IN WHICH ERNEST OUTFLANKS TOM THORNTON.
MY first impulse, standing on the roof of the store, as the steamer bore
Kate Loraine away from me, was to denounce the timidity of girls in
general, and of the young lady in my charge in particular. I am sorry to
say that, as a rule, I did not think much of girls, though I had a very
high opinion of and regard for Kate; but I am happy to say that a few
years cured the general dislike, and increased the particular
preference.
I was about to mutter something smart and saucy about Kate; but a better
and more charitable thought checked the speech, and I felt that I had
asked too much of her when I required her to jump four feet, over a
chasm of such depth as that which gaped between the steamer and the
building. I suppose I forgot, in my enthusiasm for her safety, that
girls are not used to climbing trees, and promenading on the roofs of
barns. With my second thought I excused her, and blamed myself for
expecting her to take such a leap.
There I was on the roof of a storehouse in Poughkeepsie, while the
steamer was hurrying down the river at the rate of fourteen miles an
hour. If I had separated myself from my fair charge, I had also
separated Tom Thornton from her. The enemy was on my track, not hers,
thus confirming what I had told Kate--that he was after me rather than
her. Though I was not afraid of him, I wanted to keep out of his way,
and give him the slip if I could.
There was a scuttle in the roof, upon which I stood. I raised it a
little, to obtain a view of the interior; but at that moment I heard the
voice of Tom inquiring the way to the roof. While I had been staring at
the retreating steamer, he had entered the building in search of me. I
closed the scuttle, and retired from its vicinity to the end of the
storehouse. Adjoining it there was a one-story building. Throwing the
carpet-bag down, I "hung off," and, repeating the operation, reached
the ground before Tom had made his way to the roof. Fortunately my path
led me down in the rear of the building, and out of the way of the
people, who had been observing me from the ground. Behind this building
I conducted my retreat in as good order as possible, but with all
practicable speed.
The road which led down to the steamboat pier was flanked on one side by
a row of one-story buildings, used as stores. I had jumped on one of
these shops, and thence to a narrow space on the verge of the wharf.
Before any one could go round the storehouse, I had reached the street.
I did not dare to run, lest some one should suspect me of being a
fugitive. The street was crowded with people, who had just landed from
the steamer, and I walked as fast as I could till I heard the screaming
whistle of a locomotive. In a few moments more I discovered the railroad
station, and being now some distance from the steamboat wharf, I
ventured to run. I reached the station just as the train was starting.
"Where does this train go?" I asked of a brakeman on a car.
"Down river. Be in a hurry if you are going," replied the man.
I was going, and I was in a hurry. I entered the car and dropped into a
seat, exhausted by the hard run I had had. I caught my breath, and wiped
the perspiration from my brow, feeling that good fortune had favored me
in the most singular manner. I had certainly given Tom Thornton the
slip, and in spite of my habitual modesty, I voted unanimously that I
was smart. But it was all luck, in this instance, which favored me; for
I heard some one say that the train was thirty minutes late that day. It
was due in Poughkeepsie at ten minutes before one, and left half an hour
behind its time. If it had been in season, of course I should have lost
it. I was very thankful for the accident which, the conductor said, had
delayed the train.
From the car window I had frequent views of the river; and in a short
time I saw the steamer in which I had come down, ploughing her way down
the stream to her destination. I could almost fancy I saw Kate on the
hurricane deck. The poor girl had trouble enough now, and I had no doubt
she was bitterly lamenting the misfortune which had separated us. On
whirled the train, and I soon lost sight of the boat; but I hoped to be
able to get on board of her at her next stopping-place, if I could find
where that was. I inquired of a gentleman who sat in front of me at what
places the steamers stopped. He informed me that some of them stopped at
all the towns, but the larger of them at only the principal ones. I
mentioned the steamer on which I had been a passenger, and he assured me
she would make a landing at Peekskill.
In about an hour the train arrived at this place, and I hastened to the
river; but I was obliged to wait over an hour before the steamer
appeared. She came up to the pier, and I went on board. I was
immediately recognized by a dozen persons who had seen me on the roof of
the storehouse. They wanted to ask me some questions; but I avoided
them, and rushed up to the saloon. I inquired of the stewardess for
Kate, and was told that she was in her state-room. I gave the four
raps, and she opened the door.
"Why, Ernest Thornton!" exclaimed she. "Where did you come from?"
"From up the river," I replied.
The inquisitive passengers had followed me to the state-room, and I was
obliged to go in and shut the door in order to avoid them. I saw by the
looks of Kate's eyes that she had been crying. Our sudden and unexpected
separation had been even a greater trial to her than I had supposed, and
her smile was now so full of joy that I never felt happier before in my
life.
"I was sure I had lost you, Ernest Thornton. Why, how can it be that you
are here, when you were left on the wharf more than two hours ago?" said
she, bewildered by my presence, for our reunion was quite as unexpected
as the separation had been.
"It is very easily explained, Kate," I replied, with abundant
good-nature. "I hope you have not been crying."
"But I have. I never felt so bad before in my life. I believed I had
lost the last friend I had in the world, for I was afraid that horrible
Tom Thornton would kill you, or do something almost as bad. But you
don't explain how you happen to be here. Did you fly?"
"No; I came in the train, which happened to be half an hour late for my
especial accommodation;" and I related my story in full.
"I am sorry I didn't jump when you told me to do so," said she, when I
had finished. "I ought to have jumped, even if I had been sure of
falling into the river."
"I ought not to have asked you to take such a leap, Kate; and it is very
fortunate that you had not the courage to do it, for Tom Thornton would
have been with us. It couldn't have happened any better even if we had
planned it ourselves. Who was the man that helped you down from the
paddle-box? What did the people say to you? Did you tell them anything?"
"I did tell them, Ernest Thornton. I hope I haven't done anything
wrong," she replied, a sudden shade of anxiety passing over her
features.
"It will do no harm."
"The man that helped me down was the steward, they said. Indeed, he was
very kind to me, and so were all the people. Half a dozen of them
promised to take care of me when I reached New York, and help me find my
uncle. They wanted to know who you were, and why the gentleman wanted to
catch you."
"What did you tell them?" I asked, rather fearful that she had told more
than I cared to have the public know about my affairs.
"I told them the truth; that I had been ill-used by a person, and that
you were taking me to my uncle in New York."
"Did you tell them who Tom Thornton was?"
"I only said he had been sent after me. The steward thought he must have
supposed I was on the building when he jumped ashore. I didn't tell them
anything about your troubles. I didn't know that you would wish me to do
so."
"I am glad you did not. But, Kate, you needn't stay in here any longer.
We have got rid of Tom Thornton, and you may go out and look at the
scenery, if you wish. Have you been to dinner?"
"Yes, the steward gave me some dinner. He was very good to me, and I
want to thank him ever so much for his kindness."
When we left the state-room, we were surrounded by the curious
passengers, and I was obliged to tell them the adventures I had gone
through with. I left Kate with a lady and gentleman who manifested an
interest in her, and went down to my dinner, and when I paid for it I
paid for Kate's also. When I went on deck, I found that I was a lion,
and the passengers insisted upon hearing me roar. They asked questions
with Yankee pertinacity, and I finally told a select party of them that
I had taken Kate out of her step-mother's house by the way of the attic
window, but I was careful not to call any names, for if Mrs. Loraine
behaved herself, I did not care to expose her to the public.
"You are a smart young man," said an elderly gentleman, heartily. "Does
your father live in this State?"
"I have no father, sir," I replied; and I had dodged a dozen similar
questions before.
"No father. I suppose you live with your mother," he added, with the
evident intention of drawing me out.
"No, sir. My mother is in England, where I hope soon to join her."
"Ah, in England!" he added, with increasing interest. "In what part does
she reside?"
"I do not yet know."
Perhaps he thought it was very odd I should not know.
"I am going to England by the steamer next Wednesday," continued the
gentleman. "If I can serve you there, it would give me great pleasure to
do so."
"Thank you, sir;" and I began to feel a deep interest in the subject
myself.
"You don't know in what part of England your mother resides, then?"
"I do not, but it is somewhere near London."
It was my turn to ask questions now; and I was glad to do so, in order
to save myself from being "pumped." I made a great many inquiries about
the steamer, the expense, bills of exchange, and other matters, and the
gentleman gave me much valuable information. He left the boat at
Yonkers, but told me he should be in New York on Monday. He gave me his
address when in the city, and I promised to call upon him if I could.