AN ADVENTURE
Three months passed without any incident worth recording. Professor
Robinson's success was variable, but upon the whole he had reason to
feel encouraged. He was an excellent salesman, and his balm, though it
could not perform all the wonderful cures claimed for it, really had
merit, and this helped materially.
So far as Walter was concerned, he found the professor an indulgent and
honorable employer, whose word was as good as his bond. Every Saturday
night there was a statement of sales for the week, and Walter was paid
his commission of ten per cent. Though he was obliged to make some
disbursements, the largest being for a suit of clothes, he found
himself, at the end of fourteen weeks, possessed of a balance of a
hundred dollars. This was a source of great satisfaction to Walter, who
had known in Chicago how inconvenient it was to be without money.
One day the professor found himself in a Minnesota village. He had
secured a vacant lot on the principal street for the display of his
merchandise. He met with rather unusual success, a local celebration
having drawn a considerable crowd to the town of Warwick. Walter, after
playing on the violin, passed among the crowd with a supply of bottles
of balm, while the professor was expatiating in an eloquent manner upon
its merits. Among the crowd his attention was drawn to a roughly dressed
man, in hunting costume, wearing a sombrero with a broad brim. His face
was dark and his expression sinister. His eyes were very black and keen.
He looked like a Spaniard, and the thought came to Waiter that he would
make an ideal highway-man. He was leaning carelessly against the fence
that separated the lot from the street. As Walter approached he moved
slightly and accosted him.
“Say, young feller, is it all true that he”--with a jerk of his hand
toward the professor--“says about this balm?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Walter, in a business-like tone. “It is a very
valuable remedy in all cases of bruise, sprain, rheumatism, headache,
and other kindred troubles. Can I sell you a bottle?”
“Well, I don't mind,” and the stranger drew out a silver quarter and
tendered it in payment.
“Do you sell much of this stuff?” he asked carelessly.
“Yes, we have large sales.”
“You are making money fast, I reckon?”
“We are doing very well,” answered Walter, cautiously.
“It's an easy life to lead.”
“Not so very easy. We are on the road early and late.”
“Do you stop here overnight?”
“No; I think we will push on to Fremont.”
“You'll get there late.”
“Perhaps so. We shall not commence our sales till to-morrow.
“Why is he so inquisitive?” thought Walter, and as he turned back to
scan once more the face of his recent customer he became more and more
distrustful of him.
“Does that man live in town?” he inquired of a boy.
“Who? That man leaning against the fence?”
“Yes.”
The boy shook his head.
“I never saw him before,” he said. “I guess he came to the celebration.”
When the sale was over Walter and the professor went to the hotel for
supper. Walter caught sight of the mysterious stranger in the barroom,
and could not avoid seeing that he himself was an object of attention.
Why this should be he did not understand. If only he were a mind-reader
and could interpret the man's thoughts it would have relieved
his anxiety, for in spite of himself he was becoming anxious and
apprehensive, though he could not explain why.
At supper the stranger sat opposite him. He ate heartily and with
great rapidity, yet found time to glance repeatedly at Walter and his
employer, as if he felt an interest in them.
Walter sought the professor after supper and communicated to him his
fears.
Professor Robinson shrugged his shoulders.
“Your imagination is running away with you,” he said. “I don't see
anything extraordinary about this stranger, except that he is far from
good-looking.”
“Don't you think he has a sinister look?”
“He is as homely as the ace of spades, if that is what you mean. Suppose
he is. All homely men are not suspicious characters. If they were, how
would we be judged?” and the professor laughed in a jolly way.
“You have quite decided to go through to Fremont this evening?”
“Yes; I want to reach Stillman on Saturday--there is to be a county fair
there--and to make it in time we must be moving to-night.”
Of course, there was no more to be said. Walter did not care to
interfere with the professor's plans, and he was ashamed to admit that
he was nervous and alarmed. Perhaps his fears were groundless. He
began to think so when at seven o'clock the stable-boy brought round a
powerful black horse to the front of the inn, and the stranger who had
given him so much anxiety vaulted into the saddle and rode away, without
even turning to look at him.
“Who is that fellow?” he asked of an old man who stood near, smoking a
clay pipe.
The old man looked thoughtfully at the stranger, who had now ridden out
of the yard.
“Seems to me I've seen that face before,” he said slowly, “but I can't
rightly tell where.”
“He doesn't look like a farmer.”
“No. If he lived anywhere within twenty miles I'd know him. He's a
stranger.”
“His looks don't recommend him.”
“You're right there, boy.”
“I shouldn't be surprised to hear that he was an outlaw.”
“One of Jesse James' band, mayhap,” suggested the old man, with a smile.
“Yes, he looks it.”
“Well, he's gone, so he won't trouble us.”
This was a consoling thought to Walter. He carried a hundred dollars in
his pocket, and he had worked too hard for it to feel reconciled to its
loss. The stranger, judging from his appearance, was quite capable of
relieving him of it; but now he had ridden away, doubtless on business
of his own, and the chances were that they would never meet again.
About eight o'clock Professor Robinson's team was brought round to the
door, and he and Walter clambered upon the seat and were under way.
“Were you ever robbed, professor?” asked Walter.
The professor smiled.
“Yes,” he said.
“By a highwayman?”
“No, by my assistant, a young man who occupied your place. He had been
with me four weeks, and I reposed a good deal of confidence in him, as I
do in you.”
“I hope you won't repent your confidence in me, professor.”
“I am sure I shall not. But to come back to my story, Charles Wright was
a good-looking, smooth-faced fellow of twenty, and had a good turn for
business. The trouble with him was that he was extravagant and never had
a cent ahead.”
“Did he earn as much as I do?”
“Yes, for business with me was unusually good at the time he was with
me. However, he never could save money. Usually we occupied different
rooms at the hotels we stopped at, but one night the hotel was crowded
and we were obliged to room together. Now, as you know, I am a sound
sleeper. I am asleep five minutes after my head touches the pillow, and
even a thunder-storm during the night would scarcely waken me. On some
accounts this is an advantage, but, as you will see, it turned out
unluckily for me on the night I am speaking of. I awoke at the usual
time--seven o'clock--and on opening my eyes I saw at once that my young
assistant was not in the room. This gave me no uneasiness. I presumed
that he had waked after a good night's sleep and was taking a morning
walk. I rose from the bed, put on my clothes leisurely, and it was only
after I was completely dressed that I felt in my pocket for my wallet.
Then I made a startling discovery. The wallet was gone!”
“Was there much money in it?”
“About a hundred and ten dollars. Fortunately I had about fifty dollars,
besides, in another pocket, so that I was not left quite penniless.”
“Was your assistant the thief?”
“There is no doubt about it. He had gone downstairs at five o'clock,
told the clerk he was going for a walk, and did not show up after that.”
“Have you seen or heard of him since?”
“No; I may meet him again some time, but I doubt if I should have him
arrested. He injured himself more than he did me. I lost a hundred
dollars or more, but he lost a good place and his character for honesty.
Depend upon it, Walter, honesty is the best policy in the long run.”
“I am sure of that, sir.”
Four miles from the hotel they entered a wood, through which the road
ran for half a mile. It was dark, but not completely dark. A few stars
sent down a faint light. By the light of these stars Walter descried a
man, mounted on a large horse, stationed motionless in the middle of the
road, apparently waiting for them to come up.
“Professor,” he exclaimed, clutching his employer by the arm, “that's
the man we saw at the hotel.”