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THE MISSING TIN BOX
OR
THE STOLEN RAILROAD BONDS.
BY _ARTHUR M. WINFIELD_
_Author of "Schooldays of Fred Harley," "Poor but Plucky," "By Pluck,
Not Luck," Etc., etc._
CHICAGO:
M. A. DONOHUE & CO.
COPYRIGHT, 1897.
W. L. ALLISON CO.
CONTENTS.
I. The Missing Tin Box
II. A Brave Youth's Reward
III. A Serious Charge
IV. Hal Stands up for Himself
V. Hal Determines to Act
VI. A Blow in the Dark
VII. Hal Determines to Investigate
VIII. Felix Hardwick is astonished
IX. The Plot Against Hal
X. Hal is accused
XI. For and Against
XII. Hal in a Fearful Situation
XIII. Hal Shows His Mettle
XIV. Hal Expressed his Opinion
XV. Hal Defends a Girl
XVI. Hal on the Watch
XVII. Near to Death
XVIII. Hal in a Tight Situation
XIX. A Narrow Escape
XX. Following Allen
XXI. In a Dangerous Place
XXII. Hal Meets Laura Sumner
XXIII. Hal's Bold Scheme
XXIV. Hal in a New Role
XXV. Hal's Escape from Hardwick
XXVI. Hal Obtains Another Situation
XXVII. Hal Plays a Daring Part
XXVIII. Hal is Exposed
XXIX. Hal Makes a Lively Move
XXX. The Missing Tin Box
XXXI. Hardwick's Dash for Liberty
XXXII. A Surprising Revelation
THE MISSING TIN BOX.
CHAPTER I.
AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION.
"What are the bonds worth, Allen?"
"Close on to eighty thousand dollars, Hardwick."
"Phew! as much as that?"
"Yes. The market has been going up since the first of December."
"How did he happen to get hold of them?"
"I don't know the particulars. Mr. Mason was an old friend of the
family, and I presume he thought he could leave them in no better
hands."
"And where are they now?"
"In his private safe."
"Humph!"
The conversation recorded above took place one evening on a Pennsylvania
Railroad ferry-boat while the craft was making the trip from Jersey City
to New York.
It was carried on between two men, both well dressed. He, called Allen,
was a tall, sharp-nosed individual, probably fifty years of age. The
other was a short, heavy-set fellow, wearing a black mustache, and
having a peculiar scowl on his face.
They sat in the forward part of the gentlemen's cabin, which was but
partly filled with passengers. Two seats on one side of them were
vacant. On the other side sat a shabbily-dressed boy of sixteen, his
hands clasped on his lap and his eyes closed.
"The safe is often left open during the day," resumed Allen, after a
brief pause, during which Hardwick had offered his companion a cigar and
lit one himself.
"That won't do," replied Hardwick, shortly.
"Why not?"
"Because it won't."
"But we can make it appear----"
"Hush!" The heavy-set man, who sat next to the vacant seats, nudged his
companion in the side. "That boy may hear you," he continued, in a
whisper.
The man addressed glanced sharply at the youth.
"No, he won't," he returned.
"Why not?"
"He's fast asleep."
"Don't be too sure." The heavy-set man arose. "Let us go out on the
forward deck, and talk it over."
"It's too cold, and, besides, it's beginning to--"
"Wrap yourself up in that overcoat of yours, and you will be all right.
We don't want to run any chances, Allen."
"Some one may hear us out there just as well as in here," growled the
elderly man.
Nevertheless, he pulled up his coat collar and followed his companion
through the heavy swinging doors.
As the two walked outside, the eyes of the boy opened, and he glanced
sharply after the pair.
"That was a queer conversation they held," he muttered to himself. "I am
half of the opinion that they are up to no good. If I were a policeman I
believe I would follow them and find out who they are."
Hal Carson hesitated for a moment, and then arose and walked to the
doors.
Stepping outside, he saw the two men, standing in the gangway for
horses, in deep conversation.
"They are hatching out some scheme," thought Hal, as he watched the
pair.
But it was bitter cold outside for one without an overcoat, and the
youth soon returned to his seat in the cabin, leaving the two men to
themselves.
Hal was a poor-house boy, having lived at the Fairham poor-house ever
since he could remember. Who his parents were he did not know, nor could
Joel Daggett, the keeper of the institution, give him any definite
information on the subject.
"You were picked up in front of Onders' carpenter shop on one Fourth o'
July night," Daggett had said more than once. "They found out some
strange man was responsible, but who he was, nobuddy knows, or leastwise
they won't tell, and that amounts to the same thing."
There had been a peculiar golden locket about Hal's neck when he was
found, but this had never led to the establishing of his identity, and
after the boy was at the poor-house a year the facts concerning his
being found were almost forgotten.
But Hal had clung fast to that locket as a sort of birthright, and it
was at this moment safe in his trousers pocket.
Two days before the opening of this story the trustees of the Fairham
Poor-house had decided to bind Hal out to Daniel Scrogg, one of the most
miserly farmers in the county.
Hal had protested, stating he could make more in the town, where a
lawyer named Gibson was willing to take the youth into his office on a
salary of three dollars a week and found. The trustees were obdurate,
and the upshot of the matter was that the youth quietly packed his
clothing into a bundle and ran away.
He left a note behind for Joel Daggett, telling what he had done, and
stating that as soon as he was in position to do so he would reimburse
the trustees for all they had paid out for his keep for the past fifteen
years; a big undertaking for any boy, but Hal was plucky, and meant what
he said.
Hal's destination was New York. Once in the great metropolis, he felt
certain he would find something to do. To be sure, his capital was less
than a dollar, but he was used to being without any money, and
consequently this did not bother him.
It was about eight o'clock in the evening, and as the man Allen had
said, it was just beginning to snow, the first fall of the season. Hal
looked out of the window as the flakes glittered in the electric light
and fell into the waters of the river.
Presently there came a bump, and the ferry-boat veered to one side. The
slip had been reached, and, pulling shut the rather thin jacket he wore,
and bringing his cap further down over his forehead, Hal mingled with
the crowd outside, and a minute later went ashore.
Once on West Street, Hal stood still, undecided what to do next. He did
not know a soul in New York, did not know one street from another, but
understood very well that it would be next to useless to try to obtain
employment at this late hour.
As Hal stood meditating, the two men mentioned above brushed past him.
The boy noticed them, and then almost mechanically followed the pair.
The men passed up Cortlandt Street until they came to the Sixth Avenue
Elevated Railroad. Hal saw them mount the stairs on the opposite side of
the street, and a minute after knew they had taken an uptown train.
"I suppose I'll never see them again," thought the youth.
But Hal was mistaken. The two men were to play a most important part in
the youth's future life in the great metropolis.
Hal walked along under the elevated road until he came to Barclay
Street. He passed several fruit stands and a queer little booth where
coffee and cakes were sold.
The sight of the latter made him remember how hungry he was. He had not
had anything to eat since early morning, and although he was accustomed
to a very scanty fare at the poor-house, his stomach rebelled at this
unusually long fast.
He counted up his money, and resolved to invest fifteen cents of it in a
plate of pork and beans and some buttered cakes.
He entered a restaurant near the corner, and was soon served.
While Hal was eating he became interested in the conversation of several
young men who stood near the counter, smoking.
"You say Nathan wants more help?" he heard one of the young men say.
"Yes."
"Thought he took on two new hands yesterday."
"So he did, but the holiday trade is very heavy this year."
"Then I'll send Billy around to see him. I suppose he could do the
work."
"Anybody could who is strong and willing," was the reply. "Nathan wants
three young fellows."
At these words Hal's eyes brightened.
He arose and touched the speaker on the arm.
"Excuse me, sir," he began.
"What is it?" asked the man, rather abruptly.
"I heard you telling your friend that somebody wanted help. I am looking
for work."
The man looked Hal over, and gave a short laugh.
"I'm afraid you ain't strong enough, my boy," he said.
"I was brought up to hard work," replied Hal, earnestly.
"Well, that makes a difference."
"If you will tell me where that place is----"
"Certainly. It is the first warehouse this side----"
The man got no further. There was a commotion on the street, and two or
three rushed outside.
"Brady's place just below here is on fire!" shouted some one.
"Brady's place?" ejaculated the man. "By George! I wonder how that
happened?"
He seemed to forget all about Hal, and making a rush for the door,
disappeared down the street.
The youth started after him. He had eaten and paid for his meal, and he
did not wish to miss the opportunity of questioning the fellow further.
On the street all was commotion. Wagons were scattering right and left
to make way for the steam engines, hose carts and hook and ladder trucks
which came dashing up to the spot.
Hal soon found himself surrounded by a crowd. The man had disappeared,
apparently for good, and with a sigh the youth walked away, there being
no signs of a fire, so far as he could see.
The youth started to cross the street. He was directly behind an elderly
gentleman, and was about to pass the man when there came a warning cry:
"Get out of the way there! Here comes another engine!"
Hal looked up and saw that the engine, pulled by three fiery horses, was
close at hand. He started to return to the curb. As he did so the
elderly gentleman slipped and went down flat on his back.
"He'll be killed!" cried half a dozen, who saw the accident.
Hal's heart seemed to leap into his throat. The horses were not over ten
feet away. A moment more and the elderly gentleman would be crushed to
death.
The youth leaped forward, and caught the man by the arm. Then he gave a
sudden jerk backward, and both he and the gentleman went rolling into
the gutter, while the engine went thundering by.