THE PRESIDENT IN TROUBLE.
I had not waited to ascertain the condition of Tommy Toppleton. I
had seen the stout stranger pitch him down the bank. The gentlemanly
conductor had rushed down after him, to render whatever assistance he
might require. Lewis Holgate had left the engine to sympathize with his
powerful young friend. My occupation was gone; but I felt a certain
pride and satisfaction in having stood up for my rights. I had not
allowed Tommy to tread upon me this time, and I felt more like a man
than I had ever felt before.
I wish to add, to some of my unreasoning young friends, that I felt an
equal pride and satisfaction in the fact that I had so often submitted.
I had not made haste to get into a row, and it was just as pleasant
to think of what I had endured, as of the resistance I had made to
oppression. If Tommy had been even tolerably reasonable, there could
have been no trouble. It was a very agreeable reflection that I had
not been forward in making issue with my imperious young master. If he
had not been laboring to ruin me, I think I could even have borne his
insults.
I was very curious to know what construction Major Toppleton would put
upon my conduct. My gratitude to him made me anxious to retain his good
opinion, and I had submitted to much for his sake. He certainly could
not blame me for what I had done. I had merely refused to be put out
of the cars after I had paid my fare. I had simply rebelled against an
exhibition of petty malice, as contemptible as it was unreasonable.
But, after all, it was not safe to predict what the magnate of
Middleport would do when his son was involved in the affair, for the
father was quite as much a victim of the young gentleman’s tyranny as I
was.
The stout stranger was on his way to Hitaca, and he went on board
the steamer to continue his journey. Of course there was a great
deal of excited talk about the incident of the day, and of the dozen
Middleporters on board, those who had the courage to say anything
condemned Tommy and upheld me. I thought I was safe enough; and perhaps
I should have been, if exciting news had not come down from the scene
of the affair.
The engineer who had taken possession of the locomotive let off the
steam; and being on his way up the lake, he abandoned the machine. As
there was no one to take charge of it, Wetherstane, the superintendent,
asked me to run it into the engine-house, which I did. I had been duly
discharged, and it was not proper for me to do anything more. I walked
home with Tom Walton; and we discussed the matter as thoroughly as the
occasion required.
“How do you suppose it’s coming out, Wolf?” asked Tom, as
good-naturedly as ever, but still anxiously.
“I haven’t the least idea,” I replied. “I have yielded as long as I
could, and I am willing to take the consequence.”
I felt that I was not likely to be a martyr as long as Colonel
Wimpleton kept his offer of a place on the new steamer open to me, with
the promise of a man’s wages.
“If I were the major, I should rebel against Tommy a little, just to
see how it would seem,” laughed Tom Walton. “Don’t it look strange that
a great man like him--I mean the major--should be such a fool as to let
his son have his own way?”
“It is strange; but I have learned that Major Toppleton is more afraid
of Tommy than of all the rest of the world.”
“If my mother should let me have my own way like that, I couldn’t
respect her. I should think the major would turn over a new leaf, and
be a free man.”
“He is his own master--”
“Not much!” exclaimed Tom, interrupting me; “Tommy is master here.”
“Well, he has the right to obey his son, if he chooses to do so,” I
added. “I don’t know, but I can’t help thinking that this matter has
come to a head now. Major Toppleton wants me to run the engine, and
Tommy don’t want me to do it. I hope the thing will be settled to-day.”
It was settled that day.
I went home, and pretty soon my father came to his dinner. He had, of
course, been my confidant in all the matters relating to my quarrel
with Tommy. I told him all about the stirring events of the morning,
after we sat down to dinner; and he was so interested that he neglected
to touch the food before him till he had heard the whole of it.
“Have I done wrong, father?” I asked.
“Certainly not. You couldn’t have done anything else. You live here,
and the railroad is now the only way for you to come up the lake. You
paid your fare, and they had no more right to put you off the cars than
they had to throw you into the lake,” he replied, warmly.
I ought to add here, that my relations with the road had been discussed
every day, and often two or three times a day. My father, and my mother
especially, had cautioned me not to be impulsive, and not to resist
while it was decent to submit. Our obligations to Major Toppleton were
acknowledged, and all of us were very anxious to keep the peace with
him.
“I don’t see how Major Toppleton can uphold that boy any longer,” added
my mother.
“I don’t see how he ever could do it,” said my father. “But that is
his business, not mine. I don’t think we make much, however, by trying
to keep on the right side of these rich men by sacrificing our own
self-respect. I am thankful that the major does not hold the mortgage
on my house.”
“I suppose he could get it, if he wanted it,” suggested my mother.
“Well, it has two years to run, whoever has it; and as long as I pay
the interest, we shall be safe enough,” continued my father. “I am
thankful we are not in such a scrape as we were on the other side of
the lake.”
We ate our dinner in peace, in spite of the storm which had raged
without. My father was in deep thought, and it was not difficult to
conjecture the subject of his meditations. Doubtless he congratulated
himself most heartily that it was not in the power of either of the
magnates to harass and annoy him. The major could discharge us both,
and even make Middleport too warm to contain us; but the colonel was
ready to receive us both with open arms. It seemed just as though I was
a shuttlecock, to be batted back and forth from one side of the lake
to the other at the will and pleasure of the mighty men who ruled the
neighborhood.
But I had some hope that Major Toppleton would sustain me, or at least
that he would not persecute our family, even if he yielded to the
caprices of his son. Whatever mischief had been done, I had not done
it, though I had been the indirect cause of it. I had not stopped the
train; I had not put Tommy out of the car; I had not pitched him down
the bank. If these things had been done on my behalf, I had no agency
in them. The indignant passengers, who were detained by the whim of the
little president, had been the responsible actors, and I had no doubt
the stout stranger was ready to answer for his conduct. Whether he was
or not, this was not my affair. I had his card in my pocket; but so
far as I could ascertain, no one knew anything about him. I regarded
him as a person of some consequence.
We finished our dinner, and my father was on the point of returning to
the mill, when Tom Walton rushed into the kitchen, out of breath with
running. His appearance indicated that some unusual event had occurred,
for my friend was one of the cool sort, and not easily stirred by small
matters.
“The dummy has just come in,” exclaimed Tom, in the intervals between
his rapid breathing.
“Well, what of it?” I inquired, not deeming this very startling
intelligence.
“Tommy Toppleton’s leg is broken,” gasped Tom.
“Broken!” I exclaimed.
“Snapped off, like a pipe-stem, below the knee, they say.”
“I am sorry for that,” I added; and I almost wished it had been my leg,
instead of the little tyrant’s.
“His father is the maddest man that ever drew the breath of life.”
“I dare say,” said my father, shaking his head.
“How did it happen?” I inquired.
“Why, that stout man did it when he pitched him down the bank,”
answered Tom. “I’ll bet it will cost that man a penny or two. That’s
what they say up to the station.”
“I will go up and see about it,” I added, taking my hat.
“You!” ejaculated Tom, with a stare of astonishment.
“Why not?”
“If you know what you are about, you will keep out of the way,”
suggested Tom, with significant emphasis.
“I haven’t done anything that I am ashamed of,” I replied. “I am not
afraid to see the major, and tell him the whole story. I’m sorry for
Tommy’s misfortune, but it is all his own fault.”
“Face the music, Wolf,” said my father. “No one ever makes anything by
skulking in the dark. You have a tongue, and you can explain your own
conduct better than any one can do it for you.”
“But they are all down upon you like a hundred of brick, Wolf,”
continued Tom, who was fearful that I might be lynched in the
excitement which he said prevailed in the vicinity of the major’s house.
“I can’t help it. When I was insulted, I did not resist nor make any
row.”
“But you left your train at the time it ought to have started,” said
Tom.
“I should not have done so if the president had not taken that time to
insult me. It was not necessary for him to discharge my fireman at such
a time. But no matter for all this; I am going up to Major Toppleton’s
house. It he chooses to kick me out, he may do so.”
I could not help feeling that my chances of a fair hearing at such a
time were very small, but I could not have kept away from the centre of
the excitement if I had tried. I must know my fate, whatever it might
be.