THE YELLOW PACKAGE.
The last few days of Nick Collins’ life had been full of surprises,
but this last one was too bewildering to realize readily. He had
really expected no reward for what he had done for Mr. Vail, but the
impatience and indifference of the broker contrasted painfully with the
honest, hearty kindness of the railroad engineer.
“I’ve got a situation, anyhow,” reflected Nick as he walked slowly from
the place. “It isn’t much of a salary, but I will try to make myself
useful and worth more in time. This man knew my father and Admiral
Semmes. I wonder if he will recognize my name when he sees it, and if
he could tell me anything about the admiral?”
The remainder of the day was uneventful to Nick; monotonous, too, for
he was eager to begin work and to see Frank and Will, and learn if they
had found employment.
Outside of the rushing, excited life of business and the evidences of
wealth about him, Nick found but little in the city that was pleasant.
For whole blocks he would pass amid squalid houses where poverty and
misfortune seemed in their most hideous aspect. The sight of these
wretched homes, swarms of ill-clad children, and the absence of trees
and flowers, depressed his spirits. A memory of country life, of its
serene joys and peacefulness, forced a striking contrast. While the
city might be attractive to the seeker after fortune, he told himself,
the blessed haunts of nature made life at its leisure purer, and
brighter, and nearer to heaven.
He found no difficulty in returning to the former home of Admiral
Semmes, and he was compelled to wait for Frank and Will nearly two
hours.
The latter was tired, discouraged, and dissatisfied. He had found no
work, had wandered to the wharves, been nearly drowned, and voted the
city a bore.
Frank had been more fortunate. Finding no regular situation open, he
had sold copies of a weekly paper, and by perseverance and hard work
had actually made a dollar by his day’s labor.
Both the boys were amazed and interested at Nick’s story.
“You are always having lucky adventures,” said Will.
“Not very lucky. Only five dollars a week,” replied Nick.
“But it’s a steady place.”
“You will find one if you persevere, or I may find one for you,” said
Nick encouragingly. “We’ve all done the best we could, boys, and we
have reason to be very thankful. Well, boys, what’s the program for
to-night?”
“Stay here,” said Will promptly.
“Yes. It’s going to rain, and it’s comfortable and economical here,”
assented Frank.
“Very well, boys,” replied Nick, and preparations for supper were soon
under way.
It began to rain soon afterward, and they made a bench of some boards
and sat on the covered veranda and looked out on the street and talked.
Will fell asleep while Nick and Frank were still talking, and soon
after the latter lapsed into silence.
Nick was aroused from a fit of reflection abruptly.
“Nick!”
It was Frank’s voice, and raised scarcely above a whisper.
Nick regarded his companion inquiringly.
“What is it, Frank?”
“Sh! not so loud.”
“Why?”
“We may be heard.”
“Who by?”
“A man outside there.”
“What of it?”
“He seems to be watching the house.”
“Nonsense.”
“Maybe it’s some one who might arrest us for staying here?”
“I guess not. He’s only taking a walk.”
“In the rain?”
“That’s so. It does look singular.”
“It’s the third time he has passed the house in the last half hour.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes--I’ve been watching him. Now, you wait and he’ll come in sight
again.”
“He must walk around the block, then?”
“It looks so, and it looks suspicious, Nick.”
The boys watched the street from their shadowed covert, and sure
enough, at the end of a few minutes the same man appeared.
He would walk slowly a few steps, pause, glance at the house across the
street, walk on, halt again, and then, reaching the lamp-post near by,
take a yellow-covered package from his pocket and hold it conspicuously
before him.
Then he would glance searchingly around again and resume his walk,
passing out of sight down the block.
“What can it mean?” asked Nick.
“He seems to be expecting some one.”
“Yes.”
“To come for the package?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s watch again.”
“All right.”
The result was the same. The man reappeared, went through the same
strange movements, and disappeared as before.
Once, twice, three times, four times.
The man came and went, came and went. Always the same searching
glances, always the yellow package.
Just as he disappeared the last time, Nick started to his feet
excitedly.
“What is it, Nick?” asked Frank.
“The man!”
“He’s gone.”
“Yes, but the package.”
“What of it?”
“He dropped it.”
“I didn’t see him.”
“I did.”
“Where?”
“You can’t see it from here, but I saw it fall.”
“Then it’s on the sidewalk?”
“Just at the edge of the fence. He went to put it back in his pocket,
and it slipped and fell to the walk.”
“Go and get it.”
“And give it to him--yes.”
“Shall I go with you?”
“No. There is no use of both of us getting wet.”
Nick ran down the veranda steps and out to the sidewalk.
Traversing its length, just at the end of the lot he paused and looked
around him.
Lying at the edge of the sidewalk in a little puddle of water was a
yellow-covered parcel.
Nick picked it up and examined it. It bore no marks or writing, and he
saw that the paper was oiled and impervious to moisture, as the water
dripped freely from it as he held it up.
It was raining hard, and Nick stepped under the spreading tree near the
lamp-post.
What could the package contain? But that was not his affair. His
business was to return it to the man who had lost it.
He gazed down the street in the direction that the man had gone.
No one was in sight--the stranger had disappeared.
“He has gone around the block,” decided Nick. “He will be sure to
return. I won’t run after him. When he comes this way again I will
return it to him.”
He waited. Five--ten--fifteen minutes--half an hour passed, and still
the stranger did not return.
“Had I better go in search of him?” Nick asked himself.
He had thrust the package inside his coat and glanced once more
searchingly up and down the street.
“Ah, there he comes!”
Yes, some one was coming; but as the man neared Nick, the latter saw at
a glance that it was not the owner of the yellow package.
The newcomer, however, was certainly as much an object of curiosity as
the other. He was almost hidden in a waterproof coat and his movements
were stealthy and suspicious.
Like the other, he scanned the vicinity anxiously.
As he neared Nick the latter could just see a pair of unnaturally
bright eyes and the end of a long, snow-white beard.
The man started and shrank back as he caught sight of Nick for the
first time.
Their eyes met.
And then transpired for the startled Nick Collins an event as strange
and perplexing as ever fell to the lot of boy or man.