AN ENCOUNTER ON THE ROAD.
After the hotel bill was paid at Chambersburgh, Neka found himself
with exactly three dollars and fifty cents in his pocket. Longfellow
Wadsworth had about the same amount.
The sum was not large, but it was a fact that it was considerably
larger than Neka had ever possessed while under the so-styled care of
Daniel Bambo. The circus proprietor had not only beaten and starved
him, but it was rarely that Neka had a cent to spend on himself, and
when he had it was usually money received from some kind-hearted
spectator at the circus.
“Lock Haven is only four miles from here,” said Neka to the
elocutionist. “Let us walk the distance. We can do it in a little
over an hour, and save forty cents each in stage fare.”
“I see you have the principle of saving installed in you,” replied
Longfellow Wadsworth. “A good trait, my son; wish I could say as much
for myself. I will hie myself to the bar for an eye-opener, and then
do as you suggest.”
The elocutionist went off, and when he came back, a quarter of an
hour later, his breath smelled strongly of liquor. However, he had
not been drinking to excess, and they started off at a rapid gait.
Neka, with a bundle done up in brown paper, and his partner with
a cheap and shiny hand satchel, purchased at the town second-hand
establishment.
The day was clear and cool, the road a good one, and both went on in
the best of spirits, the elocutionist even breaking out now and then
in a bit of song, while Neka amused himself by imitating several song
birds he heard.
“By the way,” remarked Longfellow Wadsworth, suddenly, “I have been
thinking of your personal history, Neka. Where do you suppose you
sprang from?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” replied the boy, and a momentary look
of sadness crossed his handsome face.
“But you must have come from somewhere,” persisted Longfellow
Wadsworth.
“That’s true, but who my father and mother were I never heard.”
“Did those people in Cleveland ever say anything about it?”
“Not a word. All I ever heard was from old Jerry Brown, who, as I
told you, said Daniel Bambo had no claim on me.”
“Then this Brown must have known something about you.”
“That is true. But his secret died with him.”
The elocutionist shook his head and ran his hand through his hair
thoughtfully.
“It’s a pity he didn’t tell you more,” he went on. “Maybe you belong
to some rich folks and were stolen from home.”
“And maybe not, as the song says,” laughed Neka. “No, I am not
building up any false hopes,” he added, soberly. “I reckon I was just
a poor nobody, and that’s all.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d make this Daniel Bambo knuckle down some
day and tell me all about myself.”
“I intend to do that--when I can. But at present I am satisfied to
keep out of his clutches.”
“Of course. One can do but little when one is--ahem--in pecuniary
straits, as it were.”
“That’s so,” concluded Neka, and there the subject was dropped.
But the boy did not forget. He kept on wondering about the past.
Would it ever be cleared up, or must his parentage be forever
shrouded in mystery?
How soon would he again meet the cruel circus proprietor, and would
Daniel Bambo compel him to rejoin the Greatest Aggregation of Marvels
on the Globe once more?
“Not if I can help it,” muttered Neka, to himself. “I’ll fight tooth
and nail first, and refuse to perform.”
All of which went to show that the spirit of personal liberty was
growing stronger in the boy every hour.
About half the distance to Lock Haven was covered, when they came to
a slight hollow. Here were a number of bushes and a fallen tree, and
the elocutionist proposed they take a brief rest.
“We are in no tremendous hurry,” he said. “And it won’t do to enter
Lock Haven looking fagged out.”
So they sat down. Behind them were a number of chestnut trees, the
nuts of which were just ripening.
“I’ll go up and shake some down,” said Neka, and up he went without
delay.
Chestnuts in hand, they remained in the hollow until the nuts were
eaten. Then Longfellow Wadsworth wandered a short distance away,
to look at the surroundings, so he said, but in reality to take a
draught from a black flask he had procured at the hotel bar-room.
Drink was his one great weakness, and he could not quit it entirely
so long as he possessed the means to satisfy the craving.
When the elocutionist was gone, Neka laid down on the log in the
sunshine. It was a pleasant thing to do, rest instead of working like
a slave around the dirty canvas of the circus. How glad he was that
he had left that life behind!
Neka had been resting less than three minutes when a form stole out
of the woods and came up behind him. The form was that of the man who
the day previous had attempted to steal Harry Lardale’s bicycle.
“That same kid!” muttered the would-be thief to himself. “Now I have
the chance to git square with him!”
He gazed around, and seeing a heavy stick close at hand, picked it
up. Then he came up noiselessly behind Neka.
A single blow, swiftly delivered, caused Neka to utter a sharp groan
and roll from the log to the earth. The man stood ready to deliver a
second blow, but it was unnecessary. Neka was unconscious, with the
blood streaming from a wound back of his left ear.
Fearful of being seen, the man gazed around again. No one was in
sight, but he heard footsteps among the fallen leaves in the woods.
He ran his hands into Neka’s pockets, and brought forth the boy’s
money.
“Humph! not much, but better’n nothin’,” he muttered.
And then, picking up the bundle in brown paper and the shiny satchel,
he hurried up the road and into the woods at a point several hundred
feet farther on.
“Neka, come here and see what I have found!” called out Longfellow
Wadsworth.
Receiving no reply, he called again.
“Must have gone to sleep,” he said to himself, and he came out on the
road, a richly embroidered skate bag in his hand.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed, in horror. “Has the lad committed suicide?”
He rushed forward and raised Neka up. Then he saw the cut back of the
ear. A bump was forming rapidly.
“Struck from behind, as sure as fate! Where is the dastardly villain
who committed this most atrocious deed? Poor boy!”
He ran to a nearby puddle of water, and soaked a rather dirty
handkerchief in it, then, returning, bound the cloth around Neka’s
head over the wound. By the time this was accomplished the youth
opened his eyes and gave a low gasp.
“Oh!” he groaned. “Did you hit me?”
“Not I,” responded Longfellow Wadsworth, reproachfully. “Neka, what
makes you fancy me a villain of such deep dye?”
“I didn’t know--I thought you might have thrown a stone up the
chestnut tree, and----”
“Ah, I see; you meant did I hit you by accident. No, I threw no stone,
my son.”
“Then somebody attacked me with a club, I reckon.” Neka sat up and
blinked his eyes. “What a rap he did give me! Can you see anything of
him?”
“I will make a search.”
The elocutionist was as good as his word; he ran both up and down the
road, and into the woods on both sides. But the hunt for the thief
was useless, and in a quarter of an hour he came back, exhausted and
angry.
“I see my bag is gone and your bundle----” he began.
“And every cent of my money,” added Neka, feeling in his pockets.
“Whoever did the deed knocked me out to rob me.”
“It must have been done quickly,” observed the elocutionist. “As
quickly as that bicycle thief took that young man’s wheel.”
“I believe it was the same chap!” burst out Neka. “He said he would
remember me. Like as not, he has been hanging around waiting for a
chance to get square.”
“That is not improbable, Neka. Well, the fates are against us, it
would seem. After our success of last night, here we are stranded
again, with less than two dollars and a half to our credit.”
And Longfellow Wadsworth counted out the sum total he possessed.
“You are better off than I, for I have nothing----”
“Say not so, my son. See, here is a paltry two dollars and
forty-three cents. One-half is yours. No, no, it is yours, for
Longfellow Wadsworth has said so. I’ll divide the sordid pile, one
dollar and twenty-one each and a cent extra. I’ll flip it up, heads
for you, tails for me. It comes down heads, and is yours. Now do we
once more stand on an equal plane.”
And the elocutionist, with a flourish, thrust the bill and the change
into Neka’s grasp.
“You are kind,” began the boy.
“Don’t mention it, my son. Are we not partners? United we stand,
divided we fall. Come, if you are able, let us be on our way. Who
knows but what we may yet conquer fate and incidentally bring that
rascal to justice?”