WHAT HAPPENED ON THE WAY TO CHINA
Of course, the telegram purporting to come from the Chinese secretary
of legation, by which Jo had been lured to New York, was a forgery; nor
had either of those intrusted by him to the bogus messenger-boy, who
delivered it, ever been forwarded to its address. Thus, Jo's Hatton
friends had no idea that he had left S----, but supposed him to be there
in company with Mr. Wang. They were well satisfied that this should be
so for a time, and Rob was especially glad; for whenever he met any of
the muckers they were sure to call out:
"Say, saphead, where's yer Chinee? Don't yer dare let him out, for fear
he'll get hurted? Yer scared to be seen on the street with him, that's
what's the matter! Yer needn't be, though, fer we wouldn't tech him with
a ten-foot pole, specially if yer'd muzzle him and lead him by a chain,
same as they do all the other big monkeys. Bet yer don't know where he
is! Bet he's got woozy and runned away! He'd better stay away, too, or
we'll fix him good!"
So, for about a week, Rob was not sorry to have his friend in a place
that promised a greater safety than Hatton. At the end of that time,
however, the Hinckley family began to wonder why they did not hear from
their young guest, and Rob wrote him a letter, that he sent to the hotel
in S----. It was promptly returned, with a note from the proprietor
stating that the Chinese lad only had stayed in his house one day, and
then had disappeared, but that a telegram for him lay unclaimed in the
office.
Mr. Hinckley at once sent for this telegram, which proved to be from
Mr. Wang, dated at Boston, stating that he should be unable to revisit
S----, and advising Jo's immediate return to Hatton. It was a week old.
Upon this Mr. Hinckley telegraphed to Washington, only to receive word
that Mr. Wang was travelling in the South and would not be back for
a month. Inquiries for the missing lad were now set on foot in every
direction, but no clew to his whereabouts could be found; nor was it for
long months after his disappearance that its mystery was cleared away.
In the mean time, much as our Hatton friends were troubled by their
young guest's unexplained vanishing, their attention was largely
diverted from it by news from China that Dr. Hinckley was seriously ill.
The first intimation of this came in a letter that told of his failing
health and of his plan to seek its restoration through a visit to
America.
"Won't it be fine!" exclaimed Rob, "to have them here? Father'll be sure
to get well as soon as he sights the Connecticut Valley. Its air always
has made a new man of him."
For a whole day he revelled in these happy anticipations. Then came the
fateful cablegram that in a moment swept away his light-heartedness and
changed the whole current of his life. It was from his mother, and was
in the private code that his parents had prepared when they left him
in Hatton. In all the years since then he had been obliged to refer to
this code but twice; for people living on small salaries cannot often
afford to send messages costing several dollars per word, with both
address and signature to be paid for at full rates. The present message
that had been flashed from far-away China, across Asia, under the Indian
Ocean, the Red Sea, and the Mediterranean, across Europe and under the
Atlantic, read as follows:
"Syntax, Boston.--Fable, garnet, hazel."
The word "Syntax" had, from the first, been registered in the Western
Union office at Boston, to save the expense of cabling the name of the
State in which Hatton was located, and it meant, "Rev. William Hinckley,
Hatton," to which address the despatch had been forwarded at an extra
charge of twenty-five cents.
"Bring the code-book, quick, Rob!" exclaimed Mr. Hinckley, as this
message dropped like a bombshell into the quiet circle gathered in
the pleasant parsonage parlor that evening. Rob had been studying his
lessons for the next day, his uncle was reading, and Mrs. Hinckley
happened to be writing a letter to China.
In a few seconds the boy had dashed up-stairs and was back with the
alphabetically arranged code-book.
"Fable?" said his uncle, and Rob, turning to the F's, ran his finger
hastily down the long column.
"Oh!" he gasped, "Fable means, 'Mason too ill to travel.'"
"Garnet?" continued Mr. Hinckley, huskily.
"Garnet means, 'Wants to see Rob before he dies.' Do you believe it can
be as bad as that, Uncle Will?" and a choking sob rose in the boy's
throat.
"First find the meaning of 'Hazel,' and then we will talk about it,"
replied Mr. Hinckley.
"Hazel," replied Rob, in another moment, "means, 'Send Rob to us at
once.'"
"Oh, Rob! my dear, dear boy!" cried Mrs. Hinckley. "It is terrible for
you, and it is going to be dreadfully hard to give you up, for you have
become as our own son."
"But we must give him up, and that at once," said her husband,
sorrowfully, "since the meaning of this despatch cannot for a moment be
misunderstood. Mason's illness must have taken such a sudden turn for
the worse that his life is endangered. They evidently hope, though, to
prolong it for some weeks, at least, or Fanny would not send for Rob.
She knows that he cannot, under the most favorable conditions, reach her
in less than a month."
"But in case of the worst, she would want Rob with her," suggested Mrs.
Hinckley.
"In that case she would come to him, for, with Mason dead, there would
be nothing to keep her in China."
"That's so," said Rob, hopefully. "I hadn't thought of that. When do you
think I can start, Uncle Will? I suppose we'll have to telegraph all
the different companies to find out which of them sends out the first
steamer."
"That would be expensive and take time," replied Mr. Hinckley. "I
believe we can do better. The Post-Office Department keeps track of the
sailing dates of all steamers that carry mails, in order that letters
may be despatched as often and as quickly as possible. So, though our
post-office must be closed by this hour, I will go over to Postmaster
Garrett's house, and see if he hasn't a printed slip giving the sailing
dates of Pacific steamers for the next few weeks. While I am gone, you
and your aunt can be getting your things together ready for packing."
With this Mr. Hinckley was about to leave the house, when his wife said:
"Why, William, those post-office notices are always published in the
Boston papers, and there is yesterday's lying on the table."
"So it is!" exclaimed Mr. Hinckley, picking up the paper as he spoke.
"How stupid I am! Yes, here is the very thing we want: 'China and
Japan, _via_ Tacoma, mails close 5 P.M. on the 6th, steamship
_Oriental._.' That is to-morrow, and it means that mails will be taken
on the evening express which reaches Albany about midnight. There it
meets and makes part of the New York night express for Chicago. From
Chicago they will go to St. Paul, and then, by way of the Northern
Pacific Coast, Limited, to Tacoma, reaching there on the 10th, which
undoubtedly is the _Oriental's_ sailing date. At any rate, Rob, so long
as you go with the mail you are bound to be travelling the quickest
possible way. To catch the Boston express, you must go to Albany by the
noon train to-morrow. I shall go with you that far, and we will make all
your ticket arrangements there."
Thus, within fifteen minutes from the time that fateful cablegram found
Rob Hinckley quietly studying lessons for the morrow, and expecting to
do little else for many months more, school had become a thing of the
seemingly remote past, and he was a traveller bound on a journey that
would take him half-way around the world. Moreover, the earlier details
of this journey were already planned, and he was to set forth within a
few hours. It is no wonder that he got but little sleep that night, nor
that he was up at daylight packing his trunk and sorting out certain
cherished possessions that he meant to distribute as keepsakes among his
boy friends.
He went to school at the usual hour, but only to announce his departure
to the masters, say good-bye, and collect his books. The head-master
requested him to wait a few minutes and accompany him to the great hall
where the entire school assembled for morning prayer. There, to Rob's
embarrassment, he was conducted to a seat of honor on the platform,
from which the master gave notice of his coming departure, stated its
sad cause, said some very flattering things about Rob himself, and
then asked the school to join him in an earnest prayer for their young
friend's safety during the tremendous journey he was about to undertake,
and that at its end he not only might find his dear father alive, but
restored to health.
At the conclusion of this prayer tears stood in Rob's eyes and in those
of many of his young friends as well. He wanted, before leaving, to say
good-bye to the whole body of his school-mates, as he did not expect to
see any of them again; but he did not exactly know how to do so, and was
immensely relieved when the head-master further said:
"Robert is to leave Hatton by the noon train to-day, and in order that
his friends here gathered may have the opportunity, which I am sure they
desire, of bidding him farewell and seeing him off, all classes will be
dismissed at eleven clock."
As a result of this thoughtful provision, for nearly an hour preceding
the departure of the Albany train the little Hatton railway-station
presented one of the liveliest scenes in its history, and Rob was
greatly affected by the innumerable evidences of esteem showered upon
him by his school-mates. When the train finally pulled out, with our
lad waving his hat from the rear platform of its last car, it was to an
accompaniment of a hurricane of cheers and farewell shouts.
"Who is the most popular fellow in Hatton?" cried the leader of the
academy rooters.
"R-O-B, Rob! H-I-N-C-K-L-E-Y, Hinckley! ROB
HINCKLEY! Hi-ho! Hi-ho! GOOD-BYE!" was the answer shouted
forth in tremendous chorus by every boy and girl present; and this was
our young traveller's final farewell from the place that seemed his home
more than any other in all the world.
For three days after leaving Albany, Rob journeyed swiftly and without
untoward incident past Buffalo and Chicago, up into the great Northwest,
through St. Paul, amid the vast wheat-fields of Minnesota and the Red
River valley, over the limitless prairies of North Dakota, through the
"Bad Lands" bordering the Little Missouri, and into the incredibly rich
copper regions of Montana. Then came the dreadful day on which he lost
his train, and with it all hope of catching the only advertised steamer
to leave the "coast" for a week. It happened at Helena, where the train
was to remain for fifteen minutes; and Rob, tired with being so long
shut up in a car, decided to take a brisk walk into the town. He wanted
to see something of the place, and needed the exercise.
So he set forth, walked as far as he dared, allowed too narrow a margin
of time for his return, missed his way, and finally regained the
station only to see his train pulling out from its farther end. For
a second he could not believe his eyes. Then he ran madly after the
disappearing cars, screaming for them to stop. Even in the blindness of
his excitement a moment of this effort convinced him of its folly, and
he halted on the edge of the platform, while two great, scalding tears,
that he had no heart to repress, coursed slowly down his cheeks.