THE MISSING BAGGAGE CHECK.
All unconscious of the plot being hatched out against him, Robert
walked on along the docks.
At one point he saw a large lake steamer at anchor, and thought to walk
out to the craft to inspect her.
The way took him past a large quantity of merchandise piled high on the
rear end of the dock.
He was just passing around the merchandise when he found himself
suddenly seized from behind.
He tried to cry out, but before he could do so a dirty hand was clapped
over his mouth.
He struggled to free himself, but soon found that two men were holding
him. At last he managed to turn partly around and saw that the men were
the two roughs who had wanted him to treat.
"Let me go!" he managed to say at last.
"Hold him, Mike," cried Pat, and slipped his hand into Robert's
trousers' pocket.
Robert struggled, but before he could break away Pat had secured not
only the baggage check, but also some loose change amounting to about a
dollar.
"Now his udder pockets, Pat," panted Mike heavily. "Hurry up, I can't
hold him much longer."
"You scoundrels!" exclaimed our hero, and breaking away at last, he
dealt Mike a staggering blow in the chest.
But as the rough tumbled he caught the boy by the arm, and both fell,
Robert on top.
"Help me, Pat!" roared Mike, seeing he was getting the worst of the
encounter.
Pat started to jump in, but then thought better of it. As Robert leaped
up with fire in his clear eyes, the man began to run.
"Stop, you thief!" yelled the boy, and made after him. Left to himself,
Mike also got up and limped away, his nose bleeding, and suffering from
a bruised rib, where Robert had stepped upon him.
"Dat boy is a reg'lar lion," he murmured. "We was fools ter tackle him."
Pat ran as he had never ran before, and coming to an alleyway, darted
to the lower end and hid behind some empty barrels.
Robert ran past and then Pat came out again.
"Only a dollar," he said to himself, as he sized up his dishonest haul.
"Well, wid that five I'm ter git fer de check it will be six. Dat aint
bad."
Pat was no particular friend to Mike, and speedily resolved to keep the
haul for himself.
"I'll tell Mike I didn't git no check and dat dere was only twenty
cents in de pocket," he reasoned. He was willing to allow Mike ten
cents for his share in the work, and no more.
The roughs had agreed to meet Hammerditch on a certain corner, and to
this spot Pat made his way with all possible speed.
"Come in out of sight!" said the rough, and motioned the way to a
nearby saloon. He was afraid Mike would come up before the transfer of
the check could be made.
They went inside and ordered some drinks, and then Pat turned the
baggage check over to the Englishman, and received the five dollars
reward.
"I'll bet yer goin' ter make a fortune out of dat check," observed Pat.
"Not at all," answered Hammerditch. "The check is of little value
really. But I was bound to have it."
Afraid that Robert would hurry to the railroad station as soon as the
loss of the check was discovered, the Englishman did not remain in the
drinking place long. At a hotel several squares away he met Le Fevre.
"You haf eem?" queried the French Canadian anxiously.
"I have, Jean. Come."
"Ve vill haf von drink first," was the reply, and they went to the
barroom. Here they met several lumbermen they knew, and in consequence
it was some time before they could get away from the hotel.
One of the lumbermen knew about the Amberton land claim, and thought
that it would be a hard matter to dispossess the present incumbent.
"Ve vill do eet," grinned Le Fevre. "Ve hold ze vinning cards--not so,
Hammerditch?"
"That is so," answered Hammerditch.
The lumbermen wanted to know the particulars, but the others were not
willing to disclose all of their secrets.
In the meantime Robert was hunting around for the rough called Pat.
Mike he did not care so much about, since it had been Pat who had made
off with his belongings.
"He didn't get much money," he mused. "But he got that baggage check,
and I don't want to lose that."
At first he thought to inform the police of what had occurred.
He was making for a policeman when he saw Pat coming out of the saloon.
The rough had had half a dozen glasses of liquor, and he was in
consequence quite hazy in his mind.
"You rascal!" cried our hero, catching him by the shoulder. "Give me
back what you stole from me."
"That's all right, boss--didn't steal nothin'," mumbled Pat.
"I say you did--a baggage check and about a dollar in change. Give them
up or I'll have you arrested."
"Aint got no check," hiccoughed Pat. "An' the money is spent."
"Then you come with me."
At this the tough grew alarmed, and at last he broke down and confessed
that he had got the check for another party who had given him five
dollars for it. He had part of the five dollars left, and out of this
he gave Robert a sum equal to that which had been stolen.
"Who took that check?" demanded our hero, a sudden suspicion crossing
his mind.
As well as he was able Pat described Hammerditch.
"He's goin' ter git sumthin' on de check," he added.
"Not if I can prevent it," answered Robert. "He wants to steal my
valise. You come with me."
"I aint goin' ter!" roared Pat, and breaking away, he started on a
clumsy run. Robert could readily have caught him, but concluded not to
waste the time.
"Hammerditch will be hot-footed after my bag," he thought. "He expects
to get that map."
He looked around, and espying a hack standing near, leaped in, and
ordered the driver to get him to the depot with all possible speed.
Pat ran for fully six blocks, and then sank down on a pile of lumber,
panting for breath.
"I'm in fer it," he groaned, expecting that Robert was at his heels.
But the boy was nowhere to be seen, and at once his courage arose, and
he concluded that Robert had given up the chase. He counted his money
and found that he had exactly a dollar and ten cents left. The balance
of the cash had been paid over to the saloon keeper and to Robert.
"I guess I'll git anudder drink," he murmured, and rolled over to
the nearest dive. Here in less than half an hour every cent that had
been left was spent, and then Pat started for home. He could not walk
straight, and frequently bumped up against those he passed. He had
passed less than three blocks when he espied Mike coming toward him.
"Bedad, I can't let him see me!" he reasoned, and tried to steer out
of sight. But Mike was too quick for him, and the pair confronted each
other at the entrance to a lumber yard.
"Well, how much did yer git?" was Mike's first question.
"Didn't git nuthin," answered Pat boldly.
"Yer got a whole handful of money," retorted Mike. "I want half, do yer
mind dat?"
"I ain't got nuthin," was all Pat could answer.
A wordy quarrel followed, and then the two roughs came to blows. They
were encouraged to fight by the by-standers, who loved nothing better
than to witness a "scrap," and it was not until a policeman came up
that the encounter came to an end. Each contestant had a bloody nose,
and their eyes were so swollen they could scarcely see out of them.
"You're both good for sixty days in jail," said the officer of the
law, and marched them to headquarters. Instead of sixty, each got
ninety days, and I think my readers will agree with me that they richly
deserved their sentences.