BOB SHOWS UP A SWINDLER
Bob had no great feeling of love for the miserly farmer who had so
misused him, yet he did not intend to stand calmly by and see Joel
Carrow done out of his money.
He had heard of this prize-package swindle while in Stampton, and he
knew exactly how it was worked.
The flashily-dressed man took in Carrow at a glance, and also noted
that the farmer carried a well-filled pocket-book.
He thought Carrow would prove well worth plucking, and smiled broadly.
“One package? We sell five for a dollar. You had better try it. You may
win all large prizes.”
“I’ll try one first,” replied Carrow, cautiously.
The man handed out the box. One of the envelopes projected slightly
beyond the rest, and this Carrow took.
“Number 37,” he said, reading from a slip. “What’s that good fer?”
“Number 37 takes this elegant ruby scarf-pin, worth eight dollars,”
replied the swindler, handing over a pin that was nothing but a bit of
colored glass and brass. “You’re in luck.”
“Is the pin worth eight dollars?” questioned Carrow, doubtfully.
“Certainly. Would you rather have five dollars in cash? That is what
they cost direct from the manufacturers. Many jewellers sell them for
double the money.”
It will be noticed that the swindler did not say he would give five
dollars for the pin, although he led Carrow to believe he would.
This remark made the old farmer feel good.
“N-no; I’ll keep the pin.”
“Very well. Try again? Remember, only one dollar for five.”
“Well, I dun no,” and Carrow scratched his head.
“Let me show you something.” The swindler pretended to shake up the box
of envelopes. “How is this?”
He drew out an envelope. The number inside was fifty, and this called
for the watch said to be worth fifty dollars.
“Gosh!” murmured Carrow, in admiration. “I wish I had drew it.”
“Nothing easier. See here, I will place the number back into the
envelope and put the envelope back into the box. There it goes. Now
remember, you know as well as I it has got the number entitling you to
the fifty-dollar watch. You most likely know just where it is. Try it
for fun.”
Carrow did so. Sure enough, his sharp eyes had followed the right
envelope and the number was within it.
“Now I’ll try it again. There it goes, just as before. If you want
to win, I’ll give you the chance. For ten dollars you may draw three
envelopes. You are bound to strike the right one in one out of three.”
Carrow’s eyes sparkled. He was sure he had his eye on the right
envelope.
He drew out his pocket-book to get out his ten dollars.
At this instant Bob brushed up to him. The young photographer had
watched proceedings closely, and he knew exactly what had occurred.
“Don’t try it, or you will lose,” he whispered.
Carrow started back as if shot.
“What, Bob Alden!” he cried.
“Yes, Carrow. Did you hear me?”
“Where did you come from, you scamp?”
“I’m not a scamp, Carrow.”
“You--you----” blustered the farmer, hardly knowing what to say.
“I want no words with you,” replied Bob. “I merely meant to warn you.
This is a swindle.”
“A swindle!” gasped Carrow.
“What’s that?” put in the sharper, roughly.
“I am talking to this man,” returned the young photographer.
“He says it’s a swindle,” put in Carrow.
“You had better mind your own business, young man. What right have you
to interfere here?”
“The right of anybody to show you up,” returned Bob, bravely. “You
sha’n’t swindle this man out of ten dollars if I can help it.”
“How do yer know it’s a swindle?” asked Carrow, faintly.
“Because he didn’t put the number in the envelope.”
“Are yer sure o’ thet?”
“Yes.”
“Nonsense!” cried the swindler. “This is a perfectly honest game of
chance.”
“He had two numbers in his hand. The first time he placed one of them
in the envelope, but this time he placed the other, and you can be sure
it wasn’t the fifty.”
“See here, you get out of here!” cried the swindler, in a rage. “I have
a good mind to have you arrested for interfering with my business.”
“You may have me arrested if you wish,” replied the young photographer,
coolly.
The swindler rushed from behind his stand and caught Bob by the arm.
“Let go!”
“You get right out of here.”
Bob pulled himself away. The row had attracted the attention of several
in the tent and they now interfered.
“Leave the boy alone!”
“He told the truth; that game is always a swindle!”
“The whole show is a swindle!”
“That’s so, too.”
The crowd shoved forward, and the swindler move back to his stand.
As he brushed past Bob he muttered into the youth’s ear:
“I’ll get square with you some time for this!”
“Perhaps I won’t give you the chance,” replied Bob, aloud.
In the disturbance Joel Carrow slipped away without even thanking Bob
for the service which had been rendered to him.
“But that’s just like him,” thought Bob. “He wouldn’t thank me even if
I saved his life.”
He left the tent with several others, the swindler shaking his fist
after the youth.
By this time the fair was about over for the day, and after a short
walk among the exhibits in the main building, Bob left the grounds.
He had accepted Willett’s invitation to remain at the latter’s house
all night, and when he reached the place he found supper awaiting him.
The family were all seated out on the porch, and they made such a
fine group that Bob took a tintype of them, while it was still light,
he having brought along an outfit for such pictures. The tintype he
presented to Mrs. Willett, much to that lady’s pleasure.
“I should think it would be fun taking pictures,” said she.
“And worth money, too,” added her husband.
“It is both, and it is also perilous,” returned Bob, and he told of the
adventure with the prize bull.
“My! it’s lucky you weren’t killed!” cried the woman. “Weren’t you
scared?”
“I was at first. But I am having so many adventures I am getting used
to them.”
Bob learned that the horse which had plunged into the creek was
doing nicely, and would in all likelihood recover entirely from his
involuntary bath.
Bob had never been in Dartinville before, and after supper, and while
it was still light, he took a stroll though the town. He stopped at the
drug-store and there purchased such chemicals as had been lost in the
smashed satchel.
“Now if one of those plates turn out all right, I’ll be ready to start
off first thing in the morning,” he thought.
Bob did not know that his entrance into the drug-store had been noted,
yet such was a fact.
The man who had tried to swindle Joel Carrow was stopping at the hotel
opposite the place of business, and he was now seated on the piazza,
smoking a cigar.
“There’s the boy who caused me so much trouble this afternoon,”
muttered the swindler. “I promised to get square with him, and I will.”
Throwing away his cigar, he ran down the piazza steps and took up a
place behind a tree.
He had not long to wait. With the chemicals in a small package in his
left hand, Bob came out of the drug-store and walked toward the Willett
home.
It was getting dark now, and the young photographer wished to develop
the pictures he had taken before retiring.
With a look of intense hatred in his face, the swindler followed Bob
until they came to a dark spot in the road and caught the youth by the
collar.