A LONG TRIP.
Fred appeared at the depot the next morning the superintendent said to
him, "I shall have to change your train to-day. You will wait for the
nine o'clock train for Suspension Bridge."
"When shall I get there?"
The superintendent, referring to his schedule of trains, answered, "At
11.44 to-night. The boy who usually goes on this train is sick."
"When shall I return?"
"Let me see, it is Saturday. If you would like to stay over a day and
see Niagara Falls, you can do so, and start on your return Monday
morning at 8.35. How do you like the arrangement?"
"Very much. I was only thinking how I could get word to my mother. She
will feel anxious if I am not back at the usual time."
"You might send her a note by a telegraph messenger."
At this moment Fred espied a boy of his acquaintance in the street
outside.
"Here, Charlie Schaeffer," he called, "do you want to earn a quarter?"
"Yes," answered the boy quickly. "What do you want me to do?"
"Take a note to my mother."
"It'll cost me almost a quarter for expenses."
"I will pay that besides."
"All right! Give me the letter."
Fred scribbled these few lines:
DEAR MOTHER,
I am sent to Suspension Bridge and shall not probably be back till late
Monday evening, or perhaps Tuesday morning. Don't worry.
FRED.
Charlie Schaeffer, a stout German boy, who was temporarily out of work,
was glad of the chance of earning a quarter for himself, and started at
once on his errand. Fred, quite elated at the prospect of seeing
Niagara Falls, prepared for his trip. He had to carry a larger supply
of stock on account of the length of the journey, and was instructed to
lay in a fresh supply at Buffalo for the home trip.
He was about to enter the car at ten minutes of nine when Joshua Bascom
appeared on the platform with a well-worn carpet-bag in his hand.
"Are you going back, Mr. Bascom?" asked the train boy.
"Yes," answered Joshua. "I don't want to go to no more station houses.
I shan't rest easy til I'm back in Barton. You hain't seen any
policeman lookin' for me, have you?"
"No; you haven't done anything wrong, have you?"
"Not as I know of, but them cops is very meddlesome. I thought that
pickpocket might have set 'em on my track."
"You are safe here. This is New Jersey, and a New York policeman can't
arrest you here."
"That's good," said Joshua with an air of relief. "Where are you going
to-day?"
"I'm going all the way with you."
"You ain't goin' as far as Barton?"
"Yes, I am, and farther too. I'm going to Niagara."
"You don't say? And you don't have to pay a cent either?"
"No, I get paid for going."
"I wish I was goin' to Niagara with you. By hokey, wouldn't the folks
stare if I was to come home and tell 'em I'd seen the Falls!"
"Can't you go?"
"No, I've spent all the money I can afford. I must wait till next
year."
"Did you spend all of your money, Mr. Bascom?"
"No," chuckled Joshua. "I've only spent the fifteen dollars I got for
that ring, and shall carry home the ten dollars."
"You are an able financier, Mr. Bascom. You've made your expenses, and
can afford to go again. You must tell your father how you got the best
of a pickpocket."
"So I will. I guess he'll think I'm smarter than he reckoned for."
At about half-past four in the afternoon, Fred was called upon to bid
his country friend good-by. Looking from the door of the car, he saw
Joshua climb into a hay wagon driven by an elderly man whose appearance
led him to conclude that he was the "dad" to whom Joshua had frequently
referred.
The sun sank, the darkness came on, but still the train sped swiftly
over its iron pathway. The passengers settled back in their seats, some
fell asleep, and the hum of conversation ceased. Fred too gave up his
trips through the cars, and stretching himself out on a seat, closed
his eyes. Presently the train came to a stop, and the conductor,
putting in his head at the door, called out "Niagara Falls."
Fred rose hastily, for he had made up his mind to get out at this
point. He descended from the train, and found himself on the platform
of the station.
He had already selected the hotel, a small one where the rate was very
moderate, and as there was no carriage representing it at the train he
set out to walk. It was a small, plain-looking inn, of perhaps thirty
rooms, named after the proprietor:
THE LYNCH HOUSE.
On the road thither he was overtaken by a stranger, whom he remembered
as one of the passengers on the second car. He appeared to be about
forty years of age, and though it was a warm summer evening he was
muffled up about the neck.
"Are you going to stop here over night?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"You are the train boy, are you not?"
"Yes, sir."
"What hotel shall you put up at?"
"One recommended to me by the conductor--the Lynch House."
"I think I will stop there too."
"You may not like it. It is a small, cheap house."
"It doesn't matter. I am well provided with money, but I don't care for
style or fashion. I am an invalid, and I prefer the quiet of a small
hotel. There will be less noise and confusion."
"Very well, sir. I think that is the hotel yonder."
Such proved to be the case. It was large on the ground, but only three
stories in height. Over the portico was a sign, bearing the name. It
was by no means fashionable in its appearance, but looked comfortable.
Fred and the stranger entered. A sleepy-looking clerk sat behind the
desk. He opened his eyes, and surveyed the late comers.
"Can you give me a room?" asked Fred.
"I would like one too," said the other.
"We've only got one room left," said the clerk. "That's a back room on
the second story. Are you gentlemen in company?"
"No," answered Fred. "We are strangers to each other."
"Then I can't give but one of you a room. If you don't mind rooming
together, you can both be accommodated."
"Are there two beds in a room?" asked the stranger.
"Yes."
"Then I don't object to occupying it with this young man. He is a
stranger to me, but I watched him on board the train, and I am sure he
is all right."
"Thank you, sir," said Fred.
"Well," said the clerk, "what does the boy say?"
Fred looked curiously at his companion. He was so muffled up that he
could only see a pair of black eyes, a long sallow nose, and cheeks
covered with dark whiskers. The train boy did not fancy his looks much,
but could think of no good reason for declining him as a room
companion. He felt that the gentleman had paid him a compliment in
offering to room with him, particularly when, as he stated, he had a
considerable amount of money about him. He paused a moment only, before
he said, "Perhaps we may as well room together, then."
"All right! I will go up with you, as the hall boy has gone to bed. I
hardly expected any guests by this late train."
The clerk took the stranger's valise--Fred had only a small paper
parcel in his hand, containing a clean shirt and a collar which he had
bought in Jersey City before taking passage on the train. Up one flight
of stairs the clerk preceded them and paused in front of No. 21, the
back room referred to. He unlocked the door, and entering, lighted the
gas.
It was a room about twelve feet wide by twenty in depth. At each end
was a single bedstead.
"I think you will be comfortable," said the clerk. "Is there anything
you want before retiring?"
"No," answered both.