BOB BECOMES A TRAVELLING PHOTOGRAPHER
Bob did not know if he was walking on stone or the air when he left the
Maverick mansion. To him it seemed as if the vista of good fortune had
opened to its very widest limit.
“I must be dreaming,” he murmured. “Bet a cent I wake up in the loft of
old Carrow’s barn and find it all a dream.”
And the youth actually pinched himself to make sure that he was not
asleep.
It was past eleven o’clock, but though Bob might have taken a horse-car
to his boarding-house, he preferred to walk, knowing full well that
even when he came to lie down, he would not be able to sleep for
speculating over all that had happened.
The night was a gloomy one, and presently, without hardly any warning,
it began to rain. At first the drops were few and far between, but
before the youth had gone a block farther the shower turned into a
deluge, and Bob scampered for shelter.
Not far away was a shed over the front of a butcher shop. Under this
shed ran Bob, and huddled close to the building to avoid the rain
which the rising wind drove in.
Bob had been under the shed probably three minutes when a man and a
woman came out of the hall-way beside the butcher shop, and stood
watching the rain.
“We will get all wet, Paul, if we try to leave in this storm,” Bob
heard the woman say.
“It may break away in a few minutes, Sarah,” returned the man. “It is
only a shower.”
“Showers sometimes last a long time,” was the reply.
The sound of the woman’s voice was somewhat familiar to Bob, and he
moved forward a bit to get a look at her face. She was the same he had
seen in Cabot’s establishment, the one he rightly supposed was Sarah
Blake.
Instantly he was all attention, and, pulling his hat still farther over
his eyes, he edged close to the open door-way.
“You saw the old man?” went on the man called Paul, after a short pause.
“I did.”
“And you could do nothing with him?”
“No. He loves drink, and will do almost anything to obtain it. The case
is hopeless.”
“You offered him money, I suppose?”
“I offered him what I could. But it was not enough. He said he would
take care of himself, and told me to leave him.”
“That crowd evidently have him well in hand.”
“I am afraid so, Paul.”
“Well, the best thing you can do is to let the whole matter drop. You
have done your duty.”
“I know, but----”
“Remember, he is only your stepfather, and if you insist on following
him up, you may get into trouble.”
“But, Paul, I feel that he has not done right. He was mixed up in some
crooked work, and I am afraid every day that I will hear of his arrest.”
“You take too much on your shoulders, Sarah,” returned the man,
earnestly. “You had better come back home with me and let the matter
drop. This travelling around under an assumed name and stopping in such
a boarding-house as this----”
Bob heard no more. A violent gust of wind shut the door with a bang,
and all became dark and dreary once more.
Bob hesitated, not knowing what to do. Should he knock on the door and
ask the woman for an interview?
While he was deliberating, the door opened again, and the man came out.
He hurried up to the corner, where stood a cab, and got in.
Was he going to leave the woman behind? It certainly looked so.
But an instant later the woman came out and with all speed she ran
toward the cab.
Bob dashed forward, but before he could stop the woman she had entered
the cab beside the man, and the driver whipped up the horses.
Away went the cab at a high rate of speed.
Bob tried to catch on behind, to signal the driver to stop, but he
failed in both. He slipped on the wet stones, and went down on one
knee, and by the time he arose the cab had disappeared in the darkness.
Bob was much chagrined. He felt almost certain that the woman could
have told him something concerning the past.
“And that’s not the worst of it,” grumbled Bob to himself. “It’s bad
enough to let them slip, but they are most likely going out of town,
and goodness only knows when I’ll see her again.”
He turned back under the shed again, and dashing the water from his
hat, and wiping off one of his hands, which had become covered with
dirt, he rang the hall bell.
A moment of utter silence passed, and then a tall, sour-faced woman,
evidently an old maid, appeared.
“Good-evening,” said Bob, politely. “I called to find out if you could
tell me where that lady and gentleman who just left had gone to.”
“No, I can’t,” snapped the woman. “What do you want to know for?”
“I wish to see the lady.”
“So did several men. But she’s gone, and I’m glad of it.”
“Will you please tell me her name?”
“I don’t know it. She said it was Brown, but perhaps it isn’t. I didn’t
like her, and I’m glad the man came and took her away.”
“Do you know where she came from?”
“No. She paid in advance, and I needed the money, so I took her in. But
she was too sly for me. Is that all you wanted to know?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Without another word, the woman shut the door in Bob’s face and locked
it. Bob could not help but smile to himself.
“Something didn’t suit,” he murmured to himself. “Rain or no rain, I’m
going to try to follow that cab.”
He started off at once in the direction the cab had taken, running as
fast as the slippery pavement would allow.
But though he traversed several blocks, no vehicle of any kind outside
of a horse-car appeared in sight, and finally he was forced to abandon
the chase.
On the following day Bob and Mr. Starleigh had a long talk in regard
to the youth’s future. The upshot of this talk was that Bob agreed to
work for nothing for two weeks, providing the old photographer would
teach him as much of the business as possible in that length of time.
Bob was slightly worried over the question of what to do with his horse
and wagon during that time, but Mr. Maverick solved it by telling Bob
to leave the turn-out in charge of the stable-hand until he started
away from Stampton.
The two weeks passed rapidly, and Bob spent every hour of the time in
devouring every item of information which might prove useful to him
while taking pictures on the road.
During that time Grace Maverick came to the studio to have her picture
taken. Mr. Starleigh allowed Bob to do the work, which proved highly
satisfactory. When Bob printed and mounted the pictures, he made an
extra one, but this did not go among the studio samples.
“I’ll keep that for my own,” said Bob to himself.
At length the day came for Bob to quit the studio. Mr. Starleigh shook
him warmly by the hand.
“I am sorry to lose you, Bob,” he said. “But I am glad you are going to
start on your own account with such bright prospects. I have taught you
all in my power, and you ought to be able to get along very well.”
“Thanks, Mr. Starleigh, and I won’t forget what you’ve done for me,”
returned Bob.
Bob had received full instructions from the railroad superintendent as
to what sort of pictures were desired. He was to go along the entire
length of the road, and the original order for thirty pictures had been
increased to fifty, to include sections of the roadbed, bridges, and
views of the scenery on the route and in the vicinity.
“And do your best, Bob,” said Grace Maverick.
“You can take my word I will,” replied the youth. “And if you will
allow me, I will occasionally send you a few private pictures, taken by
the way.”
“Oh, that will be delightful!”
He shook her hand. The extra squeeze he gave it was returned, and both
blushed. Then he turned to Mr. Maverick, bade him good-by, and drove
off.
Bob the Photographer had started on his first travelling tour. Little
did he dream of the many adventures and perils he was to encounter
before he returned to Stampton.
The horse that had been presented to him was a good one, and he started
off at a lively gait. The wagon moved along easily, and Bob, seated up
in front, whip in hand, felt in the best of spirits.
His first stop was to be at a place called Dartinville, a small town,
situated on the mountain side. It was a great place for summer
boarders, all of whom had to come by way of the T. W. & L. Railroad.
The road to Dartinville ran along the side of a narrow but deep creek.
It was rather a rough road, with the mountains directly back of it.
As Bob drove along, he began to whistle, but presently the whistle died
on his lips, as he heard the rush of wheels directly behind him.
He looked back, and saw a horse tearing toward him at a breakneck speed.
Behind the horse was a sulky, and clinging to the seat of this was a
bareheaded man, who seemed to be paralyzed with fright.
Bob’s heart jumped into his throat. What was to be done?
“Steer out!” he yelled to the man, as the horse and turn-out came
nearer.
“I can’t! Stop the horse!” yelled the occupant of the sulky, in terror.
“I can’t stop him. Steer out or there will be a smash-up,” went on Bob.
The man paid no attention. He had dropped the lines, which were
trailing on the horse’s heels, and he did not have courage enough to
risk letting go his hold in an endeavor to pick them up.
Bob saw that something must be done, and at once. He caught up his own
reins, and at the risk of upsetting his wagon turned in toward the
mountain slope.
“Steer out, I tell you!” he cried again. “If you run into me, you’ll be
killed.”
“Stop the horse!” was the man’s only reply.
With a bound, Bob was on the ground. He ran back of his own wagon as
fast as his legs would carry him.
By this time the runaway was but a few feet away. Seeing Bob in the
road, the horse sheered in and darted past the youth.
Bob gave a groan. The runaway was now less than five yards from his own
turn-out, and it looked as if he would dash headlong into it and thus
smash it into a thousand bits.
“Whoa!” yelled Bob, in one mighty, final effort to attract the mad
steed’s attention.
The horse heard the command, gave a snort, and shook his head. Then he
swerved outward, and flew past Bob’s turn-out, just grazing one of the
rear wheels.
Bob rushed forward, but before he could catch the mad animal the horse
swerved still more, made a leap, and plunged into the water, dragging
the sulky, with the man on it, after him.
[Illustration: THE HORSE PLUNGED INTO THE WATER, DRAGGING THE SULKY,
WITH THE MAN ON IT, AFTER HIM.]