Emil
Tischbein from Neustadt.”
“No,” said the man. “The fare was a present, of course. Do you need
anything more?”
“Oh, no, indeed,” exclaimed Emil. “I couldn’t take anything more.”
“All right,” said the man and turned back to his paper again.
And the car went on. And stopped. And went on farther. Emil read the
name of the beautiful broad street. Kaiser Avenue, it was. He went on
without knowing where he was going. In the other car sat a thief. And
perhaps there were other thieves sitting or standing in the car. No
one paid any attention to him. To be sure, a stranger had given him a
ticket. But now he was just reading his paper again!
The city was so big, and Emil was so small. And no one cared to know
why he had no money and why he didn’t know where he had to get off.
Four million people lived in Berlin, and not one of them was interested
in Emil Tischbein. No one wants to know about other people’s troubles.
Everyone is busy about his own cares and joys. And when anyone says,
“I’m really sorry about that,” he usually doesn’t mean anything more
than, “Oh, leave me alone!”
What was going to happen? Emil swallowed hard and felt very very much
alone.
Seventh Chapter
Great Excitement in Schumann Street
While Emil was standing on street car Number 177, riding down
Kaiser Avenue without knowing where he would land, his grandmother and
Pony Hütchen, his cousin, were waiting for him at the Friedrich Strasse
Station. They were standing at the flower stall, according to the
agreement, and kept looking at the clock. Many people passed by, with
trunks and chests and satchels and pocketbooks and bouquets. But Emil
was not among them.
“Probably he’s grown to be a big boy, don’t you suppose?” asked
Pony and pushed her shiny little bicycle back and forth. She really
shouldn’t have brought it. But she had teased about it so long that her
grandmother had finally consented. “All right, take it along, you silly
goose.” So now the silly goose was in a good humor and thinking happily
of Emil’s respectful glance when he should see her wheel. “He’ll
think it’s pretty grand,” she said, and was perfectly certain she was
right.
The grandmother was getting worried. “I wish I knew what the matter is.
It’s already twenty minutes past six, and the train must have come in
long ago.”
They waited a few minutes more, and then her grandmother sent the
little girl to inquire.
Of course, Pony Hütchen took her wheel with her. “Can you tell me where
the train from Neustadt is?” she asked the guard, who stood at the gate
with a punch to see that everyone who wanted to pass had a ticket.
“Neustadt? Neustadt?” he considered. “Oh, yes, six-seventeen! That
train came in long ago.”
“Oh, dear, that’s a shame! You see, we’re waiting at the flower stand
for my cousin Emil.”
“That’s fine, that’s fine,” said the man.
“Why should it be fine, Mr. Inspector?” asked Pony curiously, and
played with the bell on her wheel.
The guard said nothing but turned his back on the child. “Aren’t you
the bright boy?” said Pony, offended. “I hope I’ll meet you again.”
Several people laughed. The guard bit his lips angrily. And Pony
trotted back to the flower stand.
“The train came in long ago, Grandmother.”
“What could have happened?” worried the old woman. “If he hadn’t
started his mother would have telegraphed. Do you suppose he got off at
the wrong station? But we wrote so carefully just what to do.”
“I can’t make head or tail of it,” Pony declared, and looked important.
“He surely got off at the wrong station. Boys are so stupid. I’ll bet
on it. You’ll see that I’m right.”
And because there was nothing else to do they waited again. Five
minutes.
Another five minutes.
“But there is really no sense to this,” Pony told her grandmother.
“We can stand here till we’re black in the face. I wonder if there’s
another flower stand?”
“You go look around, but don’t stay long.”
Pony took her wheel again and inspected the station. There was no other
flower stand. Then she pestered two innocent guards with questions and
came back proudly.
“There,” she said, “there are no more flower stands. That _would_ be
funny. What was I going to say? Oh, yes, the next train arrives from
Neustadt at a little after half-past eight. We might just as well go
home. And on the stroke of eight I’ll ride back here. If he isn’t here
by then, he’ll get a red hot letter from me.”
“Pony, be more careful of your speech.”
“Well, you might say, he’ll get a cool letter from me.”
The grandmother looked anxious and shook her head. “I don’t like it, I
don’t like it.” When she was excited she always said things twice over.
They went home slowly. On the way over the Weidendammer Bridge Pony
asked, “Grandmother, would you like to sit on the handlebars?”
“Stop such silly talk.”
“Why? You aren’t a bit heavier than Arthur Zickler, and he often sits
there when I ride.”
“If that happens just once again your father will take your wheel away
for good.”
“Oh, dear, I can’t tell you a thing,” scolded Pony.
When they came to the Heimbolds’ house, 15 Schumann Street, there was
great excitement. Everyone wanted to know where Emil was, and nobody
knew.
The father suggested telegraphing Emil’s mother.
“For heaven’s sake!” cried his wife, Pony’s mother. “She’d be
frightened to death. About eight o’clock we’ll all go to the station
again. Perhaps he’ll come on the next train.”
“I hope so,” mourned the grandmother, “but I can’t help feeling—I don’t
like it. I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it,” said Pony Hütchen, and thoughtfully wagged her small
head to and fro.
Eighth Chapter
The Boy with the Auto Horn Turns Up
At Trautenau Street on the corner of Kaiser Avenue the man with
the stiff hat got off the car. Emil saw him, took up his bag and his
bouquet, and said to the man reading the paper, “Thank you again and
again, sir,” and climbed off the platform.
The thief went in front of the car, crossed the tracks, and headed for
the other side of the street. The car went on, and when the way was
clear Emil noticed that the man stopped, hesitated a moment, and then
walked up the steps to an outdoor café.
Now again it was necessary to be very cautious. Like a detective that
follows a clue, Emil sized up the situation, looked quickly around,
noticed a news-stand on a corner, and ran as fast as he could to hide
behind it. His hiding place was perfect. It lay between the stand and a
post. The boy put down his baggage, took off his cap, and peeked out.
The man had seated himself on the terrace close to the railing.
He was smoking a cigarette and seemed very pleased with himself. Emil
was disgusted that a thief could be so thoroughly satisfied while the
fellow who was robbed had to be so gloomy and not know what to do.
What a silly idea to hide behind a news-stand as if he himself were the
thief instead of the other. What point was there in knowing that the
man was sitting in Café Josty on Kaiser Avenue and that he was drinking
light beer and smoking cigarettes? If the fellow would get up, then the
chase could go on. But if he stayed there then Emil might hide behind
the stand until he grew a long gray beard. Nothing was wanting now but
for a policeman to come along and say, “My son, you look suspicious.
Come, follow me of your own accord, now, or I’ll have to put the
handcuffs on you.”