A REFORMED BURGLAR.
“What do you say!” demanded the tramp impatiently. “Speak quick! I
can’t stay here all night.”
“Let me up, and I’ll see if I can find the money for you.”
“I thought I’d bring you to terms,” said the tramp, laughing grimly.
He allowed his victim to rise, as he certainly would not have done if
he had looked behind him and seen the two boys at the window.
“Now’s our time,” answered Philip.
He gave a light spring into the room, followed by Frank.
Of course, the tramp heard them, and turned in sudden alarm. As he
turned, the farmer snatched the club from his hand, and he found
himself unexpectedly unarmed and confronted by three enemies.
“It’s my turn now,” said Lovett. “Do you surrender?”
The tramp saw that the game was up and made a dash for the open window,
but Philip skillfully inserted a stick between his legs, and tripped
him up, and, with the help of Mr. Lovett, held him, struggling
desperately, till Frank fetched a rope, with which he was securely
bound.
“Confound you!” he said, scowling at the two boys. “But for you I would
have succeeded and got away with my booty.”
“That’s true!” said the farmer. “I owe my escape from robbery, and,
perhaps, bodily injury, to you.”
“I am glad we were at hand,” said Philip.
“And now, my friend,” said the farmer, “I may as well say that you were
quite mistaken in supposing I kept a large amount of money in this
lonely house. I should be a fool to do it, and I am not such a fool as
that.”
“Where do you keep your money, then?” growled the tramp.
“In different savings-banks. I am ready to tell you, for it will do you
no good.”
“I wish I’d known it sooner. I came here on a fool’s errand.”
“I am glad you have found it out.”
“Now, what are you going to do with me!”
“Keep you here till I can deliver you into the hands of the law.”
“That won’t do you any good.”
“It will give you a home, where you cannot prey on the community.”
“I don’t mean to do so any more. I’m going to turn over a new leaf and
become an honest man—that is, if you’ll let me go.”
“Your conversion is rather sudden. I haven’t any faith in it.”
“Listen to me,” said the man, “and then decide. Do you think I am a
confirmed lawbreaker?”
“You look like it.”
“Yes, I do; but I am not. Never in my life have I been confined in any
prison or penitentiary. I have never been arrested on any charge. I see
you don’t believe me. Let me tell you how I came to be what I am: Two
years since I was a mechanic, tolerably well-to-do, owning a house with
a small mortgage upon it. It was burned to the ground one night. I
built another, but failed to insure it. Six months since, that, too,
burned down, and left me penniless and in debt. Under this last blow I
lost all courage. I left the town where I had long lived, and began a
wandering life. In other words, I became a tramp. Steadily I lost my
self-respect till I was content to live on such help as the charitable
chose to bestow on me. It was not until to-day that I formed the plan
of stealing. I heard in the village that you kept a large sum of money
in your house, and an evil temptation assailed me. I had become tired
of wandering, and determined to raise a sum which would enable me to
live at ease for a time, I should have succeeded but for these two
boys.”
“And you are sorry you did not succeed?”
“I was, five minutes since, but I feel differently now. I have been
saved from crime. Now, I have told you my story. Do with me as you
will.”
The man’s appearance was rough, but there was something in his tone
which led Mr. Lovett to think that he was speaking the truth.
“Boys,” he said, “you have heard what this man says. What do you think
of it?”
“I believe him!” said Philip promptly.
“Thank you, boy,” said the tramp. “I am glad some one has confidence in
me.”
“I believe you, too,” said Frank.
“I have not deceived you. Your words have done me more good than you
think. It is my first attempt to steal, and it shall be my last.”
“If you want to become an honest man, God forbid that I should do aught
to prevent you!” said the farmer. “I may be acting unwisely, but I mean
to cut this rope and let you go.”
“Will you really do this?” said the tramp, his face lighting up with
mingled joy and surprise.
“I will.”
He knelt on the floor, and drawing from his pocket a large jack-knife,
cut the rope.
The tramp sprang to his feet.
“Thank you,” he said, in a husky voice. “I believe you are a good man.
There are not many who would treat me as generously, considering what I
tried to do just now. You sha’n’t repent it. Will you give me your
hand!”
“Gladly,” said the farmer; and he placed his hand in that of the
visitor, lately so unwelcome. “I wish you better luck.”
“Boys, will you give me your hands, too?” asked tke tramp, turning to
Philip and Frank.
Tke boys readily complied with his request, and repeated the good
wishes of the farmer.
The stranger was about to leave the house, when Lovett said:
“Stay, my friend, I wish to ask you a question.”
“Very well, sir.”
“Have you any money?”
“Not a cent.”
“Then take this,” said the farmer, drawing from his vest pocket a
five-dollar bill. “I lend it to you. Some time you will be able to
repay it, if you keep to your resolution of leading an honest life.
When that time comes, lend it to some man who needs it as you do now.”
“Thank you, sir. I will take it, for it will help me greatly at this
time. Good-by! If you ever see me again, you will see a different man.”
He leaped through the window and was gone.
“I don’t know if I have done a wise thing, but I will take the risk,”
said the farmer. “And now, boys, I want to make you some return for
your assistance to-night.” Both Frank and Philip earnestly protested
that they would receive nothing in the conversation that ensued. Philip
made known his intention to leave Norton the next morning.
“What are your plans? Where do you mean to go?” asked the farmer.
“I don’t know, sir. I shall make up my mind as I go along. I think I
can make my living somehow.”
“Wait here five minutes,” said Lovett, and he went into an adjoining
room.
Within the time mentioned, he returned, holding in his hand a sealed
letter.
“Philip,” he said, “put this envelope in your pocket, and don’t open it
till you are fifty miles from here.”
“Very well, sir,” answered Philip, rather puzzled, but not so much
surprised as he might have been if he had not known the farmer’s
reputation for eccentricity.
“I suppose it contains some good advice,” he thought. “Well, good
advice is what I need.”
The two boys went home immediately upon leaving the farmhouse. Though
so much had happened, it was not late, being not quite half-past nine.
Philip received a cordial welcome from Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar, who,
however, hardly expected to see him so soon. “Are you willing to
receive a pauper beneath your roof?” asked Philip, smiling.
“That you will never be while you have health and strength, I’ll be
bound,” said Mr. Dunbar. “I like your pride and independence, Philip.”
They tried to induce Philip to give up his resolution to leave Norton
the next morning, but did not succeed.
“I will come back some time,” he said. “Now I feel better to go.”
At five o’clock the next morning, with a small bundle swung over his
shoulder, attached to a stick, Philip Gray, carrying his violin, left
the village, which, for some years, had been his home. Frank
accompanied him for the first mile of his journey. Then the two friends
shook hands and parted—not without sorrow, for who could tell when they
would meet again?