NAT ON LAKE ERIE
Nat was so completely astonished by the unexpected appearance of his
uncle and guardian, that for the moment he did not know what to say or
do.
"Thought you was goin' to run away, didn't you?" continued Abner
Balberry, with a gleam of triumph in his small eyes.
"Let go of me," answered Nat, trying to pull away.
"I ain't a-goin' to, Nat Nason. You're a-goin' back with me, an' on the
next train."
"I'm not going back, Uncle Abner."
"What!"
"I said I'm not going back, so there," repeated Nat, desperately. "You
don't treat me half decently, and I'm going to strike out for myself."
"Jest to hear the boy! You are a-goin' back. Nice doin's, I must say!
What did you mean by trying to burn down the barn?"
"Burn down the barn?"
"That's wot I said."
"I never burned down any barn. Is the barn burned down?"
"No; because I put out the fire."
"When was this?"
"You know well enough."
"I don't know a word about it, Uncle Abner."
"You set the barn afire."
"Never!"
"You did! An' you've got to go back."
"Uncle Abner, I never set fire to a thing," gasped Nat. "I left because
you worked me to death, and because you wouldn't let me have my supper.
After this, I'm going to earn my own living in my own way."
"You're goin' back," snarled the farmer.
For answer, Nat gave a sudden jerk and pulled himself from his uncle's
grasp. Then he started to run from the depot at his best speed.
"Hi! stop!" yelled the farmer. "Stop thet boy. I'm his guardian, and he
is runnin' away from me."
The cry was taken up on all sides, and soon a crowd of a dozen men and
boys were in pursuit of Nat, who by this time had reached the street.
Nat had always been fleet of foot, and now a new fear lent strength to
his flying feet. He was accused of setting fire to the barn! Perhaps his
uncle would have him arrested and sent to prison.
"He shan't do it," he muttered. "I must get away, somehow."
Down one street after another went poor Nat, with the crowd behind him
growing steadily larger. Some thought they were after a thief, and some
a murderer, and soon two policemen joined in the chase.
Coming to an alley way, Nat darted through it to a side street, and then
around a corner to a thoroughfare leading down to the docks. This threw
the crowd off the trail for a moment, and gave him a brief breathing
spell.
Reaching the docks fronting the lake, the boy came to a halt. Not far
off was a steamboat, getting ready to cast off.
"Where does that boat go to?" he asked of a man standing near.
"That's the boat for Buffalo," was the answer.
"And when does she leave?"
"She is getting ready to leave now."
"Then that's the boat I want," came from Nat, and he rushed to the end
of the dock, and up the gangplank with all speed. A moment later the
gangplank was withdrawn, and the steamboat started on her trip down Lake
Erie.
Trembling with excitement, Nat entered the cabin, and from the window
looked back to the dock they had just left. It was not long before he
beheld Abner Balberry and several others, on the dock, gazing up and
down in perplexity. They did not know whether the boy was on the boat,
or in hiding close by.
"What a narrow escape!" thought Nat, when the dock had faded from view.
"In another minute Uncle Abner would have collared me, sure."
"Had to run pretty hard to catch the boat, didn't you?" remarked a man
sitting beside him.
"Yes," answered Nat.
"Bound for Buffalo, I suppose."
"Yes."
"First visit to that city?"
"Yes."
"Well, it's a fine city to visit, I can tell you. Of course you'll run
up to look at Niagara Falls?"
"I hadn't thought of that."
"It's not very far away, you know. The trolley cars run from Buffalo to
the Falls and back."
"Then I'll certainly have to go up and look at the Falls," answered the
boy.
He was too excited to make up his mind just what to do next, and so
walked away from the man. Finding a secluded corner of the deck, he sat
down on a camp stool to think the situation over.
The fact that his uncle believed he had tried to burn down the barn
filled him with alarm. Certainly, the building must have been set on
fire, but who had done the base deed?
"Perhaps that man I took to be Uncle Abner!" he cried to himself. Up to
the present time he had forgotten about seeing that individual in the
semi-darkness while on the way to get the cow.
The weather was warm and pleasant, and had Nat been less disturbed in
mind he would have enjoyed the trip on Lake Erie thoroughly. Even as it
was, he gazed at the great lake in wonder.
"If this is only a lake, what must the ocean be!" he mused. "When I get
to New York, I'll have to take a trip to Coney Island, or some other
ocean beach."
The boat Nat was on carried more freight than passengers, and made half
a dozen landings before Buffalo was reached. But the boy thought the
craft one of the best on the lake, and wandered over her from end to end
with great interest. At noon he purchased a light lunch, and at supper
time a sandwich and a glass of milk.
"They charge pretty stiff prices on a boat," he thought, after paying
over his money. "I've got to live cheaper after this, or I'll be a
beggar before I settle down and find something to do."
It was dark when Buffalo was reached, and here Nat was more bewildered
than he had been on arriving at Cleveland. He followed the crowd up from
the dock to one of the main streets, and then stood on a corner, not
knowing which way to turn, or what to do next.
"What a terrible lot of people and cars!" was his mental comment. "It's
enough to make a fellow's head swim."
He felt that it would be useless to try to do anything that night, and
so looked around for a cheap lodging house. Soon he found a place where
beds could be had for twenty-five cents a night, and he entered.
"I'll take a bed," he said to the clerk at the desk.
"All right; twenty-five cents." And as the money was passed over, the
clerk continued: "Leave your valuables at the desk."
"Valuables?" repeated Nat. "You mean my watch?"
"You may leave it if you wish, and your money too."
"No; I'll keep them on me," answered the boy.
He was conducted to an elevator, and soon found himself on the fifth
story of the building. Here was a big room containing twenty cots, ten
on each side.
"Here you are; No. 134," said the attendant, and left him.
On several of the cots some men were already sleeping. They were not
pleasant-appearing individuals, and a few of them smelt strongly of
liquor.
"This isn't so nice," thought Nat. "But it's cheap, and that's
something."
Before retiring, he placed his bundle and his clothing under his pillow,
and stowed away his watch and money on his person.
Nat's actions were closely watched by a man who occupied the next cot on
the left. He was a seedy individual, with a face that was horribly
pockmarked.
"Reckon he's got a dollar or two," thought this man, who was known among
his associates by the name of Checkers.
Despite his surroundings, Nat slept soundly throughout the night, and
continued to sleep long after the sun came up.
While it was still early, Bob Checkers arose, dressed himself, and
slipped over to the sleeping boy's side. Making certain that nobody was
watching him, the fellow began a rapid search of Nat's clothing, and
afterwards of the lad's person.
Soon he came in contact with a small roll of bills, which Nat, in the
belief that they would be quite secure, had placed in a pocket of his
shirt. A thrill of delight shot through the fellow as his hand touched
them.
"Dis is de best yet!" he murmured to himself, and placing the bills in
his own pocket, he left the lodging house almost on a run.