TOM AND THE ROBBERS.
TOM HAD an easy way of adapting himself to the company he was in.
Moreover, being a boy, he was regarded with less distrust than if he had
been older. He sat down with the robbers and took part in their
conversation, carefully abstaining, however, from disclosing the mission
he had revealed to the captain. He had the luck to please his
entertainers, if we may give them that name.
After supper the men lit their pipes, and lay down lazily under the
trees.
“I’ve got an extra pipe, my lad, if you’d like to smoke,” said Alonzo,
who ranked next to the captain. He was, in fact, the lieutenant of the
band.
“Thank you,” said Tom, “but I don’t smoke.”
“I smoked before I was of your age, boy.”
“Do you think it did you any good?”
“I can’t say it did, but it’s a comfort, and a merry life is my motto,
even if it’s a shorter one.”
“I may smoke sometime,” said Tom, “but I don’t believe it does a boy any
good.”
“You’re right there, most likely. What brought you out here?”
“I was going to the mines.”
“To make your fortune?”
“Partly, but it was partly the love of adventure.”
“You’ve had your adventure,” said Alonzo, smiling grimly.
“Yes,” said Tom, “and a pretty expensive one. I should have done better
to stay in the city.”
“Were you long there?”
“Yes, I was a clerk in a store.”
“I’ll tell you what you’d better do, my lad,” said Alonzo, taking his
pipe from his mouth.
“What’s that?”
“Join our band.”
“And become a——”
“Robber, bandit, or whatever you choose to call it.”
Tom laughed.
“I don’t think my friends would approve of it,” he said. “Shall I write
to them and ask?”
“I am not joking,” said Alonzo. “We want a boy like you to brighten us
up. You might be useful besides. We’ll give him a fair share of all we
make, won’t we, men?”
“I’m agreed.”
“And so am I.”
“And I,” said all.
“Thank you, gentlemen,” said Tom. “It’s a compliment, and so I consider
it, for you wouldn’t make the offer if you didn’t like my company, but
to be frank I don’t think I should like it.”
“He’s right.”
It was the captain who spoke.
“He’s right, boys. I’m a robber myself, and am likely to be, but I won’t
ask him to be. His life is before him—a bright and prosperous one it may
be, and I for one won’t ask him to spoil it by taking to the road. It’s
well enough for us, for there’s no other chance for us.”
“Captain,” said Alonzo, “you ain’t turning pious, are you?”
He spoke lightly, but he regarded the captain attentively as he spoke.
The captain laughed, but it was a forced laugh.
“That isn’t in my line,” he said. “I thought you knew me too well for
that, Alonzo.”
“Of course I do. I thought mayhap you’d got the blues, or was getting
sick of our company.”
“You have no reason to think that, because I don’t want the boy to
follow our example. If you had a son of your own, Alonzo, you wouldn’t
train him up to his father’s trade, would you?”
“Yes, I would,” said Alonzo doggedly. “The world owes me a living; the
rich have more than belongs to them, and I am ready to relieve them of
what belongs to the poor. What do you say, men?”
“That’s the way to talk,” said all in substance.
They were social outlaws—offenders in the eye of the law, but Alonzo’s
specious reasoning gave an air of respectability to their profession,
and they were ready to adopt it as their own.
“It may be so,” said the captain, “but I wouldn’t ask a boy to join us.”
He got up from the grass on which he had been reclining with the rest,
and walked thoughtfully away.
“Something’s come over the captain,” said Alonzo, looking after him.
“I don’t know but the captain’s right after all,” said another of the
men.
“What, Jack, are you going to turn back on us.”
“Not I, nor the captain neither, but what he said about a boy’s taking
up our business came home to me. I’ve got a boy somewhere about the age
of that youngster. He don’t know what his father is, and he sha’n’t
know, if I can help it. I ain’t good for much, but I want that boy to
grow up respectable.”
“Suppose we change the subject,” said Alonzo, adding with a sneer,
“piety’s spreading. I sha’n’t be surprised, Jack, to hear that you and
the captain have turned missionaries. As for me, I ain’t partial to a
black suit and a white choker.”
“You’d prefer a different kind of a choker,” suggested Jack.
“What do you mean by that?” demanded Alonzo roughly.
“No offense, lieutenant,” said Jack. “Let a man have his joke. We’re all
in the same boat, as far as that goes.”
But Alonzo still looked moody, and did not seem inclined to accept the
apology.
Upon this Jack, to restore good feelings, brought out his violin, for he
was a little of a musician, and begun to play a lively dancing tune.
“Let’s have a dance,” said one.
This suggestion was well received, and the members of the band begun to
leap about to the inspiring airs of the fiddle.
Then it was that a bright thought entered the mind of one of the
robbers—we will call him Bill.
“Have out the Dutchman,” he said. “Let us make him dance.”
This proposal was received with a shout of laughter, in which Alonzo
joined as heartily as the rest. Even Tom, though he sympathized with his
fellow-captive, could not help shouting with laughter as he pictured to
himself the burly form prancing up and down in the mazy dance.
“Good!” said Alonzo. “Bill, you and Dick go in and bring out the
prisoners. We’ll have some sport.”
The two men, nothing loth, jumped up and disappeared within the
building. After some delay they reappeared, followed by Gates and
Morton, and leading between them, bewildered and terrified, the massive
figure of our Teutonic friend, Herr Schmidt. He gazed about him in
evident affright, and ejaculated:
“What will you do mit me? Don’t kill me, goot gentlemen. I am only one
poor Dutchman.”
“We won’t hurt you, mynheer,” said Alonzo, “that is if you obey our
commands. You must dance a jig.”
“I cannot dance at all,” said Herr Schmidt in alarm. “Indeed I cannot,
gentlemen.”
“Oh, you needn’t be particular about the steps, but dance you must. We
are all going to dance. Jack, strike up a tune, and let the fun begin.”
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