[Illustration: “Jack excelled himself”
_Page 170_]
Jack the Runaway
Or
On the Road with a Circus
BY
FRANK V. WEBSTER
AUTHOR OF “BOB THE CASTAWAY,” “THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE,”
“TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY,” “THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
BOOKS FOR BOYS
_By FRANK V. WEBSTER_
12mo. Illustrated. Bound in cloth.
ONLY A FARM BOY, Or Dan Hardy’s Rise in Life
TOM THE TELEPHONE BOY, Or The Mystery of a Message
THE BOY FROM THE RANCH, Or Roy Bradner’s City Experiences
THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER, Or Fred Stanley’s Trip to Alaska
BOB THE CASTAWAY, Or The Wreck of the Eagle
THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE, Or Herbert Dare’s Pluck
THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS, Or Who Was Dick Box?
THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES, Or Nat Morton’s Perils
TWO BOY GOLD MINERS, Or Lost in the Mountains
JACK THE RUNAWAY, Or On the Road with a Circus
_Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York_
Copyright, 1909, by
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
JACK THE RUNAWAY
Printed in U. S. A.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I JACK WANTS A DOLLAR 1
II AT THE SHOW 11
III JACK IS PUNISHED 18
IV DISQUIETING NEWS 26
V A SERIOUS ACCUSATION 34
VI JACK RUNS AWAY 43
VII A NARROW ESCAPE 50
VIII THE SIDE-DOOR PULLMAN 58
IX JACK LOSES SOMETHING 66
X A FRUITLESS SEARCH 72
XI JACK AT THE CIRCUS 81
XII JACK DOES A STUNT 90
XIII PLANNING AN ACT 100
XIV HIS FIRST PERFORMANCE 106
XV JACK HAS ENEMIES 113
XVI THE FLYING MACHINE 120
XVII JACK MAKES A HIT 129
XVIII PROFESSOR KLOPPER APPEARS 138
XIX JACK’S TRICK 145
XX A TREACHEROUS ACT 152
XXI THE MONKEY’S ESCAPE 161
XXII IN A STORM 170
XXIII THE MAD ELEPHANT 180
XXIV JACK’S BAD FALL 187
XXV LEFT BEHIND--CONCLUSION 193
JACK THE RUNAWAY
CHAPTER I
JACK WANTS A DOLLAR
“Professor, will you please give me a dollar?” asked Jack Allen, of the
elderly man who sat reading a book in the library.
“A dollar, Jack?” and Professor Simonedes Klopper, who had retired from
the position of mathematical instructor in a large college, to devote
his declining years to study, looked over the rims of his big glasses
at the boy before him. “A dollar? Why, what in the world do you want of
a dollar, Jack?”
“I--I want to go to a show,” and Jack rather hesitated for he was
doubtful over the outcome of his request.
“A show?” and the professor’s eyes opened so wide that, seen through
the powerful lenses of his glasses, they reminded Jack of the orbs of a
cuttlefish.
“Yes, professor. There’s going to be a show in town to-night, and I’d
like to go. All the boys will be there.”
“Does it cost a dollar to go to a--er--a performance?”
“No; not exactly. The tickets are fifty cents, but I wanted a little
extra to treat some of my chums with.”
“Treat? Ah, yes, I presume you mean to furnish some sort of refreshment
for your youthful companions.”
“Yes, sir. Can I have the money? I haven’t drawn all my allowance this
month.”
“No; you are correct there. There is still a balance of two dollars and
thirteen cents in your allowance account for this month, computing the
interest at six per cent. But I shall not give you the dollar.”
“Why not?”
“Why not? Because I don’t choose to.”
“My father would, if he was here.”
“Well, he isn’t here, and I’m in charge of you, and the money your
parents left for your care and support while they are away. I most
certainly shall not give you a dollar to waste on any such foolishness
as what you term a ‘show’ by which I apprehend that you mean a
performance of some character.”
“It’s a vaudeville show,” went on Jack. “It’s real funny.”
“Funny!” ejaculated the professor with a snort. “Fun is a very poor
substitute for knowledge, young man. If you have an evening to spare
you should spend it on your books. You are very backward in your Latin
and mathematics. When I was your age I used to devote my entire evening
to working out problems in algebra or geometry.”
“Will you give me fifty cents?” asked Jack desperately, not wishing to
let the professor get too deep into the matter of study.
“Fifty cents? What for?”
“Well, I can go to the show for that, but I wanted some to treat the
boys with. They’ve bought sodas for me several times, now, and I want
to pay them back.”
“Humph! That is all the rising generation thinks of! Having a good
time, and eating! No, Jack, I shall not give you a dollar for any such
purpose. And I will not give you fifty cents. Do you know that one
dollar, put out at six per cent, will, if the interest be compounded,
amount in one hundred years, to three hundred and forty dollars? Think
of it! Three hundred and forty dollars!”
“But I don’t expect to live a hundred years, professor. Besides, it’s
my money,” spoke Jack, with just the least bit of defiance in his tone.
“It is, to a certain extent,” answered the crusty old professor, “but
I am the treasurer and your guardian. I shall certainly not permit you
to waste your substance in riotous living.”
“I don’t call it riotous living to go to a vaudeville show once in a
while, and buy an ice cream soda,” retorted Jack.
“You know nothing about it; nothing whatever. Now if you had asked
me for a dollar, to buy some book, that would impart to you useful
knowledge, I would have complied at once. More than this, I would have
helped you select the book. I have a list of several good ones, that
can be purchased for a dollar.”
“I don’t want any books,” murmured Jack.
“You shall have no dollar to spend foolishly.”
“I don’t think it’s foolish,” insisted Jack. “Look here, professor,
I’ve been studying hard, lately. I haven’t had any fun in a good while.
This is the first chance I’ve had to go to a show, and I think you
might let me go. Dad would if he was here.”
“You shall not go. I think I know what is best for you.”
“Then I’m going anyhow!” burst out Jack. “I’m not going to stay shut up
in the house all the while! I want a little recreation. If you don’t
give me the dollar, I’ll----”
“What will you do?” asked the professor quickly, shutting his book, and
standing up. “Don’t you dare to threaten me, young man! What will you
do if I don’t give you the dollar? I shall write to your father. The
postal authorities must have located him and your mother by this time,
even if they are in China.”
“Haven’t you had any word yet?” asked Jack, a new turn being given to
his thoughts.
“No; and it is very strange. All trace of them seems to be lost after
they left Hong Kong, but the letters will finally reach them. I shall
inform Mr. Allen of your conduct.”
“I think he’d say I was right,” murmured Jack.
“That would make no difference to me,” declared the professor. “I know
my duty and I am going to do it. But you have not answered my question.
What did you threaten to do if I did not give you the dollar?”
“I didn’t threaten anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I was going to say if you didn’t give me the dollar I’d go to the show
anyhow.”
“How can you go if you have no money?”
“I’ll find a way. Please, Professor Klopper, advance me a dollar from
my allowance that dad left with you for me.”
“Not one penny for such a frivolous use as that,” replied the professor
firmly. “Now let me hear no more about it.”
“Well, I’m going!” fired back Jack. “I’m bound to see that show, and
have a good time once in a while.”
“That will do!” cried the professor so sharply that Jack was startled.
“Go to your room at once. I will deal with you later. I never inflict
any punishment when I am angry, and you have very nearly made me so. I
will attend to your case later. Go to your room at once!”
There was no choice but to obey. Slowly Jack left the library, and
mounted the stairs to his own apartment. His heart was bitter, and he
was not a little worried concerning his father and mother, for, since
Mr. and Mrs. Sylvester Allen had reached China, on their trip around
the world, news had been received that there had been serious uprisings
against the “foreign devils” as the Mongolians call people not of their
race.
Jack Allen, who was a bright, sturdy youth, of about sixteen years,
lived in the town of Westville, in one of our Eastern States. He was an
only child, and his parents were well off.
Mr. Allen was very fond of travel, and so was his wife, but they had
had little chance to gratify their tastes. A short time before this
story opens Mr. Allen’s firm had some business to transact abroad, in
several countries. Mr. Allen was offered the chance to go, and, as it
was a long-awaited opportunity he decided to take his wife, and, while
they were about it, make a tour of the world.
Jack begged hard to be allowed to go, but, as it would have broken up
his schooling, and as his father wanted him to become an electrical
engineer, he was, much against his will, left at home.
Jack attended the Westville Academy, and was one of the best students
in that institution. When his parents decided to make their long trip,
they discussed several plans of having their son taken care of while
they were away. Finally they decided to send him to live with a former
college instructor, Professor Klopper, who was an eminent authority on
many subjects.
The professor was a bachelor, and, with an elderly sister, lived in a
somewhat gloomy house on the outskirts of Westville.
There Jack had been for about a year, attending school in the meanwhile.
He had never liked Professor Klopper, for the aged man was crabbed and
dictatorial, and very stern when it came to lessons. He made Jack study
more than any other boy who went to the academy, and was continually
examining him at home, on what he had learned in school. This,
undoubtedly, was good for Jack’s scholarship, but the boy did not like
it.
Mr. Allen had arranged that the professor should have complete charge
of Jack, and a goodly sum had been left with the scientist for the
keep of the boy.
“Give him a little spending money,” Mr. Allen had said to the
professor, “and see that he does not waste it.”
The trouble was that the mathematical mind of the professor and the
more liberal one of Jack’s father differed as to what a “little
spending money” was, and what was meant by “wasting” it.
The consequence was that Jack led a very miserable life with the
professor, but he was too manly a lad to complain, so his letters to
his parents said nothing about the disagreeable side of his sojourn
with the former college teacher.
But, of late, there had come no letters from Mr. and Mrs. Allen. Jack’s
boyish epistles had not been replied to, and the professor’s long
effusions, containing precise reports as to his ward’s progress, were
not answered.
All trace of Mr. and Mrs. Allen was lost when they got to China, though
up to now Jack had not worried about them, as he realized that mail in
some foreign countries is not as certain as it is in the United States.
“Professor Klopper is the meanest old codger that ever lived!”
exclaimed Jack, as he mounted the stairs to his room. “I wish dad and
mother would come back. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen them,
and things are getting worse here instead of better. The idea of not
giving me a dollar!
“All the fellows are saying sneering things about me, too,” he went on,
“because I don’t treat oftener. How can I treat when I don’t get any
money? I’ve a good notion to write to dad, and tell him about it. If I
only knew his exact address I would, but I’ll have to ask old Klopper,
and then he’ll catch on. No, I suppose I’ve got to stand it. But I wish
I could see that show to-night. I wonder if I couldn’t raise the money
somehow? I might borrow it--no, that wouldn’t do. I don’t know when I
could pay it back. If I had something I could sell----”
He thought a moment, and then an idea came to him.
“My catching glove!” he exclaimed. “It’s a good one yet, and Tom
Berwick will give me a dollar for it. If I play shortstop this summer
I’ll not need it. I’ll sell that.”
Jack, who had been rather downhearted, felt better after he had reached
this decision. He began rummaging in a closet that contained various
articles, more or less intimately connected with boyish sports, and
presently withdrew a large, padded catching glove.
“It cost seven dollars, just before dad went away,” he remarked. “It’s
worth three now, but I’ll let Tom have it for a dollar. That will give
me enough to go to the show and treat the crowd I owe sodas to. I’ll
do it. I’ll go to the show, no matter what Klopper says. But I’ve got
to sneak out, for if he sees me he’ll stop me. Most likely he’ll be
reading in the library this evening.”
Jack knew his temporary guardian would not make him remain in his room
without supper, for the professor was not needlessly cruel. As the June
afternoon was drawing to a close, Miss Klopper, the professor’s sister,
came to Jack’s door.
“Here is your supper,” she said, handing in a tray, none too well
filled. “My brother says you are to remain in your room until to-morrow
morning, when he hopes you will have repented. I hope you will, too.
Boys are such perverse creatures.”
Jack said nothing. He took the tray, for he was very hungry. But he did
not intend to remain in his room all that evening, when there was a
vaudeville show in town.
“It won’t be the first time I’ve gotten out of the window,” thought
Jack, when Miss Klopper had closed the door.