THE WAY OF THE TRANSGRESSOR
Three more miserable lads could not be imagined than our young friends
when the train stopped at the station in New Brunswick, and they knew
that the total amount of their joint funds was less than a dollar.
No one spoke, but they sat pale, woebegone and staring helplessly at
each other, undecided what to do.
The conductor, who was an alert official, said to Billy:
“This is where you get off; come, step lively.”
The lad rose to his feet without a word, and started down the aisle
for the door. His companions glanced at him, and, feeling that it
would not do for them to separate, also rose by common impulse and
followed him out on the platform, where they stood silent and wretched
until the train left.
Jimmy McGovern was the first to speak, and it was with the deepest
sigh he ever drew:
“Well, boys, what’s to be done?”
“Let’s go back home,” said Billy, “and get the jewelry under the
stump, sell that and start over again; I guess we’ll know enough to
take care of our money next time.”
“But we haven’t enough to pay our fare,” remarked Tommy.
“We can walk to Jersey City; we’ve got a little money, and we’ll sell
a revolver there: that will take one of us to Ashton, and he can get
the jewelry.”
It was a most repellent course, and they spent a half-hour in
discussing it; but it really seemed that nothing else was possible,
and the proceeding was agreed upon.
Few words were spoken as they walked down the slope from the station,
made their way to the bridge a short distance below the trestle-work,
and walked across to the other side. Inquiry showed them that they had
almost thirty miles to walk to Jersey City, and since the forenoon was
well advanced, they could not expect to reach their destination before
the morrow.
But it was the spring of the year, the weather was mild, and they
concluded they could beg something to eat. If the farmers refused them
permission to sleep in their houses, they could take refuge in some
barn, after the manner of ordinary tramps.
But an unexpected series of adventures was before them.
After crossing the Raritan and walking a short distance, they turned
into a stretch of woods, where they sat down to discuss further what
ought to be done. With the elastic spirits of childhood, all had
rallied somewhat from the extreme depression following the discovery
of the loss of their funds. The leader was especially hopeful.
“I don’t know but what it is best this happened,” said he, “for we
hadn’t enough money to see us through, and one of us might have to
come back after we got to Chicago, and that would have been bad.”
“But we expected to get money there,” said Jimmy.
“I don’t believe it would be as easy as we thought; now I will leave
you two in New York, after we reach there, go back to Ashton, get the
jewelry and bring it with me. We can sell it for two or three thousand
dollars, and we’ll be fixed.”
The others caught the infection of hope and rose to their feet, eager
to reach the metropolis as soon as possible.
They were about to resume their journey, when they heard voices near
them. Looking around, two frowzy men were observed walking slowly
toward them. One was munching a sandwich, while the other had a short
black pipe between his teeth.
The reader may not know that the woods, on the northern bank of the
Raritan, is the spot where the numerous tramps of New Jersey have
their general rendezvous. Several hundred of these nuisances are
sometimes gathered there, and they are held in great dread by the
neighbors, for they are lazy, thievish, and lawless, and have
perpetrated so many outrages that more than one descent has been made
upon their camp by the authorities, while the law-abiding citizens
have been on the point, at times, of taking severe measure against
them.
Unsuspicious of the fact, the boys had approached close to the camp of
the tramps.
The two tousled specimens caught sight of the boys at the same moment
that the latter discovered them. The one munching a sandwich stopped,
stared a second, and then, speaking as well as he could, with his
mouth full of food, exclaimed:
“Well, I’ll be shot if this doesn’t beat the bugs!”
“Why, Snakeroot Sam!” called the delighted Tommy Wagstaff, “if this
isn’t the luckiest thing that could happen!”
“Where did you come from?” asked that worthy, swallowing what was in
his mouth, and indulging in a grin which disclosed a double row of
large black teeth. His companion pulled his pipe and looked on in
silence.
“Why, didn’t I tell you we was going to start for the West about this
time?” asked the happy leader of the little party.
“So you did; I jotted it down in my notebook, but seein’ as how you
didn’t give me the percise date, I couldn’t be on hand to wish you
good-bye; but what are you doin’ _here_?”
“We’ve had bad luck,” was the disconsolate reply; “we’ve been robbed
of all our money.”
“And are goin’ to hoof it back?”
“That’s what we’ll have to do, but we mean to take a new start.”
“How did this unfortinit misfortune come to overtake ye?”
Tommy gave the history of their mishap, the two tramps listening with
much interest.
“This is my friend, Ragged Jim,” said Sam, when the narrative was
finished, “and he’s true blue.”
Ragged Jim nodded his head and grunted, without taking the black clay
pipe from between his teeth, while Snakeroot Sam munched his sandwich
at intervals.
“So you’ve no money with you?”
“Not a dollar,” replied Tommy.
“How ’bout your shootin’ irons?”
“They’re all right; we’ve got a good revolver.”
“Let me look at ’em; I’d like to be sure that they’re the right kind
to plug redskins with.”
The boys promptly produced their weapons, and passed them over to Sam,
who examined each in turn, and then handed a couple to his companion.
“I obsarve a watch-chain onto ye,” continued Sam; “I hope you aint so
dishonorable es to carry a chain without a watch at t’other end to
sorter balance it.”
“I’ve got my father’s time-piece with me,” replied Tommy, producing
the fine chronometer, and passing it to the tramp, who extended his
hand for it.
Sam turned it over in his hand with the same attentive interest he had
shown in the case of the revolvers. The single weapon he had shoved in
his hip-pocket. He held the timepiece to his ear, listened to its
ticking, surveyed the face, and then deliberately slipped it into his
trousers pocket, catching the chain in the hole through which he had
previously run a ten-penny nail to give his garments the right fit.
“How does that look on me?” he asked, with a grin, of his friend.
“It fits you bootiful,” replied Ragged Jim, “which the same is the
case with these weapons and myself.”
“Good-day, sonnies,” said Snakeroot Sam, doffing his dilapidated hat
with mock courtesy.
“But,” said the dismayed Tommy, “that’s my watch.”
“Why, sonny, you shouldn’t tell a story; that’s wicked.”
“But it _is_ mine; I want it.”
“Didn’t you just tell me it was your father’s?”
“Yes—but I want it.”
“Give my lovin’ respects to your governor, and tell him when I come
his way I’ll stop and pass it over to him.”
With tears in his eyes, Tommy rushed forward as the tramp began moving
off, and caught his arm.
“Sam, you must let me have that!”
“What! are you goin’ to commit highway robbery?” he demanded, as if
frightened: “do you want it bad?”
“Of course I do, and I mean to get it.”
“All right.”
Snakeroot Sam turned about, seized the boy by the nape of his coat,
and delivered a kick which sent sent him several paces and caused him
to fall on his face. Then he wheeled as if to serve Jimmy and Billy in
the same manner, but they eluded him by running out of the woods to
the highway. Ragged Jim stood laughing at the scene, and Sam made
again for Tommy; but he had leaped to his feet and hurried after his
companions.
“By-by,” called Sam; “when you get that money call on me again and
I’ll take charge of it.”
When the three came together in the road, each was crying. Tommy
suffered from the pain of his ill-usage, while all were in despair.
Neither could say a word to comfort the others, and they tramped
wearily along, beginning to feel for the first time that their good
fortune had deserted them at last.
Not one would confess it, but he would have given anything at command
could he have been safely at home at that moment, with the deeds of
the past few days wiped out and undone forever.
The sky, which had been sunshiny in the morning, was now overcast, and
they had not gone far when drops of rain began falling.
“We’re going to get wet,” ventured Billy Waylett.
“I don’t care,” replied Tommy, “I can’t feel any worse than I do now.”
A few minutes later a drizzling rain began falling, but, although they
passed a house near the road, they did not stop, and kept on until
their clothing was saturated. They were cold, chilly, and hungry, for
noon had gone and all ate lightly in the morning.
“I’m tired out,” said Billy, at last; “let’s stop yonder and warm
ourselves; maybe the folks will give us something to eat.”
The dwelling stood a little way from the road, with which it
communicated by means of a lane lined on both sides with tall trees.
No one was visible around it, but they turned through the broad gate
and hurried through the rain, which was still falling, with its cold,
dismal patter, every drop of which seemed to force its way through the
clothing to their bodies.
About half the distance was passed when Tommy, who was slightly in
advance of his companions, wheeled about and dashed for the highway
again.
“There’s a dog coming!” was his exclamation.
The others heard the threatening growl, and descried an immense canine
coming down the lane like a runaway steam engine.
Nothing but a hurried flight was left to them, and they ran with the
desperation of despair. Billy, being the younger and shorter, was
unable to keep up with the others. His dumpy legs worked fast, but he
fell behind, and his terrified yells a moment later announced that the
dog had overtaken him and was attending to business.
His horrified companions stopped to give what help they could, but the
dog, having extracted a goodly piece from Billy’s garments, was
satisfied to turn about and trot back to the house to receive the
commendation of his master, who was standing on the porch and viewing
the proceedings with much complacency.
An examination of Billy, who was still crying, showed that the skin
had only been scratched, though his trousers had suffered frightfully.
All had received such a scare that they determined to apply to no more
houses for relief, even if the rain descended in torrents and they
were starving.
And so they tramped wearily onward through the mud and wet, hungry and
utterly miserable. It seemed to them that their homes were a thousand
miles distant and they would never see them again.
They could not help picturing their warm, comfortable firesides, where
their kind parents denied them nothing, and where they had spent so
many happy days, with no thought of what they owed those loving ones
whom they were treating with such ingratitude.
Tears were in the eyes of all three, and, though they grew so weary
that they could hardly drag one foot after the other, they plodded
along until the gathering darkness told them night was closing in.
They had met wagons, horsemen, and several persons on foot. From some
of the last they made inquiries and learned that, although they had
passed through several towns, they were yet south of Rahway. Their
hunger became so gnawing that Tommy spent all their money in buying a
lot of cakes, which they devoured with the avidity of savages, and
felt hungry when none was left to eat.
To the inquiries made of them they returned evasive answers, and when
they reached any one of the numerous towns and villages between New
Brunswick and the Hudson, they hurried through them and into the open
country, where the people viewed them with less curiosity.
When the darkness became so deep that they could not very well see
their way, it was necessary to decide where and how they were to spend
the night. The drizzling rain was still falling; they were chilled to
the bone, and so tired that they could hardly walk.
In the gathering gloom, they observed a barn near the highway, in
which they concluded to take refuge, for it was impossible to walk
farther, and no better shelter was likely to present itself.
But for the cruel reception received at the first house earlier in the
afternoon, they would have asked for charity of some of the neighbors,
and doubtless would have received kind treatment, for it would be
unjust to describe all the people of that section as unfeeling and
heartless.
Had they made their predicament known in any one of the towns, they
would have been taken care of until their families could be
communicated with; but they were too frightened to think of anything
of that nature.
Halting a short way from the barn, Tommy cautiously advanced to make a
reconnoissance. He walked timidly around it, but discovered nothing of
any person, nor did he hear the growl of a watch-dog. The
dwelling-house stood so far off that it was distinguished only by the
lights twinkling from within.
When Tommy came to try the main door, however, it was locked, and he
feared they were barred out. He persevered, and with a thrill of hope
found the stable-door unfastened—a piece of carelessness on the part
of the owner, unless he meant to return shortly.
The lad whistled to his companions waiting in the road, and they
hurried to his side. Telling them the cheering news, he let them pass
in ahead of him, after which he carefully closed the door as it was
before.
Then followed several minutes of groping in the dark, during which
Jimmy narrowly missed receiving a dangerous kick from one of the
horses, and at last the hay-mow was located. With considerable labor
they crawled to the top, covered their shivering bodies as best they
could, and, nestling close together, to secure what warmth they could,
sank almost immediately into deep slumber.
They were so utterly worn out that neither opened his eyes until the
sun was above the horizon. The storm had cleared away, the air was
cool, and though their bodies were stiffened and half-famished, they
were in better spirits than when they clambered into the refuge.
When all had fully awakened and rubbed their eyes, they sat for a
moment or two on the hay, considering what could be done.
“I’m so hungry,” said Billy Waylett, “that I feel as though I could
eat this hay.”
“And I’ll chew some of the meal if we can’t do any better,” added Jim.
“Both of you together aint half as hungry as _I_ am,” said Tommy,
“and I’m going to the house to ask for something to eat.”
“Maybe they’ve got a dog,” suggested Billy, with a shudder.
“I don’t care if they have; I’ll kill and eat _him_.”
From this it will be seen that the young Indian slayers were in a
sorry plight indeed.
“You fellers stay here,” said Tommy, “while I fix things, and then
I’ll send for you; I’m bound to do something or die, for I can’t stand
this any longer—”
Just then the barn door opened, and several persons entered.
“I think we’ll find them in here,” remarked one; “they couldn’t have
traveled much farther.”
“But I don’t see how the young rascals could get in my barn.”
“We’ll take a look through that haymow.”
And the next minute the head and shoulders of a burly man rose to
view, and the runaways were discovered.