TIMELY ASSISTANCE
“We shall not be obliged to leave until afternoon so long as we are only
going to Buffalo,” announced Phil, as they rejoined their mother and
sisters.
“Yes, and Dr. Blair wishes us all to be his guests until we do start,”
supplemented Ted, joyously.
“Now please don’t refuse, Mrs. Porter,” exclaimed the kindly physician.
“I wish to keep your mind from the boys’ departure as much as possible.
Just remember that it will be only a few weeks before they send for you.
It will make it easier if you have something to distract your thoughts
during the day, you know.” Quickly the boys checked their luggage, and
soon they all were whirling uptown in Dr. Blair’s big touring car.
“By the way,” said he, as they entered the business district, “how are
you boys carrying your money?”
“Six one-hundred-dollar bills and the other hundred in tens and fives,”
promptly responded Ted.
“So you are the treasurer, eh?”
“Yes; we reasoned, as I am the smaller and younger, that people would
think that I would be less likely to have it and therefore it would be
safer.”
“Not a bad idea, but I have a better one. We will just go into this bank
here and get a letter of credit;” and quickly the physician brought his
machine to a stop at the curb.
“But what shall we do for travelling money?” protested Phil.
“You can get the letter of credit for six hundred and seventy-five
dollars. The remainder, with what you have left from your ticket money,
will be really more than you will need until you arrive at Duluth. When
you are there, you can go to a bank and draw enough money against your
letter to pay your fare to Chikau.”
“You really think we had better?” asked Ted, ruefully, for he felt a
pride in carrying the money which was to start them on the road to
fortune.
“I certainly do,” declared Dr. Blair; then added, with a smile, “You can
carry the letter of credit, which is practically the same as the money,
only in a much safer form. You see, if you should lose or be robbed of
the money, it would be gone for good, and you know how serious such a
loss would be. On the other hand, if you should lose or be robbed of the
letter, you would simply notify the bank to that effect and the money
would still be safe.”
“But how could we get it?” inquired Phil.
“The bank here in Boston would issue a new letter, at the same time
sending a warning throughout the country not to honour the one you had
lost.”
Quickly the two brothers exchanged glances, and, as they were of
agreement, Ted said:
“All right, Dr. Blair. We’ll get a letter of credit if you will tell us
how to do it.”
“It is really very simple. You give your money to the clerk who issues
the letters, and he returns to you a letter stating that his bank holds
a certain amount of money, in your case it will be six hundred and
seventy-five dollars, to your credit against which you are authorized to
draw. You then sign the letter and also the signature book, at the bank,
for proper identification. When you wish any money, you go to a
reputable bank or trust company, show your letter, and state the amount
you desire, signing your application, which practically amounts to a
draft. This will be compared with your signature on the letter, and as
it will correspond, the money will be paid you, while the clerk will
deduct the amount on the letter, with the date and the name of his
institution, the remainder being the amount you are still entitled to
draw. When your last dollar is drawn, the institution paying it will
keep the letter and then notify the bank in Boston.”
The purchase of the letter was soon accomplished, Dr. Blair insisting
upon paying the small fee charged, on the ground that he had suggested
the idea, and the rest of the day until train time passed all too
quickly for those who were to be left at home, though Mrs. Porter and
the girls were happy in the few additional hours the change in plans had
enabled them to enjoy with Phil and Ted.
When the train stopped at the Buffalo station early the next morning,
the two boys quickly alighted. To their dismay, there were only three
men on the platform who were not busy about the cars.
“Which way do you suppose we go?” asked Ted.
“We’ll find out from some of those men,” replied his brother, walking
toward the group of three men, who had been watching the boys closely
ever since they stepped upon the platform, and talking earnestly among
themselves, in evident disagreement.
“Will you kindly tell us how we get to the Waterfront Dock?” asked Phil,
as they came up to them.
Instantly the men exchanged significant glances, while one of them
exclaimed gruffly:
“What do you want to go there for?”
“We are going aboard the ore boat Admiral,” replied Ted.
“Scabs, eh?” snarled one of the men, looking at his companions with an
“I told you so” air.
“We are not!” declared Phil, emphatically. “We are going to make the
trip to Duluth as the guests of Mr. Bronson, of Boston.”
“That’s a pretty good story, but it won’t—” began one of the men, only
to be interrupted by another, as, with an expressive wink at his
fellows, he said:
“Sure, we’ll show you how to get there. In fact, we’ll take you there,
as we are going that way ourselves. Give us some of your bundles. We’ll
help carry them.” And he made a grab for Ted’s suitcase.
Acting upon this cue, the other men snatched at the luggage Phil had.
Surprised at the suddenness of the move, the boys had been unable to
keep hold of several articles, but as they recovered their wits, they
clung to those they still had.
“Get a move on; we can’t stay here all day,” growled one of the men,
laying a hand on Ted’s shoulder and shoving him toward a flight of steps
that led to the street below.
“I—I think we’ll have breakfast first,” stammered Phil, alarmed at the
words and actions of the men. “So just give us back our things, please.”
“We’ll give them to you when we get good and ready, see? Now come along
or we’ll make you,” snapped the largest of the trio, menacingly.
The boys did not intend to be forced into compliance, however, and
quickly placing themselves back to back, made it evident they intended
to keep the luggage they still retained.
“What’s the use of monkeying with these kids? Why not give it to ’em
now?” demanded one of the men.
Ere his companions could reply or even act, however, there came the
sound of several people running toward them.
“The cops! Give it to ’em and then beat it!” growled the ringleader.
Instantly his companions made vicious lunges at the boys, but they,
frightened yet alert, dodged cleverly, and their antagonists, growling,
dashed for the stairway.
“Drop them bundles!” shouted a voice.
But the three men only increased their speed.
“Drop ’em, or we’ll shoot!” snapped the voice again, while another
added:
“I know ivery mother’s son of yez an’ if yez iver show yer faces around
here ag’in, I’ll run yez in!”
These threats produced the desired effect upon the fugitives, and,
pausing in their descent of the steps, they hurled back the packages,
then resumed their flight.
So anxious about recovering their luggage had the boys been that not
until they saw the packages lying tom and untied on the platform did
they look at the men whose arrival had been so opportune, and their
surprise was no less when they beheld three stalwart policemen, one with
a revolver in his hand.
“’T is a close shave yez had,” smiled one of them, while another
growled:
“It’s a wonder the ship-owners wouldn’t have men here to meet their
scabs.”
The scorn with which the word was uttered for the second time that
morning stung the boys.
“We’re not scabs!” returned Phil, emphatically.
“Then what were them strikers mixing it up with yez for?” demanded the
first officer.
“Were they strikers?” inquired Ted, incredulously.
“They sure were—did yez think they was a complimintery reciption
committee?” grinned another.
“But what are they doing at the station here? I thought the strike was
at the docks,” pursued the boy.
“Well, you seen it ain’t,” returned the policeman; then added: “The
strikers send some of their men to meet every train to learn whether any
strike-breakers have been imported or not. If they find any, they try to
persuade them not to go on board any of the boats, and if words don’t do
it, they use other means to prevent them.”
“Unless we arrive on the scene in time,” supplemented a man on whose
uniform were the stripes of a sergeant; then asked: “If you are not
scabs, what are you?”
“We are going to make the trip from Buffalo to Duluth on the ore boat
Admiral as guests of Mr. Bronson, one of the owners in Boston,” replied
Phil.
“We are on our way to take up a homestead out in Washington State,”
chimed in Ted, noting that the officers did not seem very much impressed
by his brother’s statement. “As those men were the only ones in sight,
except some railroad men, when we stepped onto the platform, we asked
them the way to the Waterfront Dock.”
“The story sounds straight, Jerry,” opined one of the other officers.
“What’ll we do, escort ’em down to the dock? They’d never get there
alone.”
The sergeant’s reply was interrupted by the hurried arrival of a
pleasant-looking, middle-aged man.
“Are you boys Phil and Ted Porter?” he asked.
“We are,” chorused the lads.
“You—er—haven’t had any trouble, I hope?” and he looked anxiously from
the boys to the policemen.
“No real trouble, though I’m afraid we should have if it had not been
for these officers,” returned Phil.
“Thank goodness! My automobile broke down on my way here; strikers been
tampering with it, I suppose, and I was delayed in finding a taxicab.
We’ll go to my house for breakfast and then to the boat.”
The boys, however, made no move, looking quizzically from the stranger
to the officers, evidently determined not to walk into a second trap.
“You needn’t be afraid of Mr. Atwood; he’s one of the Admiral’s owners,”
smiled the sergeant.
“By Jove! I was so alarmed seeing you boys with these officers that I
have forgotten to introduce myself. I am Arthur Atwood, one of Bronson’s
partners. I received a wire from him, and also one from Tom Blair last
night, telling me you were coming and to meet you—which I should have
done if my machine had not broken down.”
“We are sorry to have put you to such inconvenience, Mr. Atwood,” said
Phil.
“Don’t mention it. I’d do anything for Bronson and Blair. Sergeant, just
bring those bundles down to my taxi, if you don’t mind.”
Willingly the officers obeyed, and soon the boys, their host, and their
belongings were safely in the taxicab.
“Like to have one of us ride on the box, Mr. Atwood?” asked the
sergeant, as the chauffeur cranked up.
“No, I thank you. I have one of my own men driving;” and the machine
dashed away, defying all speed laws.
The policemen, however, went along the sidewalk until their appearance
dispersed a crowd that had gathered watching the ship-owner and the boys
depart, their presence insuring a safe passage to the taxicab.