THE SIDE-DOOR PULLMAN
Jack fancied that the conductor, when he took up his ticket, looked
suspiciously at him, but probably this was only the result of his
imagination. At any rate, the runaway was glad when the train stopped
at Rudford, and he could get out.
It was early morning, and rather cool, in spite of the fact that it was
the last of June.
“A cup of coffee and some rolls for mine,” thought Jack, as he saw a
small refreshment stand in the station.
The food tasted good to him, and he decided it was wiser to spend a
little of his money for it than to draw on the supply of cold victuals
in his pocket.
“No telling when I’ll need them,” he thought, “and I want to be in good
shape to look for work.” Then another thought came to him. He could not
very well go about looking for a job carrying his suit case. Besides,
it would look suspicious, in case there was any alarm here for him. He
saw a notice at the refreshment stand to the effect that valises and
small parcels would be checked at the rate of ten cents a day.
“That will suit me,” decided Jack, and he handed over his large valise,
receiving for it a paper check. “Now I can travel about better,” he
added.
Jack’s one idea now was to get a place to work. He did not intend to
stay permanently in Rudford, but he wanted to earn enough money to take
him to some larger place, and that he needed money was very evident,
when he looked over his cash and found he had less than a dollar. The
railroad ticket had taken the most of his small capital.
Now, whether Jack was not exactly the sort of boy the merchants needed,
or whether there was already a plentiful supply of lads already in
town, or whether there were more boys than there were jobs, Jack did
not stop to figure out. The fact was, however, that he tramped about
all that morning, asking in a score or more of places for work, without
getting it.
“Well, it isn’t going to be as easy as I though it was,” he said to
himself. “Tramping about makes me hungry. I’ve got to eat. I’d better
tackle the stuff I brought from the professor’s house. The longer I
keep that, the staler it’ll get, until I won’t be able to eat it after
a while. There’s enough for dinner and supper, and for breakfast. We’ll
see what turns up to-morrow.”
He found a secluded spot, where he dined frugally on the bread and
meat, and the piece of pie. He washed it down with some cool water from
a street fountain. But, oh how he wished he could have an ice cream
soda!
Signs advertising the various flavors of that drink seemed to stare at
him from every drug store and confectionery shop window, and, as it was
warm from the sun, Jack longed for the cool beverage.
“But I can’t afford it,” he decided. “Five cents will get me a cup of
coffee in the morning, and I’ll need that more than I need a soda now.”
In the afternoon he resumed his search for work, but with no success.
Once, as he was passing a printing shop, he saw displayed that magical
sign: “_Boy Wanted._”
“I see you want a boy,” he remarked, as he went in. “I’d like to get
the job.”
“Can you kick a press?” asked the man, evidently favorably impressed by
Jack’s appearance.
“Kick a press? Why should I kick a press?”
“Oh, it’s easy to see you don’t know anything about the printing
business,” remarked the proprietor, with a smile. “I need a boy to kick
a press, run one with his feet, I mean, and set up simple jobs; but it
wouldn’t pay me to hire one who doesn’t understand the work.”
“I could learn,” said Jack.
“No, I haven’t any time to teach you, and you’d spoil more work than
you’d be worth. Sorry,” and he turned back to his desk.
“I can’t kick a press,” thought Jack, as he went out, “but I can kick a
football. Only there’s no chance on the gridiron these days. Wonder if
I could get a job in some theatre?”
This plan seemed good to him, as he remembered how he had been
applauded that amateur night, but he was doomed to disappointment,
for, on inquiring of a man, he learned there were no theatres open in
Rudford.
“Well, that’s the end of that,” mused our hero. “I’ll try a few more
places for a job, though it’s most closing time. I wonder where I’ll
sleep to-night? Running away isn’t as nice and easy as I thought it
was.”
His search for work was unavailing. He walked along the street,
feeling quite blue and lonesome, when something happened that caused a
great change in his plans. This was the sight of a small type-written
notice tacked on a bulletin board outside of a red brick building. The
building, Jack decided, as soon as he had looked at it, was a police
station.
The notice which so startled him was one offering a reward for his
capture. Before he realized the danger of it, Jack had come to a halt,
and was reading the statement.
A reward of fifty dollars was offered by Professor Klopper for the
arrest of the runaway, who was charged with the theft of a valuable
gold cup. Jack was not very accurately described, for the professor was
not aware how his ward was dressed, since Jack had taken several suits
with him. Police and others, however, were advised to be on the lookout
for a boy with a dress-suit case.
“I wish I didn’t have it,” thought Jack. “But there’s no help for it
now. That’s the only thing they’ll recognize me by. But I’d better be
getting out of here.”
He hurried past the police station, and, just as he came opposite the
entrance, an officer rushed out. He collided with the boy, and, to save
them both from falling, grabbed the lad.
“I’m caught,” thought Jack desperately. But it was merely an accident.
“I beg your pardon,” spoke the officer, as he released Jack. “I’m
hurrying to stop a fight down the street. Word about it has just been
telephoned in. I didn’t see you.”
“No, and you won’t again, if I can prevent it,” thought Jack, as he
hastened on, glad that the excitement over the collision had caused the
officer to pass on without taking a good look at him.
“I’ve got to get out of town as quickly as possible,” thought the
startled lad. “This place isn’t safe for me. I wonder where I’d better
go? I must get my suit case, and then see where I can get a ticket
for.”
He went back to the depot, presented his check, and received his case.
As he reached his hand in his pocket to get the ten cents, he was
startled to find but a single coin there. It was a dime. He paid it to
the man at the refreshment booth, and then, walking to one side, began
a hurried search for the rest of his cash. It was gone!
“Some one either picked my pocket, or else it was jarred out when that
policeman ran into me,” he said. “Lucky there was this ten cents left.
Now I _am_ up against it.”
What was he to do? With no money, how could he get out of the town
where, doubtless, every officer was on the watch for him, anxious to
earn the reward? It was a serious problem.
“I mustn’t hang around here,” thought Jack. “They’ll probably be
watching the railroad stations. I’ve got to walk about and think a bit.”
He hardly noticed where he turned his steps, but he was brought out of
his unpleasant day-dream by hearing some one address him.
“What’s de matter, cully?” a voice asked. “You look sort of cheesy.”
Jack saw that the speaker was a tramp, but rather a good-natured
looking one, and not quite so dirty and disreputable as the average.
The boy also noticed, for the first time, that he was passing along a
street which bordered the railroad freight yard, and that there were
long strings of cars on a track adjoining the sidewalk.
“Down on yer luck?” asked the man.
Jack nodded.
“What’s de matter?” went on the tramp. “Runaway, an’ sorry fer it?”
“I’m not a bit sorry,” answered Jack, as he thought of the mean
professor. “But I want to get out of town, and I’ve lost all my money.”
“Oh, dat’s easy,” remarked the tramp, though whether he referred to
losing the money or getting out of town, Jack was not quite sure.
“If you want t’ make a git-away, I kin fix youse up,” went on the
ragged man.
“How?” asked Jack, becoming interested.
“I’ll show youse how t’ git inter a side-door Pullman, an’ youse kin
ride as fur as youse wants.”
“A side-door Pullman?”
“Sure. Freight car, wid de side door; ain’t youse wise to dem yet?
Dat’s a swell way of travelin’ when youse ain’t got de chink. Come on,
I’ll put youse next t’ one. Dere’s a freight bein’ made up, an’ dere’s
a lot of empties in it. Be youse particular which way youse goes?”
“No,” replied Jack.
“Dat’s good. I am. I want t’ go west, but dere’s a train bound fer de
east goin’ t’ pull out t’-night. I’ll help youse git inter one of de
side-door Pullmans on dat. Come on.”
Jack followed the man, who, after a cautious look around, to make sure
that there were no police or trainmen watching, led the way into the
freight yard. He stopped before an empty box car, with an open door.
“In youse go,” he said cheerfully, helping Jack to climb up. “Dere’s
yer baggage,” he added. “Now youse is all right, cully. Git off
whenever youse feels like it. Yer ticket’s good anywhere,” and, sliding
the door almost shut, he walked away, leaving Jack in the car.