AN ESCAPE
“I’LL fix you for this,” cried Gabe Flecker, in Frank’s ear, while they
were awaiting the arrival of the police.
“You brought it on yourself, Flecker,” answered the young book agent,
briefly.
“He owes me for two weeks’ board,” said Mrs. Larkspur, timidly.
“You shall not get a cent of it, madam,” snapped the swindler.
“It’s more than likely he hasn’t a dollar with which to pay,” put in
Frank. He turned to Flecker: “I guess you’ll get free board for awhile,
from now on.”
“Just wait!” hissed the swindler, and grated his teeth.
Two policemen soon put in an appearance, and Frank explained matters,
and then Mrs. Larkspur told her story.
“I guess the young man is right, Mrs. Larkspur,” said one of the
officers. “I’ve heard of this fellow. There’s a reward out for him. He
is an old offender.”
Frank was asked to make a complaint, and Mrs. Larkspur said she would do
the same. Then the policemen marched Gabe Flecker away.
“I must thank you for doing what you did, young man,” said the boarding
house mistress to the young book agent. “Had you not been here, he would
have swindled me most cleverly.”
“I’m glad I was here,” returned our hero. “I’d like first rate to get
that reward.”
“Well, you certainly deserve it.”
Mrs. Larkspur did not wish any books, but told him of several parties
who might buy, so in the end he made sales through her which profited
him over five dollars.
The two policemen felt certain that Gabe Flecker could not get away from
them, so they merely made him walk between them, without taking the
trouble to handcuff him.
Now, Flecker did not intend to go to the station house if he could
possibly avoid it. He knew that his record was a black one, and once
before the bar of justice he would be sure to get a sentence of at least
several years.
Goshen boasts of a race track at which each year a number of important
horse races are run. The races were now on, and the town was filled with
folks who had come in by train and in carriages.
As the policemen and their prisoner were crossing one of the main
streets, a cry arose.
“Look out for the runaway!”
A horse attached to a buggy was tearing along the street at topmost
speed. The vehicle was empty, and was swaying from side to side as if
about to go over.
“Look out there!” yelled one of the policemen to some children who were
crossing the street near by. And then he ran out to go to their
assistance, and so did the other policeman, for the runaway horse was
now dangerously close.
This was an opportunity not to be missed by Gabe Flecker, and without an
instant’s hesitation he slipped around a corner and ran down the side
street towards the railroad. Here he watched his chance, and boarded a
freight train running towards New York.
“Just my luck,” he told himself, smilingly, when safe on the train.
“They don’t get Gabe Flecker in jail as easily as they think.”
The policemen soon had the children out of the way, and a moment later
the runaway horse was stopped without doing much damage. Then both
policemen looked for their prisoner.
“He’s gone!” cried one.
“Where to?” queried the other.
“Hang me if I know. Why didn’t you watch him?”
“Why didn’t you watch him yourself?”
“I left him with you.”
“No, you didn’t. I left him with you.”
“It ain’t so!”
“It is.”
So the talk ran on until a crowd began to collect, wanting to know the
cause of the dispute. But the policemen would not tell, and went off to
hunt for the missing prisoner. Of course they were unsuccessful, and had
to go the station house empty-handed.
When Frank and Mrs. Larkspur presented themselves they were told that
Gabe Flecker had escaped by the aid of two accomplices.
“Two accomplices?” queried Frank, in astonishment.
“Exactly,” said the officer in charge. “The two policemen who had the
prisoner were set upon by two rascals, and in the mêlée to follow the
prisoner got away.” This was the story told by the policemen, who had
been negligent in their duty, although, in a way, they had done well to
rescue the little children.
“It’s very strange,” said Frank to the boarding house mistress, as they
walked away. “I didn’t know he had any accomplices.”
“Well, I have heard that swindlers often work in pairs, or in a crowd of
three or four,” answered Mrs. Larkspur. “Perhaps the races attracted
them.”
“That must be it,” answered Frank. “I’m going to watch the crowd coming
from the races and see if I can learn anything.”
He did this, but his watching brought him no satisfaction. He spent the
night at Mrs. Larkspur’s house.
“The contents of the trunks left here are of no value,” said the lady.
“I doubt if he ever tries to claim his baggage.”
Frank had fairly good success in Goshen, and then returned to
Middletown. Here, money seemed to be plentiful, and by good luck he took
orders for three sets of famous authors in one day.
“That is what I call business,” he thought. “If I could keep up such a
record, I’d be making money hand over fist.”
While in Middletown, the young book agent had one experience which was
amusing in the extreme. He called on an old gentleman, who seemed to be
much pleased to see him.
“I would like to show you a set of famous novels,” said our hero, and
brought forth his sample book.
At this the old gentleman nodded and smiled.
“As you can see, these novels are well illustrated,” went on the young
book agent. “Each illustration is by a well-known artist, so the set of
books is quite valuable for the pictures alone.”
Again the old gentleman nodded and smiled quietly.
“I will tell you of the merits of each volume,” pursued Frank, and
launched forth in a description that lasted ten or fifteen minutes. The
old gentleman appeared to be very attentive, but made no reply to what
was said.
“Now, sir, don’t you think you want this set of books?” asked the young
agent at last.
Still the old gentleman made no reply. But he drew a pad from his
pocket, and with a pencil, wrote the following:
“I am deaf and dumb. What did you show me the books for?”
“Well, I never!” murmured our hero to himself, and then, realizing the
humor of the situation, he burst into a merry laugh. “Here I’ve been
talking my prettiest, and this man hasn’t heard a single word.” And he
laughed again.
A moment later he took the pad and wrote down that he wanted to sell a
set of the books. But the old man shook his head, and wrote in reply:
“I never buy books. I borrow them from my children.”
“In that case, I’ll bid you good-day,” said Frank, and gathering up his
books, he bowed himself out of the house. Ever after he had to laugh
when he thought of the deaf and dumb man, and he often told the joke as
a good one on himself.
From Middletown our hero went to Paterson, and then returned to the
vicinity of his home.
One day he went over to the village of Oakwood to see what he could
sell. Here, on the main street, he ran into Bobby Frost.
“Hullo!” cried the boy who had once run away from home. “What are you
doing here?”
“I am trying to sell books,” replied Frank. “How are you, Bobby?”
“First-rate. I’m going to school again.”
“I suppose you chop the wood, too,” went on our hero, with a faint
smile.
“You just bet I do,” ejaculated Bobby. “I’m glad to do most anything
now.”
“I hope you got home safe.”
“I did. But, say, dad did give me an everlasting thrashing for running
away,” added Bobby. “I’ll never forget it.”
“I think you’ll make more of a fortune around home than in the city,
Bobby.”
“Perhaps I will. Anyway, I’ve given up reading those trashy five- and
ten-cent libraries.”
“That’s a good job done.”
“Come on over to my house,” went on the younger boy. “I guess the folks
will be glad to see you. I told them all about you.”
“Where do you live?”
“In that white house over yonder.”
“All right; I’ll go,” answered our hero. “Maybe your folks will want to
buy some books,” he continued.
“Perhaps. Mother is a great reader—when she gets time. But she doesn’t
care for what they call sensational literature.”
“I’ve got a set of famous novels which may please her. They are not in
the least sensational,” answered Frank.
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