PHIL ELUDES HIS PURSUER
Phil had already made up his mind where to go. Just across the river was
New Jersey, with its flourishing towns and cities, settled to a large
extent by men doing business in New York. The largest of these cities
was Newark, only ten miles distant. There Phil decided to make his
first stop. If he found himself in danger of capture he could easily
go farther. This plan Paul approved, and it was to be carried into
execution immediately.
“I will go down to the Cortlandt Street Ferry with you, Phil,” said
Paul.
“I should like to have you, if it will not take you from your business,
Paolo.”
“My business can wait,” said Paul. “I mean to see you safe out of the
city. The padrone may be in search of you already.”
“I think he will send Pietro to find me,” said Phil.
“Who is Pietro?”
Phil explained that Pietro was the padrone’s nephew and assisted in
oppressing the boys.
“I hope he will send him,” said Paul.
Phil looked up in surprise.
“I should like to see this Pietro. What would he do if he should find
you?”
“He would take me back.”
“If you did not want to go?”
“I couldn’t help it,” said Phil, shrugging his shoulders. “He is much
bigger than I.”
“Is he bigger than I am?”
“I think he is as big.”
“He isn’t big enough to take you away if I am with you.”
Paul did not say this boastfully, but with a quiet confidence in his own
powers in which he was justified. Though by no means quarrelsome, he
had on several occasions been forced in self-defense into a contest with
boys of his own size, and in some instances larger, and in every case he
had acquitted himself manfully, and come off victorious.
“I should not be afraid if you were with me, Paolo,” said Phil.
“You are right, Phil,” said Paul, approvingly. “But here we are at the
ferry.”
Cortlandt Street is a short distance below the Astor House, and leads
to the ferry, connecting on the other side with trains bound for
Philadelphia and intermediate places.
Paul paid the regular toll, and passed through the portal with Phil.
“Are you going with me?” asked the little fiddler, in surprise.
“Only to Jersey City, Phil. There might be some of your friends on board
the boat. I want to see you safe on the cars. Then I must leave you.”
“You are very kind, Paolo.”
“You are a good little chap, Phil, and I mean to help you. But the boat
is about ready to start. Let us go on board.”
They walked down the pier, and got on the boat a minute before it
started. They did not pass through to the other end, but, leaning
against the side, kept their eyes fixed on the city they were about to
leave. They had not long to wait. The signal was heard, and the boat
started leisurely from the pier. It was but ten feet distant, when the
attention of Paul and Phil was drawn to a person running down the drop
in great haste. He evidently wanted to catch the boat, but was too late.
Phil clutched at Paul’s arm, and pointed to him in evident excitement.
“It is Pietro,” he said.
At that moment Pietro, standing on the brink, caught sight of the boy
he was pursuing, looking back at him from the deck of the ferry-boat.
A look of exultation and disappointment swept over his face as he saw
Phil, but realized that he was out of his reach. He had a hand-organ
with him, and this had doubtless encumbered him, and prevented his
running as fast as he might otherwise.
“So that is Pietro, is it?” said Paul, regarding him attentively in
order to fix his face in his memory.
“Yes, Paolo,” said Phil, his eyes fixed nervously upon his pursuer, who
maintained his place, and was watching him with equal attention.
“You are not frightened, Phil, are you?”
Phil admitted that he was.
“He will come over in the next boat,” he said.
“But he will not know where you are.”
“He will seek me.”
“Will he? Then I think he will be disappointed. The cars will start
on the other side before the next boat arrives. I found out about that
before we started.”
Phil felt relieved by this intelligence, but still he was nervous.
Knowing well Pietro’s malice, he dreaded the chances of his capturing
him.
“He stays there. He does not go away,” said Phil.
“It will do him no good, Phil. He is like a cat watching a canary bird
beyond his reach. I don’t think he will catch you to-day.”
“He may go in the cars, too,” suggested Phil.
“That is true. On the whole, Phil, when you get to Newark, I advise
you to walk into the country. Don’t stay in the city. He might find you
there.”
“I will do what you say, Paolo. It will be better.”
They soon reached the Jersey shore. The railroad station was close by.
They went thither at once, and Phil bought a ticket for Newark.
“How soon will the cars start?” inquired Paul of a railway official.
“In five minutes,” was the answer.
“Then, Phil, I advise you to get into the cars at once. Take a seat
on the opposite side, though there is no chance of your being seen by
Pietro, who will get here too late. Still, it is best to be on the safe
side. I will stay near the ferry and watch Pietro when he lands. Perhaps
I will have a little conversation with him.”
“I will go, Paolo.”
“Well, good-by, Phil, and good luck,” said Paul, cheerfully. “If you
ever come to New York, come to see me.”
“Yes, Paolo, I will be sure to come.”
“And, Phil, though I don’t think you will ever fall into the power
of that old brute again (I am sure you won’t if you take good care of
yourself), still, if he does get you back again, come to me the first
chance you get, and I will see what I can do for you.”
“Thank you, Paolo. I will remember your kindness always,” said the
little fiddler, gratefully.
“That is all right, Phil. Good-by!”
“Good-by!” said Phil, and, shaking the hand of his new friend, he
ascended the steps, and took a seat on the opposite side, as Paul had
recommended.
“I am sorry to part with Phil,” said Paul to himself. “He’s a fine
little chap, and I like him. If ever that old brute gets hold of him
again, he shan’t keep him long. Now, Signor Pietro, I’ll go back and see
you on your arrival.”
Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take passage on the next
boat. He waited impatiently on the drop till it touched, and sprang on
board. He cursed the interval of delay, fearing that it would give Phil
a chance to get away. However, there was no help for this. Time and tide
wait for no man, but it often happens that we are compelled to wait for
them. But at length the boat touched the Jersey shore, and Pietro
sprang out and hurried to the gates, looking eagerly on all sides for a
possible glimpse of the boy he sought. He did not see him, for the cars
were already on their way, but his eyes lighted up with satisfaction as
they lighted on Paul, whom he recognized as the companion of Phil. He
had seen him talking to the little fiddler. Probably he would know where
he had gone. He walked up to Paul, who was standing near, and, touching
his cap, said: “Excuse me, signore, but have you seen my little
brother?”
“Your little brother?” repeated Paul, deliberately.
“Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle. He was so high;” and Pietro
indicated the height of Phil correctly by his hand.
“There was a boy came over in the boat with me,” said Paul.
“Yes, yes; he is the one, signore,” said Pietro, eagerly.
“And he is your brother?”
“Si, signore.”
“That’s a lie,” thought Paul, “I should know it even if Phil had
not told me. Phil is a handsome little chap. He wouldn’t have such a
villainous-looking brother as you.”
“Can you tell me where he has gone?” asked Pietro, eagerly.
“Didn’t he tell you where he was going?” asked Paul, in turn.
“I think he means to run away,” said Pietro. “Did you see where he
went?”
“Why should he want to run away?” asked Paul, who enjoyed tantalizing
Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience. “Did you not treat him
well?”
“He is a little rascal,” said Pietro. “He is treated well, but he is a
thief.”
“And you are his brother,” repeated Paul, significantly.
“Did you see where he went?” asked Pietro, getting angry. “I want to
take him back to his father.”
“How should I know?” returned Paul, coolly. “Do you think I have nothing
to do but to look after your brother?”
“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” said Pietro, incensed.
“Don’t get mad,” said Paul, indifferently; “it won’t do you any good.
Perhaps, if you look round, you will see your brother. I’ll tell him you
want him if I see him.”
Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously. It struck him that the latter might
be making a fool of him, but Paul looked so utterly indifferent that
he could judge nothing from his appearance. He concluded that Phil was
wandering about somewhere in Jersey City.
It did not occur to him that he might have taken the cars for some
more distant place. At any rate, there seemed no chance of getting any
information out of Paul. So he adjusted his hand-organ and walked up the
street leading from the ferry, looking sharply on either side, hoping to
catch a glimpse of the runaway; but, of course, in vain.
“I don’t think you’ll find Phil to-day, Signor Pietro,” said Paul to
himself, as he watched his receding form. “Now, as there is nothing more
to be done here, I will go back to business.”