[Illustration: _Paul Palmer_]
THE TRAIN BOY.
By HORATIO ALGER, JR.
Author of "The Errand Boy," "Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy," "Tom
Thatcher's Fortune," "Joe's Luck," "Tony, the Hero," etc.
ILLUSTRATED.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
A. L. BURT, PUBLISHER.
Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1883,
BY STREET & SMITH,
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER. PAGE.
I.--The Train for Chicago 9
II.--A Leap from the Train 17
III.--Paul Palmer at Home 25
IV.--An Unwelcome Visitor 33
V.--Paul to the Rescue 41
VI.--Birds of a Feather 48
VII.--A Rejected Suitor 56
VIII.--The Struggling Artist 64
IX.--The First Sitting 72
X.--Miss Framley's Economy 79
XI.--Paul Gets into Trouble 87
XII.--Paul's Critical Position 95
XIII.--Grace Dearborn at Home 103
XIV.--The Artist's Secret 111
XV.--A Fellow-Conspirator 118
XVI.--An Unwelcome Appearance 125
XVII.--Paul Defends His Mother 131
XVIII.--Grace Dearborn's Party 135
XIX.--The Artist's Recreation 143
XX.--A Persevering Suitor 150
XXI.--Miss Framley's Mortification 158
XXII.--An Unexpected Change 166
XXIII.--A Catastrophe 170
XXIV.--The Train-Wrecker 175
XXV.--Paul Changes His Business 182
XXVI.--Mr. Bradford's Office 190
XXVII.--Serving a Tyrant 198
XXVIII.--Mr. Manson is Surprised 206
XXIX.--The Book-keeper's Triumph 211
XXX.--Paul is Promoted 215
XXXI.--Paul and His Successor 222
XXXII.--Jim Scott 226
XXXIII.--Cheyenne 230
XXXIV.--Major Ashton in a Quandary 234
XXXV.--Wooing the Widow 238
XXXVI.--Paul Sells the Mine 246
XXXVII.--Diamond Cut Diamond 253
XXXVIII.--A Scene at Omaha 261
XXXIX.--A Thief Foiled 265
XL.--The Lady's Secret 269
XLI.--Major Ashton's Engagement 273
XLII.--A Revelation 276
XLIII.--Major Ashton at Bay 284
XLIV.--Conclusion 292
THE TRAIN BOY.
CHAPTER I.
THE TRAIN FOR CHICAGO.
The four o'clock afternoon train from Milwaukee, bound for Chicago, had
just passed Truesdell, when the train boy passed through the cars with
a pile of magazines under his arm.
He handed them to the right and left for passengers to examine, and
after an interval passed back again, to receive pay for any that might
be selected, and gather up the rest.
"Here's the latest magazines!" he cried, in a pleasant voice. "Harpers,
Scribner's, Lippincott's!"
As he is to be our hero, I will pause a moment to sketch Paul Palmer.
He was a boy of sixteen, of medium height for a boy of that age, with
dark brown hair, bright, sparkling eyes, not without a suggestion of
mirthfulness, and round cheeks, with a healthful color. It would be
hard to find a more attractive-looking boy than Paul.
The first passenger he came to on his return round was an old lady,
bordering upon seventy, who was quite unaccustomed to traveling, and
knew very little of railways and their customs.
When the magazine had been put in her hands she received it with glad
complacency, supposing it to be a gift from the railroad corporation.
She hunted up her spectacles, and was looking at the pictures with
considerable interest when Paul touched her on the arm.
"Want my ticket a'ready?" she asked, thinking it to be the conductor.
"No, ma'am," answered Paul, smiling. "Please give me the magazine."
"Why, you give it to me yourself," said the old lady in surprise.
"No, I only handed it to you to examine," said Paul.
"I thought, to be sure, you give it to me, and I was goin' to carry it
to my darter Sarah Ann as a present. I'm goin' to spend a week with
Sarah Ann."
Paul smiled.
He had met before unsophisticated travelers ready to impart their
family affairs to any one sufficiently interested to listen to them.
"You can do it now," he said, "if you will buy the magazine. Every body
likes to read Harper's."
"How much do you ax for it?" asked the old lady, cautiously.
"Thirty-five cents."
"Lands sake!" exclaimed the old lady, in dismay. "Thirty-five cents for
a picture-book!"
"There's some very nice reading in it, ma'am," said Paul, patiently.
"Maybe there is, but there ain't any covers."
"If there were I should ask a good deal more."
"I'll pay you ten cents," said the old lady, with the air of one who
was making a very liberal offer.
"Couldn't take it, ma'am. I should fail if I did business that way,"
said Paul.
"Well, I guess you'd better take it, then. I can't afford to pay
thirty-five cents for a picture-book."
Paul took the magazine, and passed on.
The next passenger was a young lady. She, too, had Harper's magazine in
her hand.
"Won't you take fifteen cents for it?" she asked, with a smile, for she
had heard the colloquy between Paul and the old lady.
"I am afraid not," said Paul, smiling back, for he understood her.
"Then I must pay your price."
She drew out a purse, through the meshes of which gleamed not only
silver but gold, and put half a dollar into Paul's hand.
He was about to return her fifteen cents in change, when she said,
pleasantly:
"Never mind. Keep the change for yourself."
"Thank you," answered Paul, politely. "I should be glad of many
customers like yourself."
"Have you parents living?" asked the young lady.
"My mother is living, but my father died two years since."
"And I suppose you help your mother with your earnings?"
"Yes, miss, I give them all to her."
"I was sure you were a good boy," said the young lady, with a charming
smile. "Tell me, now, do you earn good wages by selling papers and
magazines on the train?"
"Yes, miss, more than I could get in a store or office. Last week I
made eight dollars. Some lucky weeks I have made as much as eleven."
"Have you no brother or sister?"
"Yes, I have a little sister, ten years old."
"And a brother?"
"I have a half-brother--ten years older than myself," answered Paul,
with evident hesitation.
"And does he help your mother also?" inquired the young lady.
Paul shook his head.
"We don't see much of him," he answered. "He isn't very steady, and is
more likely to ask help of us than to give it."
"And he is a strong, young man!" exclaimed the young lady, indignantly.
"Why, he can't have any sense of pride or honor."
"Not much. We can do better without him than with him."
"It is lucky for your mother and sister that you are different from
him."
"That is true enough, miss. I should be ashamed to act like him."
"What is your little sister's name?"
"Grace."
"Why, that is my name. She is a namesake of mine."
"Then I hope she will be like her namesake," said Paul, gallantly.
"I see you are old enough to pay compliments," said the young lady,
smiling. "Do you know what I feel like doing?"
"No."
"I am going to send a gift to my namesake. Here;" and, opening her
purse once more, she drew from it a two dollar and a half gold piece,
and put it into Paul's hand.
"Do you really mean this for Grace?" asked the boy, almost incredulous.
"Certainly."
"Though you never saw her?"
"I have seen her brother," said the young lady, "and I have a very good
opinion of him."
"Thank you very much. Grace will be delighted."
"Do you live in Chicago?"
"Yes, miss."
"Some time bring your little sister to call on me. I live with my aunt,
Mrs. Sheldon, in Ashland avenue."
She handed Paul her card. Glancing at it, he ascertained that the name
of his liberal friend was Grace Dearborn.
"Grace shall certainly come, if only to thank you for her present,"
said Paul.
After the boy passed on, Mrs. Sheldon, who sat in the seat just behind,
said:
"Upon my word, Grace, you are extremely liberal to a perfect stranger."
"No doubt, aunt; but I took a fancy to the boy."
"How do you know he told you the truth?"
"I would stake my life upon his truth," said Grace, warmly.
"Did you ever see him before?"
"Never."
Mrs. Sheldon shrugged her shoulders.
"You must have great confidence in your knowledge of human nature,
then," she said.
"I have, aunt," said the young lady, smiling.
"Well, my dear, you are rich, and are quite able to indulge your
quixotic liberality."
"Thanks to Providence, aunt."
"And to your father."
The two would have taken seats beside each other had there been an
opportunity, but when they entered the car the best they could do was
to take outside seats, one directly behind the other.
Miss Dearborn's seat companion was a young man of about thirty, with
a complexion preternaturally pale, the pallor being heightened by his
intensely black hair and mustache.
He was well dressed, and on the middle finger of his right hand he wore
a cameo ring, which was apparently of considerable value.
When Grace Dearborn was holding her colloquy with Paul, the young man
glanced from behind the paper he was reading, and took notice of the
well-filled purse which she displayed.
There was a covetous glitter in his eyes, which could hardly have been
expected from one whose appearance seemed to indicate that he was in
easy circumstances.
He noticed also that Grace replaced the purse in a pocket on the side
nearest to him.
"I must have that purse," said Luke Denton to himself.
I may as well say that Denton, originally of good family, had so given
himself up to evil courses that he had been disowned by his relatives,
and was reduced to making a living by preying upon the community.
In fact, he was an unscrupulous adventurer, and not above being a
thief.