SA cms teens 
 i Ab eee 
 
 FRED WITTROCK. 
 
 ‘ 
 
 pad, CHICAGO: 
 
 tN Se 
 
 DONOHUE, HENNEBERRY & CO, 
 
Copyrighted 1892 _ 
 oA NGN Se a part 
 
 Frep Wittrock — > | 
 
 A Lucky Mishap 
 
PREFACE 
 
 It is a fact well known to all close observers of hu- 
 man nature, that there exists in the minds of a large 
 proportion of the youth, throughout the western states, 
 a tendency toward admiration for stage and train rob- 
 bers. 
 
 The sensational reports published by newspapers 
 whenever such a crime has been committed, and the 
 widely circulated publications of books, claiming to 
 give the life and adventures of Jesse James, Cole 
 Younger and others, have undoubtedly drawn many a 
 brave good-hearted youth into the maelstrom of crime. 
 And it is a notorious fact, acknowledged by all veteran 
 officers of the law, that young men and boys, who were 
 never before guilty of even a petty offence,could easily 
 be induced to take part in some bold robbery. Such 
 has been proven to be the case so often, whenever the 
 true details of highway robberies come to light, that 
 this statement will hardly be disputed by any person 
 well versed in criminal affairs. 
 
 Then if in writing this book, and attempting to por- 
 tray the misery and sorrow that such deeds always 
 bring to those who are nearest and dearest to us, it 
 should be the means of keeping one human soul from 
 falling into the path, leading inevitably to disgrace, I 
 shall feel that my labor has not been in vain. 
 
 Author, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 CHAPTER=I 
 
 “Has not your horse picked up a nail?” The speaker 
 stood within a field close up to an old zigzag rail 
 fence that is so familiar to the eye of the traveler 
 throughout the western states. Close beside this bar- 
 rier lay the turnpike road leading to the little village 
 of Montrovia, a small settlement in the south-eastern 
 part of Missouri. 
 
 The person addressed was upon the highway astride 
 of a horse, whose pitiful appearance indicated that the 
 poor creature had evidently been urged to a faster pace 
 than ordinarily accustomed, or else that he was suffer- 
 ing from some injury; for his eyes were constantly 
 rolling around in agony and he was certainly limping 
 on one of his fore feet. 
 
 “I can’t help it if he-has,” exclaimed ‘the rider. “I 
 must be at Montrovia in time to catch the uptrain to 
 Springfield; if I have to kill the beast. It’s his cussed 
 laziness, I guess,” and without more ado he spurred 
 the poor animal into a half canter and trot along the 
 road toward the village, which lay distant about two 
 miles. ‘The rider was a young man probably between 
 twenty-five and thirty years of age, with rather light 
 hair, a reddish light mustache, anda pair of steel gray 
 eyes that rarely expressed the feelings of their owner; 
 and from which every ray of pity or tender sentiment 
 
 5 
 
 ’ 
 
 - 
 
6 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 was excluded. His build was rather light, although 
 compact and sinewy, and his height was in fair pro- 
 portion to his form which was attired in a well-fitting 
 suit that showed at once, even to careless observers, 
 that it had been purchased in some more populous 
 town than Montrovia. He was the young physician, 
 Dr. Edgerton; a new-comer in Montrovia who, in ad- 
 dition to his medical profession, acted as agent in the 
 vicinity for a loan and mortgage company whose head- 
 quarters were at St. Louis. Meanwhile the first 
 speaker stood beside the fence watching the rapidly re- 
 treating figure of the doctor with a weary dissatisfied 
 look on his face that plainly indicated a discontented 
 spirit. 
 
 He was by several years a younger man than the 
 new physician, for Hartley Furlong, or Hart, as he was 
 generally called, had just attained the requisite num- 
 ber of years that entitled him to vote; and with this 
 power: of manhood there had come a_ host of new 
 thoughts and aspirations, creating a spirit of discon- 
 tent in his mind, where formerly had been peaceful 
 repose. — 
 
 What was he to become? Was he always to follow 
 the plow and attend to the stock upon the farm and 
 ever trudge along in the humdrum path of life that 
 he had followed for years? Why not boldly renounce 
 all this, and try for something better elsewhere! These 
 were the ideas which of late had been crowding in upon 
 his brain so that even his ordinary duties about the 
 farm were becoming irksome and sometimes only partial- 
 ly performed. 
 
 Hart was not inclined to’ be lazy or indolent, 
 rather to the contrary; but he had just reached that 
 age when most young people build their air castles, and 
 
 Oe 
 
 ic 
 a: 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 7 
 
 while their minds are busy upon such subjects their 
 hands are apt to be otherwise. He possessed a fair ed- 
 ucation, considering the surrounding circumstances; 
 this was partly owing to the proximity of the school- 
 house to the Furlong farm, which generally necessi- 
 tated the boarding of the school teacher at their house, 
 and as some of the different ones employed by the 
 county board were quite well educated, Hart had, by 
 their aid, become enlightened in the mysteries of the 
 algebraic “x” and “y”; and as he had a natural bent 
 for history and geography it was not long before he 
 had acquired the reputation of being the most intelli- 
 gent young man in that neighborhood, so that all dis- 
 puted points in regard to geographical distances and 
 etc., were always referred to Hart Furlong, whose de- 
 cisions were generally regarded as final. 
 
 It is little wonder, then, that he became dissatisfied 
 with his present position in life, and as he slowly 
 turned the tired horses around to start on the last fur- 
 row for that day, for the sun was now close to the 
 western horizon, he resolved to speak to his parents 
 that very evening upon the subject that was upper- 
 most in his mind. 
 
 He rapidly drew a mental comparison between him- 
 self, whom he put on the level of a farm hand, and 
 the young doctor, in whom he seemed to perceive the 
 very personification of success in life; for there was 
 * a young man not yet turned thirty, who stood before 
 the community in the dual capacity of physician and 
 the financial agent of a wealthy company, and who 
 was being talked of seriously as the proper person to 
 represent that district at the next session of the legis- 
 lature. 
 
 The result of these thoughts was the conclusion that 
 
8 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 he need only expect to gain advancement by striking 
 out from the farm to some large city, and upon this 
 course he determined to.act. 
 
 The Furlongs had lived upon the farm for several 
 years, Mr. Furlong having removed there from Ken- 
 tucky just after the close of our great Civil War. 
 
 He had espoused the confederate side in the late 
 conflict, and, at the commencement of the trouble had 
 married the daughter of a neighboring farmer upon 
 whom he had long danced attendance. The marriage 
 was a very happy one for both parties, although during 
 the war they had seen but. little of each other. At 
 the close of hostilities, he repaired at once to his old 
 home where he found his parents very sick, and a few 
 weeks later they were laid side by side in the grave. 
 
 Hastily closing up the affairs of the wrecked planta- 
 tion, he left the old place and in company with his 
 wife and two children, Edward and Hart, started for 
 Missouri, finally locating upon the place where we 
 now find them; a few years later Mary was born, so 
 that the Furlong household consisted of just five per- 
 sons, whom we will attempt to describe in as brief a 
 manner as possible. 
 
 Mr. Furlong was one of those kind, genial men, 
 most often met with among the class who follow agri- 
 cultural pursuits as a means of Jivelihood. His ambi- 
 tion was rarely excited and as long as there was peace 
 and contentment in the little household with no debts 
 for which any of the family were liable, his mind was 
 at perfect ease. Of late years he had become quite an 
 invalid, partly owing to an accident, and in part to 
 the exposure to which he was subjected during the 
 war. 
 
 Mrs. Furlong was of her husband’s disposition to a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 9 
 
 certain extent, but was very proud of her children, and 
 would have been pleased to see them advance a stride 
 or two ahead of the monotonous existence of farm life; 
 but as their means were small she could see no out- 
 look at present to gratify her desires although she sel- 
 dom went to town and noticed the new enterprises 
 starting up, (for several were sprouting into existence 
 since the railroad had come), without a secret wish 
 that the new store or lumber yard belonged to Hart; 
 for Hart was her favorite child. Not that she loved 
 her others less, but she could perceive the ambition 
 which animated her own being cropping out in him, 
 while in the others lay only contentment. Mary Fur- 
 long, the daughter, was what every body would call 
 quite a good-looking girl. She had the dark eyes and 
 hair of her mother and the quiet contented spirit 
 which was so characteristic of her father. At the 
 present time she was just turning sweet sixteen and 
 also the heads of some half-dozen farmers’ sons, who 
 rivaled each other in walking home with her from 
 school, or pressing invitations upon her to accept their 
 company and conveyance whenever she might wish to 
 go to town: for like all people engaged in farming, 
 the Furlongs rarely missed going to town once a week, 
 and since Mr. Furlong had ‘been unable to attend to 
 farm work it had become customary for some of the 
 family to make a Saturday trip to the village and, 
 among other important purchases, to procure such 
 reading matter as the “general store” afforded, to em- 
 ploy the old gentleman’s mind through the following 
 week. 
 
 Edward, the elder boy, resembled his father to a 
 great extent and was his father’s counselor in matters 
 of stock raising or training and, in fact, in all matters 
 
to A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 pertaining to the farm. - He was quieter and of a more 
 contented frame of mind than his younger brother and 
 though not so well versed in a knowledge of worldly 
 affairs, was by far Hart’s superior in all knowledge 
 pertaining to stock raising and agriculture, and seemed 
 naturally adapted to farm life. 
 
 Of Hart, the younger brother, we have already said 
 a good deal, and, reader, if you can picture in your: 
 mind, a tall young man rather slightly built, with dark 
 eyes and hair, you will have the outward appearance 
 of one whose successes and failures, trials and pleas- 
 ures, the writer proposes to narrate in the following 
 
 pages. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 The evening meal had just been finished; Mrs. Fur- 
 long and Mary were busily engaged in clearing away 
 the dishes; Edward and his father had just finished 
 discussing the condition of some stock, while Hart sat 
 moodily engaged in poking up the wood fire, which 
 blazed merrily in the open fire-place; for although it 
 was April and spring had commenced to make all 
 things assume a new aspect, yet the nights were chilly 
 and it just needed the cheerful fire on the hearth to 
 make one feel comfortable. 
 
 “Well, Hart,” suddenly spoke up his father, “what 
 are you thinking about? I see you have turned and 
 twisted that back log in so many ways that your mind 
 is certainly not bent on improving the fire. Not think- 
 ing about Nelly I hope? Somebody got in ahead of 
 you there, eh?” 
 
 The Nelly, to whom Hart’s father alluded, was 
 Nelly Goodwin, the daughter of a neighboring farmer, 
 to whom Hart had been paying his addresses for sev- 
 eral months and in whom he was now quite interested. 
 
 “No father, not Nelly this time,” replied Hart blush- 
 ing at the mention of her name, “but I have had some- 
 thing on my mind for quite a while and I guess the 
 sooner it is out the better. I am not exactly satisfied 
 here on the farm.” 
 
 Had a thunderbolt descended from the sky into the 
 very room, it would scarcely have startled the Furlong 
 household more than Hart’s speech. 
 
 11 
 
i2 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “What is it, Hart,” asked his father in amazement. 
 “I am sure we all are interested in one another’s wel- 
 fare, so speak up and let us know what’s the matter.” 
 
 By this time Mrs. Furlong and Mary had seated 
 themselves close to Hart and were anxiously awaiting 
 his reply as were also his father and brother. 
 
 “The fact is, father,” began Hart in a hesitating 
 way, “I have often thought lately that I would like to 
 go at something else instead of farm work. I feel as 
 though I shall never make a succses of farming; for 
 somehow I can’t take the interest in it that Edward 
 does, and I am sure that a person in order to succeed 
 in any undertaking, should be engaged at something 
 in which their mind works in unison with their hands.” 
 
 “Quite right,” agreed Mr. Furlong.* “But what is it 
 you would like to do? You are aware, I suppose, that 
 I have not the means to start you in some business at 
 Montrovia, and I am sure you are more independent 
 here on the farm, than in being behind the counter of 
 some store measuring out tape and calico from early 
 morning until late at night.” 
 
 “No I should not like that kind of work either. But 
 I have been thinking that if I could go to some large 
 city, such as St. Louis or Memphis, and get something 
 to do that would support me for the present, that I 
 could soon drop into a position where by working hard 
 and applying both my hands and brain, I could ad- 
 vance myself.” 
 
 “My boy, you might goto St. Louis or Memphis 
 and stay there for months and never strike any such 
 position as you describe; for such positions are most 
 always given to the sons or relations of persons who 
 can wield some influence should occasion ever call 
 LOM i, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 13 
 
 “That may be so,” replied Hat persistently; “but 
 poor boys and young men have gone to large cities 
 and made fortunes and you know, ‘nothing ventured 
 is nothing gained.’” 
 
 A silence now fell upon the little household, and 
 while Hart gazed rather abstractedly at the fire the 
 other four looked at him and began to wonder what 
 would be the outcome of it all. 
 
 The silence was finally broken by Mrs. Furlong say- 
 ing, “John,”—-she always called her husband by that 
 name—‘“if Hart feels that way he will never be per- 
 fectly satisfied until he has had a trial of city life and 
 should a foothold ever be awarded him I feel quite 
 confident of his success.” 
 
 “It seems easy enough to talk about,” said Mr. Fur- 
 long alittle testily. “And it reads very nicely in story 
 books about young men going to large cities and from 
 a poor clerkship in some wholesale house working their 
 way up and becoming partner; but it seldom occurs. 
 Say one in ten thousand, and even then that one may 
 have been forced at times to dispense with his honor 
 or veracity in order to attain his point, and God for- 
 bid that our boy should take a single step like that 
 even if it were to make him a millionaire. Remember, 
 Hart, if you should leave here, as seems to be your 
 desire, that true wealth does not.exist in mere dollars 
 and cents. He, who has a happy contented mind is 
 usually far better off than those who have their millions; 
 for depend upon it, if they have not acquired their 
 money honestly there will always be a thorn of dissat- 
 isfaction in their hearts.” 
 
 “What you say, father, I fully believe to be true,” 
 broke in Hart after another long pause ensuing. “But 
 why can I not haye a trial and should I fail, come 
 
uy. Bees A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 back to the farm? In that way there would not be 
 much lost, except my time, and Edward can run the 
 place very well by hiring some help when pushed.” 
 
 “Yes,” spoke up Edward, “I have no doubt but that 
 the farm can be managed all right, and should I get 
 crowded for help a man can easily be hired at Mon- 
 trovia, and we might as well let Hart have a chance 
 and see what he can do. It will be good to have a 
 laugh at him, when he comes back with his clothes 
 all wore out. I have little doubt, however, but that 
 we shall see him before that happens if Nelly Good- 
 win attends any of the dances with some good looking 
 chap; that Doctor Edgerton for instance, eh—Hart?” 
 and Edward laughed merrily thinking thereby to dis- 
 pel the gloom; but the rest of the family could only 
 smile faintly, for the thought of Hart’s leaving them 
 caused an anxiety in their hearts. 
 
 ‘Where have we a single friend,” resumed Mr. Fur- 
 long,“ located im any large city, who would give Hart 
 a place where he could earn his board and clothes, or 
 else recommend him to other parties who might want 
 to employ some one?” 
 
 “Now, John,” said his wife, “I have been thinking 
 this over since Hart has spoken about it, and if he is 
 dissatisfied with the work here on the farm, we ought 
 to let him see a little of city life. Perhaps if you 
 would write to Mr. Huntoon he might be able to get 
 Hart something to do or recommend him to some one 
 who might want a young man; and I am sure Hart 
 will succeed in anything that interests him. But 
 Hart,” she added turning suddenly toward him, “if 
 you do go away and get the least bit homesick promise 
 me that you will come straight back here, won’t you?” 
 and a tear glistened in the mother’s eye as she looked 
 at her boy, Oh! so fondly. ° 
 
 al + =~ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 15 
 
 Hart murmured an assenting reply for he felt a lump 
 growing in his throat even at the» mention of leaving 
 his mother, and he also had some misgivings as to 
 how he might act when saying good-bye to Nelly 
 Goodwin, for his heart was rather tender in that di- 
 rection also, and half of the courage which he had dis- 
 played in talking so bravely about going away alone 
 to some large city, commenced to ooze away and he 
 began to think that after all, perhaps he had better 
 settle down and try to make farm life agreeable. 
 
 “By the way, Martha,” said Mr. Furlong to his wife, 
 “your suggestion about Mr. Huntoon reminds me that 
 I have not answered his last letter which I received 
 nearly a month ago. I guess he will think I am a very 
 slow correspondent. Mary, dear, pleate look in the 
 writing desk and see if you can find his letter for me. 
 Remember, it will be post-marked St. Louis.” 
 
 Mary obeyed as was her custom for she was a duti- 
 ful girl and soon had the letter in her father’s hand. 
 
 “Now hand me the ink and paper and I will see if 
 I can collect my thoughts enough to write a reply; for 
 I must confess Hart’s talk to-night has all upset me.” 
 
 Mary went to look for some paper, but soon returned 
 empty handed, as the last particle of that kind of 
 stationery had been exhausted for some time. 
 
 “V’ll have to postpone writing to Huntoon then until 
 some of you go to town and bring some writing paper,” 
 remarked the old gentleman. “I suppose, Hart, that 
 will not be before Saturday and I will write to him 
 Sunday, so if your mind does not change between now 
 and then, I will ask my old friend if he can do any- 
 thing for you in St. Louis.” 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 Leaving Hart for the present, kind reader, tossing 
 about in a restless slumber, dreaming now of fair 
 Nelly Goodwin—with whom we shall become ac- 
 quainted later—and then being buffeted.in the bustle 
 and rustle of city life; while we shift the scene in this 
 small drama to a far different and far distant one from 
 that of the quiet Furlong homestead and its peaceful 
 occupants. 
 
 It is night and we now stand within the walls of 
 a large an terrible enclosure for erring humanity, 
 States Prison. 
 
 The rain is coming down steadily, and so dark is it 
 that one can scarcely see ten feet in advance unaided 
 by the light from the numerous lamps placed about 
 the court. A cold raw wind blows from off the river 
 which flows within gunshot of the north wall, and the 
 guards standing out exposed to the wind and rain are 
 inclined to envy even the lot of the prisoners sleeping 
 so quietly and peacefully in their cells. 
 
 But are all of them sleeping so quietly as the guards 
 suppose? 
 
 At the lower end of a tier of cells within a tower- 
 ing formidable mass of masonry and iron known as a 
 
 cell building, there are four prisoners still awake 
 
 although the hour of midnight has just sounded, and, 
 as the footstep of the inside guard is heard far up 
 
 along the top walk, a faint rasp-rasp-rasp, sounds sus: 
 
 piciously from the iron door of their cell, 
 1g 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 17 
 
 What is it? Steel upon iron? Bah! Surely no 
 prisoner could be foolish enough to think of escape; 
 for should he get out of his cell an armed guard ever 
 on the alert, patrolling the corridors, must be over- 
 powered and that silently; for a shot or,even an alarm- 
 ing cry will bring a pile of armed men to his assis- 
 tance. But should this dfficult feat be actually accom- 
 plished in silence, he must then break out of a stone 
 building, each door and window of which is carefully 
 protected by a net work of iron bars, which must suc- 
 cumb to his skill, for the key to the door is never left 
 inthe possession of the inside guard. 
 
 And, if by mere chance he should get thus far along 
 the road to liberty, which is well-nigh impossible, 
 there still remains the crowning feat of all to be ac- 
 complished; that of scaling the high stone wall sur- 
 rounding the entire grounds and upon which armed 
 guards stationed. night and day in their little sentry 
 boxes scarce a hundred yards apart, stand ready to 
 shoot down any one who attempts to mount this bar- 
 rier between freedom and imprisonment. 
 
 Still that noise! Faintly it comes to the ear of the 
 drowsy guard but he only mutters, “the rats gnawing,” 
 as he moves toward the grated iron door to answer the 
 half hour whistle, a signal that all is well. 
 
 While the call is being answered the rasping noise 
 increases audibly, but as the resounding tread of the 
 guard sounds upon the walk the noise ceases instantly, 
 and as he passes cell fifty-seven the feigned regular 
 breathing of the four prisoners it contains would have 
 convinced any one that they were deep in slumber. 
 
 No sooner, however, had the sound of his footsteps 
 died away upon the opposite corridor than the four 
 prisoners arose and silently stole up close to the heavy 
 iron grated door. 
 
 x 
 
18 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Did you make it that time, Jack,” whispered one 
 of them to a tall powerful looking fellow who, bend- 
 ing down on one knee, was engaged in fitting a small 
 steel saw into a slot which showed that one of the 
 iron bars was nearly sawed in two. 
 
 “Very nearly. J’ll have it in a second,” answered 
 the big prisoner who had been addressed as Jack, and 
 after a few minutes quiet work he stopped, withdrew 
 the steel saw and as the other prsioners crowded around 
 he wrenched loose by a strong jerk, a piece of aniron 
 bar which left an opening in the door large enough to 
 insert one’s arm. 
 
 “Now then, Bob, get that wire and make this brass 
 padlock talk, as you say you can. Be quick before that 
 guard comes back,” said Jack in a whisper to a slight 
 built young fellow who stood close by. 
 
 The prisoner addressed hastily ran his arm through 
 the hole in the grated door, and was soon working 
 hard in the endeavor to pick the lock by the aid of a 
 piece of wire. 
 
 Quickly yet patiently he toiled at his task, and many 
 were the doubtful glances cast upon him by the three 
 anxious cell-mates when he would withdraw his arm 
 from the aperture to give an extra twist to the wire 
 and then quickly continue at his work. 
 
 A faint smile came to his face as a sharp click 
 sounded in the lock, and as he muttered triumphantly, 
 “T’ve got it” he withdrew his hand from the aperture 
 with the opened padlock in his grasp. 
 
 Motioning for the other men to get back, the big 
 prisoner, who will be known as Jack hereafter, took a 
 position close beside the door, which now could be 
 pushed open whenever desired, and crouching down 
 like a tiger he whispered to the other three to be ready. 
 
 @ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 19 
 
 They had not long to wait; for in a few minutes the 
 heavy tread of the guard was heard coming along the 
 walk close to the cell doors, causing Jack’s muscles to 
 become tense, as he stooped down in readiness for a 
 quick assault upon the unsuspecting guard, while the 
 others stood back in breathless suspense. 
 
 The moment the guard passed their cell, the iron 
 bar fell with a sharp clang in answer to a quick push 
 upon the door from the inside, and quick as had been 
 the guard’s movement to wheel around in alarm, it was 
 too late, for—smash—the hardened fist of the prisoner 
 had struck him squarely between the eyes, and reeling, 
 half stunned as he was from the blow, would have 
 fallen from the walk, but quick asa flash Jack grabbed 
 him and carried him into the cell where, in less time 
 than it takes to record it, he was stripped of his uni- 
 form, bound and gagged, a helpless victim. 
 
 Scearcely five minutes had elapsed from the com- 
 mencement of the assault until Jack, now completely 
 attired in the guard’s uniform and armed with his re- 
 volver, stepped forth from the cell to resume the un- 
 finished walk of his now helpless captive. Hastily 
 making a round of the cells and perceiving that every- 
 thing was quiet,—for so quick and noiseless had been 
 the encounter that even the prisoners in the adjoining 
 cells had not been awakened,—he returned to the cell 
 which contained his three comrades and their prisoner, 
 
 “Everything is all right. Come on, Bob,” he whis- 
 pered hurriedly, and the young convict who had been 
 so successful in manipulating the padlock, stepped out. 
 
 “Now then, that window behind the stove! The 
 screen will hide you, and be lively,” added the bogus 
 guard. And as the young fellow hurried in the direc- 
 tion designated and began to use the steel saw upon one 
 
20 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 of the iron bars on the window, Jack resumed the reg- 
 ular beat of the deposed jailor and answered the half- 
 hour call in exact imitation of the guard’s whistle. 
 Ten minutes after the signal call, the young prisoner’s 
 task upon the window was completed; and ceasing his 
 work he wiped away the perspiration which stood out 
 in great drops upon his forehead plainly denoting 
 the excitement under which he labored. 
 
 A low whistle, which was the signal agreed upon, 
 brought Jack and his other two companions instantly 
 to his side and removing the cut bar they passed 
 through the narrow space out upon the court. 
 
 "A good night,” said Jack grimly as the rain came 
 down upon them in torrents while the wind blew in 
 terrific gusts from off the river. 
 
 Bending low the four men stealthily proceeded with- 
 in the shadow of the huge building toward the new 
 dining hall, which was then in course of erection. 
 
 Silently they crept around to the east side of the 
 building, that lay within forty feet of the prison wall, 
 and stopping before an immense derrick, which was 
 then being used to hoist the heavy stone sills and caps 
 for the dining hall, they slowly and noiselessly swung 
 around the huge crane until the upper pulley and its 
 ropes reached above and dangled down upon the pris- 
 on wall. 
 
 It was about the work of a moment to cut the ropes 
 passing through the lower pulley, and after tying half 
 of them fast to the crane they left the other swinging 
 loose to be used as a means of descent. 
 
 Then the four men with Jack in the lead commenced 
 to climb the pole and work their way out upon the 
 arm, the end of which now hung over and beyond this 
 last barrier to be overcome. 
 
 ae 
 
Doses 
 
 A LUCKY MISHAP 21 
 
 So far everything had worked exactly in accordance 
 with the plan laid out so carefully weeks beforehand, 
 and the heart of each one of them beat high in ex- 
 pectation of what now appeared to be a sure deliver- 
 ance from a hated subjection. But, alas! it only 
 proved to be a sad disappiontment to all but one; for 
 just as the leader had reached the summit of the arm 
 and was feeling for the outside rope, one of the men 
 lost his hold upon the wet and slippery pole and fell to 
 the ground below, alighting upon a pile of empty 
 barrels and making a noise plainly heard above the 
 roar of the storm. 
 
 In an instant the wall guards in the adjacent towers 
 were out upon their small platforms peering down in 
 the direction from which the noise came, and as one of 
 them swung around his large reflecting lamp, the rays 
 fell squarely upon the escaping prisoners on the crane. 
 
 “Halt! Go back, or I fire!” came the command 
 almost in unison from both of the tower guards as 
 they leveled their guns upon the three creeping forms. 
 
 Bang!—it was the report of Jack’s pistol taken from 
 the captured guard in the cell building, and the ball 
 sped true to the work intended, shattering the large 
 reflector of the tower lamp into a hundred pieces, com- 
 pletely destroying the powerful light which had re- 
 vealed their presence. Without hesitating a moment 
 he then thrust the smoking pistol into his pocket and 
 clutching the rope swung over the wall and, as his 
 form dissappeared in the pitchy darkness beyond, his 
 shout of: “Come on, Bob,” rang out clearly above 
 the roar of the wind and rain. 
 
 The prisoner called to, attempted to follow the act 
 of his leader, but just as his hand was upon the rope, 
 the report of the guard’s gun rang out and he felt the 
 
22 A-LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 cruel sting of shot in half a dozen places on his leg. 
 
 With a groan he loosened his grasp on the rope and 
 would have fallen to the ground had not the prisoner 
 behind caught him just in the nick of time. 
 
 A second later and the scene was entirely changed, 
 for the report of the shooting had brought a host of 
 guards to the spot with lanterns and reflectors; and as 
 their lights revealed the position of the wounded man 
 and his helpmate, the guards mercifully abstained 
 from firing, and procuring a ladder, soon had the 
 wounded prisoner upon the ground, from whence he 
 was taken at once to the hospital, while the other two 
 were marched back to their cell where the release of 
 the helpless guard was immediately effected. 
 
 Meanwhile how does the leader of this disastrous 
 fiasco fare after going over the wall? 
 
 As soon as his feet struck the earth after his rapid 
 descent down the rope, he hurried away from the wall 
 and a moment later was rolling and tumbling down 
 the steep inclining side of a huge gully which hes to 
 the east of the prison. 
 
 Following the bed of this ravine toward the north 
 he soon passed beneath the railroad bridge and stood 
 upon the bank of the river; then turning toward the 
 west he slowly and noiselessly made his way along the 
 bank, stopping every few minutes to examine every 
 indistinct. obstacle that loomed up in the darkness as 
 though in search of something. 
 
 He had not proceeded far when a flash of lightning 
 showed to view the dim outlines of a small skiff, and 
 hurrying towards it he found it secured only by a piece 
 of rope, while within the boat lay as strong a pair of 
 ash oars as ever a sailor could wish for. 
 
 “I thought it was some place about here. It’s lucky 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 23 
 
 ‘I noticed this from the shop window,” he muttered as 
 he quickly untied the rope, then giving a push to the 
 little craft, sprang within as it receded from the shore, 
 and fitting the oars to the rowlocks, he began a quick 
 steady stroke that sent the skiff spinning far out into 
 the current. 
 
 It is an exceedingly dangerous venture to take a ride 
 at night down this swiftest of American rivers; but 
 to this man, who was leaving behind what was in- 
 tended to be his veritable tomb for years to come, 
 there came no thought of fear as the little boat sped 
 rapidly on its way down stream through the angry 
 turbulent water; for the wind had raised the waves to 
 some degree, and it was just in the spring of the year 
 with the Missouri rising every day from the melting 
 snow in the mountains until it now appeared like a 
 mighty flood rushing on its way to the sea. 
 
 The lights of the prison were soon left far behind; 
 but still he did not relax for an instant his effort at the 
 oars until fully ten or twelve miles of impenetrable 
 darkness lay between him and the place of his late 
 confinement; then ceasing for a moment to rest he 
 leaned over the skiff’s side and took a long draught 
 from the cold but murky waters. 
 
 “A close shave, but it beats doing ten years in that 
 place,” he muttered to himself resting on the oars and 
 letting the boat float along with the current. "I wish 
 Cook had made it. But then he only has three years 
 more and I may pick him up again somewhere. I 
 wonder if any of them got that last shot? Hope Bob 
 didn’t. Now I wonder if that might not be the reason 
 that kept him back? Infernal bad luck!” he added 
 reflectively; then, perceiving that his craft had drifted 
 in close to the bank, he took up the oars and soon 
 
24 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 placed it again in the channel of the river when he 
 continued steadily on his way down stream, now pass- 
 ing the ugly black heads of threatening snags around 
 which the water roared in its ceaseless struggle to tear 
 them loose from their hold upon the bed of the. river, 
 and now shooting close by the branches of some huge 
 tree which being caught in the stream upon some ob- 
 struction caused it to become a terrible obstagle of 
 danger to any night traveler on this rapid and treach- 
 erous river. 
 
 Hour after hour passed by, and only when the first 
 streaks of daylight began to appear-in the east did the 
 tired oarsman slacken his stroke and commence to scan 
 eagerly the foliage upon the south bank of the river, as 
 though wishing to discover some wild fruit or vine, 
 and as his gaze finally rested upon a grove of tall wal- 
 nut trees he turned the bow of the little craft to the 
 shore and landed. 
 
 Here, he at once began the task of disguising the 
 appearance of the bright blue suit taken from the 
 guard, and after tearing loose the brass buttons, he 
 gathered some walnuts, with which the ground was 
 thickly strewn, and wetting the hulls began rubbing 
 them over the clothes so that in less than half an hour 
 the bright blue uniform was changed to a rusty brown 
 color closely resembling a suit of faded jeans. 3 
 
 A broad smile of. satisfaction lighted up his heavy 
 features, when on examining the guard’s pocket-book, 
 the sum of thirteen dollars and some small change was 
 disclosed to view. After bestowing a second friendly 
 glance at this munificent sum of wealth, he donned 
 the disguised attire; then walking back to the skiff he 
 began to load it up with stones and dirt, under the 
 weight of which the faithful boat soon sank from view 
 
 a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 25 
 
 in the depths of the muddy water, the few bubbles of 
 air rising from its grave seeming to give utterance to 
 words of reproach at this ungrateful treatment from 
 its late captain. 
 
 Quickly burying the oars in the sand on the shore, 
 the outlaw ascended the bank and taking off his hat, 
 paused for a moment as though in deep meditation. 
 
 “Let me see. I must be fully forty miles or more 
 from the prison,” he soliloquized,” and I had better 
 strike out for Memphis. It must be a good hundred 
 _and fifty miles across the country from here to the 
 railroad running down there; but no infernal tele- 
 graph lines across through here to head me off, thank 
 goodness! Reckon, it will be a good long tramp; but 
 with the thirteen dollars and this big persuader I ought 
 to live like a duke,” he concluded, pulling out and 
 examining the revolver for a moment; then replacing 
 the weapon with a smile, which expressed his complete 
 confidence in himself, he started away from the river 
 and a few moments later his tall figure disappeared in 
 the timber toward the south. 
 
CHAPTERAV 
 
 It was Saturday, and the sun shone down brightly 
 upon the moist earth, which was just commencing to 
 assume that verdant hue so characteristic of early 
 spring weather, and all nature seemed alive under the 
 influence of the gentle breeze and old Sol’s bright rays. 
 
 At the Furlong farm everything was on the stir. 
 Mrs. Furlong and Mary were cleaning up the house 
 and arranging things in shape preparatory to taking 
 a trip to Montrovia after dinner. Edward and Hart 
 were busy out in the fields and even Mr. Furlong seemed 
 to feel the invigorating influence of the weather and 
 was busy sharpening up several carpenter’s tools, 
 which had lain unused and neglected in the woodshed 
 all through the long winter just passed. 
 
 Hart’s mind was in a tumult as he followed the horses 
 dragging the plow in their ceaseless tramp backward 
 and forward across the field; for he was intent upon 
 
 “seeing some one that very evening in whom he was 
 far more interested than he would ever acknowledge 
 when jested about it. To set our readers aright as to 
 the motives that impelled Hart’s actions, we will ex- 
 plain that he had become quite attracted toward the 
 young lady, whom we have heard his father and 
 brother mention in jest, and like all boys whose vanity 
 is aroused when basking in the smiles of some acknowl- 
 edged beauty, he mistook the infatuation for true love 
 and wildly thought that life without the possession of 
 this fair siren would be only a blank, a mere existence. 
 
 26 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 27 
 
 Perhaps he, like many another, as defect after defect 
 of character in the fair being comes to light, will find 
 ardor wane, and years later when safely wedded 
 to some true trusting little woman, he reads in 
 the papers the scandalizing details of the B—e vs. A—e 
 divorce casea self-congratulation will swell up within 
 him at the thought of his narrow escape from such a 
 fate. 
 
 The Goodwins had come from the east and settled 
 in that neighborhood some two years previous to this 
 time and rumor had it that they were quite wealthy 
 although making no great display of riches; and until 
 lately Hart’s attentions to their only daughter, Nelly, 
 appeared to receive their entire sanction and approval. 
 
 There were but four in the family, father, mother, 
 Nelly and her younger brother, and as they lived closer 
 to the village than the Furlongs the two families had 
 only a slight acquaintance through church affairs and 
 meetings, although Hart was a frequent visitor at their 
 house. 
 
 He had been introduced to Nellie some six months 
 before the present time, when she had first returned 
 from an eastern seminary, and had soon fallen a vic- 
 tim under the sway of her many charms. Until lately 
 there had been no other suitor to cross his path or in- 
 terfere with his visits, and, in her company he had 
 hitherto freely expressed his thoughts and intentions re- 
 garding the future; but: within the last four or five 
 weeks a cloud had slowly begun to rise on the horizon, 
 and Hart became conscious of a rival upon the field; 
 for in her conversation she had several times let fall 
 some allusion to Dr. Edgerton and his visits to their 
 house, and Hart could also plainly detect by Mrs. 
 Goodwin’s speech that the doctor was now held in 
 
28 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 much higher estimation by that lady, than himself. 
 
 Indeed, some of the talkative folks, who visited the 
 Goodwins, openly avowed that there was little chance 
 now for Hart Furlong as Mrs. Goodwin spoke quite 
 disparagingly of him; and many a jealous pang went 
 through the poor fellow’s heart whenever jested by 
 some of his acquaintances on the doctor’s chances of 
 cutting him out in his race for the hand of the fair 
 maiden. 
 
 As he worked along in the fields beneath the bright 
 sun, the determination entered his. mind to see her 
 that evening and try to obtain her consent to wait a 
 couple of years for -him while he would go to some 
 large city and work his way up to a position wherein 
 the recompense would be sufficient to maintain a wife 
 properly; for like many an inexperienced youth he 
 foolishly thought that advancement came quick and 
 fast to any one engaged in trade in the large cities. 
 
 When it was noon he started for the house resolving 
 to work no more that day. After dinner was over and 
 his mother with Mary had gone to the village to make 
 the usual weekly purchases, a restless spirit came over 
 him and almost before he was aware of any reason for 
 making the trip at so early an hour, he was upon the 
 highway walking toward town. 
 
 It was still quite early in the afternoon and as he 
 strolled along, the idea formed itself within him, to 
 walk to the village where he would have a friendly 
 chat with some .of his acquaintances; then coming 
 back by way of the Goodwin farm, which lay off the 
 main road a half mile or more, he would call upon 
 Nellie and impart his hopes and intentions to her with 
 the view of securing her approval and a solemn vow of 
 constancy in regard to her affection while he was ab- 
 sent. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 29 
 
 As he gradually drew nearer to a point on the road 
 opposite to where she lived, his desire to see her 
 caused him to change the plan he had laid out, by re- 
 solving to call upon her first and then proceed to the 
 village; so leaving the road, he started across the 
 fields on a short cut toward the Goodwin farm house, 
 
 After a brisk walk of twenty minutes or so through 
 the soft plowed fields he came out upon the parallel 
 road directly in front of the house, where he was over- 
 joyed to behold the object of his thoughts out in the 
 yard before the house, alone, and apparently unassisted 
 in the task of setting out some plants in a flower-bed. 
 
 A moment later and Hart had entered the front gate 
 and stole up close beside her. 
 
 “Why, how do you do, Hart,” said the girl looking 
 up suddenly on hearing his footsteps; but without 
 arising from her stooping position before the flower- 
 bed. 
 
 “You are transplanting those flowers rather early, 
 are you not, Miss Nell,” remarked Hart with his face 
 all aglow at the pleasure he felt in being in her com- 
 pany. 
 
 “Oh, I guess not. Mother has been keeping them 
 in the house all winter and as we are going to clean 
 house Monday, I thought this was the best way to 
 dispose of them,” replied the girl in a cool precise tone 
 that would have sounded rather repellant to any one 
 not familiar with her manner of talking at times. 
 
 “But if there should come a frost, wouldn’t you re- 
 gret your haste?” said Hart witha smile, bending over 
 to assist her in stamping the earth around a geranium 
 that had just been transplanted from an earthern flow- 
 er-pot. 
 
 “Doctor Edgerton says it is hardly probable that 
 
30 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 another frost will occur this spring,” asserted Nellie. 
 
 In an instant Hart’s face clouded up under a feeling 
 of jealousy, which this remark engendered; for the 
 girl’s manner of alluding to Dr. Edgerton’s opinion 
 in the case struck Hart as putting him up as an 
 authority superior to the rest of mankind in that 
 neighborhood; and for a moment he was silent under 
 the infliction of this wound. 
 
 Nellie Goodwin was not exactly what would be 
 termed a flirt; but her thoughts were of a wishy washy 
 unstable nature,such as are generally found to exist 
 in girls whose minds have been dwarfed by the ad- 
 miration and praise which their beauty has early ex- 
 cited and all power is lost to fix the mind steadily on 
 any one purpose or task. What would please and 
 gratify them one week would be of no pleasure to 
 them the next should another diversion meanwhile ap- 
 pear upon the scene. 
 
 She was a blonde, with the light blue eyes and 
 dreamy expressionless face that young men are so apt 
 to go crazy over on short acquaintance. In addition 
 to these personal charms, she possessed a far better 
 education than most girls obtain, who are brought up 
 on a farm; for three years of her girlhood had been 
 spent at a seminary where young girls are supposed to 
 be thoroughly taught and sufficiently polished to pass 
 muster in any class of society. 
 
 Hart’s attentions to her had been openly encouraged 
 and though the affair had scarcely progressed far 
 enough to talk of love and marriage, yet he had shown 
 his affection for her in half a hundred little acts, 
 which speak almost as plainly as words, and in his 
 late meetings with her, had expressed his desire to try 
 some new field to better his prospects so that some 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 31 
 
 day he might be in a position to honorably express 
 his intentions. 
 
 To all of which she had listened quite attentively, 
 and while her demeanor seemed to indicate true maid- 
 enly modesty, her mind rapidly and calmly came to 
 the conclusion that this ridiculously honorable young 
 man might prove acceptable, in case no other suitor 
 appeared, backed by the possession of wealth. So by 
 exercising a little tact and quickly turning the subject 
 whenever she perceived that Hart’s impetuous spirit 
 might break out in a declaration of love, which would 
 necessitate from her a promise, she had admirably suc- 
 ceeded in keeping him in hot and cold water for sev- 
 eral weeks. 
 
 Did she love him?—Well, probably as much as was 
 in her shallow nature to love any one; for her parents 
 had so eulogized her beauty, that she foolishly imag- 
 ined that all men could be brought under her charms 
 by a few smiles and encouraging words, and the daily 
 exhortation of her shrewd New England mother who 
 “Did hope that Nell would be wise enough to secure 
 a ‘good provider’ when it came to marriage,” had not 
 fallen unheeded upon the ears of this handsome but 
 wordly minded girl; and since Dr. Edgerton, whose 
 shrewd business qualifications and bright prospects for 
 success which were the talk of everybody, had shown 
 a desire to listen to her music and upon some excuse 
 or other had managed to call at least twice a week, 
 her treatment of Hart had become gradually cooler 
 than heretofore. 
 
 Hart had slowly perceived a change in her manner 
 toward him and was puzzled to account for the cause; 
 for the idea that this girl’s affection could be turned 
 by a half dozen visits from this dapper young doctor 
 was not entertained by him for a moment, 
 
32 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “You seem to value Dr. Edgerton’s opinion quite 
 highly, Miss Nell,” remarked Hart after a long pause, 
 with a strained tone in his voice. 
 
 “Why shouldn’t I,” responded Nell quickly. “He 
 has had a thorough college education and his opinion 
 is certainly entitled to more consideration than that of 
 one who has not had instruction in the sciences. He 
 was telling us the other evening”—she went on with a 
 laugh—“of:the glorious times they have at college. I 
 thought I should die of laughing when he told of the 
 tricks they used to put up on the professors; how they 
 used to”—here she stopped suddenly on noticing that 
 Hart had arisen from his stooping posture while a 
 look of irritation was plainly visible in his face. 
 
 “Why, what are you looking so grave about, Hart? 
 What’s the matter,” said Nellie with a perfect look 
 of childish innocence as she gazed up at Hart. 
 
 “Nothing the matter,” replied Hart attempting a 
 smile which, however, was a poor imitation ofone. “I 
 was going down to the village this afternoon and came 
 across the fields to see if you had any message you 
 might wish to be taken down,” he added in a voice 
 that sounded slightly different from his usual tones. 
 
 “Papa went to the village this morning and attended 
 to all of our wants so there is nothing that we need. 
 But it is very kind in you to come so far out of your 
 road on our account.” 
 
 “Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” remarked Hart. “But 
 I guess I shall have to be going, as I wish to catch a 
 ride home with-mother and Mary who are down at the 
 village with the spring wagon, so good day, Miss 
 Nell,” and touching his hat with a gentlemanly action 
 he started away. 
 
 The young lady returned the parting salutation with: 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 33 
 
 out arising from her seat although her face bore a net- 
 tled expression as if she felt somewhat mortified at 
 Hart’s sudden departure. “Humph!” she uttered to 
 herself as her eyes followed Hart’s retreating form 
 down the fork that led back toward the main road, “he 
 got huffy very soon when I spoke of Doctor Edgerton; 
 but Hart need not think he’s got a fence around me 
 because he took me to all the dances last winter. I 
 guess he will get over his pique before a week or so,” 
 and without troubling herself to reflect further upon 
 the causes that led to her late caller’s sudden depar- 
 ture, she serenely continued at her task. 
 
 It was exactly the reverse of this easy way of re- 
 flecting upon the interview just passed, that arose in 
 Hart’s mind as he walked swiftly along the fork that 
 led back to the turnpike. 
 
 He had a proud sensitive nature, by far toc sen- 
 sitive for his own welfare, and when the girl had al- 
 luded to his rival’s opinion as emanating from a su- 
 perior intellect by virtue of the doctor’s college educa- 
 tion, it had stung Hart to the quick, causing him to 
 forget everything for the time being, in his desire to 
 stifle the pain which this remark had caused. °% 
 
 He was thoroughly infatuated with Nellie, who had 
 always accepted his company to any of the country 
 amusements in preference to any of the other offers 
 extended to her; until, after the fashion that prevailed 
 in that section of the country, they had come to be 
 regarded in the light of an engaged couple and never 
 before had she spoken so coldly, or their interview 
 terminated so abruptly as on this present cccasion. 
 
 To say that Hart felt pained would hardly describe . 
 the state of his feelings and as he finally came out upon 
 the turnpike, from which the fork branched off, he 
 
34 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 took a seat in the shade of a tree off one side of the 
 road where he began to whittle fiercelv upon a hazel 
 switch that he had picked up along the wayside, while 
 his thoughts strove to run back and reason out this 
 sudden change in Nellie’s demeanor toward him. 
 
 He had just reached the conclusion, after a few mo- 
 ments reflection, that he had been rather hasty in tak- 
 ing offence at Nellie’s remark, when the rattle of 
 wheels announced the approach of some light vehicle 
 coming along the road from the direction he had for- 
 merly traversed before taking the cut across the fields to 
 the Goodwin farm house, and, a second later as it came 
 to a sudden stop, at the fork of the roads almost op- 
 posite to him, he recognized the two occupants it con- 
 tained as Doctor Edgerton and Mr. Goodwin. 
 
 The elder of the two slowly got out of the cart while 
 the doctor remained in his seat. 
 
 “Now, Edgerton,” said Mr. Goodwin who stood up- 
 on the road with one hand resting upon the side of the 
 vehicle, “you are sure there is no mistake about this? 
 No other route by which the road might come in, is 
 there?” 
 
 “Not the slightest doubt,” replied the doctor firmly, 
 “Why I was talking with the chief surveyor only last 
 week, who, by the way, is an old college chum of 
 mine, and he assured me positively that the road 
 would be buiit right down the creek bottom and 
 through that big ravine of Wagner’s.” 
 
 “It’s all right then I suppose,” responded Goodwin. 
 “But if the road were to come by some other route or 
 not come at all, it would about ruin me; for the land 
 along that ravine and creek bottom isn’t worth shucks. 
 Hardly fit for grazing.” 
 
 "Yes, but there is no doubt about it in this case. I 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 35 
 
 tell you, Goodwin, if we can raise the money to buy 
 up that strip of land and that eighty acres, where it 
 must cross the Gulf road, our fortune is made,” as- 
 serted the doctor confidently. 
 
 “Well then, I think I can arrange for my part next 
 week,” said Mr. Goodwin with a slight shade of anx- 
 iety visible in his face. 
 
 “Why man, I tell you in less than six months after 
 the road is built, Montrovia will have to be moved 
 down to where the junction of the roads occurs. The 
 depot will be erected there, and the town will have to 
 move to that point, or cease to exist.” 
 
 A brighter look came over the farmer’s face when 
 the doctor finished, as if the forcible manner in which 
 the younger man had spoken imbued him with more 
 confidence in the plan which they had conceived. 
 
 “All right, doctor, I depend entirely on you in this 
 matter; but by the way, why can’t you come over and 
 take tea with us this evening? Come, man, let busi- 
 ness go for to-day, and you will save me a walk from 
 here to the house besides.” 
 
 “T am sure I don’t know of any reason in particular 
 except the writing of a few letters, which can easily 
 wait until to-morrow, and I supposed Miss Nellie will 
 favor me with a song or two after supper.” 
 
 “T can assure you of that doctor; for Nell has been 
 drumming upon the piano quite often since the last 
 time you called, and I have no doubt but you will no- 
 tice some improvement in her music,” said the farmer 
 as he climbed back into the vehicle and turning the 
 horse they started off at a brisk trot in the direction 
 of the Goodwin farm. 
 
 Hart, who had been an unobserved eavesdropper 
 to this little dialogue, now arose and started on down 
 
36 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 the road toward the village with a bitter feeling grow- 
 ing in his heart. 
 
 So this was the way his fair charmer was acting; 
 practicing songs to catch the admiration of this shrewd 
 far-seeing young speculator, while he remembered so 
 well the remark of only a fortnight before: “That 
 doctor is such a stick. Talks nothing but business to 
 papa the whole time.” 
 
 But now he was beginning to perceive the cause of 
 her late treatment of himself and as this slight inci- 
 dent exposed her butterfly nature he began to think 
 that all the hopes he had been cherishing were vain 
 delusions. 
 
 These were the inferences that passed through Hart’s 
 mind, and as he strode on his way, savagely slashing 
 at each fragile weed and unoffending bush that came 
 within reach of the sweep of his stick, his determin- 
 ation to leave the farm grew stronger. 
 
 Was he the only eavesdropper to the conversation 
 between the doctor and Mr. Goodwin? 
 
 Scarcely had Hart passed fifty yards on his way than 
 the form of a- tall rough-looking man silently arose 
 above a dense hazel thicket on the opposite side of 
 the road where the leaves and weeds, which were scooped 
 together at his feet, bore evidence that some one had 
 been reclining upon them as a couch for several hours. 
 
 Glancing for a second at Hart’s retreating figure, 
 the man then turned his gaze steadily in the direction 
 taken by the two men in the cart. 
 
 “Tll be hanged!” he ejaculated. “One never knows 
 where he is going to run across old acquaintances. If 
 that young fellow ain’t Slicky Briscoe, I’l] eat my hat! 
 Holy smoke! Stacking himself up for a doctor on the 
 strength of what he learned in the Sing Sing dispen- 
 
 ~ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 37 
 
 sary. He is a smooth one, sure enough. Not been out 
 of quod two years and here he is looming up asa doc- 
 tor and already got a game worked up on that poor 
 farmer. Reckon he must have had a lift from that 
 rich uncle he used to blow about so much. Humph! 
 Wouldn’t Slicky feel mighty queer if he knew Jack 
 Stanton heard him getting that off about ‘his old col- 
 lege chum?’ Lord! Lord! If ever he was at a college, 
 it was after night and I’ll -guarantee that his course 
 of researches into the sciences was finished long before 
 daylight. 
 
 “Does beat all though how that chap takes with the 
 women,” he went on with a laugh, “with one wife in 
 Lockport that I know of and some talk among the 
 boys of his having another one in Buffalo, here he is 
 catching on to this farmer’s girl.—Says he admires the 
 daughter’s music. Maybe his taste became cultivated 
 during his sojourn at that musical town on the Hud- 
 son; but I think its the old man’s money he’s after 
 and not the daughter. 
 
 “Well, Slick, it strikes me that I owe you a crack 
 or two for the sneaking way you informed ‘on me 
 when I tried that break at our old boarding house 
 on the Hudson; as they curtailed my diet for the 
 racket, I think I’ll reduce your finances a trifle this 
 very evening.” 
 
 With a fierce chuckle at the idea of this intended 
 satisfaction, the speaker slowly sat down again upon 
 the leaves and began to eat some crackers which he 
 produced from the pocket of his coat, and it needed but 
 a glance to recognize him as the escaped convict from 
 State’s Prison of a week before. 
 
 Traveling by night along the lonely country roads, 
 and only stopping for food at houses whose outside 
 
38 A LUCKY MISHAP ‘ 
 
 surroudings betokened the ignorance or poverty of their 
 occupants, he had so far eluded pursuit and avoided 
 suspicion. 
 
 Nearly all of the currency found upon the guard’s 
 clothing had been spent and he was commencing to 
 realize that some means would have to be employed 
 to obtain more, even if forced to resort to desperate 
 measures; but as he had been in the same condition 
 on several previous occasions and had always managed 
 to get along some way, it caused him no great uneasi- 
 ness. 
 
 “Well, well!” he muttered thoughtfully. “I reckon 
 Briscoe must hang out at that small town yonder. I’ll 
 have to find out and look him up to-night before I 
 jump a freight for Memphis. If I’m not mistaken 
 that greeny of a farmer called him Edgerton—Doctor 
 Edgerton. Guess it won’t be much trouble to find 
 him. I had better stay here though till dark, for these 
 farmer chaps are so hanged curious about strangers, 
 and like as not there is a reward-poster about me 
 stuck up around town somewhere.” | 
 
 And still slowly munching away at a cracker he 
 stretched himself at full length upon the leaves, and 
 pulling out an old dilapidated newspaper which he 
 had picked up somewhere in his travels soon became 
 absorbed in its contents. 
 
 Meanwhile Hart had kept on his way to the village 
 and, after walking aimlessly about the town, stopped 
 at the drug store for awhile to listen to the usual town 
 talk which at present was quite animated, for there had 
 been a corps of surveyors in the neighborhood lately 
 looking up the most feasible route for a new railroad 
 that was reported as coming from the north and which 
 
 would undoubtedly have to pass through the town. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 39 
 
 This good news had caused quite an excitement in the 
 neighborhood and every one was predicting that Mon- 
 trovia would grow and, with the addition of this new 
 railroad, become a great commercial center. 
 
 Hart soon grew tired of hearing even this cheerful 
 news, and wended his way down the railroad track 
 alongside the river to the water-tank which was kept 
 by a Mr. Oldham, an old man with whom Hart had 
 spent many a Sunday afternoon conversing on different 
 topics and listening to the old man’s tales of adven- 
 tures in foreign lands; for the old engineer had been 
 a soldier in the British army in his youth and had 
 been transferred to all parts of the globe where British 
 authority predominated. He had seen active service 
 in India, and his narratives of the forced marches and 
 hardships and the subsequent fight and glorious vic- 
 tory had often held Hart a spellbound listener for 
 hours; for, in truth, he enjoyed the old. man’s com- 
 panionship while, in Mr. Oldham’s eyes, there was no 
 other young man in the neighborhood who possessed 
 such firm principles of honor or integrity as Hart Fur- 
 long. 
 
 The old engineer lived with his wife in a small cot- 
 tage just back of the water-tank, and the old couple 
 living so quietly together such a lonely life often ex- 
 cited the comments of the village inhabitants and 
 many a theory had been advancd by some of the curi- 
 ous busy-bodies to account for the absence and silence 
 of their children; for there were several odd trinkets 
 in the line of a boy’s plaything, about the house, 
 which the old lady seemed to treasure up with great 
 care and, whenever questioned concerning them, always 
 gave some vague husky reply accompanied by a shake 
 of the head in a way that caused the questioner to per- 
 
40 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ceive at once that he was treading on forbidden 
 ground, and the subject was changed immediately by 
 both parties. 
 
 Mr. Oldham had never spoken to a soul about ever 
 having any children. On one occasion when Hart was 
 relating a story he had read about the prowess exhib- 
 ited by one of the contestants in a wrestling bout he 
 was not a little surprised when the old man suddenly 
 broke out with afar away lookin hiseyes; “Ah, lad, 
 but if you had only seen my John. He was the lad for 
 that.” But when Hart asked for an explanation of 
 who John was, the sad silent manner in which the old 
 engineer turned away asa tear welled up in his eyes 
 denoted that to be a tender subject; and Hart wisely 
 turned the conversation to something that would tend 
 to brush away the melancholy thoughts of his old 
 friend. Enough had fallen from the old man’s actions, 
 however, for Hart to form the idea that the ‘John’ re- 
 ferred too was his son who was either dead or else had 
 run away from home years ago, and whose whereabouts 
 was now unknown. 
 
 Mr. Oldham was oiling the little engine that pumped 
 up the water from the adjacent creek into the immense 
 tank above, when Hart stepped into the room. 
 
 “Good afternoon, Mr. Oldham,” began Hart forcing 
 a cheerful tone to his voice, “how is the world using 
 you? All right, I hope! And how is Mrs. Oldham?” 
 
 The old man turned around with a look of keen 
 pleasure on his face at the sight of Hart and extended 
 his grimy hand. “Oh, all right, my lad. I can’t 
 complain as long as my health keeps good. Mrs. Old- 
 ham is well, thank you, barring a bit of rheumatism, 
 but I think that will all go away as soon as dry weather 
 comes. And how are you making it, my lad? I don’t 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 41 
 
 get to see much of you lately. I guess that Goodwin 
 girl is a better sight for your eyes than this old water- 
 tank. I expect that your visits down here will soon 
 drop entirely, eh?” 2 
 
 “Maybe so, Mr. Oldham, but not on account of 
 Miss Goodwin. I am thinking of going to St. Louis 
 next week and thought I would call around and say 
 good-by to all my old friends,” replied Hart forcing a 
 smile which did not betoken his inmost thoughts. 
 
 “Wurry! Wurry!” exclaimed the old man in amaze- 
 ment. “Why, lad, you don’t know what a step you 
 are taking. What is the matter with the farm and 
 everything around here—but, perhaps you are only 
 going there on a short visit?” 
 
 “No. I am not going on a visit. The truth is I am 
 not exactly satisfied with farming and intend to try to 
 get something to do in St. Louis hoping it will pay 
 me better. I feel somewhat as you did, Mr. Oldham, 
 when you were young. I want to see a little of the 
 world, and it’s the same thing here day after day, you 
 know.” o 
 
 “Well, I suppose boys will be boys. But do your 
 folks know of this, Hart? Surely you would not go 
 without their consent.” 
 
 “O, I have told them. And, while they would rather 
 I should stay here, they have consented to let me 
 make the trial and should I not succeed come back 
 and go on farming; but I think I can make my way 
 ahead without having to return unless I desire,” as- 
 serted Hart very confidently. 
 
 “Yes, you might’be able to do all that," agreed Mr. 
 Oldham thoughtfully, “but a young man alone ina 
 large city is very apt to go astray. There are so many 
 attractive looking places where young men congregate 
 
42 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 for amusement, which generally prove to be the start- 
 ing-point from where they drift straight down hill into 
 trouble and disgrace. So, be careful, Hart, and don’t 
 do anything that would cause your parents to regret 
 bitterly the day they consented to your going away.” 
 
 And, as the old man finished talking, an absent far- 
 . away look came over his face, as though sometime in 
 his past life a similar scene had been enacted. 
 
 As it was now dark, Mr. Oldham began preparing 
 to shut up the place leaving everything in readiness, 
 however, for a quick fire early in the morning, for he 
 always chose to do at that time whatever work was 
 necessary on Sundays in order that the rest of the day 
 could be spent in peace; so, bidding his old friend 
 good-bye, Hart took his leave after promising to write 
 occasionally and let him know how he was getting on, 
 as the old man earnestly requested. 
 
 After loitering around the depot until long after 
 dark, Hart slowly took his way along the turnpike in 
 the direction of his home. His mind was now all up- 
 set; for the conversation he had overheard between 
 Dr. Edgerton and Mr. Goodwin had caused him to 
 form the resolve to leave for St. Louis in the follow: 
 ing week as he had stated to Mr. Oldham, and, as he 
 stumbled along in the darkness, nursing his jealous 
 spirit, he determined not to call upon Nelly again; but 
 as he approached the fork in the road that led off to- 
 ward her home his resolve began to weaken so under 
 the influence of his passion that somehow before real- 
 izing it, he found himself walking in the direction 
 where dwelt the object of his infatuation. 
 
 As he proceeded, the idea came upon him to visit 
 her, mention the fact of his departure for St. Louis, 
 and say good-bye to them all in a cool friendly manner. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 43 
 
 If he then perceived any signs of regret at his de- 
 parture on Nell’s part, he would stifle his jealous 
 thoughts and still ask her if she were willing to wait 
 on him. 
 
 His hand was upon the latch of the gate, when the 
 door of the farm house opened, and he beheld scarce 
 distant fifty yards the form of Dr. Edgerton step out 
 from the lighted hallway with Nelly and her father 
 close at his side 
 
 A seemingly merry conversation was passing between 
 them as they walked toward the doctor’s horse and 
 cart which Hart now perceived for the first time 
 hitched close to the fence. Not desiring a formal in- 
 troduction to his rival, he voluntarily drew back from 
 the gate aside into the darkness where he was appar- 
 ently by chance forced to play the part of eavesdrop- 
 per for the second time that day. 
 
 As they stood beside the vehicle, the doctor sud- 
 denly stopped short in his task of untying the horse 
 and exclaimed: “I believe I have lost my gloves or, 
 by the way, didn’t I leave them on that table at which 
 we were looking over those papers?” addressing the 
 remark to Mr. Goodwin. 
 
 “I?ll go back at once and see,” said the farmer 
 starting toward the house, thus leaving Nellie and 
 the doctor together. 
 ~“You are improving wonderfully in your music, 
 Nell,” said the doctor. And he called her ‘Nell’ in 
 such a familiar way that- poor Hart wished he was 
 anywhere but in his present position. 
 
 “Iam glad you think so, for I have been practising 
 expressly for your benefit,” remarked the young lady 
 with an unmistakable attempt at flattery. 
 
 “Yes, for me and that young farmer who calls around 
 
44 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 so regularly. I have forgotten his name but you know 
 it, Nell,” replied the doctor coolly, as he produced his 
 gloves from his coat-pocket where he well knew they 
 were reposing when remarking to Mr. Goodwin about 
 their loss. de 
 
 “Iam sure I don’t know whom you mean. There 
 are several who call to see pa about things connected 
 with the farm—to which one do you allude?” asked 
 the girl in a light, careless tone. 
 
 “Ah! I see you are bound to flirt and trifle with me, 
 and girls who do that must pay the penalty,” responded 
 the doctor quickly; then glancing in the direction of 
 the farm house and seeing no one in sight, he sud- 
 denly imprinted a kiss on Nell’s lips and springing 
 laughingly into his cart drove off down the road; but 
 not so quick but that the girl’s voice crying, “Good- 
 night, call again,” was ringing in his ears. 
 
 “She didn’t seem to make much fuss ovet that kiss,’ 
 muttered the doctor as he was trotting briskly down 
 the road. “And then cool enough to cry out that in- 
 vitation to call again. Easy enough to get her for the 
 asking, but she is so fearfully conceited. Now, if she 
 were only like Laura I don’t know but that I would 
 try my hand at matrimony again, although, by Jove! it 
 would be pretty risky with one wife now living some- 
 where.” 
 
 He had now reached the place where the road joined 
 with the main turnpike and, just as he was turning 
 the vehicle in the direction of the village, his horse 
 shied violently, nearly throwing the doctor from his 
 seat, as the tall figure of a man stepped from the side 
 of the road and approached the cart. 
 
 The doctor perceived the form coming toward him 
 in the darkness and urged his frightened horse ahead 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 45 
 
 just as the man called out, “I wish to speak with you 
 one minute;” but it was evident that the young physi- 
 cian had no desire for an interview with a stranger 
 upon the highway after dark, for he gave his horse a 
 savage cut with the whip and dashed on down the 
 turnpike towards town. 
 
 The stranger, who was no other than Jack, the 
 escaped convict, glared angrily for a moment in the 
 direction taken by the doctor and then resuming his 
 seat upon the side of the road began muttering to 
 himself: “Seems as though he doesn’t want.to speak 
 to an old acquaintance. Putting on lots of airs my 
 boy. I suppose you want me to do the thing up in 
 style and call upon you at your office. Guess that’s 
 what I’ll have to do then, and I don’t see why to-night 
 ain’t as good a timeasany. KReckon I’]] just wait here 
 until all the square people get to sleep; then Slicky 
 Briscoe and I can have a quiet chat over old times and 
 I’ll try to argue him out of a couple of hundred or so. 
 Unless I am greatly mistaken, he can easily spare 
 that much when he calculates on swindling this poor 
 farmer for something up in the thousands. 
 
 “Now, let me get my points all straight. That is 
 the road going to Memphis over yonder, and that black 
 fellow said I could catch a freight with plenty of empty 
 box cars right at the water-tank. Now, if I could find 
 out where Briscoe rooms, see him to-night, get some 
 money and catch the south-bound train that passes 
 along here about three o’clock, I could be many a mile 
 away before daylight. 
 
 “Hello!” he quietly ejaculated as the sound af foot- 
 steps was heard advancing along the fork. “Here 
 comes somebody. Ten to one it’s the same young 
 chap who went up that way only half an hour ago. 
 
46 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 Seems to me he is mousing around the country rather 
 queerly at this time of night. Puts me in mind of 
 Hamlet scouting around for a glimpse of his daddy’s 
 ghost. I think I had better hold audience with the 
 prince for like as not he can tell me all about my 
 friend Briscoe. If so, that might save me the trouble 
 of waking up any of those ducks down at the village. 
 
 “It wouldn’t pay to hold him up,” he added, as the 
 approaching footsteps sounded near at hand. “Don’t 
 suppose he would have five dollars about him, so I’]l 
 just give him the tramp song and dance racket.” 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 As our reader will remember, we left Hart standing 
 in the darkness alongside the road an unobserved 
 spectator of the parting scene between Nelly and Dr. 
 Edgerton. 
 
 Hart had heard Nelly’s cry of, “Good-night, call 
 again,” to the doctor as distinctly as had Edgerton; 
 and had also beheld the unresisting way in which she 
 virtually accepted the doctor’s kiss as the salutation 
 of a lover. 
 
 Hart stood as one turned to stone while his eyes 
 mechanically followed the girl’s form on her way back 
 to the house until she ran lightly up the front steps 
 and, closing the door from which a bright light had 
 been shining, disappeared from sight leaving him still 
 standing there while his heart seemed to cease its 
 pulsations at this bitter and final blow, which instantly 
 and forever leveled all the air castles he had ever con- 
 jured up in his mind wherein the presiding angel, who 
 would brighten the fireside and make everything cheer- 
 ful and happy, would be Nelly Goodwin. 
 
 It is true there had been no vows of love and fidel- 
 ity exchanged verbally between them and one might 
 argue that, such being the case, Hart had little cause 
 for mental suffering; but as he slowly turned about,and 
 began to retrace his way down the road toward his 
 own home, a bitterly humiliating thought forced its 
 sting upon him as he remembered the flippant, indif- 
 ferent way in which the girl had received the doctor’s 
 
 47 
 
48 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 parting caress;—and this was the same being whom 
 his whole thought and aim had _ been to cherish and 
 protect from insult and calumny! 
 
 The deceit in her character was now plainly exposed 
 and as he walked along in the darkness he firmly re- 
 solved to leave home as soon as possible, and try amid 
 the strange sights and new acquaintances that might 
 be formed to erase the wound from his heart. 
 
 As he turned off from the fork upon the main road, 
 a man’s form suddenly confronted him in the gloom. 
 
 “Can you tell me how far it is to Montrovia from 
 here, young man? I have been walking all day and 
 it seems I have not reached there yet, or am 
 I upon the wrong road?” asked the stranger, peering 
 intently into Hart’s face as though wishing to ascer- 
 tain his facial developments. 
 
 “It lies just about a mile or so down the turnpike. 
 You can’t miss it for the road leads straight to town, 
 If you have any business to transact, I am afraid you 
 will find everything shut up by the time you reach 
 there,” replied Hart kindly. 
 
 “Oh! I’ve got no special business there nor any 
 place else,” said the stranger with a harsh slight laugh. 
 “T have been playing in rather hard luck lately and 
 intended going south to work on the levees along the 
 Mississippi; and as I knew that the railroad to Mem- 
 phis ran by Montrovia, I was heading for that place 
 with the idea of beating my way down the road. I 
 suppose a freight passes down every night, doesn’t 
 
 there?” 
 “There will be a freight train along the road going 
 
 south about three o’clock in the morning. It usually 
 stops at the water-tank, and maybe you can catch a 
 ride; but perhaps you are hungry, if so, I can fix you 
 
A LUCKY MISH AP 49 
 
 up something to eat if you care to walk back down 
 the road to where I live. It is about a mile from here, 
 but you would still have plenty of time to catch the 
 train at Montrovia,” said Hart, for he thought that the 
 tall stranger before him was one of those. wandering 
 tramps who are always penniless and generally hungry. 
 
 The man who was no other than Jack Stanton, the 
 outlaw, hesitated for an instant at this kind proposal 
 and then in a much milder tone said: “I am rather 
 hungry and, as you seem so _ kind, I will take you up 
 on that offer,” and inasecond, the two men who were 
 destined to meet later on under far different circum- 
 stances were walking side by side down the lonely 
 country-road toward the Furlong farm. a6 
 
 Hart did not notice his companion very closely, nor 
 attempt any further conversation with him as he was 
 too intent on his own plans, and the bitter reflections 
 crowding through his mind absorbed every other feel- 
 ing. 
 
 The only thought that came to him in regard to his 
 new acquaintance was that he was some tramp; and 
 as he had never seen his mother refuse food to one of 
 that class of society, he felt in duty bound to do like- 
 wise. 
 
 When they arrived at the house, the stranger refused 
 the invitation extended him to come into the kitchen 
 and remained waiting at the gate while Hart went on to 
 the house and without awaking the family, now deep 
 in slumber, put up a couple of huge sandwiches from 
 the contents of the pantry and, wrapping them in an 
 old newspaper, returned to his late companion by the 
 roadside; who accepted the food with a rough expres- 
 sion of thanks for the kindness shown him. 
 
 “By the way, young fellow,” he broke out suddenly 
 
50 ; A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 after stowing away the package in his coat-pocket, “I 
 hurt my arm yesterday and it bothers me considerable 
 to-night. Is there a doctor at the village yonder I 
 might get to look at it and fix it up so that the blamed 
 thing won’t pain me so bad?” 
 
 “Yes, there is Dr. Wilson who lives close to town, 
 just at the end of that lane lined by the hedge-fence, 
 and there is Dr. Edgerton who lives right in town 
 
 over the drug-store. If you could see him it would 
 
 be best, for the drug-store is handy in case a liniment 
 might be required.” 
 
 “Does he sleep in the room over the drug-store?” 
 inquired the tramp eagerly. 
 
 “Yes, "replied Hart, “he is a single man and I un- 
 derstand that he rooms there by himself. Just pull 
 the hall bell and, if he is in, he will come down and 
 attend to you, I suppose.” 
 
 “All right then I shall try to see him when I reach 
 the village, and I reckon I’d better be moving along 
 as I see it’s beginning to rain. Many thanks to you 
 for your kindness, young fellow, and, if it ain’t asking 
 too much, what name can I remember you by?” asked 
 the tramp scrutinizing Hart as closely as the circum- 
 stances would permit. 
 
 “Hartley Furlong is my name,” answered Hart quiet- 
 ly, but with the belief, however, that it was only a 
 waste of breath, as he felt sure that they would never 
 meet again. 
 
 “Well, goodbye, Furlong” said the tramp moving 
 toward the road, “we may meet again some day, and, 
 if so, I'll try to repay you for your kindness;” and 
 without waiting to hear Hart’s reply he strode off 
 rapidly down the road toward the village in the gloom: 
 
 It was slowly commencing to rain as Jack Stanton, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 51 
 
 the tramp and escaped convict hurried along the road 
 swinging his arms in a manner which would not lead 
 one to suppose that either of those members of his 
 anatomy needed any surgical aid, or liniments and, in 
 truth, they did not; for his complaint to Hart of an 
 injured arm was only. a ruse to draw from him the 
 whereabouts of Dr. Edgerton’s place of abode in order 
 to obtain a private interview with the man he fully 
 believed to be a person whom he had known under 
 widely different circumstances some few years before. 
 
 He soon reached the village and found everything 
 quiet, for at that late hour, the inhabitants had all re- 
 tired; and the steady patter of the ‘*rain-drops upon 
 the ground, and the occasional bark of some restless 
 dog were the only sounds that could be heard. 
 
 Going straight down the one main street which was 
 all that the town could then boast of, with his eyes 
 constantly on the alert for the drug-store to which 
 Hart had referred, the outlaw soon-discovered it, even 
 in the darkness, by the large sign of the gilt compound- 
 er that hung suspended over the store front. 
 
 After pausing for a moment to take a look through 
 the store windows, and being satisfied that every one 
 about the place had retired, he pulled the night-bell 
 vigorously and a moment later, the window above was 
 raised from which a man’s head protruded peering 
 down upon him in the darkness. 
 
 “Who is there and what do you want?” inquired the 
 man above, whom Jack at once recognized by the 
 voice as being the very person he sought. 
 
 “I wish to see Dr. Edgerton,” replied the bogus 
 tramp ina drawling tone so common among farm 
 hands. “I’ve hurt my arm in some way and want him 
 to look at it.” 
 
52 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “All right, I will be down in a moment,” responded 
 the doctor, withdrawing his head from the window. 
 
 Jack had scarcely waited a minute before the hall- 
 door at his side was opened by the doctor who said: 
 “Come upstairs, my man, and I’1l look at your arm.” 
 
 Without any more words the two men ascended the 
 stairs, the doctor leading the way toward his room in 
 which a lamp was brightly burning and after closing 
 the door, he placed some unfinished letters in a drawer 
 beneath the table saying at the same time in a sharp 
 professional tone: “Take off your coat, my man, and 
 we will see what is the matter.” 
 
 A grim smile stole over the bronzed features of the 
 outlaw as he leisurely divested himself of his coat and 
 rolled up the sleeve on his left arm. 
 
 There upon the broad part of the muscles between 
 elbow and wrist was the picture of a man-of-war with 
 its sails spread in full, and from its open port-holes 
 protruded the mouths of half a dozen cannon in readi- 
 ness for action. 
 
 The whole drawing was done in India ink by the 
 tatooing process, and was of a very elaborate design 
 plainly indicating that whoever had performed the 
 work and also its possessor must have spent long hours 
 together when their time evidently was not much oc- 
 cupied by work. _Either a long sea-voyage around 
 Cape Horn, a whaling trip to the North Pacific, or 
 gloomy years spent in the confines of some prison 
 would be the only likely course of events that would 
 induce any active person to while away the time by ex- 
 ecuting such acurious but worthless piece of ingenuity. 
 
 With the half smile still playing around the corners 
 of his mouth, the outlaw extended his arm toward the 
 doctor, whose gaze no sooner fell upon the tatooed de- 
 
 a r 
 _.3e » = a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 53 
 
 sign, than he started back in amazement while the 
 color fled from his face and his self-possession seemed 
 to desert him entirely as he looked closely at his visi- 
 tor for the first time, where he beheld the fierce and 
 unmistakable glare of recognition in the outlaw’s face. 
 
 “Jack Stanton, as I live!” he, exclaimed in a husky 
 tone of alarm. 
 
 “Yes, Jack Stanton, your old partner, from way down 
 east; and I don’t reckon you are anyways overpleased 
 at my visit, you sneaking cur!” hissed the outlaw with 
 a bad light gathering in his face. 
 
 “Hush! don’t speak so loud,” deprecatingly said the 
 doctor, at the same time, letting down the window-blind 
 thus shutting out any view of the interior of the room 
 from the outside. “What on earth brings you here 
 and what do you want?” 
 
 “What do I want?” repeated the other savagely, 
 Well I must say, Slick, that you are coming to the 
 point on short notice. Now what do you suppose a 
 man would be likely to want who wears such togs as 
 these,” he added, pointing to the frayed ends of his 
 pants and the worn shoes which the long jaunt across 
 the country had almost completely used up. “It’s 
 money I want, and I must have it to-night, so that I 
 can leave here early in the morning, or else I shall be 
 forced to stop over and attend church to-morrow with 
 you. How does that strike you, Slick?” 
 
 “Don’t take on that way, Jack,” entreated the doc- 
 tor with acringing look on his face as he drew out his 
 pocket-book. “I am always ready to help an old friend 
 in distress. Here is fifteen dollars, all the money I 
 have at present,” and he laid it down on the table for 
 Jack to take. 
 
 “Fifteen dollars!” sneered the burly tramp, making 
 
54 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 no effort to accept it. “You better save that for the 
 poor or drop it in the church plate tomorrow. 
 I want at least a hundred dollars; or that greeny of a 
 farmer, Goodwin, will know better than to invest money 
 with the honorable Slicky Briscoe late of Sing Sing— 
 ha! ha!” and he laughed heartily as though the con- 
 templated exposure of the dgctor’s past life would 
 cause him no small amount of satisfaction. 
 
 At the mention of Mr. Goodwin’s name and the in- 
 vestment of money, a startled look came over Edger- 
 ton’s face which soon ‘changed to one of desperation 
 as he doggedly replied: “You can have the hundred 
 dollars, Jack, ff you intend leaving this part of the 
 country; but, if you think you can settle down here 
 and bleed me every time you are out of funds, you 
 will be mistaken for I shall leave here myself if that 
 is your intention.” 
 
 “I don’t have any idea of settling down here. Never 
 did favor country life much,” said the outlaw with a 
 hard laugh. “But I just happened to be upon the 
 highway this afternoon and, hearing your litle confi- 
 dence talk to that farmer, thought maybe I could se- 
 cure a loan from an old- partner, even if he did once 
 serve me a dirty trick, when we were in quod to- 
 gether;” and he eyed the doctor with the reckless look 
 of a man who was wholly indifferent to anything that 
 - might ensue. 
 
 “All right then, Jack; I only spoke so that we might 
 understand each other. Now let bygones be bygones; 
 for, you know, in that place it was a case of every one 
 for himself and devil take the hindmost,” said the 
 doctor. And going down deep into his inside vest- 
 pocket, he produced an.envelope from which he 
 counted out eighty-five dollars and laying it alongside 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 55 
 
 the fifteen, which still remained untouched upon the 
 - table pushed the money over toward Jack saying: 
 “There is your hundred dollars and now that you have 
 got what you want, when do you intend leaving here? 
 —I know you always used to do whatever you 
 promised.” This came almost like an appeal from 
 Edgerton. 
 
 “T intended leaving here on that early freight train, 
 but now that my finances have improvec so much, I 
 may wait for the passenger,” said the other as he took 
 the money from the table and after carefully rolling it 
 _ up, stowed it away deep in his pocket. 
 
 “You have not mentioned a word about me to any 
 one?” inquired the doctor anxiously. 
 
 “Not to a single soul,” answered Jack who, putting 
 on his coat and moving toward the door, stood ready to 
 depart. 
 
 I am glad of that, and, if you should run across 
 any of the old boys, don’t steer them onto my where- 
 abouts— and remember, I am always your friend,” said 
 Edgerton nervously. 
 
 “My friend! Well that isa good joke. But as I 
 am in a hurry to get to Memphis, and as the first is 
 my train, I shall have to tear myself from your enter- 
 taining society. So good-bye, Slick,” concluded the 
 outlaw mockingly; and, descending the stairs, he took 
 his way through the rain and gloom toward the depot. 
 
 A few minutes later, having reached the friendly 
 shelter afforded by the projecting roof of the station- 
 house, he peered in through the window and saw by 
 the dim light within that the clock indicated the time 
 as half past two. There was something else that caught 
 his eye just as he was about to withdraw his gaze and 
 which caused him to resume his stare through the win- 
 dow while a muttered oath broke from his lips. 
 
56 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 It was only a paper notice, about ten inches square, 
 tacked upon the wall of the room close to the clock, 
 and although he could not make out that part of it 
 printed in small type yet the bold headlines reading: 
 “One Hundred Dollars Reward! Escaped Convict, one 
 Jack—height,” etc., etc., were easy enough to deci- 
 pher, even from where he stood on the outside. 
 
 “Humph!” he muttered. “I’ll have to be away from 
 this place before daylight, dead certain. I’d better be 
 going down to that water-tank right now if I wish to 
 catch the train, as I haven’t much time to spare,” and 
 suiting the action to his words, he started down the 
 railroad track toward the engine-house that lay dis- 
 tant some three or four hundred yards. ; 
 
 As he neared the tank, a dim light in the engine- 
 room showed the figure of an old man who was just 
 building a fire, with the evident intention of starting 
 the engine at pumping even at this early hour. As 
 the outlaw sauntered up to the open doorway, the old 
 man turned around from his work and scanned sus- 
 piciously the stranger abroad at this unseemly hour. 
 
 “Working rather early, old man,—ain’t you? What 
 is the reason you are firing up at this time?” asked 
 Jack carelessly in order to start a friendly conversation. 
 
 The old man, who was no other than Mr. Oldham, 
 appeared slightly startled at the sound of the younger 
 man’s voice and looked steadily at him; but the dim 
 light afforded by the small lamp combined with the 
 dirt and smoke upon its chimney revealed only the 
 tall form of a man and gave but a poor’ glimpse of 
 his face which was shaded to some extent by the slouch 
 hat he wore, rendering his features hardly distinguish- 
 able. 
 
 "Yes, it is rather early but there were two extras 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 57 
 
 came along last evening and also the construction 
 train, and when three engines take a pull at the tank, 
 it requires some time for the pump to refill it that 
 much. And I always like to get my Sunday labor over 
 with as soon as possible, so I usually begin this early 
 on that day. But, if it’s a fair question, what might 
 be your business at this hour?” inquired Mr. Oldham 
 with apparently more interest than mere curiosity in 
 his tone. 
 
 Before the old man had entirely finished talking, a 
 sudden change came over the outlaw. His face became 
 deadly pale and his tall form seemed to shrink and 
 quiver as though laboring under some fearful shock, 
 and so agitated did he become that all but the last 
 portion of the old man’s speech was unheard. 
 
 It was only for a moment or two, that his self-pos- 
 session was absent; then recovering himself by an 
 effort, and pulling his hat over his forehead until the 
 brim was on a level with his eyes, he answered in a 
 changed voice. “I am only a tramp and intend trying 
 to catch the next freight for a ride down the road a 
 bit.” 
 
 As the old engineer heard the reply spoken in the 
 disguised tone, he ceased giving any further attention 
 to the intruder and, with a sigh as if disappointed at 
 something, returned to his work upon the engine. 
 
 From under the brim of his slouch hat the outlaw 
 followed every movement of the old engineer with a 
 steady earnest gaze as though his thoughts were bent 
 on events of the past which the sight of the other 
 seemed to have recalled to mind. 
 
 “Live hereabouts?” he suddenly broke out in the 
 same gruff tone he had used before. 
 
 “Yes,” replied Mr. Oldham. “My wife and I live 
 
58 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 in that cottage yonder where you see the light, and it s 
 more than likely we’ll never move out of it, for we 
 are both getting pretty well along in years, and no 
 telling when our call may come,” he added thought- 
 fully. 
 
 “Been in these parts long?” 
 
 “Nigh onto four years now,” answered the old man. — 
 
 “Came out here from New York with the contractors 
 who built this road, and when the work was done the 
 road-master gave me this tank- to run and here I’ve 
 been ever since.—Have you ever been in New York 
 state, young man?” 
 
 Yes—that is I’ve passed through it—that’s all,” 
 answered Jack in confusion as though taken off his 
 guard at the sudden question. 
 
 The old engineer was busy lighting his pipe as the 
 reply was given to his query, but as he put the remark 
 only to continue the conversation he did not notice 
 apparently the queer way in which it had been an- 
 swered. 
 
 “Got any children?” asked Jack gruffly after a long 
 pause. 
 
 “Children!—And what would I want of children! ° 
 
 Girls who go off and get married as soon as they 
 might be a companion and a comfort to their parents; 
 or boys who run away and leave their homes only to 
 get into prison and break their mother’s heart.—Don’t 
 talk to me of children!” exclaimed the old man in a 
 bitter tone as he began shoveling coal into the fire 
 with a fierce energy that looked unusual in so aged a 
 person. ’ 
 
 A silence ensued after this outburst, as though the 
 conversation had drifted onto a topic which neither 
 one cared to resume. But if a person could have no- 
 
 ee ee eee ee ee ee re ey ee eT es 
 
 te 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 59 
 
 ticed how the hard, stubborn look on the outlaw’s face 
 relaxed as the engineer finished speaking, and could | 
 have witnessed the downcast eyes and perceptible 
 quiver of emotion that passed over his features, they 
 would readily have formed the opinion thaé there still 
 lingered a spark of good feeling within him which 
 even the wild reckless life he had led for years, had 
 not wholly obliterated. 
 
 As the flash of some sudden idea swept across the 
 sad expression still visible on his face, it aroused him 
 from the apathy into which he had sunk, and ina brisk 
 voice he remarked: “I wonder if I could get a cup 
 of coffee over at your place at this early hour. I have 
 some money and would aks most anything for a cup 
 of coffee to warm me up.' 
 
 “IT expect you could get either some tea or coffee 
 over at the house, for my wife was up starting the fire 
 when I left. This damp weather we are having has 
 brought back the rheumatism upon her, and the heat 
 of a good fire seems to relieve her of the pain more 
 than all ‘the doctor’s medicines. Just go over to the 
 house where you see the light yonder. But keep your 
 money, young man, as I have little doubt but what 
 you'll need it,” said Mr. Oldham in a far more mod- 
 erate tone than he had employed a moment before, but 
 without looking up from his work. 
 
 Hurriedly the outlaw started toward the little white 
 cottage, scarcely a hundred yards distant, in which a 
 light was plainly visible shining through the windows 
 in the rear. 
 
 Approaching the gate he stopped for a moment, and 
 drawing out the roll of money he had just received 
 from the doctor, made a hasty but as equal a division 
 of it as the darkness allowed; then putting one part in 
 
60 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 his pocket he held the remaining roll of bills firmly 
 clutched in his hand as he silently opened the gate 
 and with a noiseless tread stole up close to the win- 
 dow from which a light was shining. He cautiously 
 peered in as though anxious to have a glimpse at the 
 interior of the house before announcing his presence 
 
 Nothing startling, however, met his gaze. Sitting 
 up close to the stove upon whicha kettle of hot water 
 sent up a steady column of steam denoting that a good 
 fire at least was one of the inside comforts, sat an old 
 lady gazing abstractedly at the coals that protruded 
 upon the little iron hearth, and from her silent demean- 
 or her mind was apparently,in deep thought. 
 
 Her gray hair brushed back carefully from her fea- 
 tures showed a face both sad and careworn, and the 
 drawn lines upon her cheeks denoted the effect of either 
 mental or physical suffering, perhaps both. 
 
 As the outlaw advanced a step to get a closer view 
 of the interior, a cat, which until now had been repos- 
 ing in peace beneath the stove, aroused itself and be- 
 gan mewing uneasily as though suspecting that an 
 intruder was close at hand. After wafking across the 
 floor once or twice, the animal suddenly sprang upon 
 a shelf close to the window where in alighting upon 
 this elevated perch, it dislodged from its resting-place 
 an object which fell to the floor and after rolling 
 around once or twice, remained motionless. It was 
 only an old wooden top with its sides scarred and 
 seared from the encounters it must have undergone in 
 boyhood battles, and in the head of which had been 
 driven at some time. a copper-tack or nail; for the 
 metal head was plainly visible as the bright rays of 
 the lamp shone upon it. With a slight cry of vexa- 
 tion at the cat, which caused that animal to resume 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 61 
 
 its place beneath the stove at once, the old lady arose 
 and approaching the top bent over, with a painful 
 effort that indicated the presence of some ailment, and 
 picked it up carefully while a tear stole down her 
 cheek as she gazed pensively upon it; then tenderly 
 brushing away the dust from off its sides, replaced it 
 upon the shelf with as much care as though the inert 
 wood bore life, while she shook her head in a weary 
 disconsolate way as old folks are in the habit of doing 
 when thinking of past events and how differently things 
 or persons have turned out from what they might have 
 done. 
 
 The outlaw, standing in the darkness on the outside 
 had observed all that had passed. The face of the 
 old lady as she walked, or rather hobbled, to pick up 
 the top was turned directly toward him and a choking 
 feeling arose in his throat as he beheld the caressing 
 way in which she had brushed the dust from off the 
 worthless plaything, and even the tear which had stolen 
 down her cheek and the melancholy shake of her head 
 had not passed unobserved by the man without, who 
 now was moving away from the window with a motion 
 like one striken with palsy. 
 
 Staggering against the fence, the strong man with 
 bowed head clung to it for support. “Oh God!” he 
 murmured, “to think that I should witness this. What 
 a fool, blind fool I have been.” 
 
 And for the first time in years, the reckless dare devil 
 spirit within him was crushed and he was, in thought, 
 once more a boy, a boy young in years before the wild 
 _desire for travel and the effects of evil associations had 
 turned him down along the crime stained road he had 
 followed for years. 
 
 A heavy distant rumbling sound followed by a shrill 
 
62 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 whistle in the west denoted the approach of the train 
 for which he was waiting; and arousing himself he 
 ‘seemed for a moment as though undetermined as to 
 which way to go, but suddenly steeling himself by an 
 effort of will power, he strode back past the window 
 in which he had been looking to the rear door of the 
 cottage and knocked boldly upon it. 
 
 A shuffling noise as of some one coming slowly, 
 was heard and directly the door opened and the old 
 lady, Mrs. Oldham, stood in the entrance. 
 
 “Ts this where Mr. Oldham lives?” asked the outlaw 
 
 in the same disguised tone he had employed when - 
 
 talking to the old engineer. 
 
 ‘“Yes, Iam Mrs. Oldham, but I suppose it is my 
 husband you wish to see. He is over at the tank yon- 
 der where you see the light,” answered the old lady. 
 
 This reply evidently was not exactly the one the out- 
 law expected, and for a moment he seemed irresolute 
 as to what to do; but, quickly recovering himself, he 
 fixed his eyes upon the door-step and said hurriedly: 
 
 “Tf you are Mrs. Oldham, then you are the person 
 
 I was directed to see. I have just come up from a- 
 
 levee camp on the Mississippi and an old partner of 
 mine, Jack Oldham, who started east when the work 
 was finished, told me when I came up this way to 
 hand this to Mrs. Oldham of Montrovia. I am ina 
 hurry now, madam, as that is my train coming, and 
 must be going, so good bye!” and hastily handing the 
 old lady the roll of money which lay within his grasp, 
 he swiftly walked around the corner of the house and 
 left her standing in a state of trembling and joyous 
 amazement, which his words had caused. 
 
 Hurrying to the gate, he beheld the head-light of 
 the approaching train, now scarcely distant five hun- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP : 63 
 
 dred yards; then, as if longing for one more glance at 
 the little room and its occupant, hesitated for an in- 
 stant and then stole back to the window to see what 
 effect his speech might have caused. 
 
 The old lady by this time had partly recovered from 
 her surprise and, as if realizing that the stranger could 
 not be recalled for any further questioning as she so 
 longed, had re-entered the room and moved over. to- 
 ward the lamp with a happy nervous light shining in 
 her eyes, thinking only of the joyousness which this 
 message might cause; for she had conceived what the 
 stranger had handed her to be a written missive of some 
 import from one who, though erring and wayward, was 
 constantly in her thoughts. But, as her eyes beheld 
 only the crisp money notes, a feeling of intense disap- 
 pointment appeared on her face; and then, as her gaze 
 unconsciously strayed to the window, she beheld the 
 face of the stranger clearly outlined by the rays of the 
 lamp and with a sudden wild cry of mingled joy and 
 recognition, she sprang erect and with arms out. 
 stretched in welcome cried: “O John!—John!—Come 
 back at last!” but seeing his face and figure disappear 
 in the darkness as though retreating she hurried to 
 the front door of the cottage, forgetful of all pain 
 that the movement caused, and quickly unlocking and 
 opening the door was just in time to see the tall form 
 of the stranger as he swung himself aboard of the. 
 swiftly moving train that was running by. Then, asif 
 realizing that he was going away forever, she sank down 
 upon the floor moaning in despair and wretchedness, 
 while the train thundered by on its way without stop- 
 
 ping. . 
 
CHAPTER: Yi 
 
 It was Sunday morning at the Furlong farm, and 
 however gloomy the preceding night had been, the 
 sun, which shone down brightly on the wet green grass, 
 soon drove away all the disagreeable effects of the rain 
 upon the road and changed the frowning face of na- 
 ture into a smile of satisfaction. 
 
 Breakfast had just been spread upon the table, and 
 the little household were seating themselves to partake 
 of the repast. 
 
 “Out rather late last night, were you not, Hart? 
 Did Miss Goodwin give her consent to your idea of 
 going away and agree to await your return with the 
 fortune you expect to find at St. Louis?” asked Edward 
 with a light laugh. 
 
 Hart gave only a faint smile in answer tothis sally 
 fromehis brother and tried to appear unconcerned, but 
 in truth he felt far from it. 
 
 “T thought I heard you come in last night and, after 
 rummaging about the pantry, go out again. What 
 were you after? Did another stray dog follow you 
 home from the village or were you hungry yourself?” 
 asked Mr. Furlong. . 
 
 “No. It was a poor fellow I met upon the road 
 and, as he seemed to be hungry, I thought I would 
 carry him out a couple of sandwiches,” replied Hart. 
 
 “Very good! very good!” said his father gravely. 
 “Bread cast upon the waters may return again after 
 many days; but if it never returns, as is quite proba- 
 
 64 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 65 
 
 ble in this case, still you have the consciousness of 
 having done some one a good turn and may you pur- 
 sue this course through life, my boy, wherever you 
 may go.” 
 
 “Yes,” remarked Edward rather dryly, “benevolence 
 is a good trait, but might one not practise it until he 
 got into the poor-house and then it is very doubtful if 
 he might not regret his benevolence.” 
 
 “Where is the person who ever got into poor-house 
 from giving some poor tramp a bite of food? To 
 find that person I am afraid you would have a longer 
 search on your hands than that of the inventor who 
 strives to solve the problem of perpetual motion. 
 People are very apt to get in the poor-house, however, 
 when they overdo the matter, such as giving money 
 away or foolishly indorsing notes for persons who are 
 forward enough to ask such.a thing,” replied Mr. Fur- 
 long with a reproving look at Edward. 
 
 The elder son’s face colored up slightly as his father 
 mentioned the indorsement of notes; for only a few 
 days before he had asked his father to do that favor 
 for a friend of his who had the presumption to make 
 the request through him for Mr. Furlong’s signature.— 
 Just a matter of form, you know, which would accom- 
 modate-me greatly,” was the light manner used by 
 Edward’s friend in referring to so serious an affair, 
 which, however,met with Mr. Furlong’s prompt refusal, 
 and his earnest talk to his son at the time about the 
 danger of such transactions had not lost its effect up- 
 on the young man. 
 
 “You seem rather quiet this morning, Hart,” ob- 
 served Mrs. Furlong, as she passd him a steaming cup 
 of coffee. “I hope you have given up the notion of 
 _your St. Louis trip for all sorts of ideas entered my 
 
66 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 mind last night when I thought about you going there 
 all alone.” 
 
 “I was going to speak to father about that after 
 breakfast,” replied Hart and, turning to his father, he 
 continued: “I have been thinking about this matter 
 for the last three or four days -and have come to the 
 conclusion that the sooner I get there before the spring 
 rush is over, the better will be my chance of securing 
 a position; so if you will write that letter to Mr. Hun- 
 toon to-day, I can take it with me to-morrow, for I 
 would like to go at once if you have no objections. 
 That will save the postage on the lettér, and I sup- 
 pose there is nothing like practising economy at the 
 start,” he added with a brave attempt at a smile to 
 back up this declaration. 
 
 “Why, Hart, sosoon,!” exclaimed his sister in sur- 
 prise. “I thought we would surely have a week’s 
 ’ time to prepare some things for you.” 
 
 The other members of the household looked at Hart 
 in amazement at this sudden avowal of his desire to 
 leave at once, but shrewdly guessing that the cause 
 sprang from some estrangement from Nellie Goodwin 
 wisely concealed their thoughts by silence. 
 
 “Yes,” said Hart, hurriedly eating his food as though 
 the train to convey him away was already in sight, “I 
 thought it all over last night while coming home from. 
 the village and it seems to me that the sooner I get 
 to St. Louis, the better my chances will be of obtain- 
 ing a place before the spring trade is over. If father 
 will write that introductory letter to Mr. Huntoon to- 
 day, I shall leave to-morrow taking it with me. If I 
 find that he is unable to get mea position right away, I 
 can look around myself, and give his name as a refer- 
 ence in case such a thing is required.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 67 
 
 “This desire of yours to leave at once, appears rather 
 hasty,” remarked Mr. Furlong gravely. “Had younot 
 better wait until we hear from Mr. Huntoon and see 
 what his opinion is on the matter?” 
 
 “That would take nearly a week counting the time 
 required for a letter to reach there and the period that 
 must elapse before the return of his answer; and Iam 
 so impatient that I would only be in a stew all that 
 time so I think I would like to go at once. I can pack 
 in that large valise what few things I shall need, and 
 take the noon train to-morrow which will land me in 
 St. Louis on Tuesday morning. I could then see Mr, 
 Huntoon that same day, and also have plenty Of time 
 to select some good place to board, so as to be all 
 settled and ready for work,” replied Hart in a business 
 like tone, although when he thought of leaving the 
 dear faces around him, his heart felt as heavy as lead. 
 
 “Have you money enough at present for such a trip?” 
 asked his mother, anxiously. “Remember it may be 
 two or three months before you obtain a situation, 
 and you will need considerable money to pay your 
 board and other expenses.” 
 
 “T guess I can get along all right, responded Hart ~ 
 confidently. “I have seventy dollars now, and if Ed- 
 ward will buy my share in the bee-hives, that would 
 make it about one hundred, and if I] don’t succeed in 
 gaining some sort of foothold with that sum of money, 
 then I shall be willing to come back perfectly satisfied 
 that I lack the ability to cope with the difficulties of 
 securing employment.” 
 
 “I am quite willing to give you thirty dollars for 
 your interest in the bees,” said Edward, who by this 
 time had recovered his equanimity which had been 
 somewhat disturbed by the mild repraof administered 
 
 ~ 
 
68 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 by his father, and was seriously thinking how lone- 
 some it would be on the farm without Hart’s cheerful 
 presence. 
 
 “If your mind is fully made up to make this venture, 
 my boy,” said Mr. Furlong thoughtfully, “then the 
 sooner you get started, the sooner you will be satisfied 
 one way or the other, but we all hope for your success. 
 I don’t think it is of any use for me to make youa 
 long speech about your conduct when away from home. 
 ' Just act like the man I fully believe you to be, and do 
 nothing that your conscience cannot approve of. Re- 
 member that there will always be a welcome place for 
 you here, should trouble and adversity get the upper 
 hand in your struggle to become somebody in this 
 new field on which you are entering,” concluded the 
 old gentleman tenderly, 
 
 “And you must pay us a visit at Christmas, Hart, 
 sure; for we shall all be expecting you then,” said his 
 mother with a fond look at him. : 
 
 “Yes, if I can scrape together enough money to pay 
 the railroad fare, I’1]1 see you all -on Christmas day,” 
 answered Hart and, having finished his repast, he 
 arose from the table and, moving over toward the win- 
 dow, gazed out moodily upon the bright landscape. 
 
 His sister who, although as quick as the rest of the 
 family in perceiving that there was something unpleas- 
 ant on his mind, but not guessing the cause thereof and 
 hoping to cheer him, said in a spirit of jesting: “I 
 suppose you have arranged everything with Nelly so 
 that each of you will exchange at least two letters a 
 week, or are you intending to reserve that arrangement 
 for the final meeting. How I should like to witness 
 the parting which I presume will take place when you 
 walk home with her from church to-day.” 
 
 el 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 69 
 
 x 
 
 This provoked a general laugh from all the family, 
 and Hart, to keep up appearances, smiled back as he 
 replied carelessly: “Oh, yes, we have arranged all 
 that long ago. But as for seeing her home from 
 church, I think I shall have to leave that to some one 
 else; for I have so many little things to see to, that I 
 don’t think I shall attend service to-day.” Then put- 
 ting on his hat, he walked out of the house, strolling 
 down in the orchard toward the bee-hives in which he 
 had formerly taken great interest. 
 
 The day wore along very quietly as Sundays always 
 do in the country, and although bright and sunny 
 without, it was anything but a pleasant day to the 
 Furlongs, for they all now seemed to understand that 
 Hart’s sudden desire to depart was more for the pur- 
 pose of leaving unpleasant surroundings, as his silence 
 and gloomy looks betokened, than a wish for a more 
 industrious life elsewhere. 
 
 Mrs. Furlong and Mary accompanied by Edward at- 
 tended church where, to their surprise, they beheld 
 Miss Goodwin attended by Dr. Edgerton, which left 
 no further doubt on their minds in regard to the cause 
 of Hart’s hasty desire for departure, and the smiling 
 glances she frequently bestowed upon her escort in an- 
 swer to some of his whispered remarks, plainly showed 
 that if she was aware of Hart’s intention of leaving, 
 it evidently troubled her mind very little and, as Ed- 
 ward afterward observed on the way home, “Judging 
 from her conduct, she was somewhat in a hurry to be 
 . on with the new love before the old grew cold.” 
 
 Mary could not look at the case so coolly, and burst 
 forth impulsively, “I think she is a mean flirt, for 
 every one knows she has been encouraging Hart’s at- 
 tentions ever since she came home from school, and 
 
70 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 now when this smart doctor comes around, she thinks 
 no more of him. I should be so glad if he became 
 acquainted with areal good girl when he is in St. 
 Louis, and then he would forget the heartless, selfish 
 . thing, for that is just my opinion of Nelly Goodwin,” 
 added Mary spitefully. The object of her brother’s 
 infatuation had never found favor in her eyes. 
 
 “Let Hart alone, and yok will find that he will come 
 out all right in the end, even if he is a little soft in 
 that direction now. He has plenty of pride in him, 
 and you can depend that he will not play second fiddle 
 to anybody,” rejoined Edward. 
 
 “Yes,” said Mrs. Furlong, “I am sure Hart has pride 
 enough not to throw his affection away when he sees 
 it is not returned, and if he is left to himself, I am 
 sure it will be as Edward says; his pride and his good 
 sense will show him the foolishness of devoting him- 
 self to any girl who possesses sucha changeful dispo- 
 sition. But you must not tease him any more about 
 Nellie, for I think he is already aware of the way she 
 is acting, and it will only make him think we are 
 thoughtless of his feelings. So say nothing about see- 
 ing her at church unless he asks.” 
 
 On their return to the house, they found Mr. Fur- 
 long busily engaged in writing the letter to Mr. Hun- 
 toon, but Hart was nowhere in sight and it’ was not 
 until dusk began to spread its gloom over the bright 
 landscape, that he returned from a long lonely ramble 
 through the woods, whither he had taken himself to 
 be alone with his thoughts and reflections in the effort 
 to shape his ideas so that his mind would regain its 
 old time repose, which attempt, of course, resulted in 
 a dismal failure, for as all aged mortals know (Take 
 
 heed both youth and maiden!) there is only one suc-_ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP qi 
 
 cessful prescription for ailments of the heart—time. 
 And so slow, but nevertheless sure, is the cure that one 
 can seldom or never look back and remember the day 
 or even the week when the welcome reaction began. 
 
 At the supper-table very few remarks were made by 
 any of the family. Hart asked about the text of the 
 sermon, but*made no inquiry as to who were present 
 and as if by common consent of all, no further allu- 
 sion was made to his late supposed sweetheart. 
 
 There can scarcely be imagined a more downhearted 
 family forcing themselves to keep up a cheerful ap- 
 pearance than that within the little farm-house on 
 Monday morning. Hart strove to make light of his 
 leaving, as though it was only a temporary trial to 
 decide his ability to cope with the outside world, and 
 talked about the numerous presents he would bring 
 them at Christmas, and the happy reunion they would 
 then have. But when the time drew near for him to 
 leave, and Edward picked up his valise to accompany 
 him to the depot, his demeanor changed and his true 
 feelings came to the surface in the shape of a flood of 
 tears, as he hurriedly bade his weeping parents and 
 sister good-bye and hastened off down the road after 
 Edward, who had left the house beforehand to avoid 
 the scene that he knew would be enacted at the last 
 moment. 
 
 In silence the brothers walked along the highway 
 toward town, for the serious step Hart was now taking 
 in going out bodily into the world to do for himself 
 caused a feeling of anxiety to arise in Edward’s mind 
 as to the result; and, if his life had depended on it, 
 he could not at that time have thought of a single 
 cheerful topic to converse upon; while with Hart, as 
 with most boys when taking their first departure from 
 
72 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 e 
 
 home, a grave thoughtful emotion stole over him, and 
 he seemed to feel as if in taking this step he had 
 crossed the line which invisibly separated the boy- 
 hood existence in his being from that of the man. 
 
 They reached the station barely in time, foras Hart 
 was pocketing his change from the purchase of his 
 ticket the train came in sight. With a few words of 
 parting to Edward he got aboard and as the train 
 steamed along on its way hurrying him toward his des- 
 tination, little did he think of the many thrilling scenes 
 and queer adventures that would befall him before he 
 would again view any of the dear familiar faces he 
 was leaving behind. 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 Hart’s journey to St. Louis was devoid of any in- 
 cident outside of the usual events which occur to any 
 one when taking a long railway ride. 
 
 The route he journeyed over brought him into the 
 great city early on the following day, and after elbow- 
 ing his way through the crowd at the depot, he re- 
 paired to the nearest restaurant where after partaking 
 of a hearty breakfast, he started forth on foot leaving 
 his valise with the clerk whose polite and affable man- 
 ner had already made a pleasant impression on Hart, 
 tending to cheer him and causing him to feel that he 
 would not always be entirely friendless should he be 
 fortunate enough to have such light-hearted acquain- 
 tances as daily companions. 
 
 Following the advice given him by this latter in- 
 dividual, he had little difficulty in finding his way 
 to Mr. Huntoon’s place of business, and in less than an 
 hour after leaving the restaurant, he stood betore 
 an attractive looking store on one of the principal 
 thoroughfares above which on the neat gilt sign 
 was lettered the name of Charles Huntoon, dealer in 
 books, stationery, etc.. 
 
 As he walked in, a rather handsome young man with 
 a tired, discontented expression in his face, arose from 
 a seat behind the counter and bending languidly toward 
 Hart inquired in a weak tone if there was anything 
 he could do for him. 
 
 In answer to Hart’s inquiry as to the whereabouts of 
 
 73 
 
74 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 Mr. Huntoon, he replied that ‘the old gentleman” had 
 just stepped out, probably had only gone to the bank 
 or post-office and would return shortly. Would Hart 
 have a seat and wait, or would he call around again 
 and, having come to the conclusion that his duty as 
 clerk was completed, he sank back wearily into the 
 seat he had formerly occupied with a yawn which 
 seemed to imply that his rest of the night before had 
 been seriously broken, or else the hours usually adapted 
 to slumber had been spent in some sort of society that 
 held open house rather late. 
 
 Hart decided to wait, so taking a seat, he picked up 
 a magazine from the counter and was carelessly look- 
 ing at its contents when he was suddenly startled by 
 hearing a person exclaim from the other side of the 
 store, “What luck last night, George? Did you have 
 any more of those three one deals, or did you go broke 
 on your old hobby of trying to call the last turn. It 
 looked to me as if your finances were getting very 
 weak when I left.” 
 
 Looking in the direction from which the voice came, 
 Hart beheld the speaker,-who had just arisen from a 
 seat behind a tall desk that had completely hidden his 
 form from view while sitting. He was a young man 
 of very different build from the individual who had 
 just answered Hart’s inquiries; for the vigorous growth 
 of black hair which seemed to sprout straight up from 
 the crown of his head, alone denoted a strong char- 
 acter as one of the qualities of the possessor, and his 
 sharp black eyes and his square jaw were plainly in- 
 dicative of firmness and energy. 
 
 “Yes, Ben, I’ve had hard luck all this month. Can’t 
 understand it, but suppose it will come my way some 
 of these days,” replied the clerk who had first spoken 
 
 eo 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP = <5 
 
 to Hart, for it wasto him that the remark was ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 “I think you had better take my advice, George, and 
 give it up or your health and money will both be lost, 
 and even if luck does come your way after awhile, you 
 can’t win both back by staying up al! night until nearly 
 time-for breakfast,” replied the other, 
 
 “Very good advice, no doubt, Benjamin,” drawled 
 out the first speaker with a yawn, “but one shouldn’t 
 preach what he doesn’t practice. If my memory hasn’t 
 failed me, I think I can remember when a certain 
 young man of my acquaintance went flat broke not 
 long ago in a desperate attempt to break the bank.” 
 
 “Very true, old boy, very true. I foolishly thought 
 at‘that time that I had a system whereby the much 
 needed shekels could be raked in; but you know the 
 result; money lost, experience won, from which I 
 speak with wisdom to those who are likely to fall by 
 the wayside,” said Ben with a good-natured smile. 
 
 “It?s all very well to talk that way now, but your 
 face had anything but a cheerful look that night when 
 your system, as you term it, exploded leaving you 
 dead broke,” sneeringly remarked the other, and then 
 in a more conciliatory tone he added, “why, if I had 
 lost that much money at one sitting, I would have to 
 stop trifling and try in earnest to be number one in 
 Miss A’s opinion, and trust to getting even in a finan- 
 cial way by handling some of her wealth in the au- 
 thority of being her devoted husband.” 
 
 “Not a bad idea, George, I grant. But I would not 
 put too much confidence in being able to capture that 
 beauty. Because a girl always has a smile and pleas- 
 ant word for a fellow, it does not necessarily follow 
 that she is ready. to surrender to the ties of matrimony 
 
FO :: A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 the moment that fellow proposes such a union. No 
 doubt, though, about the money being there for the 
 lucky man who catches her; but there might be con- 
 siderable objection raised by that elderly brother, un- 
 less there was also money in sight on the other side. 
 It seems nowadays as though every poor man who 
 marries a rich girl is looked upon as an adventurer 
 and the suspicion which is cast upon him nearly off- 
 sets the advantages of the wealth. 
 
 “Oh, hang what people might think about the affair! " 
 exclaimed the first speaker carelessly. “As long asa 
 person has the money, that is enough to float him in 
 the upper crust of society in the present age. I tell you, 
 Ben, any way to succeed.—Hush! here comes the old 
 man.” 
 
 The conversation between the two clerks ceased as 
 a sedate middle-aged gentleman entered and walking 
 past Hart, proceeded to the rear of the store where a 
 certain amount of space enclosed by a light fancy rail- 
 ing seemed by the appearance of the huge iron safe with- 
 in to indicate the enclosure as the location of the 
 counting-room. 
 
 “There is your man, young fellow,” said the clerk 
 who had just been interrupted in his speech, nodding 
 his head toward the gentleman who had just passed 
 by. 
 
 Hart arose and, in walking back to where the pro- 
 prietor was now seated, he passed close by the other 
 clerk who had taken part in the late conversation, and 
 the bright friendly glance which that individual be- 
 stowed upon him as their eyes met for an instant, 
 braced him up for the coming interview with the pro- 
 prietor, which he had begun to fear might end in disap- 
 pointment; for the indifferent way in which the two 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP why 
 
 clerks shad just conversed so freely in his presence had 
 impressed him with the idea that by some means they 
 had at first sight mutually placed him among a class 
 inferior to themselves, both in a social and commercial 
 sense, and he began to imagine that should this Mr. 
 Huntoon, in whom his father placed such reliance, 
 weigh him in the same balance and pass a like opinion 
 on his abilities, the chances were that he might look 
 out for a rough way ahead. 
 
 Taking off his hat as he stepped within the enclosure 
 of the. counting-room, he hurridly ran his hands 
 through his pocket in search of the letter of intro- 
 duction his father had written and, not finding it, sud- 
 denly remembered having placed it within his valise 
 and that this much needed article had been left in 
 check at the restaurant. 
 
 “Tam Hartley Furlong,” he began while his face 
 flushed in confusion at the thoughtlessness he would 
 have to acknowledge presently in not having the letter 
 with him. “I am a son of John Furlong who lives at 
 Montrovia,” he added nervously looking at the gentle- 
 man who had laid aside the pen he had just picked 
 up and was curiously gazing at Hart over a pair of 
 gold-rimmed spectacles. 
 
 “What! Are you one of John Furlong’s boys,” ex- 
 claimed the merchant, arising from his seat and ex- 
 tending his hana he shook that of Hart’s quiet heartily. 
 
 “Well! well!” he continued.- “This is indeed a 
 pleasant surprise. It has been many long years since 
 John and I last met. So you are one of his boys. 
 Have a seat young man and make yourself at home. 
 How is your father’s health at present? No worse than 
 usual I hope.” 
 
 “His health is about the same as usual. He is not 
 
78 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 able to perform any hard labor, but can attend to all 
 the light tasks, about the farm,” replied Hart, taking 
 the seat indicated by the merchant. 
 
 “And what brings you up to St. Louis? Are you on 
 business, or is it only a visit to see the sights—and 
 how long will you be here?” asked Mr. Huntoon pleas- 
 antly. 
 
 Hart began to look serious as the thought came to 
 him of how quickly this pleasant mood in his friend 
 might change when he made known the nature of his 
 visit, but without any hesitation he spoke up bravely: 
 “No, I did not come here on a pleasure trip, Mr. 
 Huntoon, but with the intention of trying to obtain 
 employment in some line of business. I have a letter 
 from my father to you which by mistake I have left in 
 my valise. Perhaps I had better go-at once and bring 
 it as that will explain my position to you thoroughly.” 
 And Hart arose with the intention of retracing his 
 steps to obtain the letter. 
 
 “No hurry about the letter at present. Keep your 
 seat, young man, any time will do for that,” said Mr. 
 Huntoon with a smile at Hart’s impulsiveness. “You 
 say you have come here to obtain employment. Well, 
 Hartley, what can you do? Have you ever had any 
 experience in a commercial sense while at Montrovia?” 
 
 These questions put a damper on Hart’s spirits, for 
 he had about regained his usual composure under the 
 friendly reception extended to him by the merchant; 
 but now the Words: “What can you do?” as the first 
 test applied to his ability seemed to expose all his 
 weakness. 
 
 His character was of that stamp not easily discour- 
 aged when hard work was to be overcome, and he im- 
 agined as others have done before him that a vigorous 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 79 
 
 disposition to labor would in a short time put him on 
 an equal basis with the thousands of other clerical 
 workers whom he fully believed to be steadily advanc- 
 ing to success and fortune. 
 
 He did not know that a double barrier has to be 
 crossed before the goal of really remunerative employ- 
 ment is reached. One of which, and those who have 
 been successful always class it as_ the lighter feat, is 
 in putting yourself in posession of the knowledge re- 
 quisite to do such work. The other, and by far the 
 more difficult attainment, is in obtaining the position 
 where such work is required. 
 
 To a young man inexperienced in city life, success 
 seems almost within his grasp when he reads the news- 
 paper advertisements stating that some _ business col- 
 lege can teach him the art of book-keeping in the 
 course of a few months; or that some similar institu- 
 tion can teach him the science of civil engineering or 
 telegraphy in a similar length of time, guaranteeing 
 to the successful graduates immediate positions where 
 they can advance according to their merit. 
 
 The advertisement reads all right—on paper; but 
 how many of the hundreds that such departments turn 
 out ever make a success of life through practising the 
 profession which they spent months in acquiring a su- 
 perficial knowledge of. 
 
 The nervous, active, bustling man now well middle- 
 aged who, as the traveling official of some railroad is 
 looked upon with respect by all for the success he has 
 attained, cannot remember exactly why he was not 
 satisfied keeping books for Jones and Smith in his early 
 days. Neither can the sedate Muller, who, when a 
 youth, narrowly escaped death a half-dozen times from 
 mixing sulphur and gunpowder give a sufficient reason 
 
80 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 why he abandoned the role of a surveyor in his younger 
 days to become the prosperous chemist on the corner 
 yonder. 
 
 A careful analysis of their characters might develop 
 the fact that neither of them was adapted to the pur- 
 suit they at first undertook, but when does young 
 blood stop to reason out or to ponder upon such acold 
 blooded calculation. 
 
 It is true, fortunately, that the time is not wholly 
 wasted, even by those who never earn a dollar, by what , 
 they so faithfully studied ; for, while learning one branch, 
 we exercise the brain so that when forced to acquire a 
 knowledge of another later on, it can be more easliy 
 mastered and the difficult points more readily compre- 
 hended owing to the practise the mind has had in the 
 past in accomplishing a similar task. 
 
 Had Hart ever studied the art and forms of keeping 
 accounts he might not have felt his confidence desert 
 him so suddenly as it did at Mr. Huntoon’s question. 
 But, when upon the farm, his spare time of late years 
 had not been devoted to dry mathematical calculations. 
 He had had a dreamy way of thinking about the road 
 to wealth, and the steps to the many air-castles he had 
 built were not erected from the rise and fall reports of 
 grain or from the effect produced by musty heaps of 
 bills of lading. 
 
 It had seemed to him that the acquirement of wealth 
 by such a slow grubbing process would kill all the ro- 
 mance within him and thus render life far less enjoya- 
 ble which, to admit the truth, is generally the case 
 with those who acquire riches by poring over ledger 
 accounts and interest calculation tables. 
 
 The influence of the romantic fancies gathered in his 
 early youth, was not yet entirely eradicated from his 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 81 
 
 mind, and with them the road to fortune over which 
 he would travel, had always a dash of adventure in it. 
 A long and tedious sea-voyage to the far distant dia- 
 mond fields of South Africa or Brazil, then a long and 
 tiresome journey to the interior of the conntry, fol- 
 lowed by a succession of hardships and dis- 
 appointments; then at the last moment, when money 
 and food are about exhausted—Eureka! a big bright 
 one flashing all the colors of the rainbow. Then fol- 
 lows the long walk back to the coast, holding fast to 
 the concealed treasure until the sale of it to a broker 
 for countless thousands, the quick voyage home, and 
 the gratification of always being thereafter able to help 
 his distressed friends or lend his aid to the poor. 
 
 Such a thought was only one of the many visionary 
 and impracticable ideas that had passed through his 
 day-dreams when at the farm, and even the foolish 
 thought that he might be lucky enough to draw some 
 great prize in a lottery was not without the bounds of 
 ‘his romantic expectations, although many a hard-earned 
 dollar had been secretly mailed from Montrovia to 
 swell the coffers of the great Louisiana institution with- 
 out yielding any return, but mild disappointment after 
 each drawing, as he realized that his treasured’ ticket 
 was,only one of the thousands of worthless blanks. 
 
 Is it any wonder then, that he felt lost for a reply 
 to the merchant’s simple query of: “What can you 
 do?” 
 
 “No, I never tried clerking in any-of the stores at 
 Montrovia, but I am sure I could learn in a short time. 
 I am willing to commence at the foot and am not 
 afraid of hard work,” replied Hart earnestly after a 
 moment’s hesitation. 
 
 “I suppose, then, you are aware that at first you 
 
82 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 would barely earn enough to support you, at least for 
 the first year or two, and that is rather discouraging, 
 is it not?” asked the merchant. 
 
 “TI did not expect anything big at the start, and 
 would only be too glad to obtain such a position, until 
 -I became accustomed to business methods, when I sup- 
 pose the pay is increased.” 
 
 “Yes, to a certain extent,” answered Mr. Huntoon 
 rather doubtfully. “However, as you have come here 
 to try your hand at commercial life, it will not be long 
 before you can see things in their true light,so I shall 
 not attempt to discourage you; but I fancy you may 
 find that advancement comes much slower than you 
 anticipate. I am under deep obligations to your father 
 for several kind deeds done in the past, and I shall 
 try to get you in some wholesale house where merit 
 would meet with a more substantial reward than in any 
 retail business. It may be sometime though, before a 
 chance of that kind turns up, and in the meantime, 
 you can work here in my store, if you desire. You 
 will have to do all the heavy work though, as has been 
 the custom with every new clerk, and I can only offer 
 you thirty-five dollars a month.” 
 
 “I do not know how to thank you for your kind offer, 
 which I am only too glad to have the opportunity of 
 accepting, and I will do the best I can to please you,” 
 said Hart with his-eyes expressing the gratitude that 
 he felt toward the kind-hearted merchant. 
 
 “Very well, then I shall book you as the new clerk,” 
 responded Mr. Huntoon smilingly. “I think you had 
 better not commence work, however, until next Monday, 
 and you can put in the mean time looking up the sights 
 around town and becoming accustomed to the names 
 of the streets. I suppose you want to do a little sight- 
 seeing anyway, as strangers usually do.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP . 83 
 
 “Yes, I have always had a desire to see this city, 
 and while walking around, I can pick out some place 
 to board where my means would be sufficient to meet 
 the price.” 
 
 “T think Ben, my book- keeper, stays at just such a 
 place as would suit you, and he would also be a good 
 companion for you. I will call him and we can see 
 about it,” and suiting the action to his words, the 
 merchant called up the young man, whom Hart had 
 noticed when walking back to the counting-room, and 
 whose name, upon introduction, proved to be Benja- 
 min Rushing. 
 
 When Mr. Huntoon explained Hart’s present posi- 
 tion to the young man, he at once replied that he had 
 no doubt but that Mr. Furlong could secure accom- 
 modations at the same place at which he was boarding, 
 and if Mr. Furlong would be at the store at noon, 
 they could go together to dinner. and then ascertain 
 about it. 
 
 “That would be the best plan, and remember, Ben, 
 that Hartley is the son of my oldest and best friend, 
 and, as he will probably look to you for advice and 
 guidance for some time, I trust you will see that he 
 does not form any doubtful acquaintances or habits,” 
 said the merchant with a kind glance at the two young 
 men standing before him. 
 
 “That is quite a responsible duty you have put up- 
 on me, but as Mr. Furlong appears to me to be fully 
 able to pass sound judgment on character and morals, 
 I think you will hear no ill report about us,” replied 
 Rushing with a friendly glance at Hart which indi- 
 cated that a favorable impression had been made on 
 him by Hart’s frank bearing. 
 
 “Very well, we shall see in time if that proves true. 
 
84 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 That is all for the present, Ben. Remember that 
 Hart will be here at noon to go with you to dinner,” 
 rejoined Mr. Huntoon, and the clerk returned to his 
 former position in the store. 
 
 “A fine young man,” continued the merchant after 
 Rushing had passed beyond the range of hearing. 
 “And I hope you and he may become good friends for 
 he has only honorable upright traits in his character 
 which I hope some day will place him in the front 
 ranks of successful business men.” 
 
 “T see you also have another young man in your em- 
 ploy,” remarked Hart with a glance in the direction 
 of the clerk to whom he had first spoken on entering 
 the store, and who now was busily engaged in selling 
 stationery and other needful articles to a group of 
 noisy school children that had just come in. 
 
 "That is George Disroe,” responded the merchant 
 while a shade of uneasiness crossed his countenance, 
 as his gaze rested upon the young man to whom Hart 
 had alluded. “He was an entirely different per- 
 son a year or two ago from what he is to-day. 
 I am sorry to say this asI dislike very much to 
 speak ill of any one, but I deem it my duty to inform 
 you that George has become very careless in his habits 
 of late, and I warn you not to follow in his footsteps, 
 or some day you may bitterly regret having ever left 
 your home at Montrovia. I still hope that his good 
 sense will open his eyes to the road he is traveling 
 upon, and cause him to pull up short and turn about, 
 but, Hartley, I would rather see you cultivate the com- 
 panionship of Rushing. It will prove more beneficial, 
 I am sure.” 
 
 “Thank you, Mr. Huntoon, I shall remember your 
 advice and try to avoid everything that might lead to 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 85 
 
 - disgrace or even reflect any distrust upon my actions.” 
 “I hardly intended my words should bear sucha 
 serious interpretation as that. I was merely giving 
 you such counsel as I think every inexperienced young 
 man should have; for while life here in the city has 
 more attractions and amusements than _is afforded in 
 the rural districts, yet there are also countless pitfalls 
 which must be carefully avoided. However, let us 
 drop that subject as I feel sure you will get along all 
 right under Ben’s guidance. I am sorry I cannot in- 
 vite you to stay at my house, but Mrs. Huntoon has 
 very poor health and I think, after all, that you would 
 be better satisfied where you have your associates close 
 at hand.” 
 
 “Oh! I had no intention of imposing upon you to 
 any such extent as that,” exclaimed Hart hastily. “I 
 really only wished to look to you for a reference in 
 case I secured a place elsewhere and feel deeply grate- 
 ful for the position you have offered me, as that alone 
 is more than I expected. Now as I perceive I am de- 
 taining you from your work, I will take a stroll around 
 town and see what I can before noon,” he added aris- 
 ing from his seat. 
 
 “Take good care you don’t get lost, and whenever you 
 become tired of wandering around between now and 
 Monday just drop in here for a rest and let me hear 
 your opinion of the sights; for it has been sucha long 
 time since I have been out of a certain portion of the 
 city, that I hardly know what changes are taking 
 place. But remember, I shall look for my new clerk 
 on Monday morning,” said the merchant with the ut- 
 most good nature indicated by his tone. 
 
 As Hart walked out of the store with his heart over- 
 flowing with gratitude at the generous friendly manner 
 
86 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 in which Mr. Huntoon had received him, the bitter 
 thoughts that were in his mind on leaving Montrovia 
 were fast melting away, and his spirits rose as they 
 had not for a long time. 
 
 As he aimlessly strolled along the street, his foot- 
 steps unconsciously led him down into the heart of 
 the city, where the hum and noise of machinery and 
 constantly moving vehicles, together with the jostling 
 he was ever receiving from hurrying pedestrians fully 
 impressed him with the idea of being ona far different 
 stage of life than what he had lately figured on at his 
 quiet home on the farm. 
 
 When he finally emerged upon the levee, the long 
 line of steamboats loading and discharging their car- 
 goes, the quick harsh words of command from the 
 mates to the deckhands and the huge loads of mer- 
 chandise coming and going on the innumerable drays 
 and carts gave him a faint insight into the world of 
 commerce in which he was about to engage as a small 
 factor. 
 
 Seating himself upon a coil of rope for a moment, 
 his gaze happened to fall upon a huge and magnificent 
 steamer, whose anchor emblem denoted its destina- 
 tion to be the far distant sunny south. Like a flash, 
 his mind reverted to the dreamy reveries he remem- 
 bered indulging in bygone days when the greatest de- 
 sire of his heart was to take a trip down this same ma- 
 jestic stream before him, and view from the top deck 
 of just such a steamer the many historical points along 
 its banks to which his father had often alluded in the 
 mention of engagements he had taken part in while 
 he was in the Confederate service. 
 
 How long he might have remained in this pleasant 
 dreamland, had not a couple of lusty longshoremen 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 87 
 
 come upon the scene to carry away the coil of rope 
 which he was utilizing for a seat, would be a hard mat- 
 ter to conjecture. Arising with a start he was not a 
 little surprised to see by a glance at his watch that it 
 lacked only half an hour of noon. 
 
 Hurriedly he betook himself to the restaurant where 
 he had left his valise, and. upon securing that much 
 needed article, he walked back to the store, reaching 
 it just as the whistles from some of the adjacent fac- 
 tories denoted the time of midday. 
 
 “On time to the second I see,” said Rushing quite 
 pleasantly as he reached for his hat; then catching sight 
 of the heavy valise Hart was lugging he added: “Guess 
 you had better leave that here for the present, and I can 
 have it sent around to the house by the wagon this 
 afternoon,” to which suggestion Hart readily complied 
 as it was indeed a heavy weight to carry. 
 
 “How do you like St. Louis from what little you 
 have seen of it?” asked Rushing as they were walking 
 briskly along the street. 
 
 “First rate,” replied Hart. “I went down to the 
 levee after leaving the store this morning, so I have 
 already beheld one of your great sights to begin with.” 
 
 A faint smile appeared on Rushing’s face at the 
 plain honest manner in which Hart had answered his 
 query. “There are several others and I have little 
 doubt but that you will see them all in course of time, 
 even including the elephant,” he remarked as the half 
 amused smile upon his face deepened into a light laugh 
 at the thought of the many jokes that would be cracked 
 at the expense of this innocent young man before he 
 would become thoroughly initiated into city life. He 
 was destined, however, to perceive a miscalculation in 
 his judgment, for his light laugh had stung Hart’s 
 
88 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 southern blood to the quick and instantly he replied 
 in a calm tone that fully indicated his rising spirit: 
 
 “Yes, I suppose that is the regular course of medi- 
 cine for a greenhorn to take, but then Iam in no great 
 hurry to become a thoroughbred. Any time after you 
 get that system of yours corrected and revised, to 
 which your friend Mr. Disroe alluded, please do not 
 fail to give me a chance to witness its successful op- 
 eration; for although I have often’ read in novels of 
 such contests, yet I have never been fortunate enough 
 to witness the trial of such a foolish theory,” and as 
 he finished talking, he gazed straight ahead down the 
 street as though perfectly unconscious of having ut- 
 tered anything that might be termed offensive. 
 
 Inexperienced, totally unacquainted as Hart was with 
 the vices and allurements common to all metropolitan 
 cities, yet he was not so verdant as to be in the dark 
 when his companion referred to seeing the elephant; 
 for evenin the rural districts around Montrovia a 
 gilded device known as the wheel of fortune had made 
 its appearance annually at the county fairs, and, vul- 
 garly speaking, it had been the instrument to cut his 
 eye-teeth and render him invulnerable to the entice- 
 ments of any game of chance. 
 
 “Why—why! I beg your pardon, Furlong,” stam- 
 mered Rushing. “I must have been misinformed. Mr. 
 Huntoon was speaking to me about you an hour or so 
 ago, and I understood him to say that you had always 
 lived in the country,” and he stared at Hart as though 
 completely puzzled in accounting for the change of 
 demeanor now visible in him. 
 
 *Very true,” was the laconic reply. 
 
 “But—but you seem well versed in some topics that 
 are not supposed to exist in the back-woods,” said 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 89 
 
 Rushing in a voice that expressed his surprise and 
 confusion. 
 
 “However, I must acknowledge that I was on the 
 wrong tack in regard to you, Furlong; and I don’t 
 blame you for being offended with me, but the fact is, 
 that when Mr. Huntoon told George and me about 
 you, and cautioned us to see that you were not im- 
 posed upon, we naturally put you down as a good sub- 
 ject for a mild form of hazing, which I confess we 
 _had partially arranged for you. But of course now 
 that I see your character in its proper light that is all 
 knocked in the head. Come, Furlong, let us begin our 
 acquaintance anew,” he added frankly extending his 
 hand as a sign of friendship. 
 
 Hart’s nature was not of that kind to cheerish ani- 
 mosity when such an open apology was offered; so, 
 grasping the hand of his companion, he said something 
 about being a little too hasty himself, but Rushing 
 had said they would begin anew and hope that their 
 friendship would be of long duration. 
 
 “So the old gentleman is to give you a place in the 
 store without a trial at anything. Guess your father 
 and he must have been friends indeed,” remarked 
 Rushing after they had proceeded in silence for a few 
 minutes. 
 
 “Yes; they were acquainted before the war, and have 
 corresponded ever since.” 
 
 “Did you ever work in any of the village stores 
 while you were down in the country?” 
 
 “No; I never have attempted anything except farm 
 work, but I guess I can get along somehow.” 
 
 “Oh yes. I don’t think you will have much trouble,” 
 asserted Rushing confidently. “Of course it will be 
 some time before you can catch onto all the ‘ins’ and 
 
 . 
 
go A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ‘outs’ of the business, but as both Disroe and I have 
 mastered it, there is no reason why you can’t. But 
 maybe Mr. Huntoon intends to secure a better position 
 for you after awhile.” 
 
 “He said something about that,” answered Hart. 
 “But I am very well satisfied with the position he 
 
 has tendered me, and if I can work my way up in the ' 
 
 store I think I should prefer to stay there. : 
 
 “It’s about this way at the store, Furlong,” said 
 Rushing quite seriously. “Youcan advance just so far, 
 and there you stop, unless you have money to buy out 
 the ‘boss,’ or start a place of your own elsewhere; and 
 few clerks ever get enough money ahead to do that.” 
 
 The conversation here ceased as’ Rushing led the 
 way up a broad flight of stairs to the boarding-house 
 where it required but a few words from him to the 
 landlady to make the arrangemnets for Hart’s accom- 
 modation and he was shown into a small but neatly 
 furnished room adjoining a large one that was occu- 
 pied in common by Rushing and Disroe. 
 
 He had hardly time to take more than a glance at 
 the surroundings, when the door between the two rooms 
 opened, after a slight resistance, showing that it had 
 long been in disuse, and Rushing stood in the en- 
 trance and began contemplating the furnishments of 
 the apartment. : 
 
 “It is as pleasant as one could wish,” he remarked. 
 “But you might run all over town and then not better 
 yourself considering the price. Disroe and I have 
 this room and any article you are short of, just walk 
 in and help yourself. Dinner is ready now below, so 
 you had better scour off some of that railroad dust 
 which, to tell the truth, is slightly visible on your face, 
 and we will go down.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP gi 
 
 When left to himself after dinner, Hart for the first 
 time began to feel that sense of loneliness, or home- 
 sickness, stealing over him, and to drive away such 
 gloomy thoughts, left the room and started out upon 
 the street walking along aimlessly until he came upon 
 one of the boulevards where the sight of the splendid 
 equipages rolling by with their fashionably dressed 
 occupants caused him to wonder if ever a lucky change 
 in his destiny would place him in such a position. 
 
 This mode of rambling sight-seeing he enjoyed for 
 the rest of the week, and when the time drew near for 
 him to report for work, he had learned the names and 
 location of all the principal thoroughfares and acquired 
 considerable knowledge of the different railway routes 
 entering the city. 
 
 Of his friend Rushing he had seen but little, and 
 Disroe scarcely at all, as business was at present in a 
 rush at the store owing to the receipt of several invoices 
 of stock for the spring trade; the labor of marking and 
 putting away, requiring their united services until 
 nine or ten each evening, so that a few occasional 
 short chats with Rushing before time for retirement, 
 were the only friendly conversations which Hart en- 
 joyed during that period. 
 
 Not once, during the entire week, did Rushing’s 
 companion accompany him to the room after the clos- 
 ing of the store; and several times was Hart awakened 
 far in the night by the sound of falling boots coupled 
 with half-muttered imprecations upon the whereabouts 
 of the lamp or some other article, which noise always 
 betokened the late arrival of George Disroe from “the 
 club-rooms,” as was the pretext mildly given out by 
 his raom-mate. 
 
 Hart had looked forward with pleasure for Sunday 
 
 2 
 
O2 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 to come, as he intended asking Ben to accompany him 
 on that day in a drive out to the parks in the suburbs, 
 but on Sunday morning he learned to his disappoint- 
 ment, that his friend had taken a late train on the pre- 
 vious evening with the intention of paying a visit over 
 Sunday to some of his relatives who lived about 
 ‘twenty-five miles distant in Illinois. Being thus left 
 to himself, he put in the forenoon in answering a let- 
 ter he had received from home in reply to one that he 
 had written on arrival, and after dinner, he started out 
 for along walk, having wisely concluded to abandon 
 the idea of securing a carriage until some future time 
 when he might share the pleasure in the companion- 
 ship of his friend. 
 
 ae 
 
 ee 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 When Hart started forth on his jaunt, his intention 
 was to get as far out from the city as possible without 
 making it inconvenient to return, so boarding a street 
 car whose sign denoted that it went to the extreme 
 suburbs, he patiently waited until that point was 
 reached. 
 
 There the sight of the green grass and the acres of 
 unfenced land, put him in mind of the many walks he 
 had enjoyed at his old home on similar occasions, and 
 seeing a road that led out further into the country, he 
 strolled leisurely along over the soft clay ground which 
 as yet had not been covered with macadam, thus leav- 
 ing the highway similar in all respects to the country 
 roads about Montrovia. : 
 
 How far he walked he little knew nor cared. -Before 
 he had traversed fifty yards, his thoughts had reverted 
 to those he had left only a week ago, for try as he 
 might to cast from his mind all remembrance of the 
 fair girl whose deceit had been so openly exposed, yet 
 he bitterly perceived that the recollection of the scene 
 he had witnessed between his late sweetheart and the 
 young doctor, was constantly recurring to his memory 
 and rankled in his mind to such an extent that he 
 could easily conceive how any one possessing a weak 
 power over the will, when nettled by such a humilia- 
 tion, might cast aside all good intentions and recklessly 
 plunge into a life of dissipation. 
 
 He soon became tired of walking and, to obtain rest 
 
 93 
 
94 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 4 
 
 as well as shelter from the fierce rays of the sun, he 
 took a seat under the shade ofa huge oak close beside 
 the road, and resolutely casting aside all thoughts of 
 the past, strove to picture his future, wondering if he 
 would amount to anything more than a pleasant affa- 
 ble young man capable of dealing out stationery or 
 sundry merchandise from behind some store counter; 
 for even the few days spent in the city had opened 
 his eyes to the vast difference between the independent 
 life of a farmer, and that of a clerk at the beck and 
 call of a superior, and forced to appear pleasant and 
 obliging when the feelings might be in a far different 
 mood. 
 
 A shrill whistle from the locomotive of an approach- 
 ing train, hurrying on its way to the city, startled 
 him, and as he glanced down the road toward the rail- 
 road crossing he beheld a phaeton coming over the 
 raised embankment scarcely a quarter of a mile dis- 
 tant. Just as the carriage with its occupants were 
 safely across the track, a second whistle sounded from 
 the engine now close at hand, and before the echo had 
 died away, the horse attached to the phaeton affrighted 
 and broke into a dead gallop which plainly threatened 
 bodily harm to the occupants of the vehicle should it 
 collide with any of the obstructions along the side of 
 the road, and this seemed quite likely to occur at any 
 moment from the way it was being whirled along by 
 the rapid pace of the powerful brute. 
 
 The screams of fright from the occupants of the 
 carriage showed that they had lost all control over the 
 beast, and were entirely helpless to check his speed 
 or avert the consequences of a collision or upset that 
 undoubtedly would soon occur unless the ignicont 
 animal was speedily checked, 
 
 big aed 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 95 
 
 In an instant Hart had leaped to his feet; for it 
 needed but a glance to show him the danger, and also 
 that all of the hapless occupants were of the gentler 
 sex, consisting apparently of two ladies and some 
 children, unattended by even the customary coachman; 
 and as their cries of alarm reached ‘him, every im- 
 pulse within him seemed to imply that it was his duty 
 to effect their rescue from the impending danger, if 
 within his power. 
 
 Casting a hasty glance along the highway, he espied 
 a place, only a few yards away, where a slight grade 
 recently made in the narrow road had left a bank of 
 earth fully a yard high close to the track traveled by 
 all passing vehicles and, running swiftly to the spot, 
 he determined to attempt the rescue at that piont. 
 
 The carriage, which was now coming toward him at 
 a frightful rate, appeared to be a _ large double-seated 
 concern evidently intended only for family usage. On 
 the front seat Hart could distinguish the form of a 
 young lady holding fast to a screaming child with one 
 hand, and vainly tugging at the reins with the other, 
 using all the slight power she still posessed, although 
 her pale face denoted that she fully apprehended the 
 danger which beset them. 
 
 In the rear seat, the view of which was obstructed, 
 there was another lady and child who were far from 
 possessing the coolness of the fair driver, judging from 
 the cries of alarm that came from that quarter of the 
 flying vehicle. 
 
 In another second the runaway dashed up alongside 
 the raised bank of earth upon which Hart was sta- 
 tioned, and at the exact moment for action, with every 
 muscle of his well-knit form quivering under the ten- 
 sion, he leaped forward in the bold attempt to land © 
 astride of the unmanageable brute, 
 
96 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 He had often tried and successfully performed such 
 a feat at the farm, for Hart was a fearless horseman; 
 but in those cases the speed of the bare-back horse 
 was seldom greater than a gentle canter, and nota 
 flying runaway under harness attached to a carriage 
 whose wheels might entangle his limbs and cause ser- 
 ious injury if not death should he fail to secure a hold 
 upon the animal’s back. 
 
 As he alighted upon the horse, he was hurled back- 
 wards against the dashboard, losing his hat, and only 
 by the merest chance, escaping injury by being en- 
 tangled in the wheels. A sharp pain passed through 
 his head for a second as he partially straightened him- 
 self, but paying no heed to the injury, he firmly 
 clutched the harness upon the horses’s back, and draw- 
 ing himself forward astride of the animal he pressed 
 his hands against the nostrils of the horse, thus shut- 
 ting off his breathing, which treatment caused the an- 
 imal to shake his head savagely, and in opening his 
 mouth to obtain air his teeth relaxed their clenched 
 grip upon the bit. In that instant, Hart had released 
 his pressure upon the brute’s nostrils and grasping the 
 reins, began to saw vigorously upon the tender flesh 
 of the mouth where the bit now rested. 
 
 It required but a few moments of this rough treat- 
 ment to bring the frightened animal under subjection, 
 and he soon came to a stop all in a tremble upon a 
 small bridge over a creek, within less than three hun- 
 dred yards from the point where Hart had made his 
 terrible leap to effect this end. | 
 
 Without relaxing his hold upca the reins, Hart 
 slipped off the horse and after taking a hasty glance 
 at the harness to see if anything was broken, he tied 
 the animal securely to one of the strong timbers that 
 
cs A LUCKY MISHAP 97 
 
 formed part of the bridge railing and approached the 
 carriage to inquire if the occupants had suffered any 
 injury. 
 
 “How can we thank you for your bravery? You 
 have saved our lives!” faintly exclaimed the young 
 lady on the front seat, with a grateful look beaming 
 from her face upon which the color was just beginning 
 to creep back in its natural hue, as_ she realized that 
 they were saved from what might have resulted in fear- 
 ful injury or death. 
 
 The two children had ceased their cries by this time, 
 and were looking at our hero with a puzzled expression 
 on their faces as though wondering what it all meant, 
 while the other lady was rapidly regaining her compo- 
 sure although the irregular breathing denoted the 
 fright she had experienced. 
 
 As Hart approached the carriage, he could not help 
 but notice the classical beauty of the face of the girl 
 who had just addressed him, and whose eyes followed 
 his every movement with sucha helpless grateful look, 
 that Hart felt fully rewarded for what he had done. 
 
 “Oh! it might not have resulted so badly,” he re- 
 plied quietly. “The horse had pretty straight road 
 ahead, and I think he might have stopped at the 
 first hill. But I hope that none of you are hurt,” and 
 as he raised his head to look up at the ladies, he be- 
 came conscious of a warm stream trickling down the 
 side of his face, and placing his hand there, withdrew 
 it partly covered with blood from a cut he had re- 
 ceived. when hurled against the dashboard. 
 
 "O, Nora, heis hurt! Just see how it bleeds! I sup- 
 pose this is all my fault. Oh! why didn’t I wait for 
 Will?” cried the elder lady in distress as she viewed 
 the blood trickling down the side of Hart’s face, 
 
98 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “It is nothing, madam,” exclaimed Hart quickly. 
 “Only a slight cut and--"his speech ceased suddenly 
 as the young lady gave vent to a deep, audible sigh 
 and sank backward in a dead faint, her head fortu- 
 nately falling upon the elder lady’s lap which saved 
 her from injury. 
 
 This unexpected predicament, probably resulting from 
 the excitement or the sight of the blood flowing from 
 Hart’s wound, created another scene of confusion and 
 brought forth such an outburst of lamentation from the 
 other lady, that Hart was puzzled for a moment how 
 to act, but suddenly remembering that water was a 
 good thing to apply in such cases, he hastily ran down 
 beneath the bridge, unmindful of his own injury, and 
 soaking his handkerchief in the water of the rivulet, 
 hastened back to the carriage and bade the elderly 
 lady bathe the face and temples of the fair patient. 
 
 After a few anxious minutes, during which Hart had 
 made two or three trips to the brook below to refresh 
 the saturated handkerchief, the girl’s eyes opened 
 languidly just as Hart had begun to assist in the work 
 of resuscitation by using one of the children’s broad- 
 brimmed hats fora fan, and as her eyes met his earn- 
 est gaze, the flush of color which rushed up into her 
 cheeks, showed that she had regained consciousness, 
 although weak and almost helpless. 
 
 As the elder lady partly, with Hart’s assistance, 
 helped her to a sitting posture, the sudden rattle of 
 wheels was heard, and a handsome barouche drove up 
 at a rapid gait coming from the same direction from 
 which the carriage had appeared, and, as the coach- 
 man brought it to a stop close to the bridge, two gen- 
 tlemen sprang out hastily and hurried toward the car- 
 riage, leaving in the barouche an elderly lady whose 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 99 
 
 countenance fully expressed the feeling of anxiety and 
 alarm that the scene created in her imagination. 
 
 Both the gentlemen gave Hart a suspicious glance 
 as they viewed the scene of confusion, and beheld the 
 bent dashboard and the odd but secure way in which 
 the horse was tied by the reins to the bridge-railing, 
 thinking possibly that he might be the cause of the 
 whole affair. But Hart, hearing the welcome exclam- 
 ations of recognition between the ladies in the carriage 
 and the new-comers, rightfully concluded that they 
 were all of one party and began retracing his steps 
 along the road with the intention of recovering his 
 lost hat. 
 
 As he came opposite the equipage from which the 
 gentlemen had alighted, the lady called to him and 
 earnestly inquired what was the cause of the accident, 
 and who of the party had been injured. 
 
 “It is nothing serious, madam,” said Hart. “The 
 horse took sudden fright at the cars, and ran away, 
 but was stopped before any damage was done. The 
 young lady, though, was slightly overcome on account 
 of the excitement, and fainted away; but I am sure 
 she is all right now.” 
 
 “But what is the matter with your face? I see it is 
 bleeding. How did you get hurt? "inquired the lady. 
 
 “Oh, that is nothing but a slight cut I got in stop- 
 ping the horse. It’s only a mere scratch,” Hart re- 
 plied moving on. 
 
 “Wait a moment, young man, and the gentlemen 
 will reward you for your trouble. It was very kind in 
 you to come to their assistance,” continued the lady 
 kindly, while the face of the black coachman who had 
 been eying him, curiously lighted up with sucha 
 smile of admiration, that the whites of his eyes ap- 
 peared like miniature saucers. 
 
Ioo A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Thank you, madam; but I wish to find my hat, 
 which is lying somewhere back along the road. I will 
 be back in a few minutes,” answered Hart, and with- 
 out further waiting, he hurriedly walked back along 
 the road and passing over a slight knoll, was lost. to 
 view to the occupants of both carriages. 
 
 A moment later, and he had found his hat, which 
 luckily had fallen among the weeds aside from the 
 road or else it would have fared badly from the wheels 
 of the barouche, and dusting it off, he replaced it on 
 his head and stood in a brown study. After a mo- 
 ment’s hesitation, he concluded not to return to the 
 carriage as he had no desire to appear as if seeking a 
 reward for what he had done, and as the ladies were 
 now safe in the hands of their friends, he did not see 
 how he could be of any further benefit to them; so, 
 starting briskly down the road in an opposite direction 
 leading toward the railroad track, he chose that guide 
 back to the city. 
 
 The wound on his head soon ceased to bleed after the 
 excitement was over, yet it was by no means “a mere 
 scratch” as he quickly perceived while bathing it at 
 one of the numerous pools of water alongside the 
 track, but an ugly cut just between the eye and the 
 ear, which would have colored up as a bad bruise had 
 the blood not been so freely drawn. 
 
 Hart paid little heed to it, however, as he had be- 
 come used to slight cuts and bruises during his rough 
 work on the farm, and the application of some court 
 plaster, procured from the first drug-store that came 
 to view on reaching the city, was the only attention 
 he deemed necessary to such an injury. 
 
 It was long past twilight, when he arrived at the 
 boarding house, and after partaking of a hasty supper, 
 
 —— 
 
 a 
 
 . 
 ae 
 t 
 oe 
 vs 
 ~ Ue 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP Toft 
 
 feeling somewhat exhausted, he retired to his room 
 where he soon fell into a dreamy, restless slumber in 
 which the fascinating form of his false idol would 
 suddenly appear flitting toward him from out the murky 
 shadows when, as he would reach out to embrace and 
 forgive her, the vision would elude his proffered caress 
 by a subtle movement, and with a mocking disdainful 
 glance, retreat fading away in darkness only to 
 be superseded a moment later by the pale wistful 
 features of the girl he had met that day un- 
 der such peculiar circumstances, who coming slowly 
 toward him from out the gloom, seemed to beckon him 
 with a bright happy smile, as she moved along until 
 her figure would slowly vanish in a halo of light. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 “Come, old boy, pile out. No more sight-seeing 
 now for some time,” rang out the cheery voice of 
 Rushing, preceded by a vigorous pounding upon the 
 door that intervened between his room and the one 
 occupied by Hart, on the morning following the adven- 
 ture just narrated. 
 
 It was a dismal rainy Monday that marked Hart’s 
 introduction to mercantile life, and as the three young 
 men turned up their coat-collars and hurried on their 
 way to the store after the usual morning repast, there 
 was very little spoken. In fact, the entire conversa- 
 tion was limited to a few curt remarks on the weather 
 and an occasional sulphurous blessing bestowed upon 
 the muddy street crossing by Disroe, who as usual was 
 in an ill humor at something. 
 
 It would make a long and uninteresting tale, kind 
 reader, to give all of Hart’s experiences during the 
 first ten days of his clerkship; suffice it to say that he 
 satisfactorily performed all of the tasks that were as- 
 signed to his care, and received many a word of ap- 
 proval from his kind-hearted employer; for it did not 
 take Hart very long to fall into the routine of the work, 
 and it was not many days before he had so posted him- 
 self in the wares, that from the position of helping 
 the porter pack and unpack the heavy boxes, he could 
 take a place behind the counter exchanging the stock 
 in trade for cash whenever the absence of Disroe or an 
 extra rush of business demanded such service. 
 
 102 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 103 
 
 It was while acting in the latter capacity that he 
 frequently had occasion to ask advice of Disroe, but 
 the abrupt or sarcastic replies which where given soon 
 caused him to avoid all possible intercourse with this 
 cynical young man, whose every act toward him was 
 just the opposite to the hearty, friendly manner of 
 Rushing. 
 
 George Disroe’s was a character often met with in 
 society at the present day. The eldest son of a once 
 wealthy family, whose fortunes had all been swept 
 away some few years before, in one of those periodical 
 financial crashes, he had unfortunately tasted of the 
 luxuries that riches afford when a youth and his pres- 
 ent lack of money and consequent inability to keep 
 pace with the lavish and foolish expenditures of his 
 former associates had so soured his disposition that 
 his demeanor toward any one whom he thought belong- 
 ing upon a lower scale of society than himself, was 
 very overbearing and repulsive. 
 
 Shortly after the failure of his father in business, 
 which necessitated the removal of the family to one 
 of the small interior towns of Illinois where his father 
 had kindly been tendered a position by some of his 
 benevolent creditors, George chose to remain in St. 
 Louis having secured his present situation, where it 
 soon became apparent to him that the salary of aclerk 
 in a stationery store, was hardly sufficient to meet the 
 requirments of a young gentleman of his advanced 
 ideas, and before he had become forced by rude cir- 
 cumstances to make his expenses correspond with his 
 salary, he had upon several occasions allowed his lofty 
 and aristocratic notions to drop sufficiently to request 
 a loan from Rushing and other good-hearted acquaint- 
 ances, until quite a sum of unpaid indebtedness 
 
104 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 stood on the wrong side of his ledger account, but like 
 most men of his temperament, he disliked dwelling on 
 unpleasant subjects, and strove to keep all such small 
 and disagreeable affairs off his mind. 
 
 Of course these loans would all be paid back, that- 
 
 is sometime, when his finances improved; but upon 
 Rushing and his other generous acquaintances, the 
 conviction was beginning to dawn that they might as 
 well close up their financial account with friend George 
 by making, in their memory, a mental transfer of the 
 sum to the wrong side of credit and loss and trust in 
 the future to better judgment regarding loans upon 
 honor. 
 
 Now I would not have any one understand by this, 
 that Mr. George Disroe was a rascally deadbeat, for 
 if by some rare turn of fortune, he had suddenly ac- 
 quired wealth, these numerous but small loans he had 
 accepted, would all have been paid back with thanks, 
 if not interest, but to stint himself from week to week 
 of any of his many expensive indulgences in order to 
 repay these debts, as would a truly honorable person, 
 was a thought that never entered his head, and if it 
 had been suggested to him would have been instantly 
 spurned as entirely too rigid a rule of financial honor. 
 
 As this young gentleman increased in years, the 
 lack of money had tended to sharpen up his wits to a 
 certain extent, and after thinking and scheming in 
 every conceivable way to better his straightened cir- 
 cumstances, he had come to the conclusion that in a 
 lucky marriage lay the only feasible plan to regain his 
 lost social position and, strange to say, no sooner had 
 this idea become firmly .fixed in his mind, than the 
 very opportunity to make the attempt presented itself 
 upon the arrival in the city of Miss Nora Arbor, whose 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 105 
 
 «brother, George had always counted as one of his best 
 friends. 
 
 The father of the young lady just mentioned, had 
 been a merchant in St. Louis several years previous 
 to this, and by going west for the benefit of his wife’s 
 health, had amassed a fortune in the mines of Colorado 
 after a struggle with hardships which had completely 
 worn out his constitution and finally laid him ina 
 grave beside that which his wife had filled for some 
 years. Their only, children were a son and daughter 
 to whom the wealth had been equally bequeathed. 
 
 The son, who was married and had been residing in 
 St. Louis during his father’s sojourn in the mountains, 
 was five or six years the senior of George, and between 
 them a passive friendship had existed since boyhood 
 which Disroe left no means he could employ to make 
 closer when he understood that his younger sister, now 
 an heiress, had been brought to his home from the 
 academy in Denver, where she had been placed by her 
 father after her mother’s death. 
 
 Thus it came about that the very opportunity which 
 this languid, handsome young man had been so long- 
 ing for transpired; and through his acquaintance with 
 the young lady’s brother, he determined to try to gain 
 her affection with a speedy marriage to follow upon 
 the consent of her brother, who had not associated 
 closely enough with George to find out that he was 
 slightly different from the poor but highly connected 
 and honorable young man, such a Mr. William Arbor 
 firmly believed him to be. 
 
 Rushing, on the other hand, was an entirely different 
 individual from Disroe; for his character and tastes 
 had not been patterned after the life led by his room- 
 mate. Ben had lived nearly all his life in St. Louis, 
 
> 
 
 106 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 and since leaving school, had slowly worked his way . 
 
 up from a newsboy to the position he now held as 
 book-keeper; and in the struggle he had learned con- 
 siderable of human nature, which naturally made him 
 Suspicious of new acquaintances so that the few friends 
 he had, often mutually agreed that Ben was “no fish,” 
 yet by no means was he termed close or stingy, for, 
 once his friendship gained, he could be depended upon 
 in trouble for whatever was in his power to command- 
 
 His parents in company with their eldest son, had 
 removed to the west, a few years previous, where Ben’s 
 brother had fortunately located in a place which proved 
 highly satisfactory to all the expectations indulged 
 in by one of his calling, that of an humble black- 
 smith. 
 
 Although for the past four years Ben had been en- 
 gaged at clerking or performing the duties of an account- 
 ant, yet he had always entertained a secret desire to be 
 connected with the press in the capacity of a writer 
 upon some of the modern topics; and the highest ideal 
 that he pictured for himself, should success attend 
 him in the future, was to become a noted journalist. 
 So strongly did this feeling incite him of late, that all 
 of his spare evenings had been spent in the study ofa 
 short hand system, with the intention of at once apply- 
 ing for a position as reporter upon one of the daily 
 papers when he had mastered it. 
 
 By giving this brief outline of the respective char- 
 acters of these two young men, it is easy to understand 
 why Hart avoided Disroe, and began to cultivate the 
 friendship of Rushing, who always had a cheerful 
 friendly way of giving him advice concerning the 
 affairs of the store, which was widely different from the 
 cold brusque manner employed by Disroe after that 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I07 
 
 high-strung young man had ascertained that Hart’s 
 parents were far from being wealthy. 
 
 About two weeks after Hart had started in upon his 
 present occupation, he had occasion to leave the store 
 one evening a half-hour or so before the regular time 
 for going to supper, in order to deliver a message from 
 Mr. Huntoon concerning the feeble state of his wife’s 
 health to the physician who for several weeks had 
 been in daily attendance upon the invalid. 
 
 After seeing the doctor and giving him his employer’s 
 message, Hart started toward his boarding-house with 
 . the intention of getting supper before returning to the 
 store, and while walking along, he recalled to mind 
 the contents of a letter received that day from his 
 brother in which the news was broken to him very 
 gently that there were rumors in the neighborhood of 
 Montrovia of an early marriage between Dr. Edgerton 
 and the same young lady whom Hart had so lately 
 escorted to the many social gatherings in that locality, 
 
 The general opinion of all those who had heard re- 
 marks let drop upon the subject by Mrs. Goodwin, was 
 that she knew and approved of the union. 
 
 In a letter received from home a week or so before 
 this, his mother had mentioned meeting Nelly in Mon- 
 trovia a few days after his departure and that she had 
 inquired about and seemed surprised at his sudden 
 leaving, saying that. she would expect to hear from 
 him occasionally. 
 
 Hart had not written to his late idol, however, in 
 spite of the weak inclination to do so which assailed 
 him at the time,and he had just begun to congratulate 
 himself upon getting bravely over his misplaced feel- 
 ings toward the former object of his affection, when 
 Edward’s letter with this unwelcome news seemed to 
 
108 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 open up the old wound afresh, as it seared down into 
 his mind and unwillingly recalled to memory the many 
 incidents which had occured while basking in the sun- 
 shine of her deceitful coquetry. 
 
 With his mind intent upon these bitter thoughts, he 
 had strolled slowly along until within a tew squares of 
 his room, when a quick familiar step sounded behind 
 him, and looking around, he was not a little surprised 
 to see Rushing at his side. 
 
 “I have a couple of tickets for the opera to-night, old 
 boy,” began Rushing hurriedly,“ and we will close up 
 store at eight sharp this evening and go. I have the 
 seats reserved so that we need not bother ourselves 
 about hurrying on that account. George will be there 
 with that stunning Colorado heiress, Miss Arbor, whom 
 he has been talking about so much lately, and we shall 
 have a chance to see the beauty that he is trying so 
 hard to win. We must go to-night asit will give usa 
 chance to chaff him the rest of the week on his soft 
 looks and winning ways,” he added with a laugh. 
 
 Hart thought it might be well enough for Ben to 
 poke a bit of such chaff at his room-mate, but for him 
 to attempt such familiarity with Mr. George Disroe was 
 entirely out of the question. It required no pressure, 
 however, on Ben’s part to induce him to accept the in- 
 vitation, for he quickly concluded that the music and 
 excitement of the drarna would for the time at least 
 divert his mind from his present bitter reflections. 
 
 It was fully a quarter past eight that evening, when 
 the two young men arrived at the theatre after a rather 
 hasty toilet for such an occasion, and as they followed 
 the usher down the aisle to their seats, they were the 
 cynosure of quite a portion of the crowded audience 
 then well-nigh all assembled, 
 
 q 
 ] 
 ‘ 
 
 Te, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP _109 
 
 The seats which Ben had secured were close to the 
 inner row of the dress circle, and exactly ina position 
 to give them a good view of all the occupants of the 
 parquette seats as well as those upon the opposite 
 side of the circle. It was the opening night of a 
 famed English troupe in the old but still popular 
 opera, Chimes of Normandy; and the soft dreamy 
 orchestral music had just died away with the rising of 
 the curtain upon the first act, when Ben began to scan 
 with his opera glasses the vast sea of faces in search 
 of George Disroe and his fair attendant. 
 
 The immediate commencement of the play with its 
 fine singing and music at once drew their attention to 
 the stage and held them fascinated until the curtain 
 rang down at the end of the first act, when Ben’s 
 opera glass was again brought into requisition in the 
 attempt to discover Disroe and the young lady whom 
 
 he had so boastingly proclaimed as accepting his,invi- 
 tation. 
 
 The two young men were the attraction of not afew 
 “pair of bright eyes belonging to the fair sex, and their 
 firm handsome faces bearing no trace of care or dissi- 
 pation also caused many an inquiry to be made among 
 that class of male society loungers who, being well- 
 bred enough to be invited everywhere, are supposed 
 to know every one; but in this case, the only informa- 
 tion that could be elicited was that one of the two 
 was a friend of George Disroe employed at the same 
 store. As to the tall young man, they were entirely 
 in the dark—supposed he was some young southerner 
 and certainly a new arrival. 
 
 Hart, whose gaze was curiously fixed upon the scenic 
 view depicted on the drop curtain, totally unconscious 
 of having aroused the curiosity of any one, was sud- 
 
IIo : A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 denly startled by a quick nudge at his elbow from Ben, 
 who exclaimed in a whisper: “I’ve found them at 
 last! There they are, right across fromus. By Jove! 
 But she is every bit the beauty George brags about. 
 That’s her elder brother and his wife sitting alongside. 
 “There now she is looking right this way and has 
 put up her lens. I guess George must have pointed 
 us out and she is taking a look at his poor acquaint- 
 ances. Why, here man, where are you looking?” 
 continued Ben on perceiving his companion’s gaze 
 wandering aimlessly about the house. “There they are 
 in that first row in the dress circle almost directly op- 
 posite. Don’t you see George sitting next to the aisle?” 
 Hart who was not accustomed to picking out a fa- 
 miliar face from such asea of countenances, now 
 looked in the direction indicated by his companion 
 and beheld Disroe sitting next to a young lady who, 
 as Ben had stated, seemed to be gazing intently at 
 them, and as she lowered her lenses, a strange thrill 
 passed through Hart as he viewed her face and became 
 impressed with the idea that they had met before. 
 “Here, take a look at her through these,” whispered 
 Ben, passing the opera-glasses to him. “I wonder 
 what is the matter with George to-night. He seems to 
 be as glum as an oyster and doesn’t appear to be 
 carrying on much of a conversation with the heiress 
 even if he does stand ace high with her brother. Their 
 fathers were quite old friends, you know, and that’s a 
 mighty good card to hold. There now, she is speaking 
 to George. By Jove! How her face lights up when 
 she smiles. I only wish I was in his shoes if he 
 proves fortunate enough. to catch her.” 
 Hart had heard the most of Ben’s light talk before 
 succeeding in adjusting the opera-glasses to the right 
 
 ae 
 ee 
 
 — ee 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP «pt 
 
 scale for his vision, but the moment he beheld the girl’s 
 face through the powerful lenses he experienced such a 
 surprise, that the latter part of his companion’s speech 
 passed unheard; for it did not require a second glance 
 to confirm him in the belief that she was the same 
 * young lady who had been in the front seat of the run- 
 away carriage a fortnight before, and the other lady 
 sitting beside her, whom Ben had designated as her 
 brother’s wife, was certainly the other lady in the 
 vehicle at that time, while in the gentleman whom Ben 
 had stated to be the elder brother of the young heiress, 
 Hart at once recognized the younger of the two gentle- 
 men who had driven up inthe barouche at the close of 
 the incident. = 
 
 After withdrawing the glasses in no little surprise 
 at this discovery of their identity, he soon noticed 
 that although the young lady was now apparently en- 
 gaged in narrating some story to Disroe, her eyes 
 seemed to be turned almost constantly in the direction 
 of Ben and himself, and the frequency, with which the 
 two other members of the group leveled their lenses at 
 him, caused Hart to wonder if they could have recog- 
 nized him, which seemed scarcely possible when he re- 
 membered the queer spectacle that he must have pre- 
 sented at the close of the adventure, with his disfigured 
 face and form bespattered with mud from the wheels 
 of the carriage. 
 
 He had not mentioned the occurrence to any one, as 
 it was not a trait of his character to boast or brag of 
 any such achievement or seek for any praise by relat- 
 ing the affair. The scar on his face had been noticed 
 by those at the store, but to every casual remark con- 
 cerning it, he had only quietly replied that it was re- 
 ceived accidentally while out walking the previous 
 Sunday, and there the questions had ended. 
 
I12 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ’ 
 mu 
 
 There is Norman now putting in his oar, I’ll bet it 
 make, George feel rather uneasy to see that fellow 
 around,” remarked Ben with another vicious dig upon 
 Hart’s short ribs to call his attention to the opposite 
 group, where a handsome young fellow who had just 
 come forward, was observed standing in the aisle talk- 
 ing to the young lady in a familiar way right across 
 Disroe, who had acknowledged his whispered greeting 
 with only a stiff nod of recognition, which did not 
 chill the visitor, however, as the young lady seemed 
 pleased to see him for some reason, and they chatted 
 quite earnestly for a few moments; then tothe utter 
 surprise of Ben and Hart, he raised his eyes and 
 glanced steadily over toward them, as if in search of 
 some one to whom the conversation related. 
 
 The sudden ceasing of the music as the curtain be- 
 gan to rise on the next act, caused the young man to 
 beat a hasty retreat to his seat beside that of two com- 
 panions, and it was not until the interval before the 
 last act, that Hart who occupied a seat next to the 
 aisle, was startled by a hand laid upon his shoulder, 
 and looking up, beheld the same young man at his 
 side. 
 
 “I beg pardon, sir,” began the stranger, in a very 
 pleasant tone, “but I would like to ask a question of 
 you in order to satisfy a case of identity for a young 
 lady friend of mine. I hope you will not think me 
 rude, being an entire stranger to you, but were you 
 out on the road leading to K— two weeks ago yester- 
 day, when an accident happened to some ladies?” 
 
 “IT suppose you refer to arunaway horse and a party 
 of two ladies with some children who were in the car- 
 riage,” said Hart rather confused by the many curious 
 glances that were cast toward him from the audience 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP It3 
 
 at the moment this well dressed stranger was noticed 
 beside him. 
 
 “Exactly. That is the yery occurence I wish to in- 
 quire about. So you are the young man who so bravely 
 rescued the ladies, are you?” 
 
 “Well, I stopped the horse; but then it might not 
 have resulted seriously. The horse probably would 
 have come to a halt before going far, after he had 
 ‘recovered from his fright. Runaway horses generally 
 do, you know,” replied Hart quietly. 
 
 “It won’t do to put the affair in any such light as 
 that,” asserted the stranger warmly with as much em- 
 phasis as could be thrown into the low spoken tone 
 which the etiquette of the place required. “From all 
 that I have heard of the affair, I am sure that you 
 risked your life to stop the carriage. But why did you 
 not reply to the advertisement inquiring about you 
 which was inserted in the “personal column” of the 
 newspapers for several days following the occurrence?” 
 
 “T have only been in the city a few weeks,” answered 
 Hart, “and have not perused the newspapers very 
 closely, so that I was not aware of any such advertise- 
 ment being inserted in their columns—but why do you 
 inquire?” 
 
 “The ladies whom you rescued are seated right op- 
 posite in the dress circle, and they requested me to as- 
 certain if you were not the mysterious hero of that 
 occasion, for such they term you, and, if you proved 
 to be that much sought for person, to request you to 
 please call at this address, as the ladies have had no 
 opportunity to express to you their thanks. Mr. Arbor 
 also, feels under the very deepest obligations for your 
 brave act,” said the stranger, handing Hart a visiting 
 card, upon which he had just written in pencil the 
 
114 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 name, Mrs. Wm. Arbor, and the number of a residence 
 situated in an aristocratic quarter of the city. 
 
 “Il thought I recognized the young lady when I 
 glanced at Mr. Disroe,” said Hart awkwardly; and 
 looking in that direction, the color mounted to his 
 face as he beheld both of the ladies and the gentle- 
 man gazing straight across at him with a grateful 
 smile which spoke volumes in itself, while Mr. George 
 Disroe was now busily engaged at Hart’s former voca- 
 tion, that of studying the scenery upon the stage cur- 
 tain and the occupants of the adjacent boxes. 
 
 “I can tell the ladies, then, that you will call?" 
 asked the young man hurriedly as the curtain began ta 
 rise on the concluding act of the play. 
 
 “Yes,” assented Hart,“ the very first evening that | 
 can arrange to leave my work.” 
 
 The young man nodded to the acceptance and with- 
 drew, while Hart, after glancing at the name and ad- 
 dress upon the card, proceeded to transfer it to a safe 
 place within his pocket-book for future reference. 
 
 “Look here,” exclaimed Ben in amazement, who, 
 seated where he was, could not help from overhearing 
 all of the conversation just passed; “what in the world 
 is all this about? Here you are after only being in 
 town three weeks, turning out in great shape, distin- 
 guishing yourself through some heroic deed by which 
 you have virtually secured an entrance into the best 
 circle of society. Explain the affair, for I am curiosity 
 itself.” 
 
 “There is not much to explain, Ben, only that some 
 two weeks ago, while taking a Sunday afternoon stroll 
 out in the suburbs, I was fortunate enough to stopa 
 runaway horse—there is the whole tale in a nut-shell. 
 I suppose the ladies make a big ado over the affair, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 115 
 
 and now want me to call and accept thanks and so forth, 
 which I really wish I could avoid without offending 
 them,” answered Hart. 
 
 “T will take that account at present as a synopsis of 
 the affair, but as soon as this play is over, I shall want 
 the full details of the occurrence—the time, the place 
 and all the little incidents connected with this exploit. 
 You must remember that this is the first excitement 
 caused by the agency of any one connected with that 
 humdrum store, since I have been there, and it is just 
 such an occurrence as I have been longing to take down 
 in the regular style of a reporter’ so as to see what 
 kind of an article I could get up on such an occasion. 
 I suppose you know that is the profession I intend to 
 enter some day soon. But I say, old boy,” continued 
 Ben jokingly in a whisper, “I see that young lady 
 glancing over here every once in awhile, now, if you 
 just play your cards right and follow up this streak of 
 luck, I don’t see why, in the course of two or three 
 years, you couldn’t give me a superintendent’s posi- 
 tion in one of those rich Colorado mines that she owns. 
 By Jove! but I wish that I stood in your shoes.” 
 
 “Oh, stop your nonsense and let me listen to the 
 singing, for I am interested in seeing how this play 
 ends,” said Hart with his eyes fixed intently upon the 
 stage, although his mind had already begun to revolve 
 the question if there was no way of avoiding this invi- 
 tation or getting around it in some way without dis- 
 playing any rudeness in the matter, for he was naturally 
 of a retiring disposition, and the scene, as he pictured 
 it, would be that of the two ladies extolling him with 
 thanks while he stood like an awkward school-boy, 
 who had forgotten his lines on recitation day. Hart 
 was not gifted with the fluent speech that trolls grace- 
 
116 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ful replies whenever occasions demand it, so it was no 
 wonder that, what to some would have been a pleasure, 
 was already looming up in his imagination as a much 
 dreaded interview which, once over, would be as far as 
 the acquaintance would extend. So he judged,at least 
 from what Ben had said concerning their wealth and 
 the class of society in which they moved. 
 
 Upon the termination of the play, at Ben’s sugges- 
 tion, they wended their way toward a café, with the in- 
 tention of refreshing the inner man, and as they leis- 
 urely strolled along, Hart gave an account of his adven- 
 ture of the fortnight before, upon which Ben plied 
 him with questions on every point that was curtailed 
 or made light of so that he succeeded in obtaining 
 nearly as clear an idea of what had transpired at the 
 accident as though he had been an eye-witness to the 
 entire scene; all of which called forth his admiration 
 for the courage displayed. This, coupled with the fact 
 of Hart having concealed the part he took in the 
 affair, made Rushing desirous of seeing more of the in- 
 ner character of this quiet young man, who so suddenly 
 had sprung into such prominence. 
 
 Hart had just finished his account of the accident, 
 when they arrived at the café, and he was not a little 
 startled when Ben abruptly exclaimed, after they had 
 taken seats at one of the tables: “By the way, Hart, 
 what kind of a change do you intend to make in case 
 Mr. Huntoon sells out?” 
 
 “T have not heard Mr. Huntoon express any inten- 
 tion of selling out the store. Do you think sucha 
 thing likely to occur?” asked Hart somewhat disturbed 
 by the news. 
 
 “Yes, indeed. His wife’s health has been so poor 
 that he contemplated selling out the business several 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I17 
 
 months ago to Engel and Son, and going to the moun- 
 tains where the doctor’s say the air may prove benefic- 
 ial to her.” 
 
 “Well, this is the first I have heard of such a 
 move,” commented Hart, partially inclined to the be- 
 lief that his companion might be mistaken. “But as 
 turn about is fair play, I will.put the same question 
 to you— What are your plans for the future in case 
 such a transaction takes place?” 
 
 “I intend leaving the store the first of July, anyway, 
 and have given Mr. Huntoon notice of my intention 
 to do so several-weeks ago. You see, old boy,” be- 
 gan Ben in a jocular strain as he proceeded to decan- 
 ter a bottle of ale, "I came to the conclusion some 
 time ago that my special mission on this earth is with 
 the press, and in the future I intend to satrifice my 
 existence to hunting up material to serve as food for 
 the minds of the public. Such noble devotion, of 
 course, to be compensated by a salary not yet decided 
 upon by the manager of the Cosmopolitan.” 
 
 “T only wish I was as well provided for. So every- 
 thing is arranged for you to step right in and go.to 
 work, is it?” inquired Hart. 
 
 “Yes, I can start in at once, but the maximum salary 
 will not be paid me until the first of July, when some 
 changes'are to be made in the reportorial staff, whereby 
 a position for me will be created. You see, Hart, I 
 have always had a hobby to be a reporter, and have 
 studied short-hand during the past year with no other 
 idea than that it might help me, should 1] ever apply 
 for such a position and sure enough it has turned out 
 to be the very means of securing me this situation.— 
 But to return to our former subject, how was it that 
 you did not notice that "personal ad” in the daily 
 
118 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 papers, concerning the accident and the desire of the 
 parties to reward the unknown rescuer?” asked Ben 
 curiously. 
 
 “It is just as I explained to the young man in the 
 
 theatre. I have not yet the habit of reading the news- 
 
 papers as closely as I observe you and Disroe do, and 
 consequently did not see it. But if I had, I doubt 
 very much if I should have called; for even now, I 
 begin to dread the affair and sincerely wish that the 
 young lady had not recognized me in the theatre, for 
 I would almost as soon be thrashed as stand up before 
 that family group and listen to a lot of laudatory re- 
 marks about my bravery and so forth.” 
 
 “Why, man, don’t you know that through possessing 
 the acquaintance of such rich and influential people 
 as these, you might better your position in life far 
 above that of a clerk in a book store. I only wish I 
 
 held such an edge on them!” exclaimed Ben hastily.— - 
 
 “Why, that elder brother of the young lady is going 
 to secure a splendid position for George in one of the 
 offices of that new railroad—something that pays a 
 hundred and twenty-five a month, and the only accom- 
 plishment George possesses is that of being a good 
 penman. I’ll bet that every high penflourished report 
 he makes will have to be looked over carefully and 
 corrected by some clerical accountant who won’t draw 
 more than half of the salary George will. It is the 
 influence of having such a wealthy man as this Mr. 
 Arbor for a friend, that counts, and I would not let 
 this chance go by unheeded if I were you.” 
 
 “Thanks for your advice, Ben, but I shall never try 
 to impose myself upon these people for any’such lucra- 
 tive situation while holding only such a ridiculous wet- 
 dog-claim upon their friendship as that of stepping a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 119 
 
 runaway horse which might have stopped at the first 
 hill along the road. Why, Ben, it would not be six 
 months before their feelings of gratitude would turn 
 into one of contempt for me.” 
 
 “Oh pshaw! Man, you are too high strung altogether. 
 Such ideas as you entertain, might have done very 
 well for the time of the Black Prince or Bayard, but 
 they are not practical at this late age, and if you cher- 
 ish such foolish thoughts and attempt to live up to 
 them, you will starve to death, some of these days,” 
 exclaimed Ben in a_ half-temper, as they arose from 
 the table and started for their rooms. 
 
 They had not proceeded along the street more than 
 a couple of squares, when Ben remarked after a glance - 
 at his watch which denoted the time to be just midnight, 
 “I guess we might as well,pick up Disroe on our way, 
 what do you say?” 
 
 “I should think he would be at the room before this,” 
 said Hart in astonishment. 
 
 “A very natural supposition,” returned Ben briefly. 
 “You think he would go straight to the room and re- © 
 tire after escorting the young lady home; but Mr. 
 George has quite a failing for a little game that goes 
 on not far from here, and I will wager ten to one that 
 we find him in the middle of the next block working 
 and straining hisnerves harder than he ever does for 
 Huntoon & Co.” 
 
 They had just traversed the distance mentioned, 
 when Ben led the way into a narrow carpeted entrance, 
 where a gaudy cut-glass globe enclosed a single gas 
 jet at the head of a flight of steps throwing a dim 
 light down the staircase. 
 
 “I hardly know whether I ought to take you up here 
 after what Mr. Huntoon said to me,” remarked Ben 
 
I20 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 in a low cautious tone, as they mounted the stairs; 
 “but from what I have learned about you to-night, I 
 have concluded that you are able to take care of your- 
 self under any ordinary circumstances, and the only 
 advice I have to give, is not to risk a cent at the 
 tables if you have any money about you.” 
 
 As they stopped before a door having a small slid- 
 ing panel, the wicket opened and Hart beheld the face 
 of aman coolly surveying them through the small 
 opening. He took only a glance at Ben whom he 
 seemed to recognize at once, but upon Hart he be- 
 stowed a steady searching look of suspicion, and it 
 was only after Ben had muttered, “It’s all right—a 
 friend of mine,” that the panel closed and the door 
 opened to admit them. 
 
 The bright glare of light that was reflected from the 
 numerous gas jets within, formed such a contrast to 
 the dimly lighted hall-way that Hart was dazzled as 
 he followed Rushing across the richly carpeted floor 
 toward one of the tables, so that some time elapsed 
 before he realized that for the first time in his life he 
 was in a gambling den. 
 
 Here and there were scattered large oblong tables 
 covered with green cloth, each having some gaudily 
 painted device upon them, and a dealer sitting behind 
 making the turns of the cards or dice to satisfy the 
 gambling spirits of the anxious occupants of the seats 
 before him. Faro, hazard, roulette, and a well pat- 
 ronized game of keno, were all in practice, and the 
 large double rooms must have contained seventy-five or 
 a hundred persons. 
 
 “Never been in such a place as this before, have 
 you?” asked Ben, and receiving a negative reply, con- 
 tinued: “Good place to study human nature and to 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP Tati 
 
 see all sides of life. I only come up here occasionally 
 now, so as to have all the tips on races, prize fights, 
 and other sports, such as a reporter is expected to be 
 able to obtain, I used to. come here though, with a 
 different purpose in view, but it didn’t take very many 
 nights sitting at that hazard table over there, to con- 
 vince me thoroughly that the road to fortune does not 
 pass that way.” 
 
 “But are all these men gamblers?” queried Hart, as 
 he looked at the different groups scattered about. “I 
 see that only about one-half of them are doing any 
 betting.” " 
 
 “Oh, bless you, no! although this is a fair sample 
 of a gambling-house crowd. Notice, beside that oil- 
 painting the tall thin man dressed in broadcloth with 
 a diamond cross on his shirt bosom; he is what one 
 would term a.thorough-bred gambler, and a regular 
 believer in all the superstitious ideas of voudooism— 
 has the calendar studied out months ahead in order to 
 catch a first glimpse of the new moon under favorable 
 circumstances, and has been known even to prowl 
 around through alleys in the dead of night, trying to 
 catch a sight of a black cat to change his luck. He 
 left here only two months ago completely broke with 
 watch, diamonds—everything in pawn, and how he got 
 out of town, without walking, is a mystery. Two 
 weeks ago he returned flying high from New Orleans, 
 where it seems he broke two of the best faro banks on 
 Royal street; regained his watch and diamonds, and 
 probably has enough left to start an ordinary business, 
 but ten to one, before the year is out, he will want for 
 the lack of a good square meal, and when he dies, a 
 subscription will have to be taken up by the fraternity 
 to bury him,” said Ben, growing ardent in his remarks, 
 
 ¢ 
 
122°." A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 as he always did when acting in the capacity of in- 
 structor. 
 
 "What is the young man wearing eye-glasses, doing 
 with his pencil? He seems to be taking notes. Is he 
 one of the profession you intend to join shortly, a 
 journalist?” inquired Hart innocently. 
 
 “Wrong again, my boy. He is what you would 
 term a mathematical gambler, or to put it milder, let 
 us call him a player, for the chances are he will not 
 be on the turf very long. You see there are always 
 a class of young fellows who foolishly imagine that 
 by keeping an account of the run of the cards or dice, 
 they can figure out some system whereby they can beat 
 the game, All bosh, however! They waste several 
 lead-pencils, and finally follow that up with the con- 
 tents of their pocket-books, and then the majority of 
 them quit gambling forever, poorer, but considerably 
 wiser.” 
 
 “From some remarks I heard pass between you and 
 Disroe the first time I came in the store, I judged that 
 one Benjamin Rushing could be classed among those 
 ‘wiser’ ones you just mentioned, eh?” suggested Hart 
 in a humorous spirit. 
 
 “Yes, indeed. I put in three weeks once in figuring 
 out a scheme to down hazard and thought for awhile, 
 I had accomplished the feat. I have the plan yet up at 
 he room, and will show it to you some day. How- 
 ever, the dealer at the table over there got my money, 
 and it taught me a good lesson even if it did make 
 me feel mighty blue for a week or so afterward,” said 
 Ben while a good-natured smile played about the cor- 
 ners of hismouth, and with his eyes still fixed upon 
 the group of men around the faro table, he continued: 
 
 “Do you notice the quiet looking man clutching an 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I23 
 
 umbrella and sitting just back of the mathematical 
 genius? Now there is a man who never risks a cent, 
 but who rarely misses taking a glance at the tables 
 every night. He is a detective, a veritable javert it 
 is said, although that fact is not known, except to a 
 few, and I am inclined to think that his suspicions are 
 aroused by the way he is watching the play of that 
 young man who has the big stack of chips before him 
 at the other end of the table. That fellow is a bank 
 clerk who has been playing a pretty stiff game here 
 lately, and although everything may be perfectly 
 straight, and the money he is risking so recklessly 
 may rightfully belong to him yet, in either case, he is 
 standing on very dangerous ground, especially with 
 that detcetive’s eyes upon him.” 
 
 “He doesn’t appear to be disguised in any way,” re- 
 marked Hart, whose idea of a detective was one whose 
 natural lineaments were changed or hidden by the ad- 
 dition of green goggles or an immense false beard, 
 which was only cast aside when the proper climax was 
 reached, thereby creating terror and dismay in the 
 trapped victim, 
 
 “I suppose your conception of a detective has been 
 formed from some blood and thunder stories that you 
 may have read; but the facts are that a detective very 
 rarely puts on any facial disguise although continually 
 assuming to be in some different line of buisness,” ex- 
 plained Ben with a smile at the ideas which he im- 
 agined Hart had conjured up in regard to the dark- 
 lantern brotherhood. “Now this fellow is seldom or 
 never seen without that faded old umbrella, and it is 
 astonishing how deceptive an appearance a little thing 
 like that creates. Why, with that umbrella and a dusty 
 old ledger tucked under his arm, he will go all through 
 
124 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 a row of flats making all kinds of inquiries and never 
 be taken for any one else than the water or gas in- 
 spector, or some board of health officer.” 
 
 “T should think that his identily would soon become 
 known if that is the case, especially after appearing in 
 court several times, where he would be called to tes- 
 tify.” 
 
 “So it does among acertain crowd, but the frequen- 
 ters of a criminal court-room very rarely include the 
 kind of game he is*detailed to look up, such as con- 
 fidential clerks or bank employees, so that outside of 
 a small circle, he isea comparative stranger and the 
 nature of the detective business is ‘similar to that of 
 the undertaker in the fact that they seldom if ever 
 handle the same subject twice. 
 
 “T’ll"just put that down as one point of knowledge 
 gained upon which my imagination was far astray,” 
 commented Hart thoughtfully. “But, to change the 
 subject slightly, itis quite evident that Disroe did not 
 come here to-night as you supposed, so you would have 
 lost your ten-to-one wager after all your certainty,” he 
 added, after taking a rapid glance at the different 
 groups of players around the large room. 
 
 “Why, where are your eyes, Hart? Don’t you see 
 him sitting there at the faro layout? I thought you 
 recognized him when we first came in by the way your 
 gaze centered in his direction. _There now, he is 
 getting up without having a single chip to cash in, 
 a sure sign that he is dead-broke,” grimly remarked 
 Ben as George Disroe arose from a seat at the gaming 
 table with such a look of suppressed disgust and anger 
 upon his face that it was little wonder that Hart had 
 failed to recognize him from the side view of that 
 gentleman’s countenance which had alone been visible. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 125 
 
 As he started hastily toward the hall-door, Ben ad- 
 vanced a step and laid a detaining grasp upon his 
 arm, for in his present excitement, Disroe was about 
 to pass them by without recognition, and as he wheeled 
 around and beheld Ben and Hart, a look of complete 
 surprise came over his face. 
 
 “Well, what luck to-night, old fellow. I rather sus- 
 pect that you didn’t make much ofa win from the 
 amount of chips you cashed in, eh?” said Ben jokingly. 
 
 “No, curse the luck! I started in to make a win on 
 the ace, and got three straight splits in two deals; if 
 that isn’t infernal hard luck, then I don’t know what 
 you would call it,” growled Disroe in disgust. Then 
 suddenly changing. his voice to a much milder tone, 
 he continued: “But I say, Ben, you haven’t a stray 
 five that you could let me risk, have you? Pay you 
 back Saturday sure, if I Jose.” 
 
 “No, I haven’t a dollar for any man to lay down on 
 a faro table, and besides, it is high time we were go- 
 ing to the room, if we expect to get any sleep to-night,” 
 answered Ben so decidedly that Disroe made no fur- 
 ther request, and the three young men descended the 
 stairs and started on the way to their rooms. 
 
 “By the way, Furlong, I hear that you distinguished 
 yourself the other Sunday in stopping a runaway horse. 
 Both of the ladies are quite eager to reward you for 
 that scratch you got on the face in their behalf, and 
 they say you are quite a horseman. You became quite 
 proficient in that art while on the farm, I suppose,” 
 carelessly remarked Disroe after they had proceeded a 
 short distance, with a barely perceptible sneer in his 
 tone that did not pass unobserved by Ben, though un- 
 noticed by Hart. 
 
 “Yes, I think it was due more to my knowledge and 
 
126 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 practise in horsemanship than any great courage I 
 possessed, that I was enabled to be of aid to the ladies 
 on that occasion,” assented Hart quietly. 
 
 “Well, that little trick will put a good round sum 
 in your pocket, Furlong. I think I overheard Mr. 
 Arbor say something to his wife about presenting you 
 with a check for a couple of hundred, when you called, . 
 so you may consider yourself in luck,” drawled out 
 Disroe, and then turning to Ben, he added with a 
 slight laugh, “A couple of hundred to you or me just 
 at present would be a small fortune, eh?” 
 
 “Two hundred dollars is quite a nice roll of money 
 to receive as a gift, but Furlong has some old ideas in 
 his head, and I doubt if the money will have any 
 great charm for him, even if it was for saving lives, 
 whereby he actually risked his own. But to change 
 this discussion, how about that position with the rail- 
 road, for which you said Mr. Arbor intends exerting 
 his influence to obtain for you,” asked Ben in a tone 
 that plainly conveyed a rebuke to Disroe for his flip- 
 pant manner in referring to Hart’s exploit. 
 
 “IT expect to step into the position next week, if 
 nothing happens to the contrary, and will then leave 
 you two delving along on those musty old shelves, but 
 no more of it for me, thank goodness!” 
 
 The trio had now reached their abode, and as they 
 slowly ascended the stairs, Ben began to soliloquize 
 in a tone burlesquing the dramatic: “Lucky boy, that 
 Disroe. Fine railroad position, big salary, fortunate 
 acquaintance with a rich young heiress. Now for the 
 future! To be or not to be,—-Whether, by a bold 
 stroke of assumed affection to try for the hand of my 
 lady fair that he may idly bask in the sunshine of 
 wealth, or to live on, casting duplicity aside, and by 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 127 
 
 every attention to duty rise upon merit to a plane be- 
 yond that of ye ordinary mortals.” 
 
 “Oh, cut it. Or else apply for the next vacancy in 
 a theatrical company where you can spout to your 
 heart’s content,” responded Disroe angrily, as the 
 three young men separated for the night. 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 “So the great mystery is solved at last! And to 
 think that the young man is employed at the same 
 store as Mr. Disroe, and yet George says he never even 
 mentioned the occurrence. That seems so strange to 
 me.” The speaker was a young lady, one of a com- 
 pany of five, who had just taken seats in a dining- 
 room, to partake of breakfast. 
 
 It was a spacious room and it needed but a glance 
 at its furnishments and at the tasty flower-beds, now 
 in full bloom, on the sward so plainly visible through 
 the large windows to convince any one that the pres- 
 ent occupants of this abode, were in very desirable 
 quarters. 
 
 Besides the young lady, who had just spoken, the 
 other members of this small assemblage consisted of 
 two ladies and two genlemen, and it required only a 
 glance to recognize in the present company, the same 
 personages that were present at the termination of 
 Hart’s exploit upon the country road a fortnight ago. 
 
 It was the morning after the opera, and the young 
 lady, who had just spoken, was none other than Miss 
 Nora Arbor, while the others of the group were her 
 brother William and his wife, and an elderly couple, 
 a Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, who being closely related to 
 the Arbors, had lately come from the east upon a visit 
 in answer to Mr. Arbor’s pressing invitation to make 
 his house their home for a year or so, which would 
 thus afford both companionship and protection to his 
 
 128 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I29 
 
 wife and sister, while he would betake himself to the 
 mountains where his presence was needed to settle up 
 some of his father’s claims that were scattered here 
 and there among the mining districts of Colorado. 
 
 “T am very glad we have found the young man, for 
 according to the account George gives of the position 
 which he occupies in the store, I have no doubt but 
 that he will be thankful to receive a reward for his 
 services. Did not you say, Nora, that he would call 
 some evening this week?” asked Mr. Arbor, looking 
 toward the young lady. 
 
 “Yes. I suppose my little romance will end this 
 week in a prosaic manner, with the return of the young 
 man’s handkerchief, and the presentation of the check 
 you mentioned, but I shall always remember that brave 
 act of his as one which undoubtedly saved some of 
 our lives,” replied Nora in her animated voice. 
 
 “What a pity,” observed Mr. Bancroft, “that he is 
 not a well educated young man instead of the poor 
 farmer’s lad, as you say Mr. Disroe describes him, 
 who cannot expect to rise even to a clerk’s position. 
 Nobody could prophecy then what might come of all 
 this,” and he looked over at the young lady, with a 
 merry twinkle in his eyes, which showed that, old as 
 he was, a slight penchant for teasing had not yet de- 
 serted him. 
 
 The blush that crept into the girl’s face, denoted 
 that his remark was understood, but quickly recovering 
 herself, she laughingly replied: “And might you not 
 add, uncle, that the possession of one or two other 
 qualities besides a fair education, would be desirable; 
 for during the entire four months that IJ have been 
 here, I have been fortunate enough to meet with only 
 two or three gentlemen, who really have the knack 
 
130 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 of conversing upon any subject in a way to interest 
 one. I suppose, of course, they possess the education 
 you speak of, but they don’t seem to have formed an 
 idea on any question outside of the merits of some 
 base-ball organization into which channel they invari- 
 ably turn the conversation, or else openly discuss the 
 personalities of their friends in a way that I imagine, 
 would establish a bitter enmity if ever overheard and 
 repeated by some careless. person. So please do not 
 fail to include the art of carrying on an interesting 
 conversation, as a desirable quality in any friend of 
 mine, or else I am afraid our friendship would be of 
 short duration.” 
 
 “What complaint can you enter against Mr. Disroe? 
 I am sure you both*seemed to talk enough, coming 
 home in the carraige last night. Surely you don’t 
 mean to say all that conversation was upon base-ball, 
 do you?” asked Mrs. Arbor with the evident intention 
 of prolonging the mild warfare inaugurated by Nora’s 
 uncle. 
 
 “Oh, no! Thanks to the discovery of our much- 
 looked-for rescuer at the theatre, we were fortunately 
 furnished a topic of conversation that was a boon to 
 both of us; for Iam sure his brain must have been 
 severely taxed in putting together the many little flat- 
 tering phrases he aimed to bestow upon me as was 
 mine in trying to turn them off into ridicule or jest,” 
 answered Nora good-naturedly, then turning to her 
 brother, she continued: “Did you notice that scar on 
 Mr. Furlong’s face? It was plainly visible through 
 the glasses. I suppose it must have resulted from the 
 injury he recieved in our behalf.” 
 
 “Yes, I noticed the mark when he was talking to 
 the young gentleman who accompanied him.—But what 
 name did George give that young man?" 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 131 
 
 “Benjamin Rushing. He is also employed at the 
 same store with George and Mr. Furlong. From what 
 George said last night, I understand that Mr. Huntoon 
 and Mr. Furlong’s father are quite old friends, and the 
 young man becoming tired of country life, came here 
 for employment. That is about all the information I 
 succeeded in obtaining about our mysterious hero,” re- 
 plied the young lady. 
 
 “But what reason, Nora, did the young man give 
 Mr. Norman for not coming back to the carriage that 
 day after he had found his hat? And why did he not 
 notice the ‘personal’ in the newspapers, concerning 
 him?” asked Mrs. Bancroft. 
 
 “T cannot answer your first question, dear aunt, for 
 lack of information, as Mr. Norman only conversed 
 with him a minute or so in the theatre, but he did say 
 that the newspaper notices had not been perceived by 
 him owing to his.being a stranger here, and not yet 
 accustomed to perusing the papers very thoroughly. 
 But you can find out all about this young man very 
 soon as he has promised to call the first evening that he 
 can leave his work, and if your interest in him does 
 not abate somewhat before that time, I fear he will 
 be so severely taxed in answering your questions that 
 Julia (Nora always called her brother’s wife by that 
 name) and I will have no chance to make an impres- 
 sion with our brilliant accomplishments, and the elo- 
 quent little speech of thanks we are to deliver with 
 the presentation of the reward,” said Nora witha 
 laugh. Then turning to Mr. Bancroft she continued 
 merrily: “Don’t you think, uncle, that auntie takes 
 too much interest in this young man? It would not 
 surprise.me much to hear that she intended making 
 him her heir.” 
 
132 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “I think the young man may be in need of financial 
 aid from some quarter, if Mr. Huntoon sells out his 
 business, and George says that such a thing is quite 
 likely to occur shortly, as Mr. Huntoon has been con- 
 templating that step for some time on account of his 
 wife’s ill health,” commented Mr. Arbor. 
 
 “Is Mr. Disroe to obtain that position with the rail- 
 road company that you were talking about some time 
 ago?” inquired Mrs. Arbor of her husband. 
 
 “Yes, the superintendent who promised me the situa- 
 tion for George, notified me a few days ago that they 
 expected him to be on hand ready for work, the first 
 of next week.” 
 
 “That will be quite an advancement for him, won’t 
 it?” asked Mrs. Bancroft. 
 
 “Yes. I should judge that it would be, for although 
 I do not know what recompense George has been 
 drawing at Huntoon’s, yet I feel quite sure that this 
 new position pays a far better salary, besides placing 
 him in a field where he can advance if he proves capa- 
 ble of filling the present position to the satisfaction of 
 the company, which I feel sure that he will,” responded 
 Mr. Arbor. 
 
 The conversation here turned from any further dis- 
 cussion in regard to the young man, and they were 
 all engaged in planning a prospective pleasure trip to 
 California, which was to take place after Mr. Arbor 
 had settled up his father’s late business affairs in Col- 
 orado, when the chiming of the hall clock, recalled 
 the fact to Mr. Arbor, of an engagement he had made’ 
 for that morning down town, and the breakfast party 
 broke up with the departure of the two gentlemen; 
 Nora and Mrs. Bancroft preparing for a morning drive 
 out to a greenhouse in the suburbs of the city with 
 
 = 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 133 
 
 the view of making a few purchases of plants. 
 
 When Nora and her aunt were comfortably seated in 
 their nobby little phaeton, and trotting briskly along 
 the shady avenues, the old lady who had been silent 
 for quite a while, suddenly said very earnestly: “I 
 have often wondered, Nora, if you have ever seriously 
 given a thought to what is quite likely to occur in 
 your future? I suppose you can readily imagine to 
 what I allude, for girls of nineteen who are fortunate 
 enough to be endowed with wealth, soon have a host 
 of admirers around them,, proposing marriage, and that 
 is an affair that should not be passed upon lightly.” 
 
 A peal of laughter from Nora, answered the old 
 lady’s remark fully as well as the reply she then 
 made. “No, aunt, I have never given that subject the 
 first consideration. But why do you bring it up? Do 
 you think I intend eloping with some romantic Romeo, ~ 
 and wish to warn me of the consequences liable to 
 incur from such a rash act.” 
 
 “Oh no, dear, I have never entertained any fears of 
 that kind concerning you; but it is very natural for us 
 all, to look forward to your future welfare, and there 
 is no rock so dangerous to wreck one’s happiness up- 
 on, as that of a mistaken marriage. Somehow, this 
 subject came into my mind quite forcibly the other 
 evening, when I was observing you young folks as- 
 sembled at your card party, and I thought I would 
 speak to you on the subject which certainly is of the 
 greatest consideration;—more so to you, who have 
 wealth to attract an unscrupulous person, than toa 
 poor girl who is generally wooed by one who really 
 loves her for herself alone.” 
 
 “Are you not beating about the bush, aunt?” said 
 Nora with a puzzled air. “So far your text is so gen- 
 
134 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 eral and vague that I would rather hear you further. 
 What is it that you have upon your mind? Have I 
 said anything, or acted in a way that appeared im- 
 proper on any occasion lately?” 
 
 “Oh, bless you, no! I have no corrections or criti- 
 cisms to make,” exclaimed Mrs. Bancroft quite reas- 
 suringly.. “My only aim in speaking, was a desire to 
 warn you that very often, nowadays, young men, who 
 are favored with a handsome face and a flattering 
 tongue, seek to better their position in life by marriage 
 when they do not entertain a single spark of true 
 affection toward the -object of their attentions, and 
 are actuated solely by a desire to handle the wealth 
 of another for their own selfish enjoyment.” 
 
 “IT have never given much thought to such an idea,” 
 replied Nora thoughtfully, adding after a_ slight 
 pause: “For I have always imagined that if ever I 
 should marry, it would only be with one whom I both 
 loved and respected, and I can only hope that it may 
 not be my lot to be deceived in my judgment, should 
 such an affair ever transpire.” 
 
 “You have the right thoughts, Nora, and if you only 
 have the good fortune to be united to one who truly 
 loves you, and is honestly entitled to your love and 
 esteem, your journey through life, will be a peaceful 
 and happy one, barring accidents. But be careful 
 not to be deceived by the attentions of a schemer.” 
 
 “The repetition of this advice, dear aunt, causes me 
 to think that perhaps you have some one in mind of 
 whom you wish to warn me. Is such the case?” asked 
 Nora with an incredulous look at her elderly compan- 
 ion. 
 
 A confused expression passed over Mrs. Bancroft’s 
 face, but aftera moment’s hesitation, she said: “I can- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 135 
 
 not say that I have any grounds for referring to any 
 of your acquaintances as fortune-hunters, for I might, 
 by so doing, inflict a great wrong upon an innocent 
 person through mere suspicion, so may be, we had 
 better change the subject, although I hope what I 
 have said will not pass unheeded.” 
 
 If Nora had divined that the remarks her aunt had 
 made, were incited by the intention of warning her 
 against any particular person, she gave no further 
 utterance that betokened an understanding of the 
 warning in any other than a general way; but during 
 the remainder of the drive to the greenhouse and 
 return the thoughtful expression which was visible 
 upon her face whenever an occasional interval of silence 
 ensued, seemed to indicate that the old lady’s words 
 of caution had their effect. 
 
 Every evening following the night of the opera, the 
 entire household at the Arbor mansion were in a state 
 of quiet suspense, in anticipation of the expected call 
 of our hero, and even the black coachman, had re- 
 quested the pleasure of seeing him; for the novel and 
 daring way by which Hart had succeeded in gaining 
 control of the runaway horse had excited that worthy’s 
 admiration and caused him toremark: “Tell you what 
 Mr. Arbo’ dat young feilow ain’ noslouch turter jump 
 from dat bank on ter de shaffs, when Prince was runnin’ 
 like smoke. Youdo’an catch many fellows dat would 
 have tried such ating.” To all of which his master 
 quietly assented, for the truth was, he had begun to 
 feel a slight anxiety in regard to the outcome of this 
 little adventure, as the feeling forced itself upon him 
 that if this strange young man was only half as well 
 gifted in speech and bearing as he had proven to be 
 in agility and fearlessness, there was no telling what 
 
136 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 Nora might regard as a reward for the brave deed in 
 case a close acquaintance sprang up between the young 
 people, and he had resolved, after hearing the semi- 
 disparaging remarks which Disroe had falsely thrown 
 out in regard to Hart’s general inferiority, to make 
 the first call of the young man the end of this little 
 
 romance. 
 Of course he would receive him quite pleasantly, 
 
 and everything would pass smoothly without a jar be- 
 ing given to wound the feelings of any one; but he 
 had mapped out a line of etiquette which he intended 
 should be carefully observed, so that Hart would be 
 very dull indeed if he did not understand that this one 
 visit was all that was expected of him. 
 
 As the following two or three evenings passed with- 
 out the expected caller appearing, a slight feeling of 
 disappointment crept over several members of the 
 household; for, with at least four of them, this meet- 
 ing was looked forward to with pleasure. 
 
 On Friday, an occurrence happened which caused a 
 grave doubt to arise as to whether they would ever 
 have the chance of expressing their obligations to 
 Hart in person; for after the evening meal, when they 
 were all assembled in the parlor, where Nora and her 
 uncle were engaged in a friendly game of whist with 
 Mrs. Bancroft and Mr. Arbor, while Mrs. Arbor was 
 acting in the double role of keeping score on the game 
 and also amusing the children by showing them pic- 
 tures in “Jack the Giant-killer,” a sudden peal of the 
 door-bell was heard, and a moment later, the servant 
 ushered in a young man whom Nora and her brother 
 at once recognized as the companion of their expected 
 visitor at the theatre, on the previous Monday even- 
 ing, and whom Disroe had designated as the book- 
 keeper at the store, Benjamin Rushing. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 137 
 
 “Mr. Rushing, I believe,” said Mr. Arbor, advanc- 
 ing toward him with a smile of welcome. “Have a 
 seat. sir.” 
 
 Ben, for it was indeed he, took the chair to which 
 his host had motioned and, seeing the surprise with 
 which he was regarded by all present, immediately be- 
 gan to explain the motive of his visit, addressing him- 
 self to Mr. Arbor: “As I see my identity is already 
 established, I need not introduce myself. I have 
 called to see you at the request of my friend Mr. Fur- 
 long, who deeply regrets that he could not keep his 
 engagement as promised to Mr. Norman at the theatre. 
 When Mr. Huntoon decided to close up his business, 
 which I suppose you are aware has been done, he se- 
 cured a position for Hart—Mr. Furlong I mean—with 
 the tna Express Company, and he was at once as- 
 signed to a route that requires his immediate presence 
 at S—, for which place he took his departure this even- 
 ing.” 
 
 A silence fell upon the entire group, as Ben finished 
 speaking, and a look of disappointment was clearly 
 visible upon the faces of all the household, who felt 
 quite hurt at this unwelcome announcement. 
 
 Mrs. Arbor was the first one to break the silence. 
 
 “Perhaps he will be back in the city again in the 
 course of a few weeks,” she remarked, looking inquir- 
 ingly toward Ben. 
 
 “T am afraid that that is doubtful, madam,” returned 
 Ben politely; “for this position which Mr. Huntoon 
 secured for him, will require him to make regular 
 trips on the railroad between S— and some point in 
 northern Texas, and it is hardly likely that he will be 
 in the city for some time, unless by some chance, he 
 should be transferred, which is scarcely to be expected 
 at present.” 
 
138 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “So Mr. Huntoon has sold out his business?” in- 
 quired Mr. Arbor, with only the intention of keeping 
 up the conversation, for the disappointment that Ben’s 
 unwelcome news had produced seemed to have silenced 
 Nora completely as well as Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft, all 
 of whom regarded poor Ben in as unfavorable a light 
 as the harbinger of bad news is usually viewed. 
 
 “Yes; he closed the deal with Engel and Sons on 
 Tuesday, and we are transferring the entire stock to 
 them. You know Mrs. Huntoon has been in failing 
 health for a long time, and the doctors have been ad- 
 vising him to take her to the mountains, so that this 
 step was not an entirely unexpected event, and as Mr. 
 Huntoon is an old friend of Hart’s father, he took 
 some pains to see that Hart would not bé left out of 
 employment by the sale,” answered Ben pleasantly, 
 although he readily perceived the disfavor with which 
 he was regarded and which always falls to the lot of a 
 bearer of news creating a disappointment. 
 
 “This sudden change of occupation from a store 
 clerk to that of an express messenger, must have been 
 quite a surprise to the young man, was it not?” re- 
 marked Mr. Bancroft quietly, while at the same time 
 a shrewd expression came into his face not unlike 
 that of a lawyer’s when preparing to cross-examine 
 a witness. 
 
 “It did startle him somewhat,” replied Ben unsus- 
 pectingly. “He did not have the slightest idea of 
 taking such a position, until Tuesday, and the next 
 day when the superintendent of the company told him 
 that he would be needed for duty at S— on Saturday 
 morning, to take a regular run, it nearly upset him, 
 for such a situation is quite a step forward from the 
 place he held in the store.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 139 
 
 “No doubt, I hope, about the young man being able 
 to fill the position,—is there?” inquired the old gentle- 
 man slowly, as though the query had _ been carefully 
 considered before uttered. 
 
 “No, sir; not a bit of doubt,” asserted Ben positively, 
 half indignant at the nature of the question, which to 
 his way of reasoning cast an aspersion upon his friend’s 
 intelligence. 
 
 “My friend, Hart Furlong, though quite a young man, 
 is far better educated than the general class of young 
 men, and sufficiently well read in literature, and on 
 general topics to take a position in any class of society. 
 It is true, that so far, he has had very little experi- 
 ence in metropolitan life; but the thoughts and im- 
 pulses that are bred in him, will always guide him 
 straight through any kind of temptation.” 
 
 “That is quite a recommendation you give your ab- 
 sent friend,” remarked Mr. Bancroft suavely. “But 
 why is it that Mr. Furlong did not keep his word 
 about calling on us, when he well knew two or 
 three days ahead that he would be required to leave 
 the city as your statement infers. His action in this 
 matter seems as if he was entirely indifferent to our 
 feelings. What possible excuse can you offer for your 
 friend?" added the old gentleman in an injured tone. 
 “This breach of etiquette certainly calls for a true 
 explanation if any can be offered.” 
 
 “Yes, indeed ;” commented Mr. Arbor gravely. “This 
 is quite a disappointment to us all, and, especially so to 
 the ladies, who have been looking forward to his call 
 with great pleasure.” 
 
 These remarks threw Ben into utter confusion, and 
 fully realizing that the old gentleman had completely 
 trapped him by his strategetic question, he at once 
 
140 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 came to the conclusion that the only way of offering 
 a proper explanation for Hart’s conduct, would be to give 
 the true cause of his absence; so affecting his usual com- 
 posure with an effort, he stammered out: “Why— 
 why yes, Hart was informed on Wednesday that he 
 would have to leave for S— in time to be on hand for 
 work to-morrow. But—well, the fact is, Mr. Arbor, that 
 Hart is a very queer fellow in regard to some things, 
 and when George—Mr. Disroe, informed him that you 
 intended presenting him with a reward of two hundred 
 dollars, the thought of being tendered anything in the 
 shape of money, for such a deed, went against his 
 grain, somehow, and being rather bashful also, the 
 poor fellow had conjured up a scene in his imagina- 
 tion of you offering him the reward, which he would 
 have to decline in some way, and the ladies bestowing 
 their thanks upon him, until he became frightened at. 
 the prospect of figuring in such an engagement,” said 
 .Ben, with a brave attempt to cast a smile toward the 
 ladies. 
 
 An awkward pause here ensued, during which the 
 silence was only broken by the chatter and mirth of 
 the two children playing on the floor; for not one of 
 the elder ones now doubted that the true reason had 
 been given by Ben, for the absence of their expected 
 visitor, and their disappointment now seemed all the 
 greater when it appeared that he had remained away 
 through learning of the mis-judgement they had 
 placed upon him in thinking to reward him with 
 money. It was some time before Mr. Arbor broke the 
 awkward silence by asking Ben if he intended corres- 
 ponding with his absent friend. . ; 
 
 “Oh, yes,” returned Ben promptly. “I shall write 
 as soon as I hear from him, and will undoubtedly keep 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I4!I 
 
 up the correspondence on my side, for Hart Furlong 
 is a young man not met with every day, and I am 
 deeply interested in him, although our acquaintance is 
 scarcely a month old.” 
 
 “Furlong—Furlong; it seems to me as though I had 
 heard that name before, some place; but where I can- 
 not now recollect,” exclaimed Mr. Arbor in a half- 
 puzzled manner. “But I wish, Mr. Rushing, when 
 you write to your friend, that you would tell him how 
 we all regretted his non-appearance, and if he should 
 ever happen to come to St. Louis again to please call 
 upon us; for weshall not bring forward any monetary 
 reward, and in regard to any expressions of our grati- 
 tude, I will see that brevity will be the order of the 
 occasion,” he added, looking to the rest of the com- 
 pany for an an affirmative to his suggestion. 
 
 “Yes, indeed;” assented Mr. Bancroft good-naturedly. 
 “Tell him to come around and watch me play soli- 
 taire.” 
 
 This remark provoked a general laugh from all 
 present, and when it subsided, Nora said: “I wish 
 you would remember, Mr. Rushing, to tell your friend 
 that I still have his handkerchief which he so kindly 
 used in my behalf at the time of the accident, and that 
 I only desire to return the property direct. That may 
 bring him around in case Uncle’s game of solitaire 
 fails to attract him, and may give us a chance to 
 thank him for his courage.” 
 
 “I shall make your remark, about wishing to return 
 property in person only, the leading point in my 
 letter, Miss Arbor,” said Ben gallantly with a smile as 
 he arose to depart. 
 
 “One moment, Mr. Rushing,” said Mr. Arbor eagerly, 
 as if a new idea had occured to him, “Can you tell 
 
142 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 me if this young man’s father served during the war 
 in the confederate service?” 
 
 “I think he did. If I am not mistaken, that was 
 where his father and Mr. Huntoon became such close 
 friends. You could ascertain that however, from Mr. 
 Huntoon, if you see him before he leaves for the 
 mountains next week,” answered Ben, who, like the 
 rest of the company, was not a little surprised by his 
 host’s question concerning Hart’s ancestry; 
 
 “Thank you. I shall try to see Mr. Huntoon to- 
 morrow and gain what information he can give in that 
 respect,” remarked Mr. Arbor quietly; but as he 
 vouchsafed no further explanation, Ben bade them 
 adieu, and withdrew, after giving the ladies repeated 
 assurances of bringing Mr. Furlong to the house on 
 the very first opportunity that offered, should Hart ever 
 again present himself in St. Louis. 
 
 “Why did you ask Mr. Rushing, Will, about this 
 young man’s father being in the confederate army?” 
 inquired Nora as they re-seated themselves after Ben’s 
 departure. : 
 
 “If Iam not mistaken,” said her brother thoughtfully, 
 “John Furlong was the name of the confederate soldier 
 whom father so often spoke about. There were a lot 
 of confederate soldiers taken prisoners when the union 
 forces invested Island No. ro, and father became ac- 
 quainted with one of them named Furlong, through 
 being detailed with several others of his regiment, to 
 act as guard over them until they could be transferred 
 north. I remember that father often used to wonder 
 what became of him; for quite a friendship sprang up 
 between them during the short time they were thrown 
 together, and he presented father with his watch as a 
 token of his gratitude for the many little favors that 
 
 F 
 . 
 * 
 : , 
 * %e 
 a 
 a. ™ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 143 
 
 were granted him, and also as a souvenir of their 
 pleasant companionship.” 
 
 “Was he transferred to any northern prison camp?” 
 asked Mr. Bancroft curiously. 
 
 “No. He was exchanged with a lot of others fox 
 some union soldiers, who had been captured while on 
 a raid south of Memphis. That is the way I under- 
 stood father to relate the circumstances. In order to 
 settle matters, however, and see if I have the name 
 aright, I will go upstairs and bring that watch down, 
 for the name is engraved on the case, and that will 
 inform us beyond further doubt.” 
 
 “Those things of father’s are all packed away in 
 that old trunk in the closet, are they not, Julia?” asked 
 Mr. Arbor, looking at his wife for a reply as he sprang 
 to his feet, and as she gave assent, he started upstairs 
 in search of the almost forgotten relic, now nearly a 
 quarter of a century old. 
 
 “How strange it would seem, if this young man 
 turned out to be the son of the confederate soldier 
 who gave your father the watch,” murmured Mrs, Arbor 
 with a glance at Nora, as though to evoke a reply. 
 But the remark passed unheeded by that young lady, 
 Her aunt and uncle too, had entirely forgotten the un- | 
 finished game of whist, and were silently absorbed in 
 forming an estimate of the character of this strange 
 young man of whom their late visitor had spoken so 
 highly, and although they all felt disappointed in not 
 being able to thank him in person, yet each one of 
 them began to entertain a high regard for his self-re- 
 spect in addition to the admiration which his bravery 
 had already excited. 
 
 “Just as I thought,” exclaimed Mr. Arbor, as he re- 
 entered the room, bearing in his hands a coin silver 
 
144 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 old-fashioned watch, the front case of which he had 
 just opened. “Here is the name ‘John Furlong’ cut on 
 the inside of the case; now, if Mr. Huntoon can in- 
 form me about the details in the war seryice of this 
 young man’s father, it will be an easy matter-to as- 
 certain if he is the same person that gave father this 
 watch.” 
 
 After the time-piece had been passed around and 
 examined by each one, to the full satisfaction of his 
 curiosity, Mr. Bancroft said emphatically, “I am going 
 to keep track of that young man, and have a talk with 
 
 him some day, and if it does finally appear that you 
 stand a gift ahead of him, William, surely he ought 
 not to object to accept something in return, when he 
 finds that such is the case.” 
 
 “T should think so,” returned Mr. Arbor slowly, as 
 though deep in meditation upon some subject, and such 
 was indeed the state of his mind, for the opinion he 
 had formed of Hart was beginning to change very 
 rapidly, and he thought that George Disroe must have 
 been very slightly acquainted with him to have con- 
 ceived such wrong impressions of his qualities, for the 
 very fact of the young man’s absence being caused by 
 the reason so frankly confessed by Rushing, denoted 
 that he was a far different person from what George 
 Disroe had intimated, and if he proved to be the son 
 of this southern soldier, for whom his father had en- 
 tertained such a high regard, it was not likely that he 
 would be devoid of all his parent’s good traits. 
 
 As these ideas crowded upon the master of the house, 
 the intention to keep Hart from forming any further 
 acquaintance with his younger sister. which he thought 
 of carrying into execution, was, dispelled, and he re- 
 solved if chance should ever afford a meeting on 
 
 a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 145 
 
 some future occasion, that he would welcome Hart 
 warmly, and receive him as one upon an equal footing 
 in spite of the existing differences of wealth and station. 
 
 William Arbor was not exactly what the world would 
 term a clever man, yet he fully comprehended from 
 what Ben had said in referring to the little points of 
 honor which Hart had so construed as to have them form 
 an obstacle sufficient to withhold him from calling up- 
 on them, that such ideas, even foolish as they were, 
 could not have emanated in the mind of one who was 
 other than a thorough gentleman at heart, even though 
 he might still be somewhat retiring and bashful in 
 manner. 
 
 He became convinced that, if Mr. Huntoon corrob- 
 orated the high report of the young man, as given by 
 Mr. Rushing, then he had little danger to fear from 
 anything that might transpire through a friendly ac- 
 quaintance, even should it finally lead to a matter of 
 relationship, which of course, was extremely doubttul. 
 
 A few minutes later, the two gentlemen had with- 
 drawn to the adjoining room, to enjoy a quiet smoke 
 before retiring, when Mrs. Arbor suddenly exclaimed: 
 “What makes you so quiet, Nora? I haven’t heard a 
 word from you for half an hour. Are you vexed at 
 anything?” 
 
 “Oh, nothing in particular. Only I wish Mr. George 
 Disroe had withheld the remarks he made about our in- 
 tention to reward Mr. Furlong. It certainly did not 
 concern him in any way,’ replied Nora in so spirited 
 a manner, as she arose to retire, that it quite startled 
 her complacent sister-in-law. 
 
 “Why, Nora, you surprise me!” exclaimed Mrs. 
 Arbor in amzement. “Surely George had only the best 
 of motives in informing the young man of what he 
 
 \ 
 
146 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 thought was a piece of good fortune that had befallen 
 him. Don’t you think so, aunt?” she added, appeal- 
 ing to Mrs. Bancroft for a confirmation of her view of 
 Mr. Disroe’s course. 
 
 But the old lady, who was slowly wiping away the 
 dust from her spectacles, appeared to be too much 
 fatigued to enter into the argument on either side; for 
 she gave no answer other than a slight shrug of her 
 shoulders as she also arose to follow Nora upstairs, 
 which action Mrs. Arbor was completely at a loss to 
 interpret. 
 
CHAPTER .XI 
 
 The change in Hart’s affairs had indeed occurred 
 just as Rushing had stated to the household at Mr. 
 Arbor’s, and his occupation as a clerk in a book-store 
 was now a thing of the past. 
 
 On Hart’s arrival at the store, the morning after 
 the meeting with Disroe in the gambling rooms, he 
 found Mr. Huntoon present, much to his surprise, for 
 that gentleman was not in the habit of reaching the 
 store before half-past eight, and as Ben and he took 
 off their hats, preparatory to beginning the usual 
 routine of work, the colored porter came forward and 
 told Hart to step back.to the counting-room, as the 
 governor (meaning Mr. Huntoon) wished to see him, 
 with which request Hart hastened to comply. 
 
 “Well, Hart, my boy,” began the merchant kindly; 
 “Tam sorry to tell you that I have concluded negoti- 
 ations with Engel and Son, last night for the entire 
 transfer of my business to them. It is a move that I 
 have been forced to make on account of Mrs. Hun- 
 toon’s poor health, as the doctors advise me to take 
 her to the mountains at once, and I shall probably 
 leave St. Louis within a fortnight. I could, I presume, 
 make an arrangement for you to be retained in their 
 employ, as they intend to run this store for awhile, 
 until they can throw all the trade to their other place; 
 but I think you would find advancement very slow in 
 this business, so I have spoken fora position for you, 
 in a different line of occupation. 
 
 147 
 
148 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “How would you like to be an express messenger 
 on the railroad, Hart? There is some danger to risk 
 from railway accidents, but the salary would be greater 
 than you could hope to receive in this business for a 
 long time,” said Mr. Huntoon, ina tone that fully ex- 
 pressed the interest he took in the young man’s wel- 
 fare. | 
 
 “T should like such a place first rate; but do you 
 think they would consider me capable of taking such 
 a trustworthy position?” inquired Hart nervously, for 
 in truth he was half bewildered at the thought of such 
 a good situation being in store for him. 
 
 “IT had a talk with Mr Eastman, the superintendent 
 of the Aitna Express Co. yesterday in regard to you, 
 and he says he can give you a place as messenger; but 
 it will be necessary for you to live at S—, as the route 
 you will run over is from that place to some point in 
 northern Texas, or the Indian Territory—I forget 
 which place he mentioned. We _ will go down to his 
 office at nine o’clock, and then we can find out what 
 is expected of you. In the meantime, I wish that you 
 and Ben would begin at once to take an inventory of 
 the stock upon the shelves,” concluded the merchant, 
 as he turned to the books he had been examining. 
 
 Hart began the task assigned to him with a light 
 heart, and the two young men had not worked together 
 many minutes, ere Ben was fully informed concerning 
 the transfer of the business, and the change so likely 
 to occur in Hart’s prospects, at which announcement 
 a rather gloomy look settled on his face. 
 
 “It will be too bad if you have to leave the city, for 
 I shall feel as if I had lost my best friend,” remarked 
 Ben ruefully. “But maybe the company could be 
 persuaded to give you a run out from here, if you 
 
A LNCKY MISHAP _ 149 
 
 were to suggest such a thing to Mr. Huntoon, and 
 have him make the request,” he added with a faint 
 gleam of hope at the idea of thus sarees the com- 
 op of his friend. 
 
 “Beggars can’t be choosers, and Raids I am sure 
 that the superintendent has this place at S— already 
 picked out to give me, from what Mr. Huntoon said, 
 so it would never do to request such a thing at pres- 
 ent,” rejoined Hart very soberly, and then changing 
 his mood, he continued jokingly: "T will write to 
 you though, old boy, every once in awhile, and let you 
 know how I am getting on, and, if ever you get short 
 of an item for the Sunday issue of that newspaper you 
 intend working for, just let me know, and I will send 
 you in a big sensational snake story from Texas. I 
 suppose they are always acceptable, are they not?” 
 
 “Oh, yes. Contributions are always thankfully re- 
 ceived; but if you really wish to do me a favor, have 
 a rattling big train-robbery out there, and be sure to 
 send me the first report of the affair. Those are the 
 kind of items newspaper men long for,” replied Ben 
 with an attempt at cheerfulness, while in truth he felt 
 far otherwise at the thought of the coming separation. 
 
 “All right, Ben; if ever such an affair happens on 
 my route, I will try to have you get the first report of 
 the occurrence. But I guess there is no danger of 
 such a thing taking place nowadays, for the country 
 is becoming too thickly settled for robbers to elude 
 pursuit as successfully as they did years ago.” 
 
 The conversation here ceased, as they proceeded to 
 enumerate the articles upon the shelves in regular in- 
 voice style and record in the stock. book, at which task 
 they were busily engaged when Mr. Huntoon came 
 forward and signified that it was now time to keep the - 
 
I50 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 appointment with the Express Superintendent, thus 
 causing Hart to relinquish his work for the time 
 being and accompany the merchant down the street. 
 
 The interview at the express office. was of short 
 duration. The superintendent, a stout portly gentle- 
 man, gave Hart a keen look, and then as if satisfied 
 on one point, asked for a specimen of his hand-writing 
 in ink and lead pencil, which was readily furnished. 
 Then followed a short conversation between Mr. Hun- 
 toon and the officials, in which the former vouched for 
 Hart’s honesty and ability to fill the position. This 
 closed the matter, and Hart was told to present him- 
 self on the following day, and be all ready to leave 
 town at an hour’s notice, also that he would be ex- 
 pected to arm himself with a suitable revolver, which 
 he was to hold in readiness while on his route to pro- 
 tect the property of the company from any would-be 
 marauder, 
 
 Promptly at the same hour on the next day, Hart 
 again presented himself at the express company’s office, 
 and received word that he would be expected for duty 
 at S— on the following morning, which would necessi- 
 tate his leaving the city by Friday evening at the very 
 latest. Letters of introduction and .a railroad pass, 
 were furnished him, and he was assured that the old 
 messenger, whose place Hart was to take, would ac- 
 company him on one trip over the route to show him 
 the details of the work. 
 
 Hart worked at the store helping Ben and Disroe to 
 take the inventory, until Thursday evening, when he 
 then bade farewell to Mr. Huntoon and informed him 
 that he intended leaving for his new destination on the 
 early morning train next day. 
 
 That evening as he and Ben started down town after 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I51 
 
 supper, with the intention of spending the evening, 
 which they thought would be their last one together 
 for a long time to come, at some place of amusement, 
 Rushing stopped suddenly in a tune he was whistling, 
 and exclaimed: “I say, Hart, how about keeping that 
 appointment with the Arbors which you promised Miss 
 Arbor through that young swell, Norman? Surely you 
 haven’t forgotten that affair, have you? 
 
 “No. I rather wish I had,” replied Hart. “But to 
 tell the truth, Ben, I have concocted a plan by which 
 you are to help me out of that predicament. _ Come 
 now, old fellow, I’ll stand treat to the theatre this 
 evening, and to-morrow night, when I am safely out of 
 the way you shall call upon them, and make some ex- 
 cuses in my behalf.” 
 
 "I! Good gracious! what shall I say?” exclaimed 
 Ben in amazement. 
 
 “Oh! just tell them that this sudden change in my 
 occupation did not give me a minute of spare time. 
 That is a sufficient excuse. What do you say, Ben? 
 Please let me consider the thing settled that way and 
 I shall be under no end of obligations to you.” 
 
 Ben hesitated for fully a minute or two and then 
 in a tone that expressed his disapproval he said; “I 
 had an idea that you would try to avoid that call by 
 some such means; but I do not relish the idea of 
 presenting myself in your behalf. It would look as 
 though I was trying to steal some of your thunder. 
 Why not let the theatre go tonight, and keep that ap- 
 pointment? It will look decidedly rude in you, to 
 leave the city without calling upon them.” 
 
 “Now look here,” began Hart persuasively, “I really 
 dread meeting those people as much as I would receiv- 
 ing a lecture, for lam such a poor stick at talking, 
 
152 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 when thrown among company, that I would act like a 
 chump or a dummy when they began thanking me for 
 my aid in that accident, and it is easy enough to see 
 the kind of a chap they have judged me to be, from 
 what Disroe said the other night, so they will not be 
 greatly disappointed at my non-appearance.” 
 
 “Now, that is just the very reason why you should 
 call and show them that you are not the kind of person 
 they imagine. Why, I would think your pride alone 
 ought to prompt youto dispel the wrong impression 
 they may have of you through the false reports given - 
 out by one who is actuated solely by envy,” exclaimed 
 Ben hotly, for in truth, a feeling of resentment against 
 Disroe had been steadily growing within him ever 
 since the night when that gentleman had referred so 
 contemptuously to Hart’s brave act, and Ben had little 
 doubt but that the Arbors had formed an entirely 
 wrong opinion concerning Hart, mainly through just 
 such a method of speaking, which was by no means 
 an uncommon trait of George Disroe, when referring 
 to any one who had excited his envy or jealousy. 
 
 “Hold on now, Bern. You may be entirely too hasty 
 in speaking of Disroe in that way, for you are only 
 guessing at things in the dark, and I should not like 
 to think that I had been the means of causing a quar- 
 rel between you two, so don’t be so quick in jumping 
 at conclusions,” said Hart gravely; then after a slight 
 pause, he added: “But, in regard to seeing these 
 parties, it makes little difference one way or the other 
 whether I call upon them or not; it is a thousand 
 chances to one that I shall never meet any of them 
 again, so it is very small matter to waste time talking 
 over. However, I would be very much obliged if you 
 would call upon them to-morrow night, and present my 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 153 
 
 regrets at being unable to comply with their request, 
 owing to pressure of business, and this change’ of 
 occupation.” 
 
 To this plan, Ben finally gave a reluctant consent, 
 after venting several grunts, expressive of his dissatis- 
 faction with such a mode of action, which kept Hart 
 busy in turning aside, until they reached the theatre 
 where their thoughts were soon turned into other 
 channels, furnishing merriment and diversion for the 
 rest of the evening. 
 
 It was early the next morning, when Hart bade fare- 
 well to his friend, and many were the regrets expressed 
 by both Ben and himself, that the new position should 
 cause this separation between them, and Ben’s parting 
 words, as they shook hands, were an appeal to Hart to 
 write as soon as he was settled at some point along 
 the route he was to take. ? 
 
 Hart reached his destination at S— about the middle 
 of the afternoon of the same day, and was warmly wel- 
 comed by the express agent, who was regularly stationed 
 at that point with his office at one end of the depot 
 where, a few hours later, when the train had arrived 
 from the south, Hart was introduced to the messenger, 
 who had been detailed to instruct him in the routine 
 of the work, and also to accompany him on his first 
 trip over the road, the following day. 
 
 It did not take Hart very long to master the details 
 of his new position, for the work was not of that na- 
 ture which required any great output of either mental 
 or physical force, and after the novelty of change 
 had somewhat worn off, which it did in several weeks, 
 he began to wish that he had been assigned to a route 
 which would allow him an occasional visit to St. 
 Louis; for the sudden curtailing of the daily exchange 
 
154 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 of thoughts and ideas that had been a regular evening 
 pastime with Ben and him, was soon severely felt, and 
 he perceived, that such a companion as Ben had 
 proved himself, was not to be picked up at every port. 
 
 The agents of the company, stationed at the termin- 
 al points of his long route between S— and a small 
 station in northern Texas, were both married men, 
 and had no inclination for any conversation wherein 
 the practical bread and butter question was not the 
 leading topic, nevertheless, he had managed to glean 
 from them, that the transfer of a messenger from some 
 of the small side lines of traffic, such as he was now 
 running upon, to the higher and better paying situa- 
 tions on the main lines, running out of St. Louis, were 
 of quite frequent occurence and very liable to be given 
 to any new messenger whose record for sagacity and 
 prudence was deemed sufficiently good to entitle him 
 to such promotion. So, with the thought of eventually 
 securing such a desirable change, he conformed strictly 
 to all the rules of the company, and very seldom did 
 it happen that even a slight error was traced baek to 
 him. 
 
 Among the messengers on the main line, running 
 west out of St. Louis, with all of whom Hart soon be- 
 came acquainted in a business way, by transferring 
 packages, was one Richard Howard, or Dick Howard 
 as he was always termed by his associates, whose sin- 
 gular actions, on different occasions, soon impressed 
 Hart with the fact that there was a thorn somewhere in 
 the man’s existence, for closely as he might endeavor 
 to conceal it from public comment, by a silent tongue, 
 yet his actions and changeable demeanor indicated 
 the presence of some disturbing element. For ten 
 days or two weeks, following the regular monthly pay 
 
 ee Se 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 155 
 
 day, there was not a more contented employee on the 
 line than. Howard apparently was, and a bright jest or 
 some laughing remark would be the first words that 
 would greet Hart on any chance meeting or when 
 transfers of packages were made. Then there were times 
 later on in the month, when a more silent person could 
 scarcely have transacted the business, handing Hart the 
 necessary tranfers, and receiving others in exchange 
 with a sullen preoccupied look which denoted that his 
 mind was not altogether upon his work. 
 
 “What is the matter with Howard,” asked Hart of an 
 associate messenger, one day after having experienced 
 just such a disagreeable meeting. “He was glum as 
 an oyster today, up at the junction, and only last week 
 he seemed jolly enough. I can’t quite make that fel- 
 low out.” 
 
 “T guess he has had the pleasure of being docked 
 for another of his mistakes. The fact is, Furlong, that 
 all his trouble really lies in a mistaken marriage. His 
 wife likes to spend more money than his salary allows, 
 and is continually wanting this, that—the deuce only 
 knows what she doesn’t want, keeping poor Dick in 
 hot water all the time, for he well knows that such 
 a style of living can’t be kept up on the salaries we 
 get. Theresult is a big squall at home, whenever his 
 purse is empty, which is kept up steadily by madame, 
 until the next pay day comes around, and with it the 
 gratification of her foolish whims; but the racket she 
 keeps up when poor Dick is broke, gets him so rattled 
 that he makes a good many errors on his route, and I 
 guess you know who stands the loss caused by those,” 
 was the reply Hart received. 
 
 In the printed instructions of the company, showing 
 the duties of a messenger, Hart had noticed one which 
 
é ” 
 4 
 ; 
 
 156 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 stated that all losses, or damages to packages sustained 
 in transit would be deducted from the salary of the em- 
 ployee making the error. .But as Hart could not see 
 how acareful, prudent man could commit such errors, 
 he had given that clause very little attention. 
 
 “That is too.bad,” commented Hart. “I somehow 
 like Howard in spite of his .unpleasant changes of 
 temperament which F never could account for before. 
 I should think, however, that any woman with com- 
 mon sense, would see that her style of living was 
 within the limits of her husband’s salary, and take 
 matters accordingly.” 
 
 “That is very good logic, Furlong, but I think you 
 have scarcely lived long enough to see all the different 
 grades of womankind. Why I have known girls 
 who were brought up on a farm, and ran barefoot 
 (and surely one would think they ought to be easily 
 satisfied) yet the minute they got married, they ex- 
 pected a man to keep them in the style of some banker’s 
 wife, and had their poor devil of a husband in hot 
 water all the time,” replied the other with as much 
 bitterness in his tone, as though he had passed through 
 the divorce mill (which Hart afterward found to be 
 the fact), and as the messenger turned to leave, he 
 added half recklessly: “I don’t suppose you have ever 
 yet met such a girl, Furlong, but nevertheless there 
 are plenty of them, and the fellow that gets tied 
 legally to one of that kind, will often wish he had 
 never been born.” 
 
 Like a flash the thought entered Hart’s mind, as he 
 stood in his car door, waiting for the train to 
 proceed, that he did know ot just such a girl as his 
 late companion had described, and quickly, as ideas 
 form, the suggestion arose within him, as to what 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 157 
 
 might have been his future lot, if affairs had not turned 
 out as they did, causinga gulf to separate him from 
 the object of his boyhood’s infatuation. Might he not 
 now be treading the rugged path of just such a life as 
 that, which his companion had described to be Richard 
 Howard’s. 
 
 - This vein of thought impressed him so strongly that 
 he drew up his seat beside the’ open side door of the 
 car and, as the train glided swiftly along through the 
 fields of grain that lay upon either side of the track, 
 his mind unconsciously sank into a reverie in which 
 he reviewed the time spent and the worldly knowledge 
 gleaned since leaving home. He could see now, as one 
 from whom the blindfold had been removed, that it 
 was indeed a fortunate thing for him that he was not 
 destined to be the husband of Nellie Goodwin for with 
 her many vain desires to draw attention, which his 
 past conversations with her had betrayed to be her in- 
 nermost longing, his life would have been only a dup- 
 licate of Howard’s wretched existence, and as this con- 
 viction forced itself upon him the last remnant of his 
 infatuation for Nellie died out of his heart and left it 
 as free again as before her image had engrossed itself 
 upon him, and he realized that the slight knowledge 
 he had acquired by being thrown in contact with the 
 different grades of mankind, was indeed of intrinsic 
 value. 
 
 Hart had written to his parents immediately upon 
 his change of occupation, and indeed was in the habit 
 of writing them a letter every Sunday, though some- 
 times it puzzled him considerably to find anything of 
 interest to relate, other than to assure them of his 
 good health, and the pleasure he took in his new 
 work. 
 
158 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 The answers which he regularly received, though 
 written by his mother, always contained affectionate 
 messages from each one of the family, all of whom re- 
 joiced at his good luck in securing his present posi- 
 tion, but still there was always a vein of anxiety ex- 
 pressed in threading their letters about the danger 
 so liable to befall him through a railroad accident, all 
 of which Hart made light of in his replies with the 
 view of relieving their fears on that score. 
 
 In the last letter, he had received from home, his 
 mother mentioned how often Mr. Oldham had inquired 
 about him through parties in Montrovia, and on the 
 Sunday afternoon, previous to their writing, he had 
 even walked all the way out to the farm to inquire if 
 Master Hart was in good health, and how he was get- 
 ting on, which caused Mrs. Furlong to suggest ina 
 mild way that Hart ought to drop a letter to the old 
 gentleman, when he had an hour or so of spare time, 
 for certainly no one in Montrovia took any greater in- 
 terest in his welfare than the old engineer, and she 
 felt sure that he would be highly pleased to hear from 
 Hart in person. 
 
 The other news he received, was of minor impor- 
 tance, excepting the reference to the approaching mar- 
 riage of Nellie Goodwin to Dr. Edgerton, which event 
 seemed likely to take place quite soon, judging from 
 the numerous visits that the young lady and her 
 mother had been making to Springfield for purchases, 
 which they evidently deemed of too great importance 
 to make at any of the Montrovia stores. 
 
 It was rumored among the gossips of the village, 
 that the match was more of a business transaction 
 than one of affection, and that both sides were look- 
 ing to the main chance, at any rate, both Dr. Edgerton 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 159 
 
 and Mr. Goodwin were apparently very busily engaged 
 in buying up farm lands as well as securing claims 
 upon tracts of land heretofore always considered 
 worthless, except for grazing purposes. 
 
 The new railroad of which there had been so much 
 talk and speculation two or three months before, had 
 not yet made its appearance in any substantial way 
 but certain strangers had been observed sighting here 
 and there in the neighborhood with various surveying 
 instruments which proclaimed that there was undoubt- 
 edly something at the bottom of all that had been as- 
 serted in regard to its coming. 
 
 And so his letters from home gave Hart as plain an 
 insight into affairs there, as though he was there in 
 person. 
 
 He also corresponded with Rushing regularly every 
 fortnight, for Ben had lost no time in informing Hart 
 by letter, all the particulars of his visit to the Arbors, 
 and the regrets which they all expressed at his absence. 
 
 Then followed a scorching lecture on the foolish- 
 ness Hart had exhibited in not taking advantage of 
 such a splendid opportunity which Ben declared he 
 would bitterly regret some day. 
 
 In one of his subseugent letters, he gave Harta 
 brief description of the routine of work to be pursued 
 in his new situation, for he was now a full-fledged re- 
 porter, and how agreeable and interesting the work 
 had become to him through the excitement it afforded. 
 Disroe and he had separated as room-mates, and George 
 had taken up his abode at one of the leading hotels 
 since he had secured his present position in the office 
 of the railroad cashier, but in spite of the fact that 
 his salary was now fully double what he had formerly 
 received when with Mr. Huntoon, yet Ben was quite 
 
160 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 sure from evidences of George’s extravagant manner 
 of living, that he was as poor in purse as ever. 
 
 The last letter he had received from Ben was mainly » 
 
 devoted to relating an interview he had with Miss 
 Arbor at a ball where he had been detailed by order 
 of his chief to write up an account of-the affair for the 
 society columns of the Sunday paper. This epistle 
 caused Hart to wonder if his correspondent was not 
 beginning to take quite an interest in Miss Arbor, for 
 he warmly declared that she was “just a love ofa girl,” 
 “a charming conversationalist,” “piquant,” etc. 
 Norman had escorted her to the ball, and seemed 
 constantly at her side. However, by sending him on 
 a wild-goose chase, Ben had managed to obtain a half 
 hour’s audience with her, before Norman re-appeared 
 from his fruitless errand. She had earnestly inquired 
 about Mr. Furlong, and had again impressed Ben with 
 the fact that all the tolks at the house including herself, 
 would be highly gratified to receive a call from Hart, 
 the first time he should happen to visit St. Louis. 
 Ben also alluded to having seen the same young lady 
 at a matinee at the theatre, this time however in com- 
 pany with her uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. Bancroft. 
 He had had no opportunity of conversing with her on 
 that occasion but probably would have a chance soon 
 as there was a swell ball to be given by the Norman’s in 
 honor of some young ladies from the east who were at 
 present visiting the Misses Norman, and as Ben had 
 struck up quite a friendship with Louis since his intro- 
 duction to that young gentleman by Miss Arbor at the 
 ball, it was more than likely that he would be detailed 
 to take notes of the affair. Would Hart please let 
 him know in his next letter, what reply he wished him 
 to make, in case Miss Arbor again referred to the visit 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 161 
 
 they expected from Hart in the future. When could 
 he place a date to receive a visit from him? Surely 
 the company would allow him a few days recreation 
 about July 4th, if he were to make the request, and 
 then he could run down and they would have a good 
 time together, even if it was only for a day or two. 
 ‘As Hart sat alone in his room one night at the small 
 station in Texas, the southern terminus of his route, 
 just seven weeks from the time he left St. Louis, he 
 began to arrange pen and paper to answer Rushing’s 
 last letter, and intended telling him that he could 
 not possibly arrange a visit to St. Louis for many 
 months, when a quick rap sounded on the door, and 
 in response to Hart’s “come in,” the telegraph opera- 
 tor at the depot strode into the room and handed 
 him a despatch which read as follows: 
 St. Louis, July 2, 188— 
 Messenger Furlong: 
 Come at once to St. Louis to take place on main 
 line of Richard Howard (discharged). 
 Eastman, Superintendent. 
 
CHAPTER XII 
 
 It was a blazing hot Sunday in Chicago. In fact, 
 so fiercely did the rays of old Sol beat down upon the 
 Garden City that all idle humanity seemed as if bent 
 upon seeking relief from the heat by going down close 
 to the lake shore to catch a breath of the invigorating 
 breeze which is constantly wafted from over its smooth 
 surface. 
 
 The parks were crowded, and all along the shore 
 drive of that famous north side resort, Lincoln Park, 
 groups of people were scattered here and there over 
 the green sward, which extends for fully a mile along 
 the lake’s side, while down close to the elevated band 
 stand a densely clustered mass of human beings were 
 enthusiastically drinking in the dreamy strains of 
 music that floated out upon the air, causing the blood 
 to quicken in its flow, and forcing even the most 
 wretched of mankind to acknowledge within himself, 
 that after all life is in deed worth living. 
 
 It would have been a glorious sight to depict on 
 canvas, and, in truth, that would be the only way to 
 fully describe the view, for the pen falls woefully 
 short whenever one attempts to portray a scene upon 
 the face of nature. 
 
 Far out upon the blue waters of the lake, the faint 
 outlines of a score or more of stately ships were visible, 
 bearing down from the north; their heavily laden car- 
 goes, causing their movement to be hardly discernable 
 to the naked eye, while across the wide space of water 
 
 162 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 163 
 
 between them and the shore, several fast flying little 
 tug-boats, with their incessant trails of smoke behind 
 them, were skurrying out to meet the big ships and 
 tow them safely into harbor. 
 
 Closer in toward shore, were several yawls and row- 
 boats, filled with pleasure parties of both sexes, enjoy- 
 ing themselevs as only the hard working class can en- 
 joy such an outing, even if it be on the Sabbath, and 
 not unfrequently, the air of some German song 
 similar to 
 
 “Ueber Berg und Thal 
 
 Kommt das Wasserfall 
 
 ‘Vil.a la-ho, “Til a—" 
 given by a quartette of stalwart Teutons, accompanied 
 by their “schotz” would ring across the waters, and 
 come faintly to the ears of those seated upon the park 
 sward. 
 
 On the piers of the breakwater, extending out in 
 the lake a short distance, were numerous men and boys, 
 some quietly engaged in fishing, while others seemed 
 perfectly content in looking on, and hovering excitedly 
 among the rods whenever a slight twitch of the bob 
 betrayed the presence of some daring member of the 
 finny tribe at the hook. 
 
 It was a well mixed crowd, and almost every nation 
 on the globe had some native human representative 
 in the immense throng which filled the park, for no 
 city in the United States catches so much of the 
 Castle Garden immigration as Chicago. Languages 
 could be heard spoken, which many a well versed lin- 
 guist had never yet seen even a correct copy of their 
 alphabets, and all idea of sustaining any semblance of 
 caste, was cast to the winds. People totally unac- 
 quainted, and having no idea of ever seeing each other 
 
164 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 again, would be commenting together quite freely up- 
 on the species of the latest batch of some lucky fisher- 
 man which lay floundering here or there upon the 
 pier. 
 
 Mechanics, book-keepers, students and factory 
 hands, were all mingling and jostling one another in 
 a friendly manner, as they strolled hither and thither 
 along the water’s edge where fancy called them; some 
 giving vent to laughter and mirth showing that even 
 the thought of the Sabbath was temporarily forgotten 
 in the exuberance of high spirits, while others wan- 
 dering silent and alone, betrayed by their sad, thought- 
 ful demeanor the presence of some _ sorrow or trouble 
 preying upon the mind. 
 
 Such a dispirited look was imprinted on the face of 
 a young man, who strolled listlessly from out the 
 crowd around the band stand, after leisurely crossing 
 the roadway along the lake shore, and walked out upon 
 one of the piers, until he stood at the extreme of the 
 structure projecting into the water. Here were seated 
 two or three men and boys, with their long cane fish- 
 poles by which they were enabled to cast the line out 
 quite a distance from the side of the breakwater, and 
 seating himself upon the huge timbers that comprised 
 the platform of the pier, he began to watch the gaudily 
 painted bobs with the eye of one who formerly had 
 taken quite an interest in this sport. 
 
 “Have any luck to-day?” he inquired casually of his 
 nearest neighbor, after having satisfied himself that 
 none of the adjacent lines were enjoying that exciting 
 period, known as a “bite.” 
 
 “Only that small string there,” replied the fisherman 
 shortly, as he nodded toward a string of small fish float- 
 ing in the water, tied to the projecting head of a nail 
 driven into one of the pier timbers. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 165 
 
 As the sportsman turned his head slightly in nod- 
 ding toward his catch, the other had obtained a very 
 good view of his face and with an exclamation of sur- 
 prise, moved over along side the speaker. 
 
 “Jack Oldham, I believe!” ejaculated the new-comer 
 in a surprised but friendly way, as though meeting 
 with an old ‘acquaintance, and extended his hand to 
 grasp that of the fisherman. 
 
 A fierce warning glance shot out from the eyes of 
 the person addressed, and he made a hasty movement, 
 as though intending to arise, but after glancing nerv- 
 ously around, and seeing that nobody had displayed 
 any interest in the new-comer’s exclamation, he re- 
 sumed his seat and shook hands with the other quite 
 cordially. 
 
 “Don’t mention that name again, Dick,” he said in 
 alow tone “I’ve had some trouble under that name, 
 which has not yet blown over, so please drop the 
 ‘Oldham’ part of it. But how in the world do you 
 come to be roving around here, Howard? I am glad to 
 see you, but bless me! it’s a big surprise, for I heard 
 quite a while ago that you were married, and had 
 settled in some place out west,” he added, in quite a 
 friendly manner, as he glanced in surprise at the rather 
 seedy attire of the new-comer, whom he had addressed 
 as Dick Howard, 
 
 “It’s a long story, Jack,” replied Howard bitterly, 
 and then as he perceived the curious gaze of his com- 
 panion rest upon his well worn suit, he continued; “I 
 am in deucedly hard luck at present, Jack, I can assure 
 you.” 
 
 “Suppose we take a walk up along the shore, where 
 we can have a talk over old times without everybody 
 hearing what we have to say. I am about tired of 
 
166 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 fishing anyhow,” said Jack; for the fisherman was none 
 other than Jack Stanton, the escaped convict; and as 
 the two men arose to their feet, he tossed his fish-pole 
 over to a small urchin, who made it a business of rent- 
 ing out such tackle and supplying bait for the meagre 
 sum of a couple of dimes. 
 
 “There is my string of fish, sonny, hanging over the 
 side yonder that you are welcome to, if you wish,” 
 said Jack to the lad, as he and Howard passed down 
 along the pier toward the shore. 
 
 “Well, Dick,” began the outlaw, as soon as they 
 were safely out of the crowd, and walking up the shore 
 drive toward the north. “It seems rather queer to meet 
 you here to-day. I believe it was nearly five years ago, 
 that we last saw each other in New York” 
 
 “Yes, it will be five years this coming Thanksgiving,” 
 assented Howard as a momentary gleam came into his 
 eyes, as though recalling better days when trouble 
 and care were unknown factors in his existence. 
 
 “A good many of the old boys have dropped off 
 since then, I reckon,” remarked Jack reflectively; “but 
 I understood you to say, Dick, that you were in hard 
 luck. What is the matter? What kind of hard luck 
 has struck you?” 
 
 “It’s nothing more or less than money trouble. I 
 am married now, as you are aware, and only the other 
 week I got fired from my position as express messen- 
 ger at St. Louis, and came up here, thinking I could 
 get something to do, but it’s the worst town to strike 
 for employment I ever came across,” replied Howard 
 in disgust. Then, as if a sudden thought had entered 
 his mind, he continued, looking sharply at Stanton. ; 
 
 “But how do you come to be here, Jack? The last 
 news I had of you, was that you and Bob Cook were 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 167 
 
 arrested for a pretty bad affair at Kansas City, and the 
 chances were, that both of you would be sent to State’s 
 Prison. How did you manage to get out of that scrape?” 
 
 It was fully a minute before Stanton attempted to 
 answer Howard’s query, then, judging by his compan- 
 ion’s speech that he knew nothing of the sentence 
 passed upon Cook and himself, or of his escape from 
 prison, he replied lightly: “Oh! that didn’t amount 
 to anything. We were held under arrest on suspicicn 
 for quite awhile, but the case was finally nolled, and 
 we were escorted to the city limits by one of the limbs 
 of the law, who gave us special instructions to con- 
 tinue our journey.” 
 
 “Where is Cook? In Chicago with you?” 
 
 “Now you've got me,” answered Jack coolly, and he 
 began to realize as many others have done, that when 
 one lie is told, a dozen more have to be hastily in- 
 vented and uttered in order to make the first colorable. 
 
 “You see, our money gave out soon after being re- 
 leased from jail, and we started for Memphis, beating 
 our way on the railroad, by catching empty box-cars, 
 and occasionally the blind baggage on the passenger, 
 but as luck would have it, we got separated one night 
 at a station down near the Arkansas line, and that was 
 the last I saw of Bob. I waited a week in Memphis for 
 him to turn up, but couldn’t hear a thing about him. 
 I guess he got switched off to some place, and went to 
 New Orleans on one of the riverboats. There are a 
 few of the old boys down there, doing quite well I 
 hear, and Cook could count on getting a warm welcome 
 from them.—But to return to your case. What do you 
 intend doing? If you have your wife with you here, 
 and no money or employment, I should say that you 
 were indeed in a bad box." 
 
168 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “I don’t know what to do. I am at the end of my 
 string, I guess,” answered Howard desperately. “What 
 are you doing, Jack? Can’t you find a place for me at 
 something? I am ready to work at anything, no matter 
 what it is,” and he spoke so earnestly, that even the 
 outlaw felt touched by his appeal. 
 
 “I guess I could arrange to give you a job, if you 
 think you are able to stand good hard work, and would 
 be willing to accept ten dollars a week for pay. I 
 bought out a small hauling business some:time ago, 
 and have three horses and a couple of wagons that I 
 am running, but the business is not paying very well 
 —too much competition. However, I can put you on 
 a single horse rig, if you are willing to tackle that 
 kind of labor, and do the same amount of work that is 
 always laid out for a teamster.” 
 
 “Got three horses and a couple of wagons of your 
 own,” echoed Howard as he looked at his companion 
 with a shade of distrust. “Where in the world did 
 you make such a raise, Jack?” 
 
 “Oh, I tackled the bank at Memphis with halfa 
 hundred I borrowed on the road coming down from 
 Kansas City and, as luck would have it, the ace came 
 my way through four or five deals, I pulled out a few 
 hundred and came up here. I hadn’t been here a 
 week before I bought out this hauling business, think- 
 ing I had struck a snap; but I found out before I had 
 been running the business very long, that I was getting 
 behind, instead of making a fortune. I guess it won’t 
 be a great while before I am on the road again,” said 
 Jack with a hard laugh. “But how came you to lose 
 such a soft place as express messenger at St. Louis?” 
 
 “It would make a long story, if I went into the de-- 
 
 tails of the causes that led to my dismissal. The short- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 169 
 
 est explanation of the matter is, that I made some mis- 
 takes in my work, and the company concluded to dis- 
 pense with my services and put some one else in the 
 place who they think can do the work better. But 
 we might as well not bother discussing that matter any 
 further, for it’s a waste of time. I shall be only too 
 glad to take that place you offer me as teamster, even 
 if the pay is only ten dollars a week.” 
 
 “IT suppose that is something less than what you re- 
 ceived from the express company, but it is the regular 
 pay for men who run single-horse rigs, and I could get 
 an army of men, thoroughly: accustomed to horses, to 
 fill the place at that figure, by putting a couple of 
 lines in the newspaper. How in the world you will 
 manage to support yourself and wife on that amount, 
 you can best figure out for yourself,” remarked Jack 
 grimly. “May be though, you can pick up something 
 better after awhile. I suppose you secured a recom- 
 mendation from the express company, before leaving 
 St. Louis?” 
 
 “No—o;” replied Howard slowly, as though he 
 wished that his companion had not brought up that 
 question. “I had a tilt with the superintendent, and 
 of course, that settled the case as far as my asking for 
 any written recommendation.” 
 
 The outlaw gave vent to a low whistle, which 
 sounded very ominous to poor Howard. 
 
 “Look here, Dick,” began Jack seriously. “As far 
 as working for the firm of John Oldham & Co. is con- 
 cerned, it doesn’t make a bit of difference whether you 
 have any references or not, but the trouble is that Old- 
 ham & Co, will very likely go to the wall this winter, 
 and then you will be left in a very bad fix, especially 
 when you have no recommendation to show from this 
 
170 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 express company where you have been employed for so 
 many years in a trustworthy position.” 
 
 A gloomy look settled in Howard’s face, as Jack 
 ceased speaking, and for a few minutes the two men 
 walked on in silence. 
 
 Presently Howard said in a voice which indicated 
 the despairing thoughts that were passing through his 
 mind; “Can you give me any advice? What course 
 would you suggest for me to pursue?” 
 
 “Good Lord! Dick,” exclaimed the outlaw quickly; 
 “don’t ask me to advise you, for if any fellow ever 
 made a more miserable failure of his life than myself, 
 I should like to see him. Every time I have tried to 
 get up hill a peg or two, I get knocked into a cocked 
 hat, so you had better stick to your own plans; the 
 chances are they would lead you to a better outcome 
 than any advice I might give.” 
 
 “But what will you do in casc your business turns 
 out as badly as you seem to anticipate,” inquired 
 Howard persistently. “I feel sure you don’t intend 
 to sit down and starve, and why couldn’t I follow your 
 course, whatever it is?” 
 
 “IT suppose you could, if you were asingle man, but 
 being married alters your case considerably. The 
 only idea I have at present is to go down south with 
 the intention of striking a job along the river about 
 Vicksburg, and stay there until spring. I have worked 
 that plan twice, and I guess this winter will find me 
 there again.” 
 
 “IT should think a fellow by working all winter, 
 would have nice little stake by the time spring came, 
 and might use it to some advantage in a small busi- 
 ness, couldn’t he?” asked Howard as he brightened up 
 a little at some thought that had risen within him. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP I71I 
 
 A half smile came over Jack’s rough features, as he 
 replied to this financial suggestion of Howard: “That 
 all depends, friend Richard, on who the ‘he’ happens 
 to be. A down east Yankee might ‘save enough out of 
 two or three winter seasons, to start himself up ina 
 notion store; but your humble servant, John Oldham, 
 went dead broke twice, in trying to get the best of a 
 faro bank down on Royal Street, New Orleans, with 
 all the proceeds he had managed to save from his win- 
 ter’s work on the levees.” 
 
 Here he paused for a moment, and then went on, 
 as though in a spirit of reflection, while his gaze wan- 
 dered out across the waters of the lake: “It’s queer, 
 how much bad luck I’ve had at gambling. I must 
 have lost a dozen or more stakes of a hundred or so, 
 in the last three years, and never did win anything 
 much, until I pulled out this last four hundred at Mem- 
 ‘ phis. Hang me, if I wouldn’t give something to get 
 even with that Royal Street bank, for it has made me 
 walk out of town three or four times,” he concluded 
 grimly. 
 
 “I think one such experience would cure me forever 
 of gambling. Still, I have frequently read of men 
 making a big winning from some faro bank.—How do 
 they manage to beat the game, Jack? Do they have 
 better judgment or better luck?” inquired Howard with 
 only the intention of making some remark upon what 
 he judged to be his companion’s chief. hobby. 
 
 “The only persons I ever knew to break a bank, or 
 win anything up in the thousands, were gamblers, who 
 always had a big roll of money to back them in case 
 luck ran against them in the beginning of the game. 
 I have come to the conlusion that a small fish don’t 
 stand much show. By the way, Dick,” said Jack with 
 
172 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 a slight eagerness apparent in his voice, as though a 
 new idea had entered his mind, “didn’t you carry 
 some pretty big sums of money while in the express 
 business?” 
 
 “Oh, yes; there were always money packages passing 
 over the road, and occasionally there would be ship- 
 ments containing quite large amounts, but not very 
 often. I remember once, when I carried a single pack- 
 age of seventy thousand that went down in the Indian 
 ' Nation to pay off the Indians according to the treaty 
 with them. I think that was about the largest single 
 package [ ever carried.” 
 
 “By jingo!” ejaculated Jack excitedly, “that would 
 have been a big haul for a train-robber, if he could 
 have caught you on that trip, It’s a wonder some one 
 didn’t attempt it.” 
 
 “That would be almost impossible, unless there was 
 a crowd of them to stop the train and bulldoze the 
 trainmen into submission, before forcing an entrance 
 to the express car; even then, a messenger would 
 have a chance to hide the most valuable packages about 
 the car, while the racket was going on out side, so 
 that the robbers wouldn’t stand much show of getting 
 the big packages.” 
 
 “But suppose a couple of men had suddenly forced 
 the door in, while the train was running, and got the 
 drop on you with their guns; wouldn’t they have 
 walked off with that big seventy thousand?” asked 
 Jack thoughtfully. 
 
 “That couldn’t be done, for the reason that all the 
 merchandise in the car, is equally divided and piled 
 up against both end doors, so it would be impossible 
 for a robber to gain an entrance, except at the side 
 door, and nobody could force his way in there while 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP . 173 
 
 the train was in motion. Besides, you must remember 
 that the messenger is always armed and ready to shoot 
 whenever his suspicion is aroused, and if any attempt 
 was made to force the side door at any of the small 
 stations along the route, he would open fire with his 
 revolver,” said Howard with a yawn that plainly 
 indicated his lack of interest in what appeared to him 
 a pointless discussion. 
 
 “Didn’t you frequently have occasion to open the 
 side door after dark at some of the small stations you 
 speak about in order to put out goods that were marked 
 for that point?” persisted Jack quietly. 
 
 “Oh, yes, sometimes when the packages were wanted 
 im haste, but that did not occur very often; for all 
 ordinary packages would be sent by the train, passing 
 such points in the day time. It would be a very hard 
 matter, Jack, for any robber to get into the car with- 
 out being shot; for the rules are to allow no one to 
 enter the car at any station along the route and that 
 tule is followed strictly to the letter, except at 
 times when some part of the running gear of-the car 
 gets out of fix or the -bell cord won’t work properly, 
 which might make it necessary to admit one of the 
 brakemen to repair whatever was out of order. In 
 such cases, however, the uniform worn by the train- 
 men and the lantern carried by them would show the 
 _messenger that everything was all right.” 
 
 “Of course,” assented Jack quickly, but at the same 
 time a momentary gleam came in his eyes not unlike 
 that which flashes up in the eyes of a lawyer upon per- 
 ceiving some weak point in the testimony of a wit- 
 ness.—“ You must have had acarall to yourself, didn’t 
 you?” he added after a moment’s pause. 
 
 “Yes; the second car from the engine, between the 
 
174 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 mail and the baggage cars, was used entirely for the 
 express business. But what in the world are you put- 
 ting all these questions to me for? That line of 
 occupation is a case of “dead horse” to me now, so 
 what is the use of talking about it?” remarked Howard 
 somewhat testily. 
 
 As the ex-messenger finished speaking he was nota 
 little surprised, on turning around slightly, to meet 
 the deep searching gaze of Stanton fixed intently upon 
 him, as though inwardly deliberating upon some ser- 
 ious subject. 
 
 “Let us take a seat,” said Jack suddenly withdrawing 
 his gaze from his companion’s face, and, after glanc- 
 ing around, to make sure that no one was within 
 hearing distance, he threw his tall burly figure upon 
 the grass alongside the roadway; for the lake breeze 
 at Chicago and the better fare he had enjoyed since 
 his escape from prison, had caused an increase in both 
 his size and weight, and now he would readily pass 
 for an athlete at first glance. 
 
 “Here, Dick, have a smoke,” he said producing sev- 
 eral cigars with some matches from his upper vest- 
 pocket. A moment later, the two men were enjoying 
 the solace which tobacco inevitably produces. 
 
 A silence fell upon them for a moment or two, while 
 the gaze of each was directed across the blue waters 
 of the lake, as though all intention of prolonging the 
 subject under discussion, was at an end. 
 
 Presently Jack began: “Dick, you and I were quite 
 chums not many years ago, and I feel sure in talking 
 to you, that whatever is said, you will keep to yourself. 
 I would like to make a proposition to you and if 
 you don’t care to enter into it, just say so, and there 
 will be no harm done. To begin with, however, I 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 775 
 
 suppose you are aware of the sort of life I have drifted 
 into since leaving New York.” 
 
 “Well, I have heard some queer tales that were 
 laid at your door, Jack,” replied -Howard slowly 
 as he shifted his gaze from the iake to meet the 
 earnest look of his companion. “I met Dan Morgan 
 accidentally several months ago, in St. Louis, and he 
 told me that within six months after my leaving New 
 York, you had been sent up to Sing Sing for a term of 
 two years, under the alias of Jack Stanton, upon the 
 charge of assaulting a policeman, and after your release 
 you went back to New York, and very nearly killed 
 the same officer one night in the attempt to be re- 
 venged for something he had falsely stated about you 
 at the time of trial. Dan also said that you and Bob 
 Cook had skipped out for the west immediately after- 
 wards, in order to avoid arrest for that last offense, 
 and that it would undoubtedly go hard with you in 
 case you were caught. I suppose that is the reason 
 you are not going under your own name here.” 
 
 “Yes; you have the affair down as straight as a 
 string. Those coppers sent me over the road just be- 
 cause I wouldn’t move around whenever they tried 
 any of their bluffing, and Logan did swear to a pack of 
 lies at my trial, sol made up my mind to get even 
 with him when I got out. I did too,” said Jack with 
 a hard smile. “But I guess it’s a case of paying too 
 dear for my whistle, for I never dare go back there, 
 unless that indictment runs out in course of time.— 
 But, by-the-way, have you any idea where Morgan is 
 located at present?” 
 
 “I think he is at Deadwood, Dakota. At least, 
 that’s the place he was bound for when I saw him in 
 St. Louis. He showed me a letter in which he had 
 
176 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 the promise of a place as bar-tender to the saloon 
 connected with some variety-theatre, and I suppose he 
 is still there. Why, now that I think of it, he was 
 the person who told mé of the scrape you and Cook 
 got into at Kansas City. He spoke about intending 
 to stop over a day in Kansas City with the intention 
 of trying to see you. Did he call at the jail?” | 
 “Nary. a call from Morgan,” responded Jack laconi- 
 cally. 
 
 “From the way Dan talked and acted, I think he 
 has become a pretty tough citizen.—But to return to 
 the original subject. What is this proposition you in- 
 tend disclosing to me?” asked Howard curiously. 
 
 “T expect that you will think it rather queer in me 
 to propose such a thing to you on the first day of our 
 meeting after a separation of five years, but I take it 
 that Dick Howard to-day will act as true blue to his 
 old triends, as he always did in days gone by, and in 
 that case there will be no danger of anything leaking 
 out to cause trouble,” said Jack, and then he paused 
 for a moment to knock the ashes off his cigar. “From 
 what you have let drop about this express business, 
 Dick,” he went on slowly, “I think with a little help, 
 and a bit more of advice from you, that it wouldn’t be 
 much of a task to drop down there in Missouri some 
 dark night, and walk off with at least one shipment.” 
 
 If Howard had conceived any idea that his compan- 
 ion was joking, it was quickly cast out of his mind, 
 as he looked up and met the black eyes of the outlaw 
 fixed intently upon him, as though eager to note the 
 effect of what he had just said. 
 
 “Why, Jack!” exclaimed Howard huskily, while a 
 slight pallor crept over his face, “that would be rob- 
 bery, and if we were apprehended we would geta fear: 
 
 ete 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP iy has 
 
 ful sentence for such an act. There are men in State’s 
 prison to-day, who are working out sentences of twenty- 
 
 five years, for having comitted just such a deed as you 
 propose.” 
 
 This fact was only too well known to Stanton, for 
 during the short time he had served in prison, before 
 making his escape, he had actually seen a half dozen 
 or more of suffering mankind, upon whom an avenging 
 justice had meted out exactly that fearful punishment 
 just mentioned by Howard; still the bold, reckless 
 spirit within him was not quailed by any thought of 
 receiving a like fate. Even the loss of his life, he 
 considered of little consequence, as he now stood be- 
 fore society; and he thought, like many a desperate 
 and losing gamester at this game of life, that his only 
 hope lay in making a bold play for fortune, even at 
 the risk of his life. 
 
 “T tell you, Dick,” he said in an encouraging tone; 
 “T can do up that express car with a man or-two to 
 help me, and ina style that will baffle these infernal de- 
 tectives completely.” 
 
 Howard looked at him and trembled at the thought 
 of the proposition his companion had so coolly stated. 
 It was true he had not seen Jack once during the past 
 five years until the present moment, but news of the 
 wild life he had been leading had come to his ears 
 occasionally from various sources; still he had not ex- 
 pected to find in the old friend of his boyhood, a man 
 ready and eager to take the lead in a bold highway 
 robbery, and he also well knew from past experience, 
 that whatever project Jack started he generally fol- 
 lowed up until success or total failure was attained. 
 
 Howard had cherished a grudge against the express 
 company for the manner in which they had discharged 
 
178 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 him, without any warning, and as day after day passed 
 by, without any other employment being secured, the 
 bitter feeling had increased until it became magnified 
 into a fierce hatred, as bis slender finance diminished 
 from day to day, .so that it is little wonder the idea 
 occurred to him, as he regained his accustomed com- 
 posure, that here lay a chance not only to obtain re- 
 venge for his supposed wrongs, but also to lay in a 
 goodly store of wealth which even though ill-gotten, 
 would still obtain bread and other necessities, besides 
 stifling that everlasting cry of complaint from his 
 wife, which he had learned to dread more than the 
 food. 
 
 With these two thoughts in his mind, he reflected 
 a moment, and then replied in a half-concurring tone: 
 “It might be done in some way, Jack, if you could 
 get a couple of men with good nerve to aid you. But 
 it would have to be done in a quick and smooth way, 
 for the train is a big one, with ten or a dozen coaches, 
 and the train’s crew alone number that.” 
 
 “Just leave that to me, Dick,” said Jack, as a hard 
 triumphant smile flitted across his heavy features; for 
 he now felt sure of obtaining such information of the 
 business methods employed by the company, as would 
 enable him to work his plan of robbery toa successful 
 issue. 
 
 “Look here, Dick,” he continued in a reassuring 
 tone; “all I want you to do is to answer a few ques- 
 tions I may ask in the course of a week or so. That 
 may be all I shall require of you. You can stay here 
 in Chicago and read the newspaper accounts of how the 
 affair was done, and I’ll come back and do the square 
 thing by you, as regards your share of the money. 
 That’s honor bright, Dick. Shall we call it a go?” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 179 
 
 At this compact, which may not appear to be a very 
 dangerous one to some of our readers not versed in 
 law, Howard hesitated for a moment as though study- 
 ing what chances he would be risking, by entering in- 
 to such an agreement; then casting aside his better 
 judgment, he said determinedly: “Very well, Jack, 
 I’m your man for this trip anyway. Now by what 
 scheme do you think you could succeed in this work?” 
 
 “It seems to me from what you have just told me of 
 their methods of doing business, that the best plan 
 would be to ship a package to one of those lonely sta- 
 tions along the route, and have everything in readiness 
 so that the minute the messenger opened the door to 
 hand out the package, two men would be in readiness 
 to receive him, one to grab and hold him while the 
 other rushed in and secured everything in the safe. 
 Why wouldn’t such a racket as that work all right?” 
 asked the outlaw in so matter of fact a tone, that 
 Howard at once concluded there was more truth than 
 fiction in the many tales he had heard concerning 
 Jack’s discreditable actions, during the past five years. 
 
 “That might work on some dark rainy night when the 
 train-men stay in the coaches to keep from getting 
 wet; still it would be fearfully dangerous, for the mes- 
 sengers are always armed, anda person would actually 
 be risking his life in the attempt,” said Howard 
 thoughtfully, while an uneasy look crept over his face, 
 as he reflected upon what might ensue in such an en- 
 counter as his companion had just described. 
 
 “That was my idea also, to wait for a bad night be- 
 fore tackling the train. A misty drizzly afternoon is 
 a sure sign of a bad night being in store, and I could 
 wait for just such weather. But you needn’t be alarmed; 
 Dick, I’ll manage the affair so that no one will get 
 
180 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 hurt on either side,” asserted Jack confidently, and then 
 perceiving the wavering expression upon Howard’s 
 countenance, he proposed that they let the discussion 
 drop for the present, and go across the way to a café, 
 where they could renew the old friendship between 
 them by cracking a bottle or two of ale, and partaking 
 of some sandwiches; to which invitation Howard quite 
 readily assented; for a better plan to ease the mind 
 of a hungry careworn man could not have been di- 
 vised by his friendly but dangerous companion. : 
 
 Richard Howard was not naturally what the world 
 would designate as a dishonest man; in truth, if cir- 
 cumstances had so happened that he would have 
 traveled along a path where fortune smiled, and any 
 anxiety concerning a shortage in finances was a thing 
 unknown, it is quite probable that he would have at- 
 tained such a position in society as is accorded to those 
 whose actions and utterances demand the respect and 
 esteem of their fellow men. 
 
 His parents, though poor, were deeply religious, 
 and had taken every care to impress good principles 
 upon him in his youth, and until two or three years 
 preceding the interview just related, he had always 
 bore a good character, and was regarded as an exemplary 
 young man. The first vice that was ascribed to him, 
 if such a detriment can be termed a vice, was care- 
 lessness; and being unfortunately in a position where 
 every repetition of this fault caused a corresponding 
 deduction in his salary, it was not long before various 
 tradesmen had the name of Richard Howard on the 
 list known as “slow and doubtful.” Then followed 
 the discharge from his position as express messenger, 
 without a recommendation being granted him, so that 
 he now stood in desperate straits for the means of 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 181 
 
 subsistence. If he had been questioned as to the 
 causes which precipitated him to his present unhappy 
 plight, the reply given would undoubtedly have been, 
 “bad luck”, but a more shrewd observer would undoubt- 
 edly have laid it down to a mistaken marriage, coupled 
 with a spirit of discontent at not seeing any increases 
 in his worldly possessions, as the product of his toil. 
 However, to be on the safe side, let us attribute the 
 cause of his present misfortune to circumstances, which 
 is a good broad term, and takes in all such cases in 
 a vague indefinable way. How often some prisoner, 
 when standing at the bar of justice, mumbles inaudibly 
 something about the circumstances of his case in reply 
 to the judge’s usual query as to why sentence should 
 not be passed upon him, and then not wishing to ex- 
 pose the innermost wounds of his heart before the cal- 
 lous court-room attendants, he takes whatever sen- 
 tence is imposed without a murmur, and the impulses 
 that drove him to commit the crime, and which, if 
 properly explained, might cause worthy mitigation of 
 his punishment, are never brougth to light. 
 
 If Howard had been a deep-thinking man, or given 
 to any serious reflection, he would have put a check 
 in his down-hill course long before reaching his pres- 
 ent luckless position, but he did not even realize that 
 by answering such questions as those to which his 
 companion had alluded as necessary to make the rob- 
 bery a succcess, it was liable to ensnare him in the 
 meshes of the law. The solution, reserved in his mind, 
 as he arose from his seat upon the grass to accept 
 Jack’s offer to stand treat, was to withdraw immedi- 
 ately from such a dangerous plot, after securing some 
 other employment than that now offered by Stanton, 
 which, however distastful, he felt in duty bound to 
 
182 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 accept for the present, and although perfectly aware 
 of the tenacity of purpose which was so strong a char- 
 acteristic in his associate, yet he imagined that at any 
 time in the future, by magnifying the dangers of such 
 a nefarious scheme, the whole affair would fall through 
 and be abandoned. He thought, too, that by assuming 
 a spirit of passivity for the present it would not only 
 be a harmless deception, but also a stroke of good 
 policy whereby he would stand in the favor of his 
 bolder companion. 
 
 He was not so deceived in his own nature as to im- 
 agine that he could play the part allotted to the mid- 
 night robber who, under the guise of a mask, threatens 
 death with drawn revolver to all that oppose him. 
 Furthermore, he would not even care to know that 
 such an affair was about to happen whereby lives 
 migh be lost without taking proper steps to oppose 
 the executing of such a deed, unless he was so pushed 
 by privation, that he and his were suffering for the 
 necessities of life, which this scheme would re- 
 lieve if bought to a successful issue. 
 
 With the belief that our readers can from the fore- 
 going statement form some kind of an estimate of the 
 character of Richard Howard, it may not be amiss to 
 give a short narrative of the past record of his persent 
 associate, Jack Stanton, of whom scarcely so favorable 
 an analysis can be given. 
 
 He was about two years younger than Howard, both 
 being under thirty, and although gifted with good 
 health, and more than the usual amount of physical 
 strength allotted to the average man; and with noone 
 dependent upon him for support, as had Howard, yet 
 he could deliberately plan a raid upon the resources 
 of a corporation that had never laid so much asa 
 straw in his path. 
 
 DS 
 a 
 
. 
 
 A LUCKY MISHAP ; 183 
 
 He had a socialistic way of reasoning that the com- 
 mittal of any deed that would distribute throughout 
 the country the wealth acquired by thrifty banks or 
 corporations would not cause any great distress, and as 
 far as the law was concerned in such matters, he had 
 overstepped its bounds so often that nearly all re- 
 spect or fear from that source had died within him. 
 In his younger days he had generally been looked up- 
 on as a leader among the crowd of his boyhood asso- 
 ciates; partly by reason of his daring which usually 
 prompted him to be in the lead whenever an orchard 
 was to be pillaged, or the canvas of some visiting cir- 
 cus to be raised for the free admission of whoever 
 cared to brave the cudgels cf the guards; and partly 
 on account of his rough and sometimes severe way of 
 showing his disapproval of any underhand dealings, 
 by which one pal might victimize another. While 
 such a method might be beneficial to some erring mem- 
 bers of the “gang,” as they were dubbed by the police, 
 yet the socialistic ideas which he frequently expounded 
 upon the unequal distribution of this world’s wealth, 
 and his would-be method of righting this great wrong, 
 as he termed it, were so much more dangerous to those 
 who heard him than what few good principles he 
 might instill into the minds of his followers, that he 
 far outstripped the few good traits he upheld by the 
 evil sown in advocating such communistic theories. 
 
 His first imprisonment, which was the result of a 
 mere street brawl, had embittered his nature against 
 all humanity and especially all officers of the law, 
 whom he henceforth put down as the most unjust of 
 mankind, and while serving out his sentence in prison 
 he repeatedly vowed to have -revenge upon that self- 
 same officer who had so greatly exaggerated his mis- 
 
184 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 deeds at the time of his trial, as to influence both the 
 judge and jury against him. In turth, he had been 
 harshly dealt with in receiving such a punishment for 
 the part he had taken in the affray; but the police had 
 put him down as a dangerous person, long before the 
 altercation had occurred, and concluded that by meet- 
 ing out such.a sentecne to him singly, it would dis- 
 pose of the leader of an unruly element, and thus cause 
 a breakup of the “gang” into numerous smaller fact- 
 ions, which could be controlled much easier. 
 
 Jack’s revenge, which he took by almost beating the 
 life out of his old enemy, within three day after his 
 release from prison, had caused him to leave home at 
 once in order to avoid arrest, and though very young 
 (being only twenty-two) he was shrewd enough to know 
 that any letter sent to his parents would lead to his 
 capture, so he had abstained entirely from any com- 
 munication with them. This had caused him_no little 
 anxiety at first, for he still bore a bright spark of 
 affection for his parents in spite of his rough exterior, 
 and he always determined that, if by any chance he 
 should become possessed of a goodly portion of money, 
 to use a suitable portion of it in behalf of their com- 
 fort. His ever ready mind had long ago conceived 
 some plausible story of a lucky strike in some western 
 mining camp, to serve as the tale of explanation con- 
 cerning the source of such wealth. As year after year 
 went by without realizing his wish in that regard, for 
 which he had roved all over the western states, and 
 down among the levee camps on the lower Mississippi, 
 his nature had become hardened from disappointment 
 and the various scenes of life he had witnessed in his 
 travels. He had made several bold attempts to gain 
 possession of large amounts of money, without giving 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 185 
 
 a legitimate exchange of value, but from lack of know- 
 ledge of the inside workings of the different concerns 
 he had tried to plunder, the result had been repeated 
 failures; and in the last one, where he had planned to 
 entertain the paymaster of a large manufacturing 
 works, just before the hour of disbursement, he had 
 walked into a regular hornet’s nest, and in the act of 
 beating a hasty retreat had received a shot disabling 
 him, so that his capture was inevitable, and which 
 was speedily followed by trial and conviction. 
 
 In this disastrous venture, he had had for a compan- 
 ion the same luckless Bob Cook, who had received 
 the wound from the guard’s weapon on the night Jack 
 had succeeded in making his escape from prison. 
 Cook had been one of his most faithful chums in his 
 boyhood days, remaining loyal to his old leader, even 
 when that worthy had been sent to prison for the as- 
 sault upon the policemarf, and had left for the west 
 with Jack the night of the second affray with the 
 officer, since which time they had remained insepara- 
 ble companions up to the night of Jack’s escape from 
 prison. 
 
 The daring rough-and-ready spirit of his leader, had 
 proved to be a fatal fascination for poor Bob, as he 
 slowly realized after a few months of prison confine- 
 ment, and though he had only received a sentence of 
 five years, his nature was one of those which, like a 
 wild flower, however strong and hardy it may be upon 
 its native hillside, yet will wither and fade away if 
 transplanted within some secluded enclosure; and in- 
 deed even Jack, hardened as he had become, had not 
 seen the color fade from Bob’s once ruddy face and 
 the pale hopeless look set in without painful misgiv- 
 ings arising in his heart when he reflected that he alone 
 
186 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 was to blame for all of his companion’s misety. This 
 disturbing thought caused him to-~.resolve that if his 
 faithful pal should manage by good luck to live out 
 the term of his present confinement, that he would 
 never drag poor Cook into any lawless affair again; 
 for he could see that it only needed a few years of 
 prison life, to lay his faithful but deluded friend in 
 the grave. 
 
 Had the late war been raging at the time of Jack’s 
 release from prison, it is quite possible that therein 
 he might have distinguished himself in some noted 
 worthy exploit, had not a flying bullet cut short his 
 career; but with the nation at peace and all men striv- 
 ing to attain their wants by legitimate honest industry, 
 he stood as a disturbing element to society and his 
 very influence which drew naturally others of a weaker 
 mind toward him, had an evil tendency that would 
 soon place any admiring adherent behind iron bars, if 
 not eventually upon the scaffold, although to give him 
 his due. Jack had never yet taken human life though 
 coming very near it on several occasions. 
 
 With the belief that our readers can rightly imagine 
 from a persual of this tiresome explanation, the sort 
 of an individual that existed in the person of Jack 
 Stanton, or, to speak correctly, Jack Oldham, we shall 
 now return to our narrative. 
 
 It was quite an hour later, and the dusk of evening 
 had begun to set its shadows, when the two men 
 emerged from the café opposite the park and as they 
 strolled slowly down the street toward the heart of the 
 city the transitory nature of Howard now that the in- 
 ner man was fully satisfied became at once apparent, 
 
 “I say Jack,” he began with a weak smile that would 
 have required more than one glass of ale to produce 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP | 187 
 
 its conterpart. “Hadn’t we better let that business 
 drop altogether? Neither of us would make much of 
 a success asa train-robber. It takes men who play 
 cards for all they’re worth to win at that kind of a 
 racket and it’s an infernal bad business to be mixed 
 up in anyway, old boy. I think I can get along some- 
 how if you will only give me a help until I catch on 
 to something in my line. What do you say Jack? 
 We had better cut the affair hadn’t we?” 
 
 The outlaw took a few fierce whiffs at the cigar he 
 was smoking and was silent a moment or two before 
 attempting a reply; then slowly, as if weighing each 
 word carefully before speaking he said: “Well Dick 
 I understood you to say back there in the chop house 
 that even if we were to try such a thing it would not 
 be best to make the attempt until late in the fall and 
 as that is a long way off perhaps we had better not 
 say anything more about the matter at present. Of 
 course I wouldn’t make a move in the affair without 
 your full knowledge and consent, and if your prospects 
 brighten as favorably as you expect, so that you can 
 see your way clear through the winter, I suppose that 
 would end the matter entirely. As for giving youa 
 help, Dick, I will do all I can, and you are welcome 
 to that place I spoke about, no matter what course 
 you take in regard to this other business. Of course 
 what has been said between us, please keep to your- 
 self; and, by the way, Dick, I am going under the 
 name of Williams here, so remember when you come 
 over to my place in the morning, to ask for John 
 Williams.” 
 
 This reply which Jack gave forth without the slight- 
 est show of displeasure at the change in his compan- 
 ion’s spirit, caused Howard to think that he had indeed 
 
188 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 met with one who would befriend him at all hazards; 
 and when the two men parted that night, he walked 
 briskly off, building high hopes on the livelihood 
 which he felt sure of attaining, now that a foothold 
 had been accorded him. 
 
 “So kind in Jack too, with nothing but boyhood’s 
 acquaintance between us, to take such an interest in 
 my welfare,” thought Howard as he hurried home- 
 ward to impart this bit of good news to his wife with the 
 idea that it would cause a_ cessation of the utterances 
 of discontent from that quarter at any rate. 
 
 A queer sort of smile stole over the outlaw’s face, 
 as he walked slowly down the street, after taking a 
 long parting look at Howard’s retreating figure. 
 
 “Weak. No use to depend on anything from him,” 
 he muttered to himself. “I see through you, Richard, 
 clear as daylight. You wouldn’t take a hand in such 
 a thing, unless starving to death. 
 
 “Well, Dick, you will think before long you told your 
 story to the wrong lad. Humph! it was lucky I gave 
 him the racket about helping him, and not doing any- 
 thing at present. I’ll just keep that up, too, but all the 
 same, there will be another train robbery next October, 
 and I’ll play the ‘heavy villain’ if I ‘star it’ alone.” 
 
 He ceased his soliloquy as he came to a narrow 
 hallway and, walking in, ascended the stairs to his 
 room. Upon entering the apartment, he locked the 
 door carefully behind him, lighted the Jamp which 
 stood upon the table and, after glancing sharply all 
 around the room to make certain that he was entirely 
 alone, he blew out the light, then raising the window 
 that faced the street, he took a seat beside it, and be- 
 gan smoking anew, as if intent upon a mental reflec 
 tion on some tangled subject. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 2 189 
 
 “Whew! but it’s infernally hot in here,” he ejacu- 
 lated, and rising from his seat, he took off his coat 
 and vest and was just in the act of tossing them over 
 toward the lounge on the opposite side of the room, 
 when he suddenly checked the movement, and run- 
 ning his hand down the inside pocket of his vest, he 
 withdrew a short heavy revolver, and laid it beside 
 him on the window-sill. “Just as well to have old 
 friends close at hand,” he added grimly glancing down 
 at the weapon which was exposed to view by the rays 
 of the moon, which shone directly into the room 
 . through the open window. Then composing himself 
 again, he gazed out upon the quiet street, as though 
 completely lost in reverie. 
 
 “By jingo!” he presently muttered under his breath 
 “If ever I am to make a big haul, this is my chance. 
 —Let me see; I’ll need another man, sure, and who 
 the deuce can I get? Not a single soul here, that I 
 could trust, even to talk over such a thing. If only 
 Joe was alive! Wouldn’t he be there in great shape? 
 Poor fellow! he didn’t last long,” and here he stopped 
 smoking for a moment while a far-away half sad 
 -look came into his face, as though the mention of “Joe” 
 had recalled the remembrance of other days, and scenes 
 now passed and gone. 
 
 “Now let’s see,” he continued presently. “Dick said 
 in the restaurant that the government money went 
 down into the Indian Nation every six months. I 
 guess it won’t hurt the blasted red skins to wait a 
 few weeks longer than usual for their money this fall, 
 and some of those big tads who eat strawberries in 
 January, can get even by buying ’em in June like the 
 rest of us poor devils.— But who in thunder shall I 
 get?” and here he stopped while a perplexed look 
 
Igo A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 settled in his face which did not entirely wear away as 
 he proceeded: “If I only knew where Wright was, he 
 would do first rate, but I suppose it would take me six 
 
 months to find him, and that wouldn’t pay. Now. 
 
 there’s Morgan,” he continued in a doubtful tone. “But 
 he was always put down as a very light weight, yet 
 there’s no telling how some chaps will turn out in the 
 course of a few years, and perhaps after all he might 
 fill the bill, as railroad work is right in his line. What 
 was that Dick said about him?—Gone to Deadwood to 
 tend bar in the saloon of some variety theatre. Humph! 
 If he’s half as tough as the job he’s got, he’ll do with- 
 out a doubt. I’ll just write to him to-night, and get 
 him to meet me in Omaha, where I will suppose the 
 case to him, and see how anxious he is to risk his 
 precious life for a fortune.” 
 
 And as Howard lay sleeping the first good night’s 
 rest he had enjoyed for many a week, little did he 
 dream that his late easy-going companion was busily 
 engaged in writing a letter with the intention of taking 
 a most dangerous advantage of what he had carelessly 
 disclosed during the conversation in the afternoon. 
 
 And when the far distant bell of some factory tolled 
 -out the hour of midnight, that letter was already lying 
 in wait for despatch within the mail-box on, the cor- 
 ner, adjacent to Stanton’s room, and whose writing 
 marked the first move in an act, that later on, changed 
 the destiny in half a score of lives completely. 
 
 =— 
 
CHAPTER XIII 
 
 All St. Louis was astir, when Hart stepped down 
 from the train at the depot, for although it was yet 
 quite early in the morning, every small urchin well 
 knew that the “Glorious Fourth of July” had come 
 again, and that the celebration of it could not begin 
 any too soon to satisfy his desire for noise and dis- 
 play. 
 
 As Hart had come in the express car with one of 
 the company’s messengers, he had managed to obtain 
 a good night’s rest by arranging a rough sort of cot 
 upon the floor of the car, and, after securing a good 
 breakfast at one of the many restaurants that abound 
 around the depot, he reported at headquarters, where 
 he was notified to be in readiness to take out a run up- 
 on the main line on the evening of the following day. 
 
 From headquarters, he started out with the inten- 
 tion of finding Rushing, and surprising him by his 
 presence at such an unexpected time. 
 
 He walked up the street to the office of the news- 
 paper, where Ben was now employed, only to be in- 
 formed that he had stepped out just a few minutes be- 
 fore, upon his customary tour in search of news, but 
 that he would probably drop in once or twice before 
 noon, to catch any instructions that might come 
 in by telephone:—Would Hart have a seat, and wait, 
 or leave his name_and call again? inquired the genial 
 clerk in charge of the office. 
 
 Hart left a note with the clerk for Ben, in which 
 
 19] 
 
1g2 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 he promised to call again at the office between seven 
 and eight o’clock that evening, and hoped that Ben 
 would then be at leisure to see him. Then taking his 
 departure, he strolled up and down the streets, among 
 the noisy jostling crowd, for an hour or so, until his 
 footsteps finally led him down toward the river where 
 it was unusually quiet as most of the deck-hands and 
 roustabouts who constitute the major part of the levee 
 crowd, had taken themselves up town, to witness the 
 scenes incidental to such a day; and as traffic was en- 
 tirely suspended, it seemed as if this spot was the 
 coolest and quietest place he could have sought. 
 
 He often wished to take an inside view of the ma- 
 chinery from which the big river steamers derive their 
 power so, sauntering across the gang-plank, he went 
 aboard one of the huge packet-liners that ply between 
 that city and new Orleans and after a tour of inspec- 
 tion over the machinery on the lower deck, he passed 
 on upstairs by permission of the watchman, until he 
 stood upon the roof of the “Texas” where he was 
 greeted by such a cool refreshing breeze from off the 
 river, that he seated himself in the shade of the pilot- 
 house and began to take a view of the surroundings. 
 
 As he sat gazing up and down the river at the long 
 row of steamers that were anchored fast to the wharf, 
 he began thinking how fortunate had been his lot in 
 securing the position he was about to take, and so 
 contented and buoyant were his spirits, that he felt 
 grateful toward all humanity. It seemed to him that 
 now was the first time in his life when every wish that 
 he could reasonably desire was about to be gratified. 
 While it was true that the foolish expectations which 
 he once had conceived in regard to making a rapid 
 stride to fortune, were entirely eradicated from his 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 193 
 
 mind by the practical experience he had undergone in 
 the past few months, yet the dismissal of those fan- 
 cies had not created a trace of bitter feeling within 
 him. With the increase of salary which would come 
 with this new position, he would be able to savea 
 considerable portion which might in the course of 
 eight or ten years enable him to purchase an interest 
 in some small business, where he would be indepen- 
 dent of the commands of a superior. He then imag- 
 ined that a happy time would ensue on the coming 
 Christmas, when he would go home on a visit, and see 
 again the dear faces of those he loved so well. And 
 what a jolly handshaking he would get from all his 
 acquaintances about the village. He even pictured an 
 afternoon with Mr. Oldham, shooting rabbits down 
 along the creek bottom, a sport which he knew the 
 old man enjoyed so much; in fact, so full had been 
 the measure of Hart’s gratitude toward ail mankind, 
 that there was not a single thought in his mind that 
 bordered on anxiety in the slightest degree. Happy 
 Hart! How long was he to remain in this blessed 
 state of contentment? 
 
 It was not until the noon whistle sounded from some 
 ot the adjacent boats, that he deserted his seat upon 
 the cabin roof and, decending to the deck, made his 
 way up town to refresh the inner man, whose appetite 
 had been whetted not a little by the cool breeze from 
 off the river. 
 
 After dinner, he wandered aimlessly along the 
 crowded streets in the endeavor to do some sight-see- 
 ing that might be beneficial to him in the future, and 
 to kill the time, which still intervened before the hour 
 appointed for the meeting with Rushing; and it was 
 between three and four o’clock that afternoon, when, 
 
194 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 after visiting several departments whose doors were 
 thrown open to the public, as a means of advertise- 
 ment, he found himself in a _ picture-gallery upon the 
 second floor of a mammoth institution which was 
 thronged by parties of both sexes, who were scrutin- 
 izing the various paintings, and passing comments up- 
 on them with all the assurance of critics. 
 
 Passing to the front of the hall, which was tempor- 
 arily vacated by the art-loving visitors, Hart began ex- 
 amining some of the pictures in search of a hunting 
 scene. He had not proceeded very far along the wall, 
 before he came across a huge marine painting that 
 held him a spell-bound captive before it. In truth, it 
 was a magnificent picture yet not one that would re- 
 quire a great blending of different colors and shades 
 such as acritic delights to view with the idea of form- 
 ing therefrom an estimate of the artist’s talent. 
 
 The design of the painting was simply a scene in 
 mid-ocean; a steamer passing a huge ice-berg that 
 towers up hundreds of feet above the vessel which ap- 
 pears a pigmy beside the tremendous mass of frozen 
 matter. The ocean, blue and ever-restless, was de- 
 picted in its true dark blue tone, and there was just 
 that shade of difference between the white upon the 
 sides of the ship and the clear dead white of the ice- 
 berg which seemed to denote the endeavor of the artist 
 in trying to show the difference between the spotless 
 purity of nature and man’s ingenious but slightly 
 tainted imitation upon the ship’s timbers. 
 
 So intently was Hart’s gaze fixed upon this work of 
 art, that he did not notice the approach of a young 
 lady who was accompanied by an elderly gentleman, 
 both of whom were regarding him quite earnestly; 
 and Hart was quite startled-when he heard a voice ex- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 195 
 
 claim at his elbow: “I beg pardon, young man, but 
 I noticed you regarding this painting so steadily, that 
 I thought I would ask what there is about it that ex- 
 cites your admiration.” 
 
 Hart turned slightly to take a look at the speaker, 
 who appeared to him as one of those benevolent old 
 gentlemen who are always eager for a conversation on 
 some topic, and, without seeing the young lady, who 
 was standing a few feet to the left, and looking di- 
 rectly at him, he replied to the old gentleman with an 
 odd dash of frankness in his tone which could find 
 utterance from only a pure honest mind: “I am afraid 
 . I can hardly explain what it is in the picture that at- 
 tracts me so, but there is a something in the way that 
 huge dangerous iceberg howers so grandly above the 
 ship that it almost seems as if the frozen mass were 
 endowed, with life, and would crush the vessel into a 
 mere cockle shell if its anger were aroused. It also 
 incites one’s thoughts to regard the immensity of na- 
 ture, for one must realize what a depth the ocean must 
 have to float such a bulk; for, of course, the greater 
 portion of the mass is beneath the surface of the water. 
 It must be quite an inspiring sight to witness such a 
 frozen, lifeless mass drifting about in mid-ocean. I 
 think after all,” continued Hart enthusiastically as he 
 still gazed at the painting, “that it is a merciful thing 
 that the huge mass is not endowed with life for, if so, 
 
 What a torture would its thoughts be 
 - As it drifted on its way, 
 
 Losing all its power of grandeur 
 
 Growing smaller day by day; 
 
 While the ocean currents force it 
 
 To the distant sunny clime, 
 
 Where its proud head will be lowered 
 Soon to sink and there repine. 
 
196 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 I suppose the currents of the ocean do carry them 
 down toward the Equator, do they not?” asked Hart 
 with his eyes still fixed upon the object of his inspir- 
 ation. 
 
 “I—I believe they do get within the power of 
 the Gulf Stream, and are carried down toward 
 the Bermudas,” said the old gentleman somewhat 
 hurriedly as though he had been a little surprised 
 by Hart’s comments upon the merits of the ob- 
 ject under discussion. “I remember seeing one when 
 I crossed the Atlantic in ’69, but our captain gave his 
 Bergship a much wider berth than is shown in this 
 picture. But, young man, there are hundreds of other 
 paintings here, by artists reputed to be much superior 
 to the one who painted that canvas. Do you not ad- 
 mire any of the others?” he asked while a curious 
 smile came over his face on perceiving that Hart had 
 not yet noticed his fair companion. 
 
 “Oh, yes; I remember seeing some that seemed more 
 difficult to transfer to canvas owing to the variety of 
 objects that were introduced; but while the artist in 
 that case may be more skillful with the brush, yet I 
 am sure this one has few peers inthe art of re-produc- 
 ing a fascinating scene. This picture imparts new 
 thoughts, new ideas, and stirs up feelings which seem 
 to be dying out in this age, for the lack of just such 
 incentives.” 
 
 “Well I must say, young man, that your views are 
 quite entertaining, and some day in the future I should 
 like to follow up this line of discussion in regard to 
 what possible influence the design of a picture could 
 exert upon the human mind. J think, however, that 
 if such a line of thought was cultivated very highly, 
 it might lead the student into the error of becoming 
 
 wth 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 197 
 
 so high-strung in his ideas, that he would constantly 
 be at’ war with the present forms of society. In other 
 words, he would lose tact, become undiplomatic on oc- 
 casions when that art might be most successfully used 
 in order to correct wrong impressions one might have 
 formed concerning another, by listening to the hearsay 
 of Tom, Dick and Harry; and it might also save one 
 the mortification of perceiving he had wounded the 
 feelings of another. Am I not right in my theory, 
 Mr. Furlong?” queried the stranger pleasantly. 
 
 “I don’t quite understand you, sir,” said Hart com- 
 pletely at a loss to understand his inferences, and by 
 what means the stranger had become informed of his 
 name, for although the old gentleman’s countenance 
 seemed slightly familiar, he could not recall where he 
 had seen it before. 
 
 “Before I explain myself, allow me to introduce you 
 to my niece,” said the gentleman, and as Hart wheeled 
 around to follow the gesture of his newly-made ac- 
 quaintance, he perceived in one swift glance that the 
 young lady who now smilingly advanced to meet him, 
 was none other than the heroine of the runaway acci- 
 dent, wherein he had been of such signal service. 
 
 “My niece, Miss Nora Arbor,—Mr. Furlong,” said 
 Mr. Bancroft, for the stranger was none other than he, 
 and so easy and affable was the old gentleman’s man- 
 ner, that Hart began to regain his composure which 
 had been ruffled not a little by the unexpected sudden- 
 ness of the meeting. 
 
 “I am very happy to meet you, Mr. Furlong,” said 
 Nora, as she extended her hand in welcome. “I—I, 
 we all feel so thankful for what you did at the time of 
 the runaway, that it has made us feel despicable ever 
 since to think we never thanked you for it.” 
 
198 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 As Hart stood before her with his hat in one hand 
 and her daintily gloved hand in the other, their eyes 
 met for an instant and, as he gazed down upon the 
 girl’s fair face turned toward him with such a trusting 
 look of gratitude imprinted on it, he felt a sting of re- 
 morse as he reflected upon the rude course he had pur- 
 sued in not calling upon them before he left town. 
 
 Not that he was simply desirous of having the hon- 
 or of Nora’s friendship, but her wish to express the 
 gratitude she felt toward him, was so earnestly appar- 
 ent that the sense of Mr. Bancroft’s reasoning came to 
 him quite forcibly. 
 
 “T believe my friend, Mr. Rushing, explained the 
 reason why I could not keep the appointment promised 
 to your friend, Mr Norman. I was compelled to leave 
 the city on such short notice, that it was impossible 
 for me to find even an hour’s spare time,” here he 
 flushed guiltily, for he felt so thoroughly ashamed of 
 his previous action that he became desperate enough 
 to venture even into the straits of a mild falsehood in 
 order to smooth over his former rudeuess. 
 
 “To-day is the first time I have been in the city 
 since then, and if you will still extend that invitation 
 to me, I can assure you, Miss Arbor, it would give 
 me great pleasure to receive such an extension of the 
 opportunity,” he added eagerly. 
 
 “Oh, certainly; by all means,” said Nora quickly. 
 “My brother Will, and his wife, who was the other 
 lady in the carriage with me, are very desirous of 
 meeting you. We were quite disappointed when your 
 friend, Mr. Rushing, called to tell us of your depar- 
 ture from the city—Were we not, uncle?” she added 
 turning to the old gentleman for a corroboration of 
 her statement. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 199 
 
 “Ves, indeed,” assented Mr. Bancroft. “We shall 
 be very glad to see Mr. Furlong at the house any even- 
 ing. IthinkI had better tell you though, young man, 
 that thanks are all you will receive from us for your 
 services on that Sunday afternoon. We are a fearful 
 stingy crowd, and I am completely at a loss to see 
 how Mr. Disroe got the idea of a reward being in store 
 for you. Blest if I can understand how George got 
 this affair so mixed up with another matter entirely 
 different. Oh no, young man. Thanks are so much 
 cheaper to expend than cash, that we never use the 
 latter except in cases of necessity,” and the hearty 
 laugh which broke forth from the old man, gave Hart 
 to understand that Ben had indeed told them the true 
 reason why he had failed to call upon them; and as 
 he walked at Nora’s side to the front of the hall, to 
 take seats, in pursuance of a suggestion from Mr. Ban- 
 croft, he felt nettled on perceiving how quickly his 
 mild deceit had been exposed. 
 
 “You discourse quite eloquently upon the merits of 
 that oil-painting, Mr. Furlong. If d were the artist, I 
 would not wish for any higher encomium,” remarked 
 Nora after they had all taken seats near the windows. 
 
 “I think you had better put that down as simple 
 effervescence resulting from an abundance of good 
 spirits, or a desire to strike up a coversation with Mr, 
 Bancroft, whom I supposed to be quite a cosmopolitan 
 by his manner of addressing me. At anyrate, Miss 
 Arbor, don’t accord to me the gift of eloquence, for 
 that is the very accomplishment in which I am most 
 deficient.” 
 
 “And pray, what might be the cause of your good 
 spirits, friend Furlong?” chimed in the old gentleman 
 with a mock Quaker accent. ‘“Prithee is it a case of 
 
200 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 early marriage or a decree of divorce that you rejoice 
 thereat,” and the merry laugh that this sally provoked, 
 broke the last remnants of ice between the young 
 couple, and set them all at ease. 
 
 “Neither one of those enjoyments I can assure you. 
 It is only at attaining a grade higher in the business 
 in which I am now employed. I have just been trans- 
 ferred toa route that runs out from here, and it is, in 
 every way, a much better position,” replied Hart with 
 a slight trace of pride in his tone which he really felt 
 at his promotion. 
 
 “Tam glad to hear of your advancement,” responded 
 Mr. Bancroft quite heartily’—But tell me, will you be 
 at leisure next Friday evening?” he asked as he drew 
 in his head from a hasty glance out of the window in- 
 to the street below. 
 
 It took Hart but afew seconds to figure out the 
 duration of time required to make the trip out upon 
 his new route and return, and perceiving upon calcu- 
 lation that he would be again in fhe city on the day 
 mentioned, barring any accidental delays, he gave an 
 affirmative answer. 
 
 “Then I want you and your friend Mr. Rushing to 
 consider yourselves invited to a small whist party at 
 our house, at which I am sure both Nora and Mrs. 
 Arbor will be quite pleased to have the pleasure of 
 your company. It will also give Mr. Arbor a chance 
 to interview you upon an old score which I would 
 rather let him explain in person. And now you will 
 have to excuse me a minute for I must attend to that 
 horse of mine, which I see is backing and prancing 
 around in a way that will cause damage to the car- 
 riage, unless checked at once. I have no doubt but 
 that you young folks can find something to talk about 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 201 
 
 while I am gone. If everything else fails, Nora, why 
 just return to the discussion of that picture. Ill 
 guarantee you will find him eloquent enough on that 
 subject,” and with a laugh the old gentleman bustled 
 off, leaving the young couple together. 
 
 “We ought to be quite old friends, Mr. Furlong,” be- 
 gan Nora. “My brother learned from Mr. Huntoon 
 that our fathers became acquainted during the war.” 
 And in reply to Harts’ inquiry of how the friendship 
 had occurred, Nora related the incident concerning the 
 watch, and how Mr. Huntoon had so corroborated the 
 circumstances that it left no doubt but that Hart’s 
 father was the same confederate prisoner of years be- 
 fore. 
 
 “IT remember my father speaking about his capture 
 with others, during the war, and of the friendly treat- 
 ment he received from the union soldiers who guarded 
 them, but it has been so long ago, that all remem- 
 brance of names in connection with that event, has 
 faded from my memory.—lIt is curious how such affairs 
 often have a sequel to them, is it not, Miss Arbor?” 
 innocently commented Hart. 
 
 “Very curious,” assented Nora nervously. An awk- 
 ward pause followed this reply, and for a moment, 
 Nora thought that she would indeed have to act on 
 her uncle’s suggestion and bring up the picture again 
 as a topic of conversation, when Hart suddenly broke 
 forth: “Oh, by the way, Miss Arbor, I never learned 
 if any casualties resulted from the runaway. Did Mrs. 
 Arbor and the children suffer any illness by reason of 
 the shock?” 
 
 “There is no telling what they might have suffered, 
 but for your bravery, Mr. Furlong. As it was, how- 
 ever, no one received even a bruise, and I suppose I 
 
202 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 must have been the most frightened person in the 
 carriage, for they say I fainted dead away, when it was 
 all over. JI remember everything until you succeeded 
 in stopping Prince, and were tying him to the bridge- 
 railing, and then all is a blank, until I came to with 
 Will and uncle John beside me.—Why did you leave 
 so suddenly?” asked Nora looking at Hart in a half 
 curious manner. ; 
 
 “Well, the fact was, Miss Arbor,” said Hart with an 
 audacious smile, “that I was quite interested in my 
 task of bathing your head and face, with the assistance 
 of Mrs. Arbor, and I assure you, I did not like to de- 
 sert the position, but when your brother and Mr. Ban- 
 croft hurried forward, I saw at once that they had 
 superior authority in the case, so I gave way to them, 
 and went back along the road to find my hat.” 
 
 Nora flushed crimson at this allusion to that part of 
 the accident, and Hart, thinking she might have taken 
 offence at his manner of speaking, exclaimed hastily: 
 
 "I hope I haven’t offended you, Miss Arbor. Perhaps 
 I spoke a little too freely on the short acquaintance 
 I possess. If so, I most humbly beg your pardon.” 
 
 “No apologies are necessary, Mr. Furlong, I only 
 feel vexed at myself when | think how weak I was the 
 very moment when a spirit of courage or at least self- 
 possession was required,” said Nora on recovering her 
 composure to some degree. 
 
 “My remembrance of the affair is, that you were the 
 only one in the carriage who did retain self-possession, 
 while the danger was imminent. When the carriage 
 was coming toward me, I could see you tugging at the 
 reins with all the strenght you possessed, and also 
 keeping the horse in the road which was all that was 
 possible for you to do under the circumstances. I 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 203 
 
 don’t think it was fright that caused you to faint, but 
 rather the sudden change of feeling that comes over us 
 when our fears are suddenly dispelled. Don’t you think 
 that is the correct supposition of the affair, Miss Ar- 
 bor?” asked Hart very pleasantly with the intention of 
 atoning for his previous boldness. 
 
 “You handle my case admirably. In truth, I think 
 you would make a first-class lawyer, Mr. Furlong; for 
 with the evidence all against me, you still manage to 
 create a doubt in my favor,” said Nora with one of her 
 sweetest smiles, for indeed Hart’s adroit way of ad- 
 vancing such a theory was not without a certain charm 
 of gratification to her. 
 
 And so the conversation proceeded with rarely a 
 moment’s silence to cause a break in the repartee that 
 passed merrily to and fro, and the fact that his fair 
 companion was indeed possessed of the major part of 
 the many varied accomplishments that Rushing had 
 described in his letters, soon became impressed upon 
 Hart. How long the conversation lasted, they little 
 guessed, for it seemed to Hart, that upon any topic 
 he chose to introduce, the views and opinions ex- 
 pressed by Nora, indicated a mind of more than ordin- 
 ary cultivation in one so young, so that when Mr. 
 Bancroft returned, after having extended his trip 
 across the way to a lawyer’s office, he needed but to 
 glance at the young folks, to see that the time had 
 not hung heavy upon them by any means. 
 
 After another half-hour’s conversation indulged in 
 by all three, in which the jolly humor of the old gen- 
 tleman broke forth in sallies of wit, they perceived that 
 by far the greater part of the afternoon had passed, 
 and upon Mr. Bancroft’s remark to that effect, they 
 arose and descended the stairs to the street below, 
 where the carriage was in waiting. 
 
204 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 "Is not that my old friend?” Hart asked of Nora, as 
 he nodded toward the horse which Mr. Bancroft was 
 unfastening from the hitching-post. 
 
 “Yes; that is Prince, the same horse that we had on 
 that Sunday afternoon, but we have a curb-bit on him 
 now and are always careful to keep away from the 
 cars. But, Mr. Furlong, we can never thank you suffi- 
 ciently for what you did that afternoon. It was so 
 fortunate that you happened to be there,” said Nora 
 very earnestly. 
 
 "Yes; it was quite fortunate for me, for if I had not 
 been there, I might never have had the pleasure-sof 
 forming your acquaintance,” answered Hart in a tone 
 not intended for the ears of the old gentleman, who 
 was busy attaching the check-rein to the horse’s head, 
 and as Hart assisted Nora into the carriage, the blush 
 which this gallant remark had caused, did not fade 
 away until her uncle came forward, when Hart at once 
 politely tipped his hat and withdrew. 
 
 As he walked leisurely down the street, after seeing 
 the carriage containing his newly formed acquaintances 
 disappear around the adjacent corner, the conviction 
 same to him that it had been a long time since he had 
 spent so pleasant an afternoon. The frank affable 
 manner in which Nora had.shown the pleasure she felt 
 at meeting him and the good-natured spirit of Mr. 
 Bancroft, which had banished every feeling of con- 
 straint and aided so much in drawing him out in. con- 
 
 versation, that now upon reflection on the interview, - 
 
 he felt a certain sense of gratification in the fact that 
 he had not conducted himself asa SRCRS ene answered 
 questions by a response of “yes,” or “no. 
 
 He met Rushing that evening at _ the office of the 
 newspaper, and to say that Ben was pleased to hear of 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 205 
 
 Hart’s transfer to the city, would be a very mild way 
 of expressing that young man’s delight; but when 
 Hart proceeded to tell of his unexpected meeting with 
 Mr. Bancroft and Miss Arbor at the picture-gallery, 
 and of the invitation extended to them both for the 
 following Friday evening, he was completely amazed 
 at the way events had so rapidly converged. 
 
 “You are really in luck, old boy;” Ben remarked, 
 as they strolled slowly along the street, stopping every 
 now and then, to view the illuminations at different 
 points. “You are going up hill too rapidly altogether. 
 I rather think a small dose of adversity would bea 
 good tonic for you, but people who ought to know say 
 that that comes quick enough in this world, so per- 
 haps we had better not even joke about it, neverthe- 
 less, it gives one the chance of finding out his true 
 friends, and that knowledge once attained, is an in- 
 valuable aid to us, for the balance of our lifetime.” 
 
 “There is an old maxim, Ben, that was a favorite 
 with one of our country school-teachers, and he was 
 always quoting it to us on every occasion: ‘Hew to 
 the line, let the chips fall where they may.’ I have 
 tried to work by that rule for some time lately, and if 
 trouble does come, I shall meet it with clean hands, 
 however black the case may appear,” said Hart quite 
 earnestly. 
 
 “Why, Hart, you talk as though the only trouble 
 that might befall you, would be some case in which 
 suspicion was cast upon you. You seem to forget that 
 there are many other troubles with which we have to 
 contend such as deaths, accidents, loss of position, 
 etc.,” responded Ben in a tone indicating that he felt 
 rather hurt at the serious way Hart had taken his 
 thoughtless comment. 
 
206 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Oh! I took no offence, Ben, at your remark. But 
 such affairs as deaths or accidents, are unavoidable 
 events in every person’s life, and scarcely ever serve 
 the purpose of testing anyone’s friendship. Every one 
 attends funerals, nowadays, when perhaps their feel- 
 ings are not very much harrowed by the loss of the 
 deceased. The way you talked of testing friendship, 
 could not be construed in any other way than one 
 fraught with suspicion,” replied Hart in so friendly a 
 manner, that it completely mollified Ben. 
 
 “Well, how long are you two cads going to stand 
 there talking about friendship and suspicion, and 
 never even notice an old chum?” exclaimed a drawling 
 voice behind them, and as both Hart and Ben wheeled 
 around in surprise, they beheld just back of them and 
 leaning idly upon the protecting railing of a store 
 front, the speaker, George Disroe. 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Richard Howard had not put in very many weeks 
 of labor at the task Stanton had given him before he 
 became convinced that his employer was thinking and 
 even figuring at times upon something else than the 
 mere work of hauling, which was the principal line of 
 his business. 
 
 At times he became alarmed thinking that maybe 
 Jack was arranging some plan operating against the 
 corporation which had formerly employed him, but 
 reflection upon the fact that Jack had said nothing 
 further to him about it, nor asked a single question 
 concerning the road, caused him to dismiss the idea 
 as one naturally would under such circumstances. It 
 was true his suspicions were aroused about a fortnight 
 after he had been at work, when Jack suddenly absented 
 himself for three ‘days, but as Stanton had stated upon 
 his return that he had only taken a run upto Milwau- 
 kee, to see some former companions, who were located 
 there, he relapsed into the belief that whatever nefa- 
 rious schemes hiscompanion might be planning, they 
 were not of a nature that in any way concerned him. 
 About the same time that these ideas were stirring up 
 Howard’s curiosity, the want of money for various 
 uses was causing some sharp words to pass between 
 himself and his wife occasionally, and these scenes 
 were to his sensitive nature like the application of 
 thongs to the flesh. The wages he received, did not 
 appear to be sufficient to keep up with the expenses of 
 
 207 
 
208 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 his little household, so that it soon became apparent to 
 him, as he grew deeper in debt, that nothing short of 
 a miracle would put him straight with the world, and 
 keep him in that position; and this thought at times, 
 caused him to regret the manner of his speech which he 
 imagined had checked the outlaw’s intended raid upon 
 the express corporation. With this regret assailing 
 him, he began to wish that Jack would again bring 
 up the subject; he disliked doing so himself, after 
 having shown the inconstancy of his mind on the first 
 occasion, but as day after day went by, and instead of 
 Stanton’s talkative powers expanding upon the desired 
 yet dreaded subject, he seemed to become more taci- 
 turn than ever. Howard finally determined to broach 
 the topic even at the risk of receiving some scathing 
 reply about the fickleness of his previous action. 
 
 A few days after he had come to this conclusion 
 the occasion to talk upon this subject presented itself 
 as he and Jack were returning from a stroll about town 
 one Sunday evening, so casting aside all traces of hesi- 
 tation, he began determinedly: “Jack, have you ever 
 thought anything further of that affair we talked about 
 the first day I met you in the park?” 
 
 “What affair do you mean?” asked Jack, as_ though 
 astonished at the question. 
 
 “Why, the plan you suggested in regard to the train- 
 robbery. Surely you haven’t already forgotten what 
 we then spent two or three hours studying over,” an- 
 swered Howard ina low tone, glancing around to see 
 that nobody was near enough to overhear anything 
 that might be said. 
 
 “Oh, yes; I remember now,” exclaimed Stanton, as 
 though suddenly recalling to his memory an idea that 
 had lain dormant ever since. “But, Dick, I didn’t 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 209 
 
 like to make a start at such a big case as that would 
 be, when I received such poor encouragement from 
 you. It takes all the heart out of a fellow to geta 
 dash of cold water, when he expects assurance and 
 advice. I am glad now that I didn’t go any deeper 
 into it.” 
 
 “Well, then, what is it you are now figuring on, 
 Jack? I am sure you have something similar in tow,” 
 said Howard. 
 
 “What makes you think so?” asked Jack, and it 
 was now his turn to regard his companion with sur- 
 prise. 
 
 “«Straws show which way the wind blows,’ you 
 know, and I have noticed several queer occurrences 
 lately. Now, there was that letter you got the other 
 day, which you put away so hastily, for fear I might 
 see it, and I saw you examining some kind of a map, 
 as I drove in the other evening, but you also got that 
 out of sight before I was down from the wagon seat. 
 What is it you are driving at, Jack? Surely you can 
 trust an old friend like me,” said Howard ina tone 
 which denoted that he felt hurt at his companion’s 
 secretiveness in regard to the matter. 
 
 For a moment, Jack was silent but, by the expres- 
 sion of his face, it was evident that he was rapidly 
 revolving some question in his mind, and at length 
 he spoke slowly, as though carefully weighing each 
 word as it left his lips. 
 
 “There are a couple of fellows up at Milwaukee, 
 Dick, that I became acquainted with in New Orleans 
 last winter, and the chances are that the three of us 
 will go south again some time in November. They 
 had some scheme partly mapped out, before I met you, 
 to catch a paymaster down along the government 
 
210 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 works on the Mississippi, and I was thinking some of 
 taking a hand init. It is not likely to prove so diffi- 
 cult an affair as yours would be, nor likely to pay as 
 well in case it succeeds, but further than this, I do 
 not care to say anything concerning it.” 
 
 This ready explanation which seemed to be corrobor- 
 ated by Stanton’s trip to Milwaukee, completely al- 
 layed any suspicions of Jack being engaged in looking 
 up locations or gathering points relative to the sede 
 scheme, that had entered Howard’s mind. 
 
 Another short silence ensued, as each walked on, 
 wondering what were the innermost thoughts of the 
 other. 
 
 “I?ll tell you what I’ll do, Jack, and this time I am 
 in dead earnest. If you will take up that affair again 
 which we discussed, there will be no more complaints 
 nor shillyshallying from me,” exclaimed Howard with 
 a certain desperate ring in his tone that would have 
 convinced most any one of his firmness. 
 
 “Well, Dick, if you have developed that amount of 
 determination, and think the plan I mentioned could 
 be worked all right, why would you not be willing to 
 take a hand in the affair yourself. It really requires 
 three or four men; for then we would be strong 
 enough to force an entrance to the car, in case the 
 ruse didn’t work. I think I can get those lads in 
 Milwaukee to take a hand and that will make a good 
 crowd of four,” remarked Stanton slowly after a pause 
 of some duration. 
 
 “All right, Jack; I will go wherever you lead, and 
 you can rest assured on me from this on, for I am 
 dead sick of living the way I am now compelled to; 
 being in debt to every store keeper in my nieghbor- 
 hood;” and the desperate earnestness with which 
 
‘A LUCKY MISHAP 211 
 
 Howard spoke, caused Stanton to modify somewhat 
 his opinion of his weakness. 
 
 “Very well, Dick, we will call it a go, and start over 
 again. I suppose it will not be necessary to take any 
 steps in the matter until September, judging by what 
 you said about the business on the other occasion, 
 and I shall not do anything then, if your mind 
 changes in the meantime, but in case you are of the 
 same inclination, I will take a trip down there and 
 pick out some lonely station as the point of attack. 
 However, I do not intend taking any steps in the affair 
 at present, for it would only be wasting money in case 
 you should finally, weaken,” said Jack decidedly. 
 
 “IT tell you, Jack, there will be no drawing back on 
 my part. You can depend on me this time, for I will 
 be with you whenever you want me,” said Howard 
 firmly, as they halted for a moment on the corner be- 
 fore separating for the night, and then as a troubled 
 expression came upon his face, he added mildly: “I 
 say, Jack, would it be inconvenient for you to loan me 
 ten dollars? I am just in a stew at home for the lack 
 of money, and I would consider it a big favor if you 
 could spare me that sum.” 
 
 “T ‘guess I can,” responded Jack quickly as he took 
 out a red wallet from his inside coat pocket with the 
 evident intention of complying with Howard’s request 
 but, strange to relate, that was as far as he proceeded 
 to execute it, for as if a sudden thought had struck 
 him he stopped and exclaimed: “By Jove! Dick, 
 come to think of it I have agreed to pay Mathews that 
 grain bill to-morrow and it will take every cent 1 can 
 rake together to meet it. I am sorry, Dick, but Ican’t 
 oblige you this time. Did you lose the ten dollars 
 you drew for your wages last night?” concluded the 
 
212 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 outlaw as he coolly replaced his pocket-book in its 
 accustomed place. 
 
 “No; I didn’t lose it but it had to be- distributed 
 around so quickly that I might as well say I lost it. 
 However, never mind; I must get along somehow 
 until next Saturday,” said Howard as they parted com- 
 pany for the night. 
 
 If Richard Howard could have followed his late 
 companion to his room that same night he would have 
 been convinced that Jack had already taken several 
 steps toward perfecting the plan of robbery which they 
 had discussed: for no sooner was the outlaw by him- 
 self than he drew out a letter bearing the post-mark 
 of a frontier town in the Indian Territory and tearing 
 it open at the end drew out the missive which he 
 scanned eagerly. It read as follows: 
 
 John Clark. 
 Dear Sir: 
 
 Your letter of inquiry with the enclosure of ten dol- 
 lars as payment of fee came to hand. 
 
 I will state, in reply, that all such gambling devices 
 as you mention, viz: chuck-a-luck, faro, etc., are pro- 
 hibited from action under penalty of a heavy fine and 
 possible imprisonment. ‘ 
 
 I most strongly advise you not to attempt to intro- 
 duce any such game down here on the day you men- 
 tion. A visit here to look over the ground would con- 
 vince you more clearly of the difficulties to be encoun- 
 tered than I could by writing. 
 
 The payday of the regular semi-annual disbursement 
 takes place, as has been the custom heretofore, on 
 the last Wednesday in October. 
 
 Yours respectfully, 
 William Edwardson, 
 Atty. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 213 
 
 A triumphant look spread over Jack’s dark features 
 as he read the last paragraph and, after folding it 
 lengthwise and applying it to the flame of the lamp, 
 he sat down by the open window in a brown study. 
 
 “That looks as though the money must leave St. 
 Louis on Monday,” he muttered pondering to himself. 
 
 “I guess that will be all the correspondence nec- 
 essary, so that it is very doubtful if that lawyer ever 
 
 hears from his gambling client again.—By Jove! but | 
 
 I’ll have to be more cautious when Dick is around. 
 He’s a bit sharper than I imagined, but he won’t in- 
 terfere much in this thing if I can help it. T’would 
 hardly pay to lone him ten dollars. A little money 
 makes him weak as a dish-rag, and I may need him 
 yet, if Morgan doesn’t pan out all right.—Guess I'll 
 take another look at that country,” he said, as he drew 
 out a pocket edition of the state map of Missouri, and 
 also a time-table, showing the arrival and departure of 
 trains upon the very road that Howard had formerly 
 travelled over regularly as messenger. 
 
 “Now here we are at K—,” he muttered with his 
 pencil fixed upon a certain point on the map while 
 his eyes eagerly scanned the time-table of the rail- 
 road. “Just the very place I want! A steady run of 
 forty-five minutes before making the next stop at P—; 
 that will give me plenty of time to fix the messenger. 
 Holy smoke! won’t he be badly rattled when we reach 
 that Louisiana swamp?” and he chuckled grimly to 
 himself as if an extremely ludicrous idea had occurred 
 to him. 
 
 “That shows spirit in Morgan to work his way down 
 to St. Louis,” he continued after a few moments re- 
 flection. “He seemed eager for this work by’the way 
 he talked that Sunday in Omaha, yet it is just as well 
 
214 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 not to let him know everything until the time draws 
 close. All I want now, is to have a skiff in readiness 
 at some point along the river opposite P—, and I 
 ought to have a lot of grub in a cache some place, 
 handy to the skiff. Then there’s the railroad lantern. 
 I guess that will cause a case of petty larceny, but it 
 will have to be obtained even at the cost of adding 
 that fearful tax upon my conscience,” and he chuckled 
 again in a manner that would not lead one to suppose 
 that his conscience, however heavily laden, troubled 
 him much, 
 
 “T ought to go down there in September, and look 
 the ground over,” he went on presently; “and that’s 
 the very time for me to get that toggery and the lan- 
 tern; then everything will be complete and if Mr. 
 Express Messenger ever lets me get into his car, I’ll 
 bet I’1l be flying high in Brazil in less than six months 
 thereafter.” 
 
 Here he ceased for a moment, as he folded up the 
 map and time-table and replaced them within one of 
 the pockets of his wallet. Then lighting a cigar, he 
 appeared as if in deep meditation still, while disjointed 
 sentences fell from his lips: “Seems queer how sus- 
 picious I feel of that fellow. I guess it’s nothing but 
 my way of doubting his nerve.—He talked pretty stiff 
 and square, yet, somehow, I never did like Morgan’s 
 way.” Here a perplexed expression clouded his face. 
 
 “Tf I only had the confidence in him, that I had in 
 Joe, there wouldn’t be a doubt on my mind, but that 
 this thing would go through like a whistle. If Joe 
 were only alive! wouldn’t he be the lad for this? It’s 
 no use crying over spilt milk, however, so I guess I’ll 
 stop thinking about it, and goto sleep,” and with a 
 yawn, he arose, and tossing the partially smoked cigar 
 out of the window, prepared to retire for the night. 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 It was only afew weeks later that September 
 claimed its allotted portion of the year, and as the 
 long train for St. Louis pulled out of the Union Depot 
 at Chicago one night it carried Jack Stanton as a 
 passenger among the noisy crowd that usually fill up 
 the seats of the smoking car. 
 
 As Howard had so far remained steadfast in his re- 
 solve to take a hand in the robbery it became _neces- 
 sary to call for his aid, Jack had let him know of this 
 contemplated visit to look the ground over, and he 
 was fully aware that the plan for the execution of a 
 raid began therewith, although he was still in the 
 dark, in regard to the method Jack meant to employ. 
 
 Stanton had scarcely alighted from the train the 
 next morning when it pulled into the St. Louis de- 
 pot, ere he was greeted by a stoutly built young fel- 
 low, who evidently had been posted in regard to his 
 arrival, and was on the lookout for him. 
 
 “T am glad to see you down this way Dan, tor ac- 
 cording to the way things are working, I’ll need you 
 soon, to take a hand in that affair we talked over in 
 Omaha. I suppose, of course, you got my letter?” 
 said Jack to his companion, after they had proceeded 
 some distance along one of the by streets, leading 
 from the station. 
 
 “Yes; I got your letter last Friday, saying you 
 would come down to-day, and I supposed at once that 
 you wanted to see me about the mine you are going 
 
 215 
 
216 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 to spring down near Memphis. . That was where you 
 said it was to be worked, wasn’t it?” asked Morgan, 
 for such was the person with whom Jack was now con- 
 _versing. 
 
 “I did tell you that day in Omaha that the affair 
 would take place near Memphis, but I don’t suppose 
 it makes any great difference to you where the racket 
 occurs, does it?” inquired Jack with his gaze fixed in- 
 tently upon his companion. : 
 
 “If you will take the lead in the racket as you 
 agreed up at Omaha, then I don’t care a cent where 
 it is to be worked. IJ think I can scare up sand enough 
 to follow you. I’m not very easily bluffed, Jack;” as- 
 serted Morgan in so bold a manner as to cause all of 
 Stanton’s doubts to disappear. 
 
 “Well, to tell the truth, Dan, that affair is billed to 
 take place very close to this city instead of Memphis. 
 I am glad you came here; but what made you leave 
 Deadwood so suddenly?” 
 
 “The theatre in which I worked, was forced to close 
 
 and that threw me out of.a job, so I thought I would ~ 
 
 work my way down to Memphis, to be on hand for 
 your game when the time came around. I no sooner 
 got there though, than I ran across some railroad boys 
 I used to know, and they got me a place with a crew 
 who do all the night switching for the passenger 
 coaches. That’s what I’m doing now,” stated Mor- 
 gan in a matter of fact tone; then, as if suddenly re- 
 membering something, he intended to impart, he con- 
 tinued with a slight trace of excitement in his man- 
 ner: “By the way, Jack, do you remember that pretty 
 girl, Laura Everest, who ran away from home to marry 
 Slicky Briscoe? Well, she died at Deadwood just a 
 few days before I left. She came there with a variety 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP QT 7. 
 
 troupe doing song and dance work, but consumption 
 had her down almost to a shadow when she arrived, 
 and she didn’t last long. She asked me if I knew 
 where Briscoe was at present, or where he went after 
 his release from prison, but I never heard what be- 
 came of him. You knew Slick, didn’t you Jack?” 
 
 “T became acquainted with him while in prison, but 
 before that I had only heard of him as a fly card and 
 a smooth talker. I was sent to prison under the 
 name of Stanton, and that was the only name he knew 
 me by, so you can judge how deep my friendship was 
 for him. _I heard in prison that he had married an- 
 other girl before Laura. How is that.” 
 
 “No. That was only an idle rumor. There was a 
 picnic held at Niagara Falls, by some society, one 
 Fourth of July, several years ago, and Slicky took 
 some girl over on the Canada side, when they were 
 out carriage driving, and some of the boys started the 
 story from that, just for a lark. Now that Laura is 
 dead, Slick is a free man, but it is doubtful if he ever 
 will hear of her death, for she was buried under the 
 name she went by, on the stage, and that was the 
 only one published in the newspaper. It looked to 
 me, as though she got a pretty rough deal, poor girl. 
 Just married six months, when Slick gets nabbed and 
 fired into prison for three years, leaving her withouta 
 cent, and being such astuck-up girl, she wouldn’t go 
 back home on account of the row her folks kicked up 
 when she married him. 
 
 “When the undertaker brought the rough pine box 
 which was her coffin, I couldn’t help but think of that 
 saying in the Good Book, about the way of the trans- 
 gressor being tough—what is it, Jack?” 
 
 “Don’t know. MHaven’t read any tracts lately,” was 
 Stanton’s laconic reply. 
 
218 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “She was clean dead stuck on Slick, even to the 
 last, "continued Morgan, not heeding the impatient 
 look that had gathered on his companion’s face. “Only 
 the day before she died, she said—” 
 
 “Oh! cut it, cut it, Dan. I didn’t come down here 
 all the way from Chicago to listen to your rigmarole 
 about this dead girl,” exclaimed Jack brutally. “Girls 
 that have run away from home, die and are nailed up 
 in pine boxes every day in Chicago, and nobody thinks 
 much about it. Any decent gir! who would be foolish 
 enough to run away from home and marry sucha chap 
 as Briscoe, you, or me, would be along way better off 
 dead than alive, anyhow. Now, let’s attend to the busi- 
 ness that brought me here. Where can we go to talk 
 the matter over?” 
 
 “There’s a park a couple of blocks turther up this 
 street, where we can find a shady seat,” replied Mor- 
 gan a little ruffled at Stanton’s way of cutting him off 
 so unceremoniously. 
 
 “Well, let us step across the way to that saloon and 
 have something to drink for Iam as dry asa fish. 
 We can get some cigars to smoke while we are talking 
 this affair over,” said Jack with the idea of standing 
 treat to brush away any ill-feeling he might have 
 created by his abruptness. 
 
 They walked on to the park after leaving the saloon, 
 and securing a shady seat, Jack proceeded to inform 
 his companion of the exact locality in which the rob- 
 bery would be attempted, and the full particulars of 
 the plot as he had planned it. When he finished, he 
 glanced at Morgan, and asked him what he thought 
 were the chances of success to such a scheme. » 
 
 “Look here, Jack,” began Morgan with a dubious look 
 gathering on his face, “that’s a smashing big train and 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP ‘ 219 
 
 three of us would hardly be enough for that work.” 
 
 “Why, Dan, the train’s crew will never know what 
 is going on in the express car. I’ll attend to the messen- 
 ger, if you and Howard will be onthe front platform, 
 and plug the bellcord, until I get the man tied up. 
 Even if it comes to the worst and the whole crew does 
 get on to the racket, we can easily take to the woods, 
 and escape.” 
 
 “May be, and may be not,” commented Morgan 
 doubtfully. “And your intention about the messenger, 
 if carried out, would be fearfully risky.” 
 
 “No risk at all,” asserted Jack confidently. “I know 
 the river all the way down, and we need never be 
 halted or questioned by any one while we havea 
 couple of long range guns to keep them off. Of 
 course, we would have to part with Howard that same 
 night, as it would never do to let our man see Dick, 
 for he might recognize him.” 
 
 “Why not leave the man tied up in the car?” inquired 
 Morgan. 
 
 “Because the river is the only way to get out of 
 that country without running foul of these infernal 
 telegraph lines, and the chances are that it would be 
 picketed at several points before ten hours had elapsed; 
 but if Mr. Messenger is missing, every detective will 
 think that he is the rogue they want, and those kind 
 of dudes don’t travel in skiffs, so they will never take 
 the trouble to watch the river. It will puzzle them to 
 find out at what point he left the train, and it is every 
 way safer for us. I tell you, Dan, it will work like a 
 top, and bring us in enough stuff to retire for life,” 
 remarked Jack with an energy, worthy of a better 
 cause than the desperate undertaking he was advoca- 
 ting so strongly. 
 
220 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “That would kick up a fearful noise all over the 
 
 country, and every sheriff would be on the lookout 
 for us.—I don’t think I care about having anything 
 to do with the affair,” returned Morgan slowly, while 
 his eyes roved around to avoid meeting the angry and 
 threatening expression on Stanton’s face. 
 
 A half suppressed oath fell from Jack’s lips, and 
 then he was silent for a moment, while the dangerous 
 light that gleamed in his eyes, fully indicated his 
 angry feeling toward his vacillating companion. 
 
 At length he spoke with an effort to stifle his real 
 feelings: “Well, Dan,-I must say that your mind 
 changes very quickly, for you talked differently at 
 Omaha. Of course, now that you have backed out 
 of it, that ends the affair entirely, for I wouldn’t make 
 another move in it with you hanging around here to 
 pipe the case away. I guess all you wanted was to 
 learn where this work was to be done, in order to 
 come in for a share of hush money;” and the hard 
 laugh he gave vent to aroused such a spirit of uneasi- 
 ness in Morgan that he resolved to part company with 
 Stanton at the earliest opportunity. He protested 
 against having any such mean intention as Jack had 
 attributed to him and brought forward a volume of ex- 
 cuses to account for his sudden change in spirit, none 
 of which seemed to tally very well with his previous 
 assurances as Stanton rudely informed him. 
 
 “T guess there is no use of me wasting any more 
 time down here, so I’ll go across the river and see if 
 I can pick up some kind of a cheap ticket that will 
 carry me back to Chicago. It’s pretty rough knocking 
 me out of the good money: I’ve paid for railroad fare, 
 besides spoiling as good a plan to catch a fortune, as 
 ever was put together,” growled Jack arising as the 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 221 
 
 noon whistles began to sound down among the rail- 
 road yards. “I hope, Dan, that you will at least have 
 the kindness to keep still about this, for although 
 nothing much could be made out of what has occurred 
 so far, yet I don’t care about having a detective bob- 
 bing around me.” 
 
 To this request, Morgan vowed everlasting secrecy, 
 and there they parted; each one distrustful of the 
 other for, while a fear of impending bodily harm had 
 arisen in Morgan, a doubt was also forming in Jack’s 
 mind as to the probability of his weak companion 
 having the faculty of keeping to himself what he had 
 learned. 
 
 As Stanton strolled down toward the river after tak- 
 ing leave of Morgan, it would have been a hard task 
 to find a man in a more dangerous mood. 
 
 “If I should play this affair according to the legiti- 
 mate drama, that cuss ought to be killed,” he muttered 
 to himself after giving vent to a string of sulphurous 
 blessings on his late deceiving companion. 
 
 He did not go across the river, however, as he had 
 stated to Morgan, but strolled along the levee until 
 the latter part of the day, when he began making a 
 tour of the junk shops and second hand stores, appar- 
 ently in quest of some cheap clothing, but the only 
 articles he purchased were a faded blue coat witha 
 row of shining brass buttons in front, a piece of 
 tarpaulin, and a brakeman’s cap with the badge at- 
 tached thereto. These he rolled up in a newspaper 
 and then proceeded leisurely to the depot. 
 
 It was fast beginning to grow dark, when Jack 
 crossed over to the ticket stand where instead of secur- 
 ing a return passage to Chicago, he purchased a ticket 
 to a small station, some forty miles west of St. Louis, 
 
222 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 and on the road over which Howard had formerly run 
 in the capacity of express messenger. Jack did not 
 have long to wait, for in a few minutes, the crier was 
 announcing in a stentorian voice, that the train was 
 ready for departure, and going forward he took a seat 
 in one of the first coaches when, as the train pulled 
 out, he produced a leadpencil and carefully noted on 
 a slip of paper, each stop and the duration of time 
 that elapsed in running between the stations. 
 
 He left the train at the point where his ticket ter- 
 minated, but not until he had boldly taken the lantern 
 which was fastened by a cord on the end of the rear 
 sleeping coach, to serve as a signal to any train that 
 might be following. MHastily extinguishing the light, 
 he added this stolen article to the package of things 
 purchased in the junk shop, and_ started forth upon 
 the only highway leading from the small station to _ 
 the north. This he pursued in darkness for over a 
 mile, until he was well upon the crest of a knoll where 
 the road wound in and out through clumps of scrub- 
 oak and hazel bushes. Here he halted, and selecting 
 a small open space that loomed up rather indistinctly 
 in the gloom, laid down his bundle and prepared to 
 spend the night. 
 
 “This must be the road to the river,” he muttered 
 to himself, as he proceeded to take a smoke after un- 
 folding the tarpaulin, and stretching himself at full 
 length upon it. “If it ain’t, it won’t take me long to 
 find out in the morning,” he added with a grunt or two 
 which indicated the tired feeling that was beginning 
 to steal over him, and in less than half an hour, he 
 was sleeping soundly even on this rude couch. 
 
 Early the next morning, he awoke and tying his 
 bundle together in a manner that thoroughly concealed 
 
A’ LUCKY MISHAP 223 
 
 the railroad lantern, walked along until he came op- 
 posite a farm-house situated a couple of hundred yards 
 off the road, where the smoke from the chimney showed 
 that the occupants were astir and had already begun 
 preparing the morning repast. Going up to the house, 
 he arranged to procure breakfast which was not long 
 in forthcoming, and upon inquiry learned that the 
 river was distant some eight miles further aJong the 
 road, he was traveling. After eating and paying for 
 his morning meal, he lost no time in getting back to the 
 highway, and by walking briskly, came in sight of the 
 river before the sun indicated mid-day. Here he care- 
 fully selected a spot far out upon a willow-grown sand- 
 bar, which extended from the rocky bank to the water’s 
 edge and after taking a general survey of the surround- 
 ings, so that he would remember the spot, should he 
 ever chance to be in that vicinity again, he wrapped 
 the tarpaulin carefully around his little bundle and 
 buried it deep in the sand beside a huge log, which 
 he depended on to serve as a landmark for its future 
 detection. Retracing his steps to the railroad station, 
 stopping every now and then to note the landmarks 
 on the way, as if intent upon being so familiar with 
 the scenes,along the highway, that he could journey | 
 over it on the darkest night without going astray, he 
 finally reached P— about the middle of the afternoon 
 just in time to catch a freight train bound for St. 
 Louis, which landed him in the latter city that even- 
 ing in time to take the fast express to Chicago, where 
 he arrived the following morning. 
 
 He told Howard that everything looked favorable for 
 the work, and from the assuring way in which he 
 spoke, Howard little guessed with how weak a hand 
 Jack was attempting to carry out the play, now that 
 
224 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 his best trump card had proven a failure; for indeed 
 he had relied upon Morgan’s assistance more than he 
 now cared to acknowledge. He told Howard that he 
 would have a confederate in St. Louis within a week, 
 who would post himself in regard to the stations and 
 stops, and who would take a hand in the affair, unless 
 his health which Jack stated to be far from good, should 
 change for the worse and thus prevent him. This was 
 all he thought well to impart to Howard at present, for 
 he did not think it would be a wise move to inform 
 him of Morgan’s withdrawal. 
 
 As the time drew on toward the middle of October, 
 the lines and furrows upon Howard’s face began to 
 deepen, and the dark circle beneath his eyes told only 
 too plainly of the fearful strain upon the man’s ner- 
 vous system, and one day as he beheld Stanton oiling 
 the parts of a revolver, the look of hesitation that 
 came to his face, was so apparent that Jack hastily 
 put up the weapon with the laughing remark: “Must 
 have something to bluff with, you know." But the 
 grimace which accompanied this observation of Stan- 
 ton’s, found no answering smile on Howard’s counte- 
 nance and Jack began seriously to wonder what he 
 would do if Howard also failed him. 
 
 Upon the evening following this incident, as Stan- 
 ton was closing his little office for the night, the slight 
 figure of a young man advanced toward him and, touch- 
 ing him upon the arm, said in a low cautious voice: 
 “Jack, old boy, don’t you know me?” 
 
 “Holy smoke, Bob!” exclaimed the outlaw in a tone 
 of surprise and gratification. “How in the world did 
 you manage to get here?” and grasping the hand of the 
 new-comer, he shook it warmly. 
 
 “It’s somewhat of a long story, Jack,” began the 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 225 
 
 other in the manner of one who was evidently ill and 
 weary. “I got three or four buck-shot in my leg that 
 night you went over the prison wall, and have been 
 laid up until a couple of weeks ago, when the doctor 
 managed to get me released on a sick pardon. I guess 
 they thought I had been punished enough, and to 
 tell the truth; I shall never be the lad I was once. 
 I’ve turned my last handspring, Jack,” and the queer 
 wistful smile with which he uttered this last remark, 
 touched a chord, even in the heart of the hardened 
 criminal before him. 
 
 “Yes, Bob, that was a rough deal you got. I read 
 in the newspapers that you had been wounded that 
 night.—But tell me, how did you find out that I was 
 here?” asked Jack. 
 
 “Why, I went to St. Louis after I was released, and 
 hadn’t been there a week before I ran across Dan 
 Morgan, who told me that you were here, and gave 
 me your address, so I headed this way at once. But 
 I see you must have made a stake somewhere to be 
 running this kind of concern. May be you could give 
 a fellow some kind of light work -around this place, 
 eh Jack?” he ventured wearily. 
 
 “T guess there won’t be much trouble about that, 
 Bob. But you look ill and fagged out. Suppose we 
 take a walk up the street where we can get something 
 to brighten you up a bit. Perhapsa bottle of ale and 
 a hunk of roast beef will improve your looks some, 
 for I must say you couldn’t catch a grass widow with 
 that long face of yours,” remarked Stanton jokingly. 
 
 “No, I reckon not,” responded Cook with a half 
 
 smile as they started leisurely up the street toward a 
 restaurant not far distant. “Two night’s ride in a box- 
 car, such as I’ve put in to get here, knocks one all to 
 
226 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 pie. Still, I haven’t lost my appetite for ale and roast- 
 beef, so perhaps that would improve my case some- 
 what.” 
 
 “By the way, Jack,” he exclaimed suddenly, “Morgan 
 was telling me that you were in St. Louisa short 
 time ago, but he wouldn’t explain what called you 
 there, although he hinted that it was something im- 
 portant—what. was it?” he asked curiously. 
 
 “T’ll tell you all about it after I’ve had something 
 to loosen my tongue.- May be you have turned up 
 just at the right time to give me a hand in about as 
 risky a bit of business as I ever tackled,” replied 
 Stanton as he led the way across the street to the 
 restaurant. 
 
 A half hout later, when both men had satisfied their 
 desire for food and drink, they left the place and pro- 
 ceeded to Stanton’s room where they were no sooner 
 seated than Jack produced some cigars, and began ex- 
 plaining the whole plot of the intended robbery. He 
 eoncealed nothing, for he had always reposed the ut- 
 most confidence in Cook; consequently, Bob learned 
 how Morgan had withdrawn from the scheme and that 
 it was greatly to be feared that Howard would act in 
 a similar way, when called upon at the last moment. 
 
 “What I would hke, Bob,” said Jack as he finished 
 relating all that had occurred in connection with the 
 plot, “is for you to give me help up the river with 
 the skiff from C— to the point opposite P— where 
 those things are in-a cache. You could wait for me 
 at that old dyke just below Carondoiet where we used 
 to take a swim occasionally when we were there a 
 couple of years ago. Of course if I don’t succeed, 
 you will learn that by watching the newspapers, but 
 if everything works smoothly, I will part company with 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 227 
 
 Howard somewhere near P— that same night and 
 come down the river as fast as I can. By rowing 
 steadily I ought to make the Mississippi the following 
 night, then I could lay by on some sand-bank during 
 the day and run down to where you will be in waiting 
 the next night.—What do you say to playing that part 
 in this racket, Bob?” 
 
 “T’ll do the part you ask, Jack, and if you want me 
 I’ll be with Howard on the car platform, when he 
 goes forward to plug the bell-cord. Just say the word, 
 if you think Dick would be a weak chap to depend on, 
 and I’m with you,” said Cook, whose good resolutions 
 made so earnestly on leaving prison vanished rapidly 
 as his admiration grew for the daring boldness of the 
 scheme just unfolded to him and which left him 
 almost breathless. 
 
 “No, Bob, if you will play the role we have just 
 agreed on that is all I ask of you. I think Howard 
 will show up all right for his finances are at a fearful 
 low ebb, which causes him to receive such a racket at 
 home that it stiffens him up for anything. You didn’t 
 get here any too soon, by Jove! for I intend leaving 
 here Saturday night, and have already made arrange- 
 ments with cne of my teamsters to conduct the busi- 
 ness while I am gone, ” observed Jack, and ‘after some 
 reflection, he added: “It would be best for Howard 
 not to know that you have anything to do with this 
 affair, Bob; so remain here to-night but, after you leave 
 in the morning don’t come back into this neighbor- 
 hood at all, but be sure to meet me Saturday night 
 between eight and nine at the Alton depot on 23rd 
 street.—I suppose you are dead-broke as usual, so 
 here, take this fifteen dollars; that ought to keep you 
 going till Saturday night,” said Jack taking out his 
 
228 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 pocket-book and tendering Cook three five-dollar bills 
 which the latter accepted with a murmur of thanks. 
 “Now, Bob, I have a little figuring to do on my ac- 
 counts this evening that will keep me working for an 
 hour or two, so if you are as tired as you look, I ad- 
 vise you to pile into bed and go to sleep.” 
 
 “I’m clean dead on iny feet,” murmured Cook witha 
 yawn as he arose to comply with Jack’s suggestion. 
 “But all the same, I’ll be on hand Saturday at 23rd 
 street, and you can depend on me.” 
 
 “I don’t doubt that,” replied Jack with a feeling of 
 perfect confidence in his companion’s loyalty. 
 
CHAPTER XVI 
 
 It was a bright moonlight night that marked the 
 time for the appointment between Stanton and his 
 faithful pal, Bob Cook, and what few passengers were 
 intending to board the train at the little station at 
 23rd street seemed to feel far better in walking about 
 upon the triangular platform outside than to be seated 
 in patience in the waiting-room. As Stanton swung 
 himself off the street car that ran close by and walked 
 over toward the ticket-office, he espied the form of his 
 chum seated upon one of the many trucks scattered 
 about in the shadow of the projecting roof. 
 
 Jack had taken leave of Howard early that evening 
 in which interview the latter had faithfully promised 
 to adhere to his former proposition and come down to 
 St. Louis, should Jack write ‘him that his aid would 
 be necessary to carry out the project. 
 
 “Have you got your ticket, Bob?" asked Jack walk- 
 ing up to where Cook was seated; receiving an affirm- 
 ative reply, he took a seat beside his ally to await the 
 arrival of the train. 
 
 “You are on hand early enough,” remarked Jack » 
 cheerily as he disposed a heavy package on the truck 
 between them. 
 
 “Yes, I’ve been hanging around this neighborhood 
 ever since dark. This affair has got me so excited 
 that I have been watching both ends of the week for 
 Saturday night to come. But what is that you have 
 in the bundle, Jack? It weighs as heavy as lead,” 
 
 229 
 
230 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 said Cook feeling of the package somewhat cautiously. 
 
 “That package will produce a couple of shot-guns 
 when the parts are all put together. I thought I had 
 better detach the barrels from the stocks so as not to 
 draw attention by the shape they would present if car- 
 ried in regular style.” 
 
 “Not a bad idea,” commented Bob favorably. “But, 
 by the way, Jack, do you know I had a dream about 
 this thing last night, and according to the theory of 
 dreams turning out in a contrary manner, there will 
 be some strange things happen in this affair.” 
 
 “Oh, confound your dreams!” said Stanton with a 
 reckless laugh. “If you hadn’t invested some of your 
 spare change in fruit cake or mince pies just before 
 you went to bed, I doubt if you would have dreamt 
 anything. I wish you would take this and skip across 
 to that saloon and get a pint of old rye,” added Jack, 
 drawing a dollar from his pocket. “It’s a long ride 
 to St. Louis, and as we are not booked for the sleeper, 
 the chances are we’ll need something to keep us stir- 
 ings 
 
 It would be a long uninteresting tale to relate this 
 journey to St Louis, and from there to a point on 
 the banks of the Missouri where they made the pur- 
 chase of a rough camping outfit, and a skiff having two 
 sets of row-locks which would enable them both to 
 take a hand at the oars. Then laying in a small stock 
 of provisions, they started up the river to the place 
 where Jack had buried his bundle. They found it no 
 easy task, however, to row the boat up against the 
 current the thirty miles or more that it was necessary 
 to take it and, although both of them had been accus- 
 tomed to rowing upon the lakes and some of the east- 
 ern rivers, yet when after three days of incessant toil, 
 
 — 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 231 
 
 they finally reached that point along the bank of the 
 river where the huge log marked the vicinity of the 
 cache, both men were well-nigh exhausted. 
 
 Taking the boat far out on the immense sand-bar 
 that was separated from the main-land by only a shal- 
 low slough, they locked the skiff fast to a large drift- 
 log, then opening the cache, they took from it the 
 bundle replacing it with all the articles, except the 
 smaller weapons, which they had brought with them, 
 and then started at once on the long jaunt across the 
 country to the railroad station at P—, travelling the 
 same route that Jack had traversed a few weeks before. 
 
 It was early in the night, when they came in sight 
 of the lights in the houses scattered around the sta- 
 tion, and as Cook viewed the scene while descending 
 the last hill that intervened between them and the 
 railroad, he gave vent to a whistle of surprise. 
 
 "Why, Jack,” he exclaimed in dismay, “how do you 
 ever expect to manage the messenger in sight of all 
 those houses? Why, man, it will never do! Some- 
 body will be almost certain to notice you.” 
 
 “T expect they would if I came all the way up to 
 the station,” replied Jack. “But as luck will have it, 
 there’s a railroad crossing in the woods, just a mile 
 below here, where the trains stop for a second, accord- 
 ing to law, and that is where I’ll get off. There isn’t 
 a house around there, and I picked out a path to this 
 road that does not come within half a mile of this 
 station. 
 
 “That is lucky, sure enough,” muttered Cook, as he 
 went stumbling over the boulders that lay thickly 
 strewn along the road, for indeed both of them were 
 so fagged out by the rough exposure and toil they had 
 undergone in the last three days, that even the act of 
 
232 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 speaking seemed to come only by expending a portion 
 of their remaining strength. 
 
 They caught a train for St. Louis after waiting a 
 few hours at the station, and the next day after their 
 arrival, they rented a room some distance out from 
 the heart of the city, for it was their intention to use 
 all possible precautions to avoid a meeting with Mor- 
 gan whom they both regarded with a feeling akin to 
 suspicion. 
 
 Jack had written to Howard immediately upon his 
 arrival in the city, stating that his aid would be 
 needed, and telling him to leave Chicago without fail 
 on the following Sunday night, as that would bring 
 him into St. Louis only a few hours before the depart- 
 ture of the very train they were planning to rob. He 
 informed Howard that everything looked favorable for 
 a successful issue of the plot; and, giving the loca- 
 tion of their room, told him to come at once to that 
 place upon reaching the city. 
 
 At length Monday came, the very day that Jack had 
 selected for the plot to be put into execution, and as 
 he gazed out of the window in his room upon the dull 
 leaden sky overhead which entirely obscured the sun, 
 from view and betokened the early approach of stormy 
 weather, he could not refrain from giving vent to an 
 exclamation of satisfaction at this certain indication 
 of a bad night being in store. 
 
 “Tll stand a treat. on the weather, Bob,” he ex- 
 claimed pausing for a moment in his work of putting 
 a touch of oil upon the lock of a heavy revolver that 
 he had been caretully cleaning. “My luck always 
 comes with aregular old Tam O’Shanter night. Plenty 
 of rain, plenty of wind, and darker than pitch; that’s 
 the night for a jolly robber, eh, old boy? Here, Bob, 
 
 am 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 233 
 
 take this and rustle up a couple of bottles of beer 
 from that joint around the corner, and we’ll drink for 
 success to come our way to-night,” and he tossed Cook 
 half a dollar which the latter lost no time in applying 
 to the use Stanton had requested, for in afew minutes 
 he was back with the bottled beverage. 
 
 As Cook finished drinking his second glass of the 
 malt extract, he recklessly tossed the empty bottle 
 over in one corner of the room, in the manner of one 
 slightly under the influence of what he had partaken. 
 
 “Hello!” ejaculated Stanton startled by the noise 
 of the falling bottle, and then perceiving the half silly 
 look on his companion’s face, he added: “Give us a 
 song, Bob. Start up something to kill time.” 
 
 “What will you have?” asked Cook reaching for 
 some song sheets that were strewn upon the table. © 
 
 “Here’s ‘Bridget Donahue’, do you want that? Or 
 would you sooner have ‘Paddy Duffy’s cart?’ I’ve got 
 them both.” 
 
 “Oh, let’s hear something new; surely there must be 
 a late song among thatlot you bought the other night.” 
 
 “Here is one I was praticing on the other day when 
 you were out, but I can’t quite catch the air,” said 
 Cook in a voice which indicated that his vocal powers 
 were hardly in a condition to sing very fluently, yet 
 nothing daunted, he began: 
 
 aoe = = 
 
 -@-* 
 Ts an old man now I’m get ting, 
 
 es ee 
 
 -0- 
 But when-e’er I do re - flect, My hed 
 
234 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 goes back to boy -hood’sear - ly days; The 
 
 old school up- on the hill- top, And the mill be - side * 
 
 lon 
 
 a 
 Se TE — CRE > —————EEE 
 SSS 
 LAM ae ES ers 
 brook, All rise up in a mist be-fore my gaze. 
 Cuoxus. 
 2d SE QRS ere Galo Aas ——4— 
 gee ee ea Src 
 
 —/ 
 For each lit-tle rippling rill that came down 
 
 -@-* -@- we -@- wv 
 through the hills and flowed a-cross the meadow 
 
 i LAREN SEG ESE ORM PEAR SRTRE SSRN Rte = 
 Sa) ga SSS 
 ais oe 
 
 the field, Is a- gain re- called 
 
 ©, 
 eel 
 
 to ia Where my mem -~-ry hath en - shrined, 
 
 a 
 
 scenes of my _ once hap - py youth, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 235 
 
 2 
 
 Oh, so well I still remember, 
 Tho’ full twenty years ago, 
 
 When ambition urged me far and wide to roam; 
 But oft when far in foreign lands, 
 
 Where I strolled in search of gold, 
 Regretful feelings winged my thoughts to home. 
 
 CHORUS: 
 
 3 
 But the tears came thick and fast, 
 When I wandered home at last 
 And in the churchyard saw my parents’ tomb, 
 And the grief that filled my heart 
 As I gazed upon that spot 
 Made me wander forth again from my old home. 
 
 “Oh let up with that song! I didn’t ask you to 
 sing a dirge,” exclaimed Stanton in so savage a man- = 
 ner that it almost sobered up Bob instantly. 
 
 “Why, what’s the matter with it?” asked Cook be- 
 -wildered at the sudden change in Jack’s temperament. 
 
 “IT wanted you to sing something jolly instead of 
 that graveyard hymn,” said Stanton ina slightly modi- 
 fied tone. Pulling out his watch, he gave a low 
 whistle of surprise as he glanced at the dial. “By 
 jingo! Bob, you want to make tracks from here right 
 away. The Chicago train is now due, and I told Dick 
 to come here direct from the depot, so you skip out; 
 for I don’t want him to see you, or know that you 
 have anything to do with this affair. So, good-bye, 
 Bob, until Wednesday night; and remember, I may 
 not reach the dyke until midnight, so keep your ears 
 open for the signal, I’ll give, will be the quail’s 
 
236 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 whistle,” and as Stanton finished, he extended His hand 
 for a parting shake. 
 
 “Now, look here, Jack,” began Cook very earnestly. 
 You better let me go along, for even if Howard does 
 come, which I know you don’t feel any too certain of, 
 I won’t be in the way, and you really ought to have 
 two men to back you in this affair, for something might 
 go amiss, you know.” The pleading earnest tone that 
 Bob used in thus offering his services so generously, 
 showed that even though prison doors had once closed 
 upon him through following the evil devices of his 
 companion, yet the friendship he bore for Jack re- 
 mained unbroken. 
 
 “Don’t try to change my plans now, Bob," said 
 Stanton in so firm and decided a manner that Cook 
 knew that any further parley would be useless, and 
 wisely desisted. : 
 
 “All right then, we’ll runit your way,” he assented, 
 
 and shaking Jack’s extended hand, he walked out of 
 the room and decended the stairs to the street. 
 
 When Stanton heard the clang of the street door 
 below closing after his departing chum, he once more 
 resumed his task of putting things in shape about the 
 room and, having completed that, began polishing up 
 the globe of the railroad lantern, upon which he de- 
 
 pended so much on gaining an entrance tothe express . 
 
 car. According to all the calculations he had made so 
 carefully,, Howard should soon present himself, if 
 coming; but as hour after hour slowly passed by, un- 
 til forenoon had changed to afternoon with no sign 
 _of his appearance, Jack arose and began to pace the 
 floor impatiently. It was true he had not relied very 
 strongly upon Howard’s aid, when they had first dis- 
 cussed the plot; but latterly, as he reflected upon his 
 
 A 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 237 
 
 friend’s stringent circumstances, he had concluded 
 that it would become a case of necessity for Howard 
 to aid in this venture, in order to clear himself of 
 debt and place himself in a position where a repeti- 
 tion of the present state of affairs need not be dreaded, 
 And Stanton had plausibly represented to Howard that 
 all this and more would be accomplished should suc- 
 cess attend their plans. 
 
 It was about four o’clock in the afternoon when a 
 vigorous pull at the street door-bell caused Stanton to 
 hurry below with the expectation of meeting Howard, 
 although the hour appointed as the time for his arriv- 
 al had long since passed. He was not a little disap- 
 pointed, however, upon opening the door, to behold the 
 retreating form of the postman re-crossing the street, 
 while upon the hallway floor at his feet, lay a letter 
 postmarked Chicago, and addressed to himself, under 
 the alias he had assumed, in a handwriting he knew 
 at once to be that of his absent confederate. A half- 
 muttered oath broke from his lips, as he recognized 
 the inscription on the envelope but, hearing the ap- 
 proach of one of the other roomers in the house, he 
 picked up the letter and hurried back to his room, 
 where he hastily tore open the envelope and read the 
 enclosure with a feeling of rage and chagrin. 
 
 It was not a Jong letter, but its contents told un- 
 mistakably that the writer had concluded to brave 
 his present poverty rather than join hands in the 
 scheme of robbery, which they had concocted. 
 
 He apologized most humbly for his vacillating con- 
 duct, and appealed earnestly to Jack to abandon any 
 attempt to carry out the project, painting in eloquent 
 and pathetic language the misery and sorrow which 
 such a step would inevitably incur; thus showing that 
 
235 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 his better nature and judgment had asserted itself 
 when free from the domineering and evil influence of 
 his hardened companion. 
 
 “It’s about as I feared. He has weakened on the 
 thing right at the last moment,” muttered Stanton 
 angrily as he tore the missive into shreds. “He didn’t 
 fool me, though, half as much as Morgan did. I guess 
 I am billed to play a lone hand to-night,” he went on 
 as a look of grim determination settled on his face. 
 “And I’ll make it win too, if ever I get in that car,” 
 came from between his clinched teeth.—‘Now, let me 
 see if I’ve forgotten anything.—Oh yes; that overcoat 
 I must have to cover my masquerade suit.—Well, I 
 guess I’ll try to snatch an hour’s sleep before supper, 
 tor if this thing works all right, I won’t be able to 
 close my eyes again until I meet Bob.—By Jove! if 
 this ain’t rough to be duped by such a pair of chicken- 
 hearted chumps as Dick and Morgan! More sand in 
 Bob’s little finger than they both could scare up at a 
 pinch,” and stretching himself upon the bed, he went 
 to sleep as calmly as though his mind was perfectly 
 at ease in regard to the drama in which he was to 
 steel himself to play such a prominent part, only a 
 few hours later. 
 
 A steady drizzling rain began to fall, as evening set 
 in, with a cold raw wind blowing that added materi- 
 ally in making the weather as disagreeable as possi- 
 ble; and when Jack left the house after eating 
 a hearty supper, his-mind was quite made up to at- 
 tempt the robbery at all hazards. He stopped, how- 
 ever, at several of the saloons that lay along the route 
 he had chosen to the depot, and from the frequency 
 with which he partook of liquor, it was evident that 
 he was beginning to comprehend, in spite of his stoi- 
 
- A LUCKY MISHAP 239 
 
 cism and boldness the desperate nature of the work 
 he had laid out for himself. 
 
 “He is fixing himself to go all the way if that has to 
 be done,” muttered a slight figure which dodged along 
 a half block orso behind Stanton, yet never for an in- 
 stant losing sight of his tall form. 
 
 When Stanton reached the depot, it was almost an 
 hour too early for the departure of the train upon 
 which he intended leaving, and after walking several 
 times past the open express car which was now being 
 busily loaded by three or four stout porters, he strolled 
 leisurely up on the viaduct that was just above the 
 depot platform, from which point he could easily see 
 all that was taking place in the express car just below 
 him without exciting the suspicion of any one; for the 
 rain was now descending steadily and all travel by 
 foot upon this exposed roadway was almost entirely 
 suspended. 
 
 So intently was Stanton’s attention riveted upon the 
 scene transpiring in the express car below him, that 
 he did not hear the sound of approaching footsteps 
 and was not aware of any one being near him until 
 he felt a light touch upon his arm and, wheeling 
 around suddenly, while a weapon was half-drawn from 
 his overcoat pocket and as quickly replaced on catch- 
 ing sight of the new-comer’s face, he exclaimed angrily: 
 “What the devil brings you here, Bob? I thought I 
 told you plainly to keep away from here to-night.” 
 
 “IT know, Jack, but don’t fly up so quick, old fellow,” 
 began Cook earnestly, for he it was who had followed 
 Stanton so closely along the street. “I want» to go 
 with you to-night, Jack, and that is why I came here. 
 I am all ready,” he added looking up into Jack’s heavy 
 scowling countenance with sucha pleading expression, 
 
240 A LUCKY «MISHAP 
 
 as though his very life depended on the answer. 
 
 “I told you once, Bob, that I didn’t want you. I’ve 
 got Howard down below in the train, and I don’t see 
 what the devil brings you here at this hour to bother 
 me. Why don’t you play the part I laid out for you?” 
 and the angry tone in which Stanton spoke showed 
 that the liquor he had imbibed was beginning to arouse 
 all the violent nature within him. 
 
 “Now, Jack, just listen to me a moment,” said Cook, 
 laying his hand upon the arm of his pal in a friendly 
 manner. “I don’t feel right about this affair, some- 
 how, Jack. I feel as if something was going to happen 
 —I don’t know what, but somehow, I believe this will 
 be our last turn at this kind of work, and if it’s a case 
 of sink, let me be with you, and we’ll go down to- 
 gether. It’s no use, Jack, to tell me that you have 
 Howard with you, for I watched the house all day, 
 until five o’clock, and he didn’t show up. Besides, 
 how do you know but what Morgan has already posted 
 these people; they may have a trap laid for you. 
 What do you say, Jack? Let me go with you, or else 
 let’s throw up the job entirely,” and Bob looked up 
 at his burly companion with the ghost of a smile play- 
 ing on his own face now pale with excitement, for he 
 well knew that the quarrelsome spirit in Jack often 
 broke out in violence when aroused by the effect of 
 liquor making him a dangerous person to cross words 
 with. 
 
 A bad light shot -into the outlaw’s eyes, and he 
 rudely shook off the friendly touch of Bob’s hand upon 
 his arm. “Yes! that’s the way with all you fellows," 
 he growled fiercely. “First Morgan, then Howard and 
 now you have come around making baby speeches at 
 the last moment, after I’ve blowed in over a hundred 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 241 
 
 dollars, getting things in shape to work it. Yes! and 
 what’s worse, you have cheek enough to tell me you’ve 
 been watching me. Damn if I don’t give it to you 
 right now,” and quick as a flash the infuriated ruffian 
 set down his package and grappling Cook with his left 
 hand hurled him to the ground while his right hand 
 held upraised a heavy whale-bone sling shot, from 
 which a single blow would have caused death or in- 
 sensibility to the recipient, 
 
 Cook made no resistance to the onslaught of the 
 other, and even when the dreaded weapon was about 
 to descend, he only smiled up at his assailant in such 
 a sad wistful way ashe exclaimed: “Don’t, Jack!” that 
 it penetrated even to the liquor-frenzied brain of the 
 man above him. And the blow was not given. Slowly, 
 as if stricken with numbness, Jack’s arm dropped to 
 his side, and as he released his grasp upon Bob’s 
 shoulder, a dazed expression came into his face as 
 though gradually realizing what he had nearly done. 
 
 “I didn’t think you would rap me with that slug, 
 old fellow,” said Cook with a slight laugh, as he arose 
 half covered with mud. “You never struck me yet in 
 earnest, and if you had smashed me a crack, then it 
 would have come from the dirty liquor in you, and 
 not your true self. We have been pards too long, 
 Jack, to break up now,” and as he spoke, he tried to 
 catch Jack’s eye but which the latter sullenly avoided 
 by looking over the iron railing. 
 
 Suddenly Stanton turned, and meeting the gaze of 
 his smaller companion full in’ the face, spoke up in a 
 quick determined tone: “Perhaps I was a little hasty 
 then, Bob, but I want you to leave here right now, 
 and not give me any more such faint-hearted speeches 
 when I need every grain of sand that’s in me. Now 
 
242 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 just walk straight on across this viaduct or you and I 
 part for good right here. I’ve gone too far in this to 
 back out like a cur at the last minute, and I want to 
 do this my own way too; so walk or quit.” | 
 
 Cook hesitated for a moment, as though astounded 
 at the sudden change in Jack’s demeanor, then walk- 
 ing a few steps, he turned facing his companion 
 again. “All right, fack, I’ll go,” he said in a weak 
 faltering tone, as though all choked up by the cold- 
 hearted speech and actions of the other. “I'll be at 
 the dyke every night this week, and may good luck be 
 with you!” and, coming forward, he grasped Jack’s 
 hand which the latter sullenly extended and after shak- 
 ing it warmly, he started off at a brisk pace and was 
 soon lost to view in the murky darkness. 
 
 Stanton’s eyes followed the slight retreating figure 
 of his friend, until it had completely vanished in the 
 gloom; then taking off his hat, he wiped his brow as 
 if just recovering from a spell of dizziness. “Seems 
 queer how I feel towards Bob when I’ve had a drop 
 too much," he muttered slowly. “The devil in me 
 seems:to say: ‘Finish up what you’ve begun.’ And 
 he’s had a devilish rough time of it since he was fool- 
 ish enough to come out here with me. He would have 
 been pretty well up in his trade by this time, instead 
 of a tramp.” Here he broke out ina short hard laugh, 
 as though all the bitterness in his soul was aroused. 
 “Well, if I get a bullet through my head to-night may 
 be it will turn poor. Bob back on the straight road 
 again, and if it does, then my bones will rest easy on 
 that score at anyrate.—By jingo!” he exclaimed on 
 glancing at his watch, “I haven’t much more time to 
 while away. Reckon I’ll get one more drink and then 
 catch a front seat in the smoker,” and picking up his 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP ; 243 
 
 package, he strode swiftly to the north end of the via- 
 duct, and disappeared in one of the resorts across the 
 way. 
 
CHAPTER XVII 
 
 It would make a long long narrative, kind reader, 
 to relate all the incidents that had» happened to Hart 
 Furlong up to the present time, late in October. since 
 we last took leave of him on that Fourth of July 
 evening when talking with Rushing and Disroe. 
 
 After attending the card party at the Arbor mansion, 
 where he became acquainted with Norman, there fol- 
 lowed a number of garden parties at the residences of 
 society friends of the Arbors and Normans to which 
 Hart always received an invitation; for Norman, who 
 was one of the very best hearted young fellows, made 
 quite an ado over Hart, and had struck up a close 
 friendship with both Ben and our hero, so that their 
 names were seldom omitted from the list of the in- 
 vited to these social enjoyments. 
 
 Hart had accepted only a few of these kind biddings, 
 for in truth, he felt like an adventurer who by some 
 bold trick had gained renown and was basking in the 
 smiles of an admiring audience by reason of his subtle 
 art, and he was not very desirous of accepting favors 
 when he was not in a position to return the compli- 
 ment. 
 
 He had met Nora several times, however, since the 
 accidental meeting at the art-gallery, for by some un- 
 accountable means, it seemed as though one meeting 
 always developed a point in debate on some book or 
 topic that required of itself a future visit from him in 
 order to furnish the proof of his argument. And we 
 
 244 
 
 —" 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 245 
 
 must frankly confess that he was not at all loath to 
 comply with these apparent necessities and if the 
 writer had only been granted the privilege of disclos- 
 ing the conversation that usually took place at these 
 quiet but highly enjoyable visits that he, with Ben 
 for a companion, paid to the Arbor home, it would 
 have convinced our reader that some feeling warmer 
 than mere friendship had developed in Hart for the 
 girl he had rescued. 
 
 The grace and beauty of the young girl coupled with 
 her modesty and intelligence, had created that most 
 holy of all passions within him, and made the time 
 spent in her presence, seem as though he had been 
 temporarily transported to a higher plane of life, where- 
 on everything exerted an influence to promote in him 
 higher and nobler thoughts and impulses. He could 
 feel how dear her presence was to him, by the thrill 
 of delight that stirred his being at the simple sound 
 of a rustle from her dress; and he rarely left her pres- 
 ence without a flood of emotions struggling in his 
 heart for the mastery between hope and despair. He 
 could plainly see the social barrier that lay between 
 them, a frowning obstacle that seemed to compel Hart 
 to be silent-upon what had grown to be the innermost 
 longing of his soul; for although the Arbors made no 
 ostentatious display of being the possessors of an 
 abundance of this world’s gaods, yet that quiet sub- 
 stantial style they upheld which was apparent the mo- 
 ment one set foot upon the graveled walks about the 
 mansion, spoke of that insurmountable obstacle, 
 wealth, that Hart lacked in making good his claim to 
 enter the lists for Nora’s hand. This was anything 
 but pleasant for him to ponder upon; and he often 
 attempted to reason out why society had established 
 
246 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 the unwritten but unalterable law which in hon- 
 or bound him to abstain from becoming a suitor 
 for her hand, while in his present state of poverty 
 no matter how closely he might cultivate her 
 friendship. This bitter reflection, which conscience 
 dictated as a point in honor that must be pursued, 
 caused him to realize the hopelessness of his passion 
 which he felt growing stronger within him, as the 
 occasions of meeting Nora became more frequent; and 
 the thought that he might some day see her possessed 
 by another, made him wonder in a vague dazed way 
 if there would then be any use in his struggling further 
 in this plane of life, for without her he could see 
 no other reward that might be gained worthy of the 
 trouble and endurance to be encountered in the strife. 
 
 He felt how different was the passion that now ani- 
 mated his whole being with a strong, burning, holy 
 emotion, guiding each thought and impulse to the 
 right in its attempt to make him worthy of the object 
 of his adoration, from the vain passing fancy he had 
 once thought to be the highest type of affection, when 
 basking in the smiles of Nelly Goodwin before the 
 expose of her true character which had revealed the 
 very defects in her composition whose existence he 
 had feared even when paying court to her beauty, and 
 which severed all ties of sentiment that bound him 
 to her. And long before the image of Nora had taken 
 such a firm hold upon him, he had come to the con- 
 clusion, that his vanity had been the worst wounded 
 factor in the break-up with Miss Goodwin. 
 
 In his idle moments on his route, he often wondered 
 in what light Nora regarded him, for although she 
 always had a ready smile and a warm cordial way of 
 greeting him, more so he sometimes thought than was 
 
 A 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 247 
 
 her wont toward others, yet, he reasoned all that might 
 be nothing more than a display of the gratitude she 
 felt toward him, on account of the incident which led 
 to their acquaintance. At anyrate, she was not 
 pledged to any one at persent, so he resolved ina 
 desperate way to enjoy the bliss which each meeting 
 afforded him, and continue to call upon her as in the 
 present, until the occurrence of such an event would 
 cause him to retire forever from her society, which 
 would then be fraught only with painful thoughts and 
 bitter memories. 
 
 It was this philosophical conclusion to “take the 
 goods the gods provide,” that caused him to whistle a 
 merry aria, picked up at one of the operas, as he walked 
 down the street to the office of the express company 
 at the depot; and although it was a rainy disagreeable 
 evening outside, his spirits were buoyant and hopeful. 
 Upon reaching the office, he found that he had a half- 
 hour to spare, before his car would be switched into 
 position for loading, and as he seated himself to await 
 the elapse of that period of time, a sudden thought 
 caused him to procure an envelope and some note- 
 paper from a neighboring desk, and begin the task of 
 writing a letter. 
 
 “T guess Mr. Oldham will begin to think I have 
 forgotten him entirely, if I don’t answer his last 
 letter,” said Hart to himself as he bit the end of his 
 penholder in an attempt to gather some ideas to write 
 upon. “I'll just let him know that Iam coming home 
 Christmas for a couple of days and that he will have 
 to put himself in trim for an afternoon’s hunt down 
 along the creek bottom, where we used to make it so 
 lively for the rabbits last winter.” 
 
 And Hart wrote just such a letter as these ideas 
 
248 ‘A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 would indicate, for he had often spent half a day dur- 
 ing the past two winters, in taking a brush with the 
 quail and rabbits, accompanied by the old engineer, 
 who, although well advanced in years, could still 
 tramp sturdily through brush and undergrowth, and 
 seldom failed to bring down a duck or some scurring 
 cotton-tail with his old-fashioned single-barrel, which 
 was always kept in trim order from October to March. 
 Hart soon finished the letter after engrafting on it a 
 few other ideas, and affixing a stamp to the addressed 
 envelope,-he placed it in his coat-pocket unsealed, 
 with the intention of mailing it in the morning when 
 on the train after adding any items of interest that 
 might occur to him during the night. 
 
 A signal from the porter, now informed him that his 
 car had been placed in position for loading, and hastily 
 donning his blouse, he hurried across the depot plat- 
 form to where the car was stationed, and began the 
 work of checking up the parcels and boxes as they 
 were passed to him from the huge wagons. It was a 
 disagreeable night, for the rain was now coming down 
 steadily and the chilling fitful gusts of wind that swept 
 by the open side door of the car, showed that a regu- 
 lar autumn gale had set in; but as Hart took his 
 place inside the car, the sight of a glowing fire in the 
 stove, gave everything an appearance of comfort, and 
 he went at his work in so cheerful a spirit, that the 
 labor seemed rather an agreeable task than otherwise. 
 
 He noticed on receipting for the money packages, 
 that he had an unusually heavy amount of treasure 
 aboard, and being especially notified of a government 
 consignment to be handed only to the proper officer 
 in person, at the end of its destination, he determined 
 to exercise a little extra precaution so, taking his re- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 249 
 
 volver from the desk where he had let it remain while 
 sorting over the many parcels and boxes with which 
 the car was well loaded, he placed it in his hip pocket 
 as the train moved out of the depot. 
 
 When about twelve miles from the city, and the last 
 of the many suburban stations was reached, a heavy 
 knock was given upon the side door of his car the mo- 
 ment after the train had come to a stop. 
 
 “Who is there?” shouted Hart approaching the door 
 with his hand upon the butt of his trusty weapon. 
 
 “It’s me, the brakeman. Open up your door a min- 
 ute,” was the answer given in a gruff voice from the 
 outside. 
 
 Hart slid back the door about eight inches, wonder- 
 ing what possible cause brought the brakeman to his 
 car but no sooner had he opened the door the slight 
 distance specified, than the outsider set a lighted rail- 
 road lantern he bore in uponthe car floor at Hart’s 
 feet. 
 
 “Here, young fellow, give mea lift. I’ve got to 
 splice the bellcord in there; for there’s a knot in it 
 just back of your car, and it’s so tight that it keeps 
 ringing in the engine,” said the brakeman ina matter 
 of fact tone and, seeing that Hart hesitated slightly 
 about helping him into the car, he coolly pushed back 
 the door a little farther, and giving a spring, landed 
 inside on his hands and knees, to which action Hart 
 offered no objection on perceiving the badge upon his 
 hat and the regulation train uniform in which the in- 
 truder was clad. | 
 
 Arising to his feet, the man slowly drew from his 
 pocket a short piece of rope, such as is used by train 
 men to extend the signal cord running through the 
 cars to the engine, and as the train started, he delib- 
 
250 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 erately cut the bellcord, one end of which he held in 
 his teeth while he began slicing the short piece to the 
 other end in so slow and fumbling a manner that Hart 
 became impatient at the fellow’s apparent indifference. 
 
 “The conductor told me to ride with you to the 
 next station, and as that is a good thirty miles up the 
 road, I guess I’ll have plenty of time to fix this,” 
 growled out the new-comer between his teeth, which 
 were closed upon the other end of the severed cord. 
 
 “Why couldn’t you have spliced the bellcordin the 
 baggage car without coming here?” asked Hart some- 
 what irritated at the deliberate way in which the man 
 had entered his car. 
 
 “Cause there’s a big knot in the cord just back of 
 your car, and it wouldn’t do any more good to 
 lengthen it out back of that knot than it would to 
 splice it on the end of a cat’s tail,” replied the other 
 with an insolent laugh as he went on with his work. 
 
 Hart flushed up at the insulting way this reply was 
 given, but not wishing to have any further words with 
 the man, he turned away and began his tasks. Once 
 or twice before, the train men had come in his car to 
 repair some breakage or to inspect some part that 
 seemed to interfere with the running gear beneath and, 
 as he did not dream that the intruder was other than 
 what he represented himself, he resumed the work of 
 checking over the articles in which he had been inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of the stranger. 
 
 He soon had occasion to pass close by where the 
 man was standing, and as he turned to retrace his 
 steps with a package in his arms he felt a grasp upon 
 the handle of his pistol, and at the same moment was 
 hurled to the floor of the car by the man’s other hand 
 which had a firm grip upon the collar of his vest, and 
 the stout cheviot jacket beneath. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 251 
 
 It took Hart but a second to realize that something 
 was wrong, and although half dead by the strong and 
 unexpected attack, he was struggling manfully a second 
 later to get up, and did succeed in getting upon his 
 knees, when he saw his own pistol which his assailant 
 must have thrown aside after drawing it from his 
 _ pocket, lying upon the floor, almost within his grasp. 
 It now became a desperate trial upon the part of Hart 
 to regain the lost weapon wherein youth and strength 
 was pitted against the experience and trained muscles 
 of a heavier, stronger man, who, while retaining firm 
 hold upon Hart’s collar with one hand, was endeavor- 
 ing to withdraw his own revolver from the side pocket 
 of his coat, where the barrel of the weapon had apar- 
 ently become entangled in the torn lining. Straining 
 every nerve to cover the short space to where his weap- 
 on lay, Hart was suddenly jerked over sideways and 
 dragged for a yard or more over the rough floor of 
 the car by the burly ruffian, who had at last succeeded 
 in getting his own weapon disentangled from the torn 
 lining of his pocket. 
 
 “Damn you, if you don’t stop this monkey work, I’ll 
 put your light out right here!” yelled the man in a 
 voice distinctly heard above the noise and rattle of 
 the running train. And as Hart looked up at his foe, 
 he saw the bright barrel of a heavy revolver in the 
 grasp of his right hand. 
 
 “Put your hands behind you!” hissed the feigned 
 brakeman, as he shook the revolver over Hart’s head 
 in a savage, reckless manner. "Put ’em behind you, 
 I say or I’1l not bother with you any longer. I and 
 my two pals on the front platform, are going to run 
 this train as you’ll find out directly.” 
 
 It took Hart but a moment to realize that he was 
 
252 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 indeed at the mercy of his powerful foe and, knowing 
 from the struggle just ended, that he could hardly 
 hope to gain his feet before the ruffan could take his 
 life with the weapon he held, Hart felt the hopeless- 
 ness of any present further resistance so, with an ap- 
 pearance of submission, he placed his hands behind 
 him in an awkwardly crossed position, hoping that the 
 
 robber would thus fail to secure them strongly, and 
 
 that he might possibly be able to free himself of the 
 bonds and turn the tables upon his assailant by grasp- 
 ing his weapon. 
 
 It was but the work of a moment for the robber to 
 catch a grip with his teeth upon the barrel of his pis- 
 tol; then taking off a strong silk cravat which he wore, 
 he tide it around one of Hart’s wrists when, noticing 
 the awkward manner in which his victim’s hands were 
 crossed, he took his revolver in hand, placing its 
 muzzle against the back of Hart’s head, exclaimed 
 fiercely: “Don’t you try any of your tricks on me! 
 Put your wrists close together, or I won’t bother with 
 you any longer.” 
 
 This threat had the desired effect and,- a moment 
 later, the robber helped Hart to his feet with his 
 hands so securely tied behind him, that he knew it 
 was useless to attempt to free himself. Taking the 
 key of the safe from Hart’s pocket, the robber un- 
 locked it and the very first package that fell out from 
 a canvas sack, which he cut open, caused an exultant 
 look of triumph to overspread his rough features, as 
 he noted the value of the contents written upon the 
 outside wrapper to be seventy thousand dollars. 
 
 “T guess the Indians will whistle for this to-morrow,” 
 he said with a-leer at Hart, as he stowed it away ina 
 sack that he drew from his pocket. MHastily transfer- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 253 
 
 ring all the other packets of money in the safe to the 
 same receptacle, he threw freight and parcels to one 
 side, until he had worked a passage to the end door 
 of the car, which he opened slightly and to Hart who, 
 from his seat beside the iron safe to which he was 
 now bound, was watching every movement of the rob- 
 ber, it seemed as though he was holding a conversation 
 with some accomplice stationed upon the platform; 
 ~for as he closed the door, Hart heard him exclaim 
 boisterously: “Allright, Dan,” as though acquiescing 
 in something proposed by the outsider, but no sound 
 of the other’s voice reached Hart, who supposed it lost 
 in the din and racket made by the motion of the car. 
 
 “Well, young fellow, I’ve been talking with a 
 couple of my pards out there,” said the robber gruffly 
 as he returned to where Hart was tied, “and we are 
 going to take you along with us for a few miles to- 
 night, so just open your mouth till I put this in your 
 jaw, for my partner used to be an auctioneer, and he 
 gets mad in a minute if he ain’t allowed to do all the 
 talking himself,” and producing a gag made of two 
 handkerchiefs, he forced a huge knot into Hart’s 
 mouth, and then tide-the loose ends around the back 
 of his victim’s neck which left him a silent as well 
 as helpless captive. 
 
 “Now, look here, young fellow,” continued the rob- 
 ber while a grim smile stole over his hardened fea- 
 tures, causing Hart’s spirits to rise nota little. “I'll 
 just lay down the law to youright now. We ain’t go- 
 ing to kill you providing you do as we tell you, but 
 if you try any of your monkey shines you better have 
 your prayers said beforehand for the chances are that 
 your light will go out mighty sudden. You see what 
 a kind-hearted man I am, don’t you? I actually put 
 
254 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 your life in your own hands. AIlI ask is that you 
 won’t commit suicide in my company. It’s not gentle 
 manly, you know,” and a grim leer at his own humor 
 supplanted the smile upon his face as he concluded 
 his warning. 
 
 Taking a hasty glance around, the robber’s gaze fell 
 upon the lantern that had aided him so materially in 
 gaining an entrance to the car, and picking it up, he 
 hurled it out of the side door of the car, after extin- 
 guishing the light. Then taking up the valuable sack 
 wherein lay all the booty, he strapped it on his back 
 in such a manner as to leave his arms free to act. 
 Noticing Hart’s pistol which still lay upon the floor 
 undisturbed, he transterred it to his pocket and then 
 loosening his captive from the safe, but still keeping 
 the thongs intact that bound his hands behind him, 
 he forced Hart along the passage way he had made 
 toward the front end door of the car. 
 
 “We get off at the next stop, where they slow up at 
 the crossing, and you don’t want to give me any 
 trouble either or I won’t bother with you,” said the 
 robber threateningly, and then opening the door, they 
 stepped out upon the platform into the pitchy dark- 
 ness. 
 
 The train was now running at a high-rate of speed, 
 as it was making up for lost time, caused by the slip- 
 pery track along some of the up-grades just passed 
 over, and when the door closed upon them, it was with 
 difficulty that Hart could stand erect upon the danger- 
 ously swaying platform, although supported by a firm 
 grip on his shoulder by his late assailant, whom he 
 could not even distinguish in the dense darkness of 
 the night. 
 
 “Sit down upon the steps, 
 
 shouted the robber in a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 255 
 
 voice that was heard above the fearful noise of the 
 train, and as Hart, assisted by the other, sat down 
 upon the platform steps, he quickly perceived that the 
 swaying lurching motion of the cars was not so plainly 
 felt as when standing erect. 
 
 - They had hardly been seated ten minutes, when the 
 train began to slacken its speed, and as it came to a 
 stop for a second, the robber forced Hart from the 
 car steps to the ground alongside the track, where they 
 stood while the train started off again immediately, 
 for the place was only a railroad crossing without a 
 single house in sight. 
 
 “Come now, we have got a long walk ahead, and no 
 time to lose,” said the robber gruffly, as the red light 
 on the end of the fast flying train disappeared around 
 a curve in the road, and was lost to view while Hart 
 stood peering about in a vain attempt to distinguish 
 the forms of the robber’s confederates, whom he con- 
 fidently believed to have been stationed upon the op- 
 posite side of the platform all the while. But as the 
 robber led the way down the track with a firm hold 
 upon Hart’s arm, a feeling of surprise and mystery 
 came upon him on perceiving that they were entirely 
 alone. This fact, however, seemed to have no effect 
 on his companion for he hurried his captive along 
 down the track for the distance of half a mile or so, 
 until they came to a point where the railroad was 
 crossed by a wagon road, which he branched off upon, 
 appearing to be entirely familiar with every step of 
 the way, even in the intense darkness that prevailed. 
 
 Then began a terrible walk such as Hart had never 
 experienced before, even on the longest rambles he 
 had ever taken when at home upon the farm, for with 
 his hands tied behind him, and the gag in his mouth, 
 
256 ; A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 which restrained him from breathing as freely as he 
 wished, it soon became a difficult task to keep pace 
 with the long strides of the robber, who never for an 
 instant withdrew his grip upon him or showed any 
 sign of relaxing his pace. Up the steep rocky sides 
 of high hills, and then down along the side of some 
 stream in the dark valley below, the robber hurried 
 his prisoner over the lonely road vouchsafing no word 
 to his unwilling companion, and though Hart’s ears 
 
 were strained to catch any sound that might indicate 
 - the approach of some one who might come to his res- 
 cue, no sound other than the mournful hoot of the owl, 
 and an occasional bark of a dog at some far distant 
 farm-house, reached his ear. 
 
 At first he continually wondered what had become 
 of the confederates; for he firmly believed from the 
 way his burly assailant had acted and spoken on the 
 train, that there were others upon the car platform, 
 and yet, why had they not got off to assist the one 
 now beside him? This perplexing question kept his 
 mind busy for an hour or two, as he trudged along, 
 and then the fearful thought came upon him of how 
 this rufian might be taking him to some lonely spot 
 to kill and bury him out of sight forever. Now! just 
 as life seemed to have opened up to him a flood of 
 aspirations for the future. This thought caused the 
 cold perspiration to start out upon his forehead, and 
 his limbs trembled so for an instant, that he stumbled 
 and would have fallen forward, had not his compan- 
 ion’s firm grasp upheld him. 
 
 The robber halted and began to unfasten the gag 
 from his prisoner. “I guess we better rest awhile,” 
 he said in a more friendly tone than he had used be- 
 fore in speaking to Hart, “You seem to be getting 
 
ad 
 
 A LUCKY MISHAP 257 
 
 weak, but we have only got another mile or two, to 
 walk and as we’ve passed the last house that stands 
 any ways close to the road, I guess I’ll leave this thing 
 out for the rest of the way,” and putting the gag in 
 his pocket, he assisted Hart to a sitting posture upon 
 the ground. » 
 
 “Where are you taking me to?” asked Hart after 
 the ache in his jaws had somewhat relaxed, for the 
 gag had kept them in a constant state of tension. 
 
 “Don’t ask any questions, but just do as I tell you, 
 and I[’1l turn you loose sometime,” was the surly re- 
 sponse, and for fully ten minutes, neither of them 
 uttered a word. 
 
 “T wish I had a drink of water,” Hart ventured to 
 say as the robber arose to his feet with the evident 
 intention of continuing their tramp 
 
 “That’s just what ails me, and I’ve got some good 
 whisky buried at the place where we stop, so get up, 
 and we’ll hustle on to where it is,” exclaimed the 
 other, and once more they started on their way along 
 the road which now was scarcely more than a bridle- 
 path. 
 
 It was now far after midnight, and having proceeded 
 along the way a couple of miles from the point where 
 they had rested, Hart began to fee] the raw damp air 
 fog arising from some lake or watercourse, and after 
 descending the steep incline of a hill, his captor aban- 
 doned the road and hurried him across a_ shallow 
 slough to a sandy plain, when Hart at once compre- 
 hended that they were upon some huge sand-bar as 
 they passed by patches of wiliows, the only growth 
 upon the level desolate plain. Then for the first time 
 it occurred to Hart that they must now be near the 
 Missouri river which, according to the map, lay about 
 
258 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 eight or ten miles from the railroad and in the direc- 
 tion they had been travelling. 
 
 They soon came to the edge of the bar, where Hart 
 beheld the dim outlines of a skiff drawn up half-way 
 out of the water, locked to a log on the bank, and a 
 moment later the robber had unearthed a good-sized 
 bottle from the sand at the end of the log. 
 
 “Have a drink; it will keep you from catching cold,” 
 said the robber, ashe withdrew the cork and held the 
 bottle up for Hart to take a draught which the latter 
 had no sooner done than it seemed as if his throat had 
 been seared with a red hot iron, and he coughed so 
 violently that the very tears came to his eyes. 
 
 “Humph! Guess you ain’t used to firewater,” com- 
 mented the robber as he smiled at Hart’s contortions 
 and tossing up the bottle, he“ started to take a long 
 pull, but stopped suddenly after a couple of swallows. 
 
 “Holy smoke!” he exclamied in disgust, setting the 
 bottle down upon the log, “that infernal bartender 
 must have run the hack-driver’s bottle in on me when 
 he sold me that stuff. And he charged me for good 
 rye too, the scoundrel! No wonder you coughed so, 
 for the darn stuff ain’t much better than benzine,” and 
 without wasting any more time, he began to dig up 
 the sand alongside the log, where he soon brought to 
 view a regular assortment of articles necessary to a 
 complete camping outfit. There were two pairs of oars, 
 a box of provisions, a coffee-pot, a frying-pan, anda 
 host of odds and ends that caused Hart to wonder 
 what would be the next move of his myterious captor. 
 
 He was not held in suspense very long, for as soon 
 as the robber had brought forth a heavy shot-gun and 
 musket from their place of concealment in the willows, 
 
 he loaded both with heavy shot and then hastily be- 
 
yw 
 
 A LUCKY MISHAP 259 
 
 gan placing everything in the skiff with the evident 
 intention of departing. Laying the piece of tarpaulin 
 upon the bottom of the skiff near the stern, he told 
 Hart to get in the boat and there take a seat, then he 
 proceeded to tie Hart’s legs together at the ankles 
 with a piece of rope; this being accomplished he un- 
 fastened the thongs about his prisoner’s arms and left 
 them free. | 
 
 The robber then placed all the remaining articles in- 
 cluding the guns in the bow of the skiff and just as he 
 shoved the craft out into the stream and took his 
 place at the oars, the dawn of morning had begun to 
 send up faint streaks of light in the east proclaiming 
 that another day was close at hand. 
 
 It was with a feeling of awe and wonderment that 
 Hart gazed around him as daylight displayed the scene 
 at which he was so unwilling a spectator. They were 
 out in the middle of the river where the quick clean 
 stroke of the oars aided by the swift current was car- 
 rying the boat rapidly on its way down the stream. 
 On the south bank, there were high rocky bluffs tow- 
 ering almost perpendicularly from the water’s edge 
 crowned upon their heights with tall timber whose 
 foliage had just assumed those peculiarly rich hues 
 of red and yellow imparted by a touch of the ripening 
 frost. Upon the opposite bank the land lay low and 
 swampy, barely much higher than the level of the water, 
 while the undergrowth appeared to be almost as thick 
 as that of a Brazilian forest. 
 
 As his gaze reverted to the boat, he noticed how 
 everything necessary fora long trip appeared to be 
 on hand and, as his eye fell upon the loaded shotgun 
 in the bow, he made up his mind that if the robber 
 should ever relax his present vigilance sufficient to en- 
 
260 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 able him to gain possession of the gun, he would yet 
 save all the money which lay in the sack at the rob- 
 ber’s side, even if the blood of his captor had to be 
 shed. 
 
 After they had covered fully ten miles from their 
 starting-point upon the sand-bar, and were skirting 
 along close to an island upon which the willows grew 
 in profusion down to the water’s edge, the robber 
 pulled the skiff in toward shore, and upon landing, he 
 helped Hart to hobble up the steep bank to a place in 
 the dense willows, when he again bound his hands, 
 and then leisurely bringing the cooking utensils and 
 provisions from the boat, he began preparing break- 
 fast in the manner of one thoroughly used to this kind 
 of life; for in less than an hour, the rashers of bacon 
 were sizzling in the frying-pan, and coffee, made by 
 using the river water, was boiling in a lively manner 
 over a good fire, made from the driftwood with which 
 the shore was strewn. 
 
 “Have another taste of bitters, partner?” asked the 
 robber with a broad grin, as he made a motion to pass 
 him the bottle after taking a good horn himself. 
 
 “No, thank you, I’ll wait for the coffee. I suppose 
 it will be ready soon,” answered Hart, for he did not 
 relish liquor much when of the best, and the mouth- 
 ful he had taken was sufficient in its effect to cure 
 him of any desire for a second dose of the villainous 
 liquid. 3 
 
 “All right. I’ll take a smack for you then,” replied 
 the other, as he took another swallow which caused 
 his face to flush as the strong drink coursed its way 
 down his throat. “And as we are going to stay here 
 all day, I guess I’ll just search you to see how many 
 pocket knives you’ve got about you to cut these ropes 
 
 er 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 261 
 
 when I’m not watching,” he added as he came toward 
 Hart, and running his hands down the pantaloon’s 
 pockets of his prisoner, without finding anything that 
 might aid him to escape, he started to go through his 
 coat, and as he drew out the contents of his inside 
 pocket, the first thing that came to view, was the letter 
 to Mr. Oldham, which Hart had intended mailing at 
 the station where the train stopped for breakfast. 
 
 As the robber glanced at the plain address upon the 
 envelope, his face which was flushed up from the 
 effects of the liquor, suddenly turned to an ashen hue, 
 as though he was startled at something. 
 
 “How did you come by this letter?” he asked ina 
 low quick tone, wholly devoid of that tough accent 
 that he had been using when speaking to Hart. 
 
 “That is a letter I wrote and intended mailing to 
 an old friend of mine, who lives down near my home,” 
 said Hart quietly. 
 
 “Humph! I'll just have time to read it before 
 breakfast,” said the other with a vain attempt to re- 
 sume his.former manner of tough indifference. “I’m 
 a curious chap, you know, and it’s so long time since 
 I’ve had a letter myself, that I’ll just take the liberty of 
 seeing how this one reads,” and drawing out the un- 
 sealed missive, he read the contents very slowly to 
 himself, after which he carefully refolded the letter and 
 replaced it in Hart’s pocket with the other articles ab- 
 stracted in the search, while a grave abstracted expres- 
 sion settled upon his face, as though he was thinking 
 of something far away. 
 
 “This friend of your’s must be quite an old man, 
 judging from the way you write,” he remarked casually 
 as he sorted out some crackers from the box of provis- 
 ions. 
 
262 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Yes; he is about fifty-five, I think,” replied Hart. 
 
 “That’s a queer go, for an old man of fifty-five to 
 be corresponding with a young duck like you. Hasn’t 
 he got any children of his own to write to?” inquired 
 the robber somewhat sharply. 
 
 “He has no children now, that I know of, although 
 I feel sure that he once had a son who died or else 
 ran away and left him. I never liked to ask the old 
 gentleman, for fear of hurting his feelings. 
 
 “Quite a mystery surrounding this friend of yours,” 
 remarked the robber as he removed the frying-pan 
 from the fire. “Pray, what made you think his feel- 
 ings would be so easily hurt? I am quite interested 
 in your story,” he persisted in a light, careless tone 
 that put Hart in mind of Rushing’s peculiar way of 
 speaking, and caused him to wonder how many more 
 roles this bogus brakeman, highwayman, and now 
 tramp, could successfully assume. 
 
 “It was only a little incident,” returned Hart. “I 
 was telling him one day of a feat that I saw performed 
 in a wrestling match at one of the county fairs held 
 not far from Montrovia, and as I finished, the old 
 gentleman_made some remark about what a great lad 
 at that kind of sport his son had been. But as soon 
 as he spoke, he turned aside to his work to hide his 
 emotion, for I noticed two big tears stealing down his 
 cheeks, so I always avoided that subject afterward. 
 I think the son must have run away to sea, and was 
 probably drowned or killed in some other way, without 
 their hearing of it, for the postmaster at Montrovia 
 told me that Mrs. Oldham inquired at the postoffice 
 regularly every week for a letter, but none ever came. 
 Surely, if their son was alive, he would write to them 
 at least once in awhile, unless he is a miserable 
 scoundrel.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 263 
 
 For fully five minutes after Hart had finished speak- 
 ing, there was a dead silence, while the robber kept 
 on at his task of spreading a meagre repast upon an 
 old newspaper, which had been suspended in his in- 
 terest at Hart’s story, without once looking up from 
 under the rim of his slouch hat. 
 
 “There might be—there might be some circum- 
 stances, you know—some peculiar circumstances, that 
 might make it dangerous for him to write,” said the 
 robber finally with an odd ring in his voice, as though 
 somewhat disconcerted by what Hart had just related. 
 
 To this remark Hart made no reply, and a few 
 seconds later, the robber announced that breakfast 
 was ready. This consisted of coffee, fried bacon, soda- 
 crackers, and a can of peaches, and, unfastening the 
 thongs about Hart’s arms, the captor and his captive 
 began to devour the scanty meal with a relish. 
 
 All day long thereafter, the robber and his prisoner 
 remained in the willows upon the lonely island, with 
 scarcely a break of any kind in the monotony, except 
 the occasional whzr-r of some flock of wild ducks, or 
 the houk—houk of wild geese, as they passed by in 
 flocks overhead. About mid-day, the robber began ex- 
 amining his booty, and as he laid the huge piles of 
 greenbacks upon the sand, a look of fierce triumph 
 swept over his face, as he gazed upon the stolen treas- 
 ure. Sorting out the bills of large denomination, he 
 stuffed the greater part of them down his boots with 
 the evident intention of getting away with that part of 
 the money at all hazards, in case of a fight, and as 
 Hart viewed his powerful figure, now armed to the 
 teeth, he thought some serious affray would certainly 
 occur before this vast amount of treasure would be re- 
 covered by its rightful owners. 
 
264 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 \ 
 
 As the sun began to sink in the west, the robber 
 prepared a hasty meal of crackers and canned peaches, 
 after which he hurriedly packed everything again in 
 the skiff preparatory to resuming his journey down the 
 river, and as the darkness of night settled over the 
 land, he assisted Hart to his former place in the boat, 
 and casting loose from the bank, they were soon out 
 in the current, afloat upon this most dangerous of nav- 
 igable American rivers. Hart little knew how fast 
 they traveled, until a sullen roaring noise ahead denoted 
 the dangerous proximity of a snag, and as they shot 
 by like a flash, its ugly black head scarce ten feet 
 away, he realized the rapid rate at which they were 
 going. 
 
 After an hour or so had passed, Hart became sleepy, 
 and drawing the overcoat around his shoulders he lay 
 down upon the tarpaulin with the intention of going 
 to sleep, when he suddenly noticed a great many 
 lights upon the hillside on the left bank, about a mile 
 further down the river, which indicated that they 
 were approaching some town and, as he looked again, 
 he saw some colored lights upon a high railroad 
 bridge that spanned the vast stream. 
 
 A sudden hope inspired Hart, that the river might 
 be guarded here, and his rescue effected. Some such 
 idea seemed to enter the robber’s mind also, for he 
 drew both the shotgun and musket within easy reach, 
 and drawing out a huge six-shooter, that he had un- 
 earthed with the other articles of his cache, he laid it 
 on the seat beside him, ready for action. 
 
 “T wouldn’t advise you to yell when we pass under 
 that bridge, young fellow, for there might be only one 
 man in this boat afterward,” he said in a threatening 
 tone. 
 
 we 
 yg 
 = 
 
 Ee 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 265 
 
 “Is not that place St. C—?” inquired Hart, as they 
 were passing the town, keeping far over toward the 
 opposite shore; for he had a very good idea of the 
 route the robber was taking, and he intended keeping 
 every little incident fresh in his memory to relate to 
 the authorities whenever his captor released him. | 
 
 “Right you are sonny. Now gotothe head of your 
 class and keep still,” was the robber’s surly response 
 and a moment later they passed beneath the bridge 
 fully eighty or a hundred feet above them without be- 
 ing challenged by a single cry from any quarter. 
 
 Then for hour after hour the steady clickh—click of 
 the oars and the occasional roar of the water’s around 
 some drift attached to a snag head, were the only 
 sounds that came to Hart’s ears; and finally with a 
 tired feeling of resignation he drew the robber’s over- 
 coat around him and fell sound asleep in the bottom 
 of the boat. 
 
 The sun was shining brightly when Hart awoke on 
 the following morning, and a glance around showed 
 that the boat was again drawn up on a sand-bar very 
 similar to the one which they had passed the previous 
 day. 
 
 “I thought I might as well let you have your sleep 
 out,” said the robber on coming down from the bank 
 where he had already started a bright fire, and was 
 preparing to boil some coffee. 
 
 “T am glad of that,” said Hart as he began to bathe 
 his face and hands. “For then 1 can be in good shape 
 to keep guard when you want to take a sleep,” he 
 added in a spirit of humor over the situation. 
 
 “Ha! ha! That’s not a bad idea,” remarked the 
 other witha laugh. “The only thing that bothers me is 
 whether you would use the shotgun or the musket to 
 
266 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 blow my head off the minute my eyes closed. I’m 
 afraid it will be a cool day when I sleep with you on 
 guard, young fellow.” 
 
 The day passed by pretty much as the one preceed- 
 ing except that Hart had his hopes aroused twice on 
 viewing two steamboats plying their way up the river 
 but as they passed without coming nearer than half-a- 
 mile of their camping point, his expectations of a res- 
 cue faded away indespair. In the afternoon, his cap- 
 tor began to show the effect of the want of sleep and 
 it was only by walking up and down upon the sand 
 and by drinking huge draughts of strong coffee that 
 he managed to keep from dozing. 
 
 The moment dusk set in they were once more upon 
 the river with the robber redoubling his efforts at the 
 oars and just as darkness settled upon them they shot 
 out into the clearer and more tranquil waters of the 
 Mississippi. Then the powerful way in which his 
 captor was straining at the oars caused Hart to think 
 that his release would soon take place, but as they 
 came near to the northern suburbs of the great city, 
 the robber bound and gagged him in a manner more 
 securely than ever before and keeping the little cratt 
 well in the middle of the broad river he passed by the 
 long line of steamers at the levee, and beneath the 
 huge bridge, not slacking his speed for a moment un- 
 til he was far below the city when he began heading 
 the boat in toward the western shore. 
 
 As they came to a dyke that extended. out into the 
 water a short distance, the oarsman gave vent to a 
 whistle in imitation of the quail’s cry which was an- 
 swered almost before the echo had died away, and as 
 the boat headed. toward the point from where the 
 signal had been answered, Hart beheld the dim out- 
 
 iA. 
 - °S 
 2 é 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 267 
 
 lines of a slender figure standing close to the water’s 
 edge. 
 
 “Is that you, Bob?” asked the robber peering to- 
 ward the person on the shore. 
 
 “Yes; it’s all right, Jack. Pull in,” was the reply, 
 and as the boat touched the bank the one addressed 
 as “Bob” stepped in, holding a large bundle under 
 one arm. 
 
 “What in thunder, have you got there?” asked the 
 robber whom Hart now knew for the first time by the 
 name of Jack. 
 
 “A couple of blankets and a lot of grub,” replied 
 Bob as he deposited the package in the skiff and gave 
 it a shove out from the bank. “When I read the 
 account in the newspapers, I knew you would certainly 
 be here to-night, sol bought a lot of grub, and traded 
 off my pistol at a second-hand store for this pair of 
 blankets. Great jiminy,” he exclaimed on perceiving 
 Hart’s prostrate form. “So that’s his nibs, is it? 
 Well you have got him tied up sure enough. But I 
 say, Jack,” he went on excitedly, “you done that work 
 mighty slick. Why the newspapers are all out offer- 
 ing big rewards for his nibs yonder, who they say 
 skipped out with nearly a hundred thousand. You 
 didn’t get that much swag, did you Jack?” 
 
 “Yes; I’ve got a bundle this time that will last us 
 forever,” replied Jack. “But don’t bother me with any 
 more questions just now, for I’m dead for sleep, and 
 you will have to run this boat to-night. You want to 
 keep your eye on this fellow, for he is tricky, and be 
 sure and not let him get near one of these guns.” 
 
 As soon as Bob had rowed the skiff out into the 
 middle of the river Jack took the gag out of Hart’s 
 mouth, and then began preparing a place in the bow 
 
268 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 to lie down, which was soon accomplished, for ten 
 minutes later, the heavy breathing from that quarter 
 indicated that he was sound asleep. 
 
 It was far different though with poor Hart; for he 
 had no sooner heard the remark dropped by Bob, that 
 the newspapers had proclaimed him to be a thief who 
 had decamped from his car with the money, than a 
 flood of wild emotions surged within him. He could 
 scarcely credit that the officials of the company would 
 believe that he was so depraved as to break the trust 
 reposed in him, and yet the more he thought of how 
 thoroughly this bold robbery had been carried out, 
 the clearer he saw how closely it resembled cases that 
 occur every day wherein trusted employees take flight 
 to parts unknown with all the available cash. Then, 
 somewhat comforted by the thought of how he could 
 explain the whole affair when these robbers released 
 him, he finally fell asleep. 
 
 It was daylight when he opened his eyes, and both 
 of the robbers were awake and conversing in a low 
 tone which they immediately dropped when they per- 
 ceived him aroused. 
 
 “Here is a newspaper, young fellow, that gives an 
 account of this little racket, and it gives you a pretty 
 hard deal. It says that you intended robbing the 
 company some time ago. Some chap named Disroe 
 says he heard you talking up some such scheme toa 
 friend of yours, some months ago. How is this, cully? 
 I’ll swear I wouldn’t have thought that of you,” said 
 Jack with a laugh as he tossed toward Hart a news- 
 paper which Cook had brought. 
 
 Hart was so astonished that he did not attempt a 
 reply, but on picking up the newspaper, he beheld an 
 article which left no doubt in regard to the robber’s 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 269 
 
 statement being true. It was a two column article, 
 and related at length how a trusted young express 
 messenger had decamped with the very first large con- 
 signment of money that had been intrusted to him. 
 Then followed a statement that Mr. George Disroe, a 
 young man of undoubted veracity, holding a good po- 
 sition in the city, had been impelled by conscientious 
 scruples, in spite of the fact that he was a friend of 
 the defaulter, to acknowledge having accidentally - 
 
 overheard part of a conversation, between Furlong 
 and another young man, whose name was withheld at 
 present for obvious reasons, in which the two con- 
 spirators had undoubtedly been discussing the features 
 of a plot to defraud the corporation. The one whose 
 name was withheld for fear of obstructing the ends 
 of justice, was under close surveillance, and would 
 have to explain the whole matter which would render 
 the capture of the rascal inevitable. Then there was 
 the usual editorial, warning young men froma like 
 course of ruin and disgrace, in which Hart was alluded 
 to in all the various terms from “a rascally knave” to 
 “a deceiving scoundrel,” whom they devoutly hoped 
 would get the full extent of the law when arrested. 
 It took Hart only a second to see what a contemp- 
 tible part George Disroe had acted in the case toward 
 both Ben and himself, and how he must have deliber- 
 ately resolved to state a falsehood when saying that 
 what he had overheard was anything in the nature of 
 a plot to defraud the express company. The more he 
 thought about the affair, the more bewildered he be- 
 came, and the conviction was forced upon him that if 
 these robbers were not caught and if the authorities re- 
 fused to believe his statement, it might indeed go hard 
 with him. At anyrate, he resolved to think no more 
 
270 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 about it at present, but to bend all his faculties toward 
 watching and listening to his captors, with the idea that 
 they might drop some careless remark which would 
 furnish a clew leading to their detection. 
 
 From that day on, the skiff and its occupants kept 
 on their way to the South, traveling both by night 
 and day, stopping only at deserted, uninhabitable 
 points to cook their meals,’and never for an instant 
 relaxing their vigilance upon their prisoner. When 
 they ran short of provisions, Bob would walk back to 
 some hamlet after they had run below it a couple of 
 miles and buy a huge basketful of canned fruit and 
 such articles as bacon, coffee, sugar etc., which would 
 be sufficient to last for four or five days. 
 
 They always gave the passing steamboats a wide 
 berth and Hart never was given even a ghost of a 
 show to raise an alarm that might lead to his rescue. 
 They ran by Memphis in broad daylight but were care- 
 ful to keep well over toward the Arkansas bank. It 
 was full two weeks from the date of the robbery when, 
 as they passed a small landing some two hundred 
 miles below Helena, Hart noticed the. robbers ex- 
 changing significant glances as though familiar with 
 the landmarks along the bank. 
 
 “Well, young fellow, perhaps we’ll break up house- 
 keeping ina couple of hours,” exclaimed Jack in a 
 hearty way, as though glad of being relieved of his un- 
 pleasant task of jailer. 
 
 “Thank God for that!” murmured Hart. 
 
 “Now just listen to him!” chimed in the small 
 fellow whom Hart only knew by the name of Bob. 
 “He don’t seem to have enjoyed our society in the 
 least, although I’ve done my very best to keep him 
 
 from dying on our hands,” he added in a droll way, as- 
 
 . arn 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 271 
 
 though the idea of Hart enjoying their company, tickled 
 him greatly. ; 
 
 As they pulled in to the bank on the west side of 
 the river about ten miles below the landing just re- 
 ferred to, Jack cut the ropes round Hart’s ankles and 
 motioned to him to step out on the shore. 
 
 “Now look here, young fellow,” began the big rob-" 
 ber, as he followed Hart up the bank, “I’ve got a 
 proposition to make to you, and you will have to con- 
 sider it mighty quick, for Bob and I don’t intend stay- 
 ing here very long. I'll send ten thousand dollars to 
 anybody you choose to name, providing you givea 
 wrong description of me; for instance, state that I 
 am a short thick-set man, fully thirty-five or forty 
 years old.” 
 
 “IT don’t want anything to do with your proposi- 
 tion,” exclaimed Hart indignant at such a proposal 
 being tendered him. “If you will tell me the quickest 
 way out of this jungle, that’s all I ask of you.” 
 
 “Very well,” responded the robber complacently, 
 “you are about eighty miles above Vicksburg at pres- 
 ent, and your best plan would be to go to Lake Prov- 
 idence, where you can catch a steamboat almost any 
 day that will take you down to Vicksburg. Provi- 
 dence lies just eight miles below here on this side of 
 the river, and the best way to reach it, is to follow 
 that raised embankment until you get there. That’s 
 the levee, and you will find a good bridle-path on 
 top which will make walking easy. Perhaps I’d bet- 
 ter give you some money, for it will take considerable 
 to pay your way back to St. Louis, after you get to 
 Vicksburg;” and he tendered Hart a roll of bills, 
 amounting in value to about two hundred.dollars, 
 which he accepted, for in truth, he did not have the 
 
272 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 necessary funds to pay his fare to St. Louis. 
 
 “T think you better take me up on that offer, young 
 man, for to tell the truth, you are in a bad box, as 
 you will find out shortly. Everybody will drop you 
 like a hot potato, and if you have been smirking up 
 to any girl, the chances are a dead certainty that she 
 won’t even acknowledge your acquaintance. Nobody 
 will believe your story after the way the newspapers 
 have written you up, and ten thousand dollars will be 
 a good nest-egg to fall back on in the end.” 
 
 A sudden thought came upon Hart, as the robber 
 concluded, and he resolved to act upon it even though 
 the idea was repugnant to him He reasoned within 
 himself that he was in duty bound to his employers to 
 use all possible means that might lead to the capture 
 of these robbers, and the restoration of the stolen 
 money. And as they had not scrupled to use first 
 trickery and then open violence to further their ends, 
 surely it would be justifiable to employ deception to 
 defeat them. 
 
 “Tt does look bad at present,” he remarked as he 
 tried to assume a sort of wavering expression with 
 the intention of deceiving the robber. “What guaran- 
 tee would I have, though, of ever getting such a sum 
 of money from you, in case I gave a false description 
 of you?” 
 
 “I?ll send the money to any person you choose to 
 name, the very minute your false description of me is 
 published and sent out by the detectives. But mind 
 you, it will have to be that of a short thick-set person,” 
 exclaimed Jack eagerly. 
 
 “You mean to act squarely by me in this, do you?” 
 asked Hart with a flattering idea arising within him 
 that he was making a masterly effort in the detective 
 line. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 273 
 
 “Dead square. Honor bright!” said the robber with 
 emphasis. “Just name the person to whom you want 
 the money given, and I’ll see that he gets it within a 
 week after I notice the published description.” 
 
 It puzzled Hart for a moment to think whom he 
 should designate as the receiver, when a shrewd idea 
 entered his mind which thoroughly convinced him 
 that he would have made a wonderful detective. How 
 nicely it would trap this burly robber! 
 
 “T know of but one friend’whom I would care to 
 trust with the money,” said Hart with all the appear- 
 ance of a weak-minded young man taking his first step 
 in crime. “His name is Charles Huntoon, and he 
 lives in Denver at 1624 L— Street. But I want you 
 to take the money to him in person, and explain the 
 matter so that he will understand the case. In that 
 way, no traces will be left which these infernal detect- 
 ives can work up,” said Hart with the full belief that 
 he had prepared a deadly pitfall for his adversary 
 which would not only result in the certain restoration 
 of ten thousand dollars, but also the capture of this 
 daring rogue before him. 
 
 “All right; it’s a go!” said the robber heartily. 
 “And now we’ll say good-bye, for Bob and J must 
 be moving. Take good care to follow the levee on 
 your way down to Providence, for if you get tangled 
 up in that swamp to the right, the chances are that 
 you’ll never get to St. Louis,” and leaving Hart upon 
 the shore, the two robbers pulled for the opposite side 
 of the river nearly a mile distant, and started up a 
 bayou which opened out upon the river close to the 
 point where they landed. 
 
 “What do you think of that fellow?” asked Cook, as 
 they began rowing up the backwater. “Do you think 
 he means what he says?” 
 
274 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Time will tell,” replied Jack. “When he gets 
 back to St Louis, the detectives and newspaper re- 
 porters will take him in charge, and we will see what 
 description he gives by watching the newspapers. I’ 11 
 act straight about it, if he sticks to his word, but his 
 friend Huntoon will have to come to some place that 
 I appoint. All that can be easily arranged, however.” 
 
 They had not proceeded more than half-a-mile up 
 the bayou, when Jack headed the boat in toward shore, 
 and jumping out, said hurriedly: “Now Bob, let us 
 hustle and throw everything into that clump of bushes 
 yonder; for if we can make it over to Rolling Fork by 
 eight o’clock ‘this evening, you can catch the through 
 express for the north, unless it has changed time in 
 the last two years. You better put those two packages 
 of money in your coat right now, and then you will 
 not forget them. See Morgan first at St. Louis, then 
 go straight to Chicago, and be sure to give Howard, 
 the big package. If Morgan grumbles at the amount, 
 tell him that I'll be up there myself in a few months 
 after this thing blows over a little. And don’t let the 
 grass grow under your feet after you settle with Howard 
 but come straight to New Orleans over the I. C. road, 
 and I’ll be at the old place on Poydras Street, where 
 we hung out the last time we were there.” 
 
 In less than ten minutes afterward, both of them 
 were hurrying briskly along over a road with which 
 they seemed to be quite familiar; and as they were 
 now only burdened with the money and their smaller 
 weapons, they made good progress on the route they 
 took to the nearest station, some fifteen miles east- 
 ward, where they made such close connections with 
 the trains, that twenty-four hours later, found Cook 
 in St. Louis while Jack was safely installed in an ob- 
 scure boarding-house in New Orleans, 
 
CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 To the mind of one who has the slightest tinge of 
 romance in his composition, and especially to him 
 who has been reared in the north, the mere mention 
 of New Orleans calls up a feeling of grandeur and 
 mystery as the mind recalls historical lore in which 
 this old but still populous mart bears such frequent 
 mention. 
 
 The scene of our greatest victory over the flower of 
 the British army in the war of 1812; the location of 
 brilliant and daring exploits of our navy during the 
 late war; the laudation that many authors and dra- 
 matists have heaped upon it in depicting life as it 
 exists in and around this famous mart—all tend to 
 stimulate the imaginative spirit in one which envelopes 
 this old burg in a mystic haze that never clears away 
 until frequent visits dispel the glamour; for when curi- 
 osity is satisfied romance soon lies dormant. 
 
 The city lies upon the east bank of the Mississippi 
 which makes a wide curve here, not unlike that of a 
 quarter moon, thus giving to the town the shape of a 
 crescent from which it derives its well known appella- 
 tion. How this low swampy tract ever came to be 
 selected for the location of even a trading-post, or 
 what were the causes that resulted in its wonderful 
 growth, in spite of its many disadvantages, have not, 
 nor probably ever will be, satisfactorily explained. 
 Certainly a worse location could hardly have been 
 chosen, and while by some mysterious means the 
 
 275 
 
276 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 architects and builders manage to obtain a firm enough 
 foundation on the spongy soil to erect row upon row ~ 
 of handsome four-story mansions, yet it is doubtful if 
 a single cellar or basement exists in the entire city. 
 
 The dampness and moisture that rise to the level 
 of the earth, make it necessary for customs to be in 
 vogue here which exist in few other cities on the 
 globe. And as a visitor views the beautiful cemeteries 
 with the graves all raised above the level of the 
 ground, and the trees with their branches all droop- 
 ping under the weight of the heavy southern moss, it 
 truly seems as if even nature was oppressed by the 
 solemnity and sadness due to the location. 
 
 It was a bright afternoon in the latter part of No- 
 vember, when two young men strolled leisurely out of 
 one of these burial places that lay along the boulevard 
 leading toward that once most famous of all American 
 drives, the “Shell road,” and as they took seats in the 
 carriage they had in waiting at the gate, the look that 
 overspread the faces of both, seemed to be entirely 
 out of place with the surroundings. 
 
 “It will stay perfectly safe there,” remarked the 
 taller and heavier of the two, as they started along 
 the road toward the city. 
 
 “Yes, itis safe there from both mould and discovery. 
 You couldn’t have thought of a better. hiding place 
 than that niche in the wall, for it would remain there 
 until doomsday if some earthquake didn’t happen to 
 shake things up around here beforehand,” said the 
 smaller one. 
 
 They were the two robbers, Jack and Bob, who had 
 once more regained companionship after a separation 
 of a week during which Cook had taken the hush 
 money to Morgan, and quite a liberal share to Howard, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 279 
 
 whom he found in sad straits for the need of that 
 most useful of all articles, money. 
 
 As they drove along, a thoughtfu! expression over- 
 spread Jack’s face and after Bob had failed to get any 
 response to several light remarks he let fall, he ejacu- 
 lated: “What in the world are you thinking about, 
 Jack? You seem to be figuring on something pretty 
 
 . deep. Not another raid I hope!” 
 
 “No, Bob. This is to be my last affair of that kind, 
 and I am glad of it,” replied the other. “I was just 
 thinking how I could send the old folks a good round 
 sum of this ill-gotten wealth, .without arousing any 
 suspicion in case some curious busybody was to inquire 
 very closely into it. If I could trade some of the 
 money, say ten thousand, for a check or draft that had 
 already passed through two or three persons’ hands, 
 it would be just the thing to send them; tor the in- 
 quiry would stop when it was once ascertained that 
 the signatures were genuine ” 
 
 “What a pity you didn’t think of ‘that a few days 
 ago, and invest about ten thousand dollars in lottery 
 tickets. You would have been almost certain to catcha 
 five thousand dollar prize, and might have possibly 
 done better, with yourluck. However it is too late for 
 that now, as the drawing took place this morning, 
 and there won’t be another one until the middle of 
 next month,” remarked Cook in a perfectly serious 
 manner. 
 
 “Iwas just thinking of trying my luck at some of 
 these big faro games on Royal Street, and if I suc- 
 ceeded in winning anything up in the thousands, of in- 
 ducing the proprietor to give me his check instead of 
 the cash. That would do just as well to suit my pur- 
 pose,” said Jack quite thoughtfully. 
 
278 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 To this wild project Cook made no reply, and it was 
 readily seen by the uneasy expression that came over 
 his face that he did not approve of his companion’s 
 proposed method. He well knew that when Jack once 
 began to play faro, nothing less than an empty pocket- 
 book would cause him to desist even if the cards ran 
 against him, and, as Bob had witnessed in the past 
 how much more frequent losses fell to the player than 
 gains, he felt decidedly uneasy on hearing Jack even 
 mention the idea of venturing upon such a dangerous 
 game, now too, when their pockets were overflowing 
 with this ill-gotten wealth. In spite of his forebod- 
 ing, Bob knew the obstinate nature of his companion 
 too well to attempt to reason with him upon this sub- 
 ject, and intruth, ever since the successful issue of 
 the robbery, he had grown a trifle superstitious in re- 
 gard to Jack’s luck. 
 
 It was late that night after the theatres had closed, 
 when the two men entered a notorious gambling-house 
 on Royal Street whose reputation for running a high 
 square game, is well known to the sporting class of 
 both continents. 
 
 Jack seated himself at the faro table with the inten- 
 tion of playing the game in such a manner that at 
 some point of its duration, he would be able to cash in 
 his chips, and request the dealer for a check in lieu 
 of the money. He did not have any great desire to 
 win, although he wished to create that opinion which 
 would not be a very difficult thing to do when a 
 dozen or more players were operating against the 
 game, each intent only upon his own success or mis- 
 fortune, as the case might be. 
 
 For a time after he began to play, Cook stood be- 
 hind his chair watching the game, but he soon turned 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 279 
 
 away, sick at heart as he beheld his companion lose 
 bet after bet, fate seemingly dead against him, and, as 
 he was playing with high stakes, Bob soon figured that 
 a thousand at least of Jack’s dollars had been swept 
 into the drawer of the merciless croupier. 
 
 Bob strolled through the spacious double rooms, 
 until he brought up at the bar with the idea of taking 
 something to enliven him,. and after partaking of a 
 mixture of whisky and lemon, tossed a coin upon the 
 marble counter in payment, but which the bar-tender 
 politely shoved back toward him, as he remarked, “All 
 drinks go free to-night, young man.” 
 
 “What’s the cause of that?” inquired Bob in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 “Clem made a win of ten thousand on the lottery 
 to-day, and he is standing treat to-night,” answered 
 the worthy dignitary of the white apron. 
 
 “Who is Clem?” asked Bob. 
 
 “Why, Clem Grafton, the man who runs this place. 
 You must be a stranger in this part of the country not 
 to know Clem Grafton,” said the bar-tender his eye- 
 brows raised several degrees in pitiful contempt for 
 Bob’s dense ignorance. For “Clem” had fought two 
 duels besides being the possessor of a five thousand 
 dollar diamond breast-pin, two distinctions which cer- 
 tainly entitled him to immortal fame, according to the 
 view of this dispenser of mint-juleps and brandy 
 sodas. 
 
 A sudden idea occurred to Cook. Why not hunt 
 up this boss gambler, and if he had not already cashed 
 in his lucky ticket, make some arrangements to pur- 
 chase it, even if a slight bonus had to be given? 
 
 “Is Grafton in the house?” he inquired of the bar- 
 tender. 
 
280 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ” 
 
 “I guess not,” replied that functionary stiffly as he 
 glanced over at the faro lay-out. “I think he went 
 over to the St. Charles with some friends, and may 
 not come back here to-night.” 
 
 Bob started forth at once in quest of the fortunate 
 Grafton, intending even at this, late hour, past mid- 
 night, of making known his desire to purchase the 
 winning ticket, but when he reached the hotel, it was 
 only to be informed that “Clem,” as the clerk also fa- 
 miliarly called him, had left there fully an hour be- 
 fore, without saying where he was going. Completely 
 discouraged at this information, Cook started back along 
 the dark streets toward the gambling-house, which 
 was fast being deserted; for the keno game had shut 
 down for want of sufficient patronage, and as the pen- 
 iless players left the house to drown their thoughts in 
 sleep, the few lucky ones sauntered over to the faro 
 table where Jack still held his place, though his losses 
 had steadily increased. 
 
 “How do you stand, Jack?” asked Bob, as he took 
 a vacant seat beside the unlucky gamester. 
 
 “Tf I lose that bet, I am just five thousand dollars 
 loser,” replied Jack, rather coolly for one in such cir- 
 cumstances, as he pointed to a huge stack of blue 
 chips that lay up on the case. 
 
 Cook was just about to begin pleading with him to 
 quit the game, when a noisy trio of men came up the 
 stairs, and by their jubilant manner of talking, it was 
 easy to see that they had entirely put aside for the 
 night any temperance scruples which they might have 
 possessed. 
 
 “Come, Charlie, stop the game for to-night, and set 
 them up to everybody in the house,” exclaimed one of 
 the new arrivals in a boisterous tone of hilarity, as 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 281 
 
 he came up close beside the dealer with the air of one 
 who held some authority about the establishment. 
 
 Pann ie tights) Phis- will be the Jast deal... ‘But: 1 
 say, have you got that lottery ticket with you? 
 I’d like to take a look at it just for luck,” said the 
 dealer as he reached for Jack’s stack of chips which 
 the last turn of the card had thrown in his favor. 
 
 “Yes, you bet I’ve got it,” responded the man ad- 
 dressed as Clem, and opening a _ huge red wallet, he 
 carelessly tossed an engraved slip of paper on the 
 table before the dealer. Bob whispered to Jack what 
 the bar-tender had told him about this man Clem 
 having drawn a ten thousand dollar prize. 
 
 After examining the ticket until his curiosity was 
 thoroughly satisfied, the dealer passed it back to its 
 owner and, turning to the small crowd before him, 
 cried: “All down, gentlemen. Place your bets now,. 
 for its the last turn out of the box to-night. Three 
 to one on a call. Remember, ‘faint heart never won 
 fair lady.’” 
 
 “How much limit do you give on the call?” asked 
 Jack with his features set as though a sudden deter- 
 mination had taken possession of him, 
 
 “Oh, come off, come off. Don’t try to bluff ws,” ex- 
 claimed the owner of the drawing ticket, with a mock- 
 ing laugh, as he sized up Jack’s plain attire and 
 formed conclusions therefrom. “Just pile your money 
 up to the ceiling—you’ll get plenty of limit.” 
 
 “Very well,” said the big gamester quietly. “I will 
 call it ace, seven, queen with this amount,” and be- 
 fore Cook could interpose a word of remonstrance, he 
 laid ten five-hundred-dollar bills upon the table, plac- 
 ing them in the manner which his call denoted. 
 
 A silence fell upon the little throng gathered around 
 
282 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 the crescent-shaped.table, as their glances wandered 
 back and forth between Jack and the proprietor; for 
 they all well knew that such a bet was not an every- 
 day occurrence, nor such a one as the house usually 
 cared to accept, and although the odds lay clearly in 
 the gambler’s favor, they doubted if he could stand 
 such an enormous risk, for if the house lost, it would 
 be a clean drop of fifteen thousand dollars as a call 
 of the last turn paid three for one, and well they 
 might for the odds stand five to one in favor of their 
 winning. 
 
 Cook was dumfounded at the sight of his com- 
 panion risking so much money on such a desperate 
 chance, but on regaining his equanimity to some ex- 
 tent, he nervously clutched Jack’s arm and whispered 
 hurriedly: “Take it back, Jack. Don’t throw the 
 money away where the odds are dead against you,” to 
 which good advice he received no reply, and his grasp 
 was roughly shaken off. 
 
 The dealer looked at the money and then turning 
 toward the proprietor he remarked: “What is it, 
 Clem? Shall I let it go, or have him reduce the bet?” 
 
 “How does he stand with the game? loser or win- 
 ner?” asked Grafton without a single visible trace of 
 his former boisterous spirit. 
 
 “I think we are ahead four or five thousand dollars, 
 are we not, stranger?” said the dealer looking to Jack 
 for an answer. 
 
 “Yes, I have lost five thousand dollars,” remarked 
 Jack. “And if you want a chance to win that bet, 
 turn your cards, and don’t be all night figuring up 
 whether you can afford to risk it. I want to lose ten 
 thousand or win that much, and I don’t care a great 
 deal which way it goes.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 283 
 
 For a moment the gambler still wavered, but when 
 some one in the crowd muttered in a tone audible to 
 the entire throng that, “Clem was clean bluffed;” he 
 felt as though his professional reputation was at stake 
 and hesitated no longer. 
 
 “I understand that you call the turn ace, seven, 
 queen,” he remarked to Jack; and receiving an assent- 
 ing reply he placed a stack of chips in a manner, in- 
 dicating the cards named, so that there would be no 
 chance for a dispute afterwards. 
 
 “Turn away,” he then commanded the dealer. 
 
 As the nervous fingers of the croupier pushed aside 
 the top card, the ace of spades was disclosed to view, 
 and his gasp of anxiety was as audible to the little 
 group as the agitation displayed by poor Bob was 
 perceptible; for he was now trembling like a leaf, 
 since by this lucky turn, Jack’s chances of winning 
 or losing were even. 
 
 Every eye in the room was strained toward the small, 
 silver mounted box which held from view the two re- 
 maining cards, while the tense excitement of the 
 group betrayed its presence in the absolute silence 
 that prevailed. 
 
 Grafton, who evidently from his noisy entrance had 
 been drinking quite freely, was now as sober as a 
 judge, and one could see the true mettle in his com- 
 position as he stood just back of the dealer with a half 
 smile on his face, as though indifferent to the result. 
 
 Another pass of the dealer’s finger, and the painfully 
 intense interest on both sides was over, for as the ace 
 was thrown out upon the table, the seven of diamonds 
 came to view while the one remaining card was, of 
 necessity, the queen. 
 
 Almost instantly the buzz of conversation started 
 
284 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 again, and as Jack turned around with a smile to 
 Cook, after withdrawing his bet from the table, he 
 saw the agony that poor Bob had endured, for the 
 color was just beginning to creep to his face, and he 
 still trembled slightly, as though recovering from a 
 shock. 
 
 “T guess you will have to take gold for the balance,” 
 said the proprietor as he moved over toward a large 
 combination safe, after paying in bills the five thous- 
 and that Jack had lost in the early part of the even- 
 ing. 
 
 “Why can’t you turn over that lottery ticket to me 
 with a written release? That would suit me far bet- 
 ter than lugging around a lot of gold, from now until 
 the banks open in the morning.” said Jack. 
 
 "All right. I don’t care,” responded the gambler 
 good-naturedly, for he felt sure that Jack would tackle 
 the game again in the future when the tables would 
 be turned on this venturous stranger. 
 
 It was just coming daylight, when the two robbers 
 started to leave the house bearing in their possession 
 the lucky ticket, backed with a written release which 
 stated that all claims thereon were renounced in favor 
 of John Oldham. 
 
 When they came out upon Canal St., which lay 
 within a stone’s throw of the entrance to the gambling 
 house Jack. proposed that they stroll down toward the 
 levee to get a whiff of fresh air before going to break- 
 fast,to which Bob readily assented. 
 
 As they wandered aimlessly along the river-front in 
 the early dawn, it did not take Cook long to perceive 
 that Jack’s mind was deep in meditation upon some 
 subject, not connected with the recent exciting event 
 for his remarks concerning this late streak of luck, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 285 
 
 only elicited a brief response, and as they took seats 
 in a small park in the vicinity of the French Market, 
 Bob exclaimed impatiently: “What is the matter 
 with you, Jack? Instead of appearing glad of winning 
 the very thing you wanted, you look as gloomy as a 
 pall-bearer at a funeral. What the deuce are you 
 thinking about?” 
 
 “I was just thinking of how queer a turn fate has 
 given me in the last nine months. Do you know that 
 after I escaped from prison that night and was work- 
 ing my way down toward Memphis, I met this same 
 young fellow that we carted down the river, and when 
 I gave him the tramp dodge in order to find out a few 
 points, he treated me mighty kind. It was quite close 
 to the place where I ran across my folks, asI told you 
 when coming down the river; but it was night when I 
 saw this chap, and he didn’t get a square look at me. 
 And what bothers me most is that on searching him 
 the first day after the racket, I found a letter on him 
 written to my old dad and, according to the way it 
 read, he and the old man are quite good friends; for 
 he wrote of his intention of going down there Christ- 
 mas, when they would hunt together for quail and rab- 
 bits. Somehow, that. blamed letter has been on my 
 mind ever since, and I have just got to thinking of 
 what a headstrong worthless fool I have been these 
 last six years. Why, Bob, I would give about all of 
 the money we have hidden in the cemetery, if I was 
 in a position to go home to the old folks like a man, 
 and have no thought or fear of any interruption from 
 the law,” and the weary despairing expression of the 
 outlaw’s face took all the elation out of Cook at once. 
 
 For a moment there was a dead silence, and as 
 Jack’s gaze wandered over the spars and masts of the 
 
286 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 shipping on the river-front, Bob said: ‘That is a 
 rather queer occurrence. Still everything may come 
 out all right yet. Stranger things have happened.” 
 
 "I don’t know, I doubt it,” replied the other moodily 
 as his eyes reverted to the graveled walk before him. 
 
 “Well, but, Jack, you can now send your folks that 
 ticket, and with all that money they will be well pro- 
 vided for. That ought to be a big relief to your mind,” 
 said Bob in a tone of sympathy; for, since they had 
 been roving around the country, he had witnessed 
 several spells of reflection such as the one Jack had 
 just given expression to. 
 
 “Yes, the money will be a security to them in their 
 old age, but money is not everything in this world, 
 by a long ways. There is a certain place beside them 
 that I should take, and which would give them and 
 myself more pleasure than all the money in the coun- 
 try, but the trouble is, 1 see it now only when it is too 
 late," and Jack ground the heel of his boot into the 
 gravel beneath, avoiding his companion’s gaze, as 
 though ashamed of having exposed the better side of 
 his character so freely, 
 
 “Is there no way, Jack, to fix the matterup? May- 
 be you might settle it by giving back a good part of 
 the money,” suggested anxiously the other. 
 
 "T hardly think so, Bob. This express company is 
 worth millions, and would want to make an example 
 in this case to scare others from attempting such a 
 thing in the future. And it’s a bad affair, you know; 
 for robbery in the first degree means twenty or twenty- 
 five years imprisonment in Missouri. And even if this 
 case was compromised, there is the ten years solid 
 time I would have to serve on that other charge, for I 
 have forfeited all chance of earning any time off by 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 287 
 
 making my escape. I guess I must have changed 
 somewhat in the last two weeks, for sometimes I feel 
 so soft that I believe a boy could take me, and it 
 makes me feel mean to see by the newspapers that that 
 young fellow has been thrown into prison, when I 
 know how kind and friendly he must have been to 
 my old dad. I don’t suppose they can convict him, 
 but still he is getting a pretty rough deal from me in 
 exchange for a kind one. Oh, hang it!” he exclaimed 
 impatiently rising from his seat. “I’ll not think of 
 the thing any longer. It gives me the blues. Talk 
 of something else.” The two men then began retrac- 
 ing their steps in the direction of the restaurant, 
 where they were accustomed to take their meals. 
 
 “Bless my soul!” exclaimed Bob after a silence of 
 several minutes. “From your talk, one would think 
 you were ready to turn monk, or at least join some 
 church and live square. I suppose if such a thing does 
 happen, you wouldn’t care to fill any seat lower than 
 the pulpit, while you would probably insist. on me 
 teaching some Sunday school class as a brilliant ex- 
 ample of a reformed criminal. Now wouldn’t I bea 
 fine looking bloke togged up as a church deacon 
 shoving ’round the plate tacked on to a fish pole, to 
 catch the widder’s mite and the orphan’s dot. Lord! 
 Lord!” ; 
 
 The very idea of such a change of characters caused 
 Cook to burst into laughter, and drew even a faint 
 smile to the face of his companion. 
 
 “You'd go to extremes in the case, Bob. It is not 
 actually necessary to join a church in order to lead a 
 good, usful life, although church organization is a good 
 thing; for it gives the strong ones a chance to help 
 and encourage the weak, who, but for such assistance, 
 
288 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 might drift back into a shiftless useless existence. 
 But, Bob, we ought to try and show up the innocence 
 of that young fellow before we leave for South America, 
 if we never do another good turn in our lives,” said 
 Jack earnestly. 
 
 “But we leave here to-morrow night for Savannah. 
 Do we not?” asked Cook in a tone indicating that 
 some such move had been agreed upon. 
 
 “Yes, we can secure passage on one of those boats 
 carrying rosin or lumber to Brazil much easier at Sav- 
 annah than here, and when we get settled there, one 
 of us can sail back and get the stuff out there in the 
 cemetery. May be we can help the young fellow in 
 some way with part of that, after we get ourselves in 
 safe quarters, although I notice by the newspapers that 
 he has given the best description of me that he could. 
 However, I don’t blame him for that.” 
 
 “According to the newspapers that razzle dazzle trick 
 worked back-handled on him,” remarked Cook with 
 a grin as he recollected an article he had read in the 
 newspapers a few days before. “But I say, Jack, how 
 are you going to arrange about sending that ticket to 
 your folks?” 
 
 “I have just been thinking of that and have got a 
 
 plan all mapped out to arrange it to-day after the 
 banks open,” answered Jack quietly, and as they now 
 were at the door of the café, all further conversation 
 ceased. 
 
 The events which happened later on in the day 
 proved that his plan was not a bad one, for on the 
 following night as the fast mail flew on its way tothe 
 north through swamp and cotton-field, it carried safely 
 tucked away in the registered pouch, a letter from a 
 leading banking house in New Orleans, addressed to 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 289 
 
 Allen Oldham, Esq., Montrovia, Mo.; the contents of 
 which stated that they had collected and held subject 
 to his order for remittal the sum of ten thousand dol- 
 lars, which amount was the proceeds of lottery ticket 
 No—, said ticket having been held by one John Old- 
 ham, his son, who had directed them accordingly. 
 
CHAPTER XIx 
 
 When Hart found himself left alone upon the west 
 bank of the river, looking across at the rapidly reced- 
 ing skiff containing the two robbers, his first impulse 
 was to arouse the adjacent inhabitants and start a hot 
 pursuit upon the trail of these bold highwaymen; but 
 after he had ran briskly down along the river bank 
 for a mile or so, without beholdng a single house or 
 dwelling of any kind, all hopes of making a speedy 
 capture of the rascals began to die out in his breast. 
 
 After he had walked fully eight or nine miles along 
 a narrow raised embankment, that lay between the 
 river and a dense swamp, which Hart found to exist 
 as the robber had stated, he suddenly came toa slight 
 rise in the land, and as he emerged from the timber 
 that had hidden all view of the interior, he beheld an 
 immense cotton-field in which there appeared the typi- 
 cal southern residence of the planter, with its wide 
 porches extending all around the house to ward off the 
 intense heat of summer, while at a distance of several 
 hundred yards, was situated a row of small white 
 cabins for the habitation of the negro laborers and 
 their families. 
 
 Hart hurried at once to the house where he luckily 
 found the planter at home, for he had just come in 
 with the overseer from the fields, it being the hour 
 for supper. ’ 
 
 In as brief a manner as possible Hart narrated the 
 whole affair to them and asked for their aid to organ- 
 
 290 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 291 
 
 ize a party immediately to start in pursuit of the rob- 
 bers. 
 
 Both the planter and overseer could not help but 
 smile at the impatient manner that Hart betrayed in 
 every movement for they well knew, if Hart’s story 
 was true, that the robbers must be quite familiar with 
 the surrounding country, to have released him where 
 they did; and, as they had several hours start, with 
 the further advantage of being upon the opposite side 
 of the river, it would be almost impossible to overtake 
 them, so thinking it best to ease the young man’s 
 mind, the planter proposed to have supper first and 
 then to consider the matter. 
 
 It was a hasty meal, for poor Hart’s impatience in- 
 creased on being invited afterwards to join the two 
 men out upon the veranda, where they would discuss 
 the matter, while enjoying a few cigars. 
 
 After answering innumerable questions that the two 
 men plied him with, for in truth their curiosity was 
 excited by such a strange and thrilling tale, the plan- 
 ter advised Hart to return to St. Louis at once, to 
 the proper officials. 
 
 "You see, young man, these men evidently know 
 this country just as well as we do and they undoubtedly 
 knew that there was no telegraph line at any reason- 
 able distance to this point, when they released you. 
 
 “If they have started for the railroad that runs along 
 on that side of the river fully fifteen or twenty miles 
 back in the country, there is no way on earth of head- 
 ing them off before they reach the station, for the 
 roads over there are not in a good condition and a 
 man on foot could make about as good time through 
 those swamps as one on horseback. The Isaquena will 
 come down the river in the morning and you can take 
 
292 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 passage on it for Vicksburg where you can take the 
 railroad back to St. Louis,” said the planter very com- 
 placently as he leaned back in his chair and lit an- 
 other cigar. 
 
 “Then you do not intend to pursue these robbers 
 at all,” cried Hart, with a feeling of indignation and 
 despair. 
 
 “What are the rules laid out by your employers for 
 you to follow in such cases,” asked the planter quietly. 
 
 “Why—why. I believe they do require that the 
 messenger shall report the affair in detail to the super- 
 intendent,” said Hart in confusion. 
 
 “Exactly,” responded the planter withasmile. “And 
 I should most strongly advise you to conform strictly 
 to the rules and not waste any time in running around 
 these swamps. At the present time you are the only 
 one they suspect of being guilty of this crime, and the 
 sooner you show yourself and explain the affair, the 
 better it will be for you.” 
 
 “But these rascals might be captured within twenty- 
 four hours if a hot pursuit was started after them,” ex- 
 claimed Hart quickly. 
 
 “It would be useless, young man,” interrupted the 
 overseer kindly. “And you had better take Mr. Pierre’s 
 advice. You have little idea of the difficulty in trav- 
 eling around these: parts and it is fully forty miles 
 from here to the nearest railroad station on the oppo- 
 site side of the river so that it would make it impossi- 
 ble to head off the robbers. But have you any money 
 to pay your way to St. Louis? If not, we might be 
 able to assist you in that line.” 
 
 “Yes, I have some money that the robbers gave me 
 when they released me,” replied Hart, as he pulled 
 out the roll of bills, at the sight of which both the 
 
 —. 
 
A LNCKY MISHAP 293 
 
 overseer and planter exchanged glances of suspicion, 
 for they now seriously began to doubt the truthfulness 
 of Hart’s tale. 
 
 After a few minutes further conversation, the host 
 extended a polite invitation to Hart to remain over 
 night at the house, and then arose to retire, after 
 pointing out the place down the river bank a half mile 
 or more that was used as a steamboat landing where 
 a small cluster of houses showed the village as the 
 robber had stated. 
 
 It was with a feeling of despair that Hart took pass- 
 age early the following morning on the steamer for 
 Vicksburg, and on the long ride by rail from there to 
 St.Louis the train never carried a more disheartened 
 person than him; for now that he reviewed the whole 
 affair, he could not see how the money would ever be 
 regained and, with that vast amount of treasure lost 
 while entrusted to his care, a certain.amount of disgrace 
 or suspicion would fall upon him, that might debar him 
 from attaining a position in any other occupation. 
 He had telegraphed to his parents and also to the ex- 
 press superintendent on arriving at Vicksburg, that he 
 was returning and would explain everything satisfac- 
 torily; but he had no sooner alighted from the train in 
 St. Louis, than he was at once taken in charge as a 
 prisoner by one of the company’s officials and a detec- 
 tive, who were in waiting to receive him. 
 
 They at once proceeded to the office of the express 
 company, where he minutely explained every-thing 
 that had occurred since the eventful night of his sud- 
 den disappearance. 
 
 He told how the robber had gained admittance to 
 his car, how he had thrown the lantern out of the side 
 door, how he had made the remark of, “All right, 
 
294 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 Dan,” to some confederate upon the platform, who 
 must have remained upon the train; and carefully went 
 over every detail of the long trip down the river; then 
 he explained the agreement he had entered into with 
 the robber in regard to giving a false description of 
 him in lieu of ten thousand dollars to be paid to Mr. 
 Huntoon at Denver, and suggested that if the plan 
 was carried out in appearance it might lead to the 
 capture of the robber, to all of which the officials lis- 
 tened in grave silence. 
 
 When he had completed his narrative and turned 
 over the balance of the money given him by the robber, 
 the chief of the detective force that had been employed 
 to hunt him down, began to cross question him in re- 
 gard to the smallest details of the affair, and after be- 
 ing subjected to the most rigid cross examination, he 
 was thrown into jail on the strenght of a warrant that 
 had been issued when his whereabouts was unknown. 
 
 “Of course, Furlong; if your story turns out to be 
 as you say, you may be released in a few days. The 
 detectives will institute a search for this lantern you 
 speak about and a couple of men will be sent at once 
 down there in Mississippi to seek for a trace of these 
 robbers,” remarked the superintenders as the officer 
 started to escort him to prison. 
 
 He had arrived in the city on an early train that 
 day, and late in the afternoon found him a prisoner in 
 quarters far different from any he had ever contem- 
 plated occupying in the réle of an accused criminal. 
 
 His first bitter thought was, that if his duty de- 
 manded that he should have laid down his life before 
 surrendering to the robber, then henceforth his con- 
 duct would be termed the act of a coward, and the 
 very thought of such a term being applied to him, 
 made him feel sick in both mind and body. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 295 
 
 But, as in all cases where one’s conscience tells 
 them that they have done all that could be reasonably 
 expected under the circumstances, he soon regained 
 his spirits to some degree as he carefully reasoned 
 over the whole case, and remembered the terrible ad- 
 vantage that his assailant had over him both in strength 
 and weapons. 
 
 Surely if he had struggled further and sacrificed his 
 life, that would net have deterred the brawny robber 
 from taking the money; so, tired and worn out by the 
 long journey, he tried to cast out all thoughts upon 
 the subject; and, stretching himself, upon the narrow 
 iron cot in his cell, he was soon fast asleep. 
 
 He had slept three or four hours when the clang of 
 the iron bar dropping at the door awoke him with a 
 start, and as he beheld by the many gas jets in the 
 hall outside that it was now night, it somewhat be- 
 wildered him. 
 
 “There are some visitors below, who wish to see 
 you, Furlong,” said the turnkey on opening the door, 
 and as Hart followed him across the wide court, he 
 was overjoyed to meet Rushing, accompanied by Mr. 
 Bancroft, and Louis Norman, all of whom received 
 him cordially. 
 
 The first that they had heard of his return to the 
 city, was upon reading of his arrival in the evening 
 newspaper, which contained a long article in regard 
 to Hart’s version of the affair, and commented very 
 unfavorably upon his statement which had _ been fur- 
 nished them by some one of the express officials. 
 
 There were no such doubts, however, in the thoughts 
 of his three friends before him, who had hurried to 
 the jail separately, upon reading of his return, where 
 they had met in the jailor’s office, while being de- 
 
296 A LUCKY MISHAP ° 
 
 tained, to await for the return from the supper of the 
 proper official to give them admittance to. the inside 
 corridor. 
 
 To them, Hart also related the entire manner of his 
 capture, and as they did not doubt a single word he 
 uttered, their exclamations of surprise at the boldness 
 displayed by the robbers, showed the deep interest 
 they took in the story. 
 
 “How fortunate it is,” remarked Mr. Bancroft, as 
 Hart finished, “that those highwaymen did not kill 
 you and bury you on one of those lonely sand-bars 
 along the river. The detectives then would have kept 
 .up only the search for you, and might never have sus- 
 pected anything else but that you had decamped with 
 the money.” 
 
 "Yes,” replied Hart. “I am thankful to them for 
 not taking my life, but I hope they will be eaught 
 and the money recovered for without that, I suppose 
 my reputation will be forever ruined.” 
 
 “Don’t say that,” interrupted Norman. “If the ex- 
 press company and detectives do not believe your 
 story, there are lots of others who will; and whether 
 these robbers are captured or not, there will be other 
 positions that you can obtain, so don’t get faint 
 hearted now. And as for any stigma resting upon 
 your courage, we all know that that trait was tried 
 and proven in you one Sunday afternoon a few months 
 ago. You have friends here, Hart, in spite of this 
 suspicion, and all of Mr. George Disroe’s assertions,” 
 and the loyal warmth with which he spoke, fully de- 
 noted that beneath all the petty society polish, that 
 was always visible in his every movement and utter- 
 ance, there still existed a true manly feeling within 
 him. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 297 
 
 “Did you hear, Hart, of how queer a construction 
 Disroe placed upon part of a conversation that he 
 overheard between us a few months ago? He has 
 shown himself in his true colors when he deliberately 
 swears to such a wrong statement of what actually 
 passed between us,” said Ben, as an angry flash crept 
 up in his face at the thought of his former compan- 
 ion’s baseness. 
 
 “Yes, I read his statement in a newspaper that one 
 of the robbers purchased, but I suppose you explained 
 how those remarks happened in the conversation, 
 didn’t you?” inquired Hart in reply. 
 
 “Yes, Ben has explained the whole affair satisfat- 
 torily,” broke in Mr. Bancroft before Ben could frame 
 areply. “And it is as Louis has just stated; your 
 friends will be all satisfied of your honesty, whatever 
 may be the opinion of others.” _ 
 
 At this juncture, a guard came toward them with the 
 information that the regular time allowed to visitors 
 had expired, and as they arose to shake hands with 
 Hart, before departing, Mr. Bancroft said; “I am glad 
 I came down to-night instead of waiting until morn- 
 ing, for now I can explain your case thoroughly to the 
 ladies, and it will ease their minds very much. I will 
 also write an account of it to Mr. Arbor, who is now 
 in Colorado attending to some business that required 
 his attention in person. fust rest easy; Hart, and you 
 may depend that we will do all we can ima legal way 
 in your behalf.” 
 
 _Hart thanked him and also Norman for the friend- 
 ship they extended toward him when the case looked 
 so bad against him, and as he turned to take leave of 
 Rushing, he got a whispered intimation from Ben 
 that he would return in a few minutes, so Hart re- 
 
298 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 sumed his seat, as the guard escorted his three friends 
 away. 
 
 He had not long to wait, for in less than five min- 
 utes the guard re-opened the iron door for Ben, who 
 came forward with a small package of cigars that he 
 had just purchased across the way for Hart’s benefit, 
 and the two friends now sat down for an hour’s chat 
 over the details of the case. 
 
 “How is it that you obtained leave to come back so 
 soon?” asked Hart, slightly puzzled to account for 
 the privilege granted to Ben. 
 
 “Why, that’s only one of the many favors extended 
 to our profession, an honor to the courtesy that we are 
 constantly expected to exercise,” said Ben in his old 
 manner of joking, as he drew his chair up a little 
 closer. “Now, Hart,” he went on in a perfectly seri- 
 ous tone. “You are in a bad box at present, yet I 
 haven’t the slightest doubt but that it will all clear 
 up in time as these big robberies always do. I listened 
 carefully to your story as you just related it to Mr. 
 Bancroft and have jogged it all down in short hand; 
 but are there no clues that you think of, that if fol- 
 lowed up, might lead to the detection of the rascals? 
 Did you ever overhear any remarks between the rob- 
 bers that sounded somewhat mysterious to you?” 
 
 “There is the railroad lantern that the robber threw 
 out of the car door; I should think that ought to fur- 
 nish some sort of aclue if the detectives succeed in 
 finding it. But the only mysterious remark I over- 
 heard, were the words, “All right Dan”, which the 
 robber spoke when he was at the front door, and yet 
 when we got off the train there was no one‘with him, 
 I am sure.” 
 
 “Did you imagine that you had ever seen the rob- 
 ber before?” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 299 
 
 “No, I never saw either of them although once or 
 twice I thought the big fellow’s voice sounded famil- 
 iar; but of course that was only imagination. I should 
 think the detectives ought to get some trace of the 
 skiff and the guns down there in Mississippi, unless 
 the robbers burned everything.” 
 
 “Tt would be impossible for me to go down there,” 
 said Ben thoughtfully. “But I thought if you could 
 give me some clue to work around the city here, it 
 might just be my luck to stumble into the rascals. 
 The majority of these mysterious crimes are traced up 
 by reporters, you know. I’ll remember the remark of 
 “All right, Dan,” and the first Dan I run across. who 
 appears anyways suspicious, will be promptly reported 
 to the detectives. But, MHart,” he continued with a 
 slight change in his tone, “you have some firm friends 
 in Mr. Bancroft and Norman. They never once doubted 
 your honesty, even when the case looked the very 
 blackest, and that was a nice little speech Louis 
 made, considering the fact that he got a straight re- 
 fusal only a few days ago. I guess you know from 
 whom,” he remarked with a smile lurking around the 
 corners of his mouth. 
 
 “Refusal,” echoed Hart. “Refusal from whom? What 
 are you talking about?” he asked, assuming an air of 
 complete ignorance; yet nevertheless, he could not 
 prevent a slight flush of nervousness from arising to 
 his face. 
 
 “Now don’t pretend such ignorance to me. You 
 talk as if you never heard of one, Miss Nora Arbor, the 
 young lady that Norman has been fluttering around 
 for the past six months. Yes, Hart, she let him go, 
 and he was hit pretty hard too, for one who swings 
 around in society as much as he does.” 
 
300 A LUCKY MisHAP 
 
 “And how did you come to hear all this? Surely 
 such affairs are not given out in the line of news 
 items, are they?” remarked Hart, while a certain un- 
 definable feeling of joyous satisfaction arose within 
 him. Not that he wished ought but good toward Nor- 
 man, but if his rival had been successful in his play 
 for hearts, it would have been the bitterest draught 
 that Hart would ever be forced to quaff. 
 
 “I would not tell it to a single soul but you, Hart,” 
 said Ben. “But what does poor Louis do when he 
 received her answer but come straight down town with 
 the intention of getting me for a companion in having 
 a regular spree.. I couldn’t imagine what had come 
 over him, he acted so strangely, but as soon as he 
 commenced drinking he up and told me the whole 
 affair and he is fully of the opinion that, but for your 
 appearance in this little drama, he might have re- 
 ceived a “yes” instead of a “no”. That is why I think 
 it is so generous of him to act as he has toward you. 
 Why, he cut Disroe dead right before a half a dozen 
 young fellows the other day and they all knew the 
 cause in less than an hour afterwards.” 
 
 “He is a nobleman,” said Hart solemnly; and as he 
 listened to what Ben had just related, a feeling of 
 heartfelt sympathy arose within him for his noble but 
 unsuccessful rival. ““Heisatrue blue knight in every 
 sense of the word and I will take occasion to thank 
 him in a proper manner when I gef out of this trou- 
 ble,” and then after a moment’s pause he inquired 
 rather nervously: “What did the ladies at Mr. Arbor’s 
 think about my disappearnace?” 
 
 “The same as Mr. Bancroft and Norman; that you 
 had either been killed and thrown off the train or else 
 had fallen off. They never entertained a doubt about 
 
 » 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 5 301 
 
 your honesty. But, by the way—,” he exclaimed sud- 
 denly. “From what I heard Mr. Bancroft say to the 
 janitor just now, I think he intends bringing both 
 Mrs. Arbor and Miss Nora down here to-morrow after-. 
 noon so you had better be prepared to receive a visit 
 from them. And now old boy, my time is up, as it 
 is now nine o’clock. What shall I bring you to-mor- 
 row, for I will be here in the morning sometime be- 
 tween nine and ten o’clock?” asked Ben as he arose 
 to leave at the reappearance of the guard. 
 
 “IT wish you would bring me some writing paper 
 and a few stamps, for I want to write a letter home 
 so that they will not feel so uneasy about me. A few 
 newspapers wouldn’t come amiss either to pass the 
 time away,” replied Hart as they parted for the night. 
 
 It was a long weary night to Hart as he tossed rest- 
 lessly about on his cot with his mind full of anxious 
 thoughts in regard to the future, and it was far after 
 midnight when he finally fell into a nervous sleep that 
 was soon broken as daylight stole in through the iron 
 barred windows, awakening the other prisoners who 
 began stirring around in such a noisy manner as to put 
 an end to the further slumber of any one. 
 
 Punctual to the hour appointed, Ben appeared and 
 it was evident from the gleam of satisfaction on his 
 face as he came forward that he had some good news 
 to impart. 
 
 “They have found the lantern, Hart,” he exclaimed 
 joyfully on shaking hands. “It was all broken and 
 twisted but still one of those shark-eyed detectives 
 managed to root it up, late yesterday evening along- 
 side the track. But I see they still do not relax their 
 watch on me. You know ever since Disroe made that 
 statement there has been a shadow on my track, but 
 
302 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 I guess they will think it was a lot of time wasted 
 when the truth of this comes out,” he added as he be- 
 gan emptying his pockets, and as writing paper, 
 stamps, pencils, newspapers, oranges and cigars ap- 
 peared upon the little table, for the guard’s inspection, 
 before being handed to Hart, it was evident that he 
 had not spared his pocket-book in making the many 
 little purchases which Hart found so indispensable 
 
 later on. 
 Ben did not prolong his visit to the full extent 
 
 of the time allotted, for the entrance of other news- 
 paper-men and some curious court officials, all of 
 whom wished to hear Hart’s side of the story, caused 
 him to give up all ideas of having a confidential talk 
 at that time, so, promising to call again that evening 
 he took his departure. 
 
 To all of these new-comers the tale had to be duly 
 related again and while many went away with a firm 
 belief in his innocence, several of them thought that 
 the idea of a man being taken captive for hundreds of 
 miles down a river so well traversed by boats of all 
 descriptions, as is the Mississippi, was an impossible 
 undertaking; and while they were courteous enough 
 not to frame their opinion in language before him, yet 
 the dubious expression upon their faces spoke nearly 
 as plain as words'and caused him to be in anything 
 but a pleasant frame of mind for he rest of the day. 
 
 Late that afternoon he was taken by a guard into 
 the office of the jailor, and, as Ben had predicted, he 
 there met Nora and Mrs. Arbor accompanied by Mr. 
 Bancroft. 
 
 They all received him quite warmly and the blush 
 that mounted, to Nora’s face as they shoek hands, 
 caused him to forget all about his troubles for a short 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 303 
 
 time and his downcast spirits revived wonderfully as 
 the conversation began; but the presence of the guard 
 coolly seated beside the door, as is always the custom 
 in such cases, threw a constrained feeling over them 
 all; and as the ladies had heard the whole of Hart’s 
 story from Mr. Bancroft the night before, the remarks 
 soon drifted into a series of wishes for his speedy re- 
 lease and the capture of the robbers. 
 
 The discovery of the lantern was brought up by 
 Nora in a nervous manner, who ventured at last to 
 meet Hart’s gaze as she inquired if that point in 
 evidence would not be sufficient to secure his release, 
 to which Hart undertook to frame a reply in regard to 
 the legal method of releasing a suspected person with 
 the result that he got badly confused whenever their 
 glances met; but finally managed to complete his judi- 
 cial opinion just as the inexorable guard remarked 
 that the time was up. 
 
 As they arose, Mr. Bancroft said: “I have had a 
 talk with my lawyer this morning, Hart, about your 
 case, and if the authorities are not assured of. your in- 
 nocence in a few days, I will have him take some 
 steps to see if we can not get you out on bail, I am 
 perfectly willing to go on your. bond and have little 
 doubt but Mr. Arbor would also be willing to do the 
 same, so you can rest assured that you will not be de- 
 serted.” ? 
 
 “I do not know exactly how to thank you, Mr. Ban- 
 croft, but I would rather you would let the case alone 
 for awhile and see if it may not solve itself. Of course 
 if it does not, and the company intend to prosecute 
 me, then J*suppose I shall have to employ an attorney 
 and take the proper steps to effect my release pending 
 trial if such a thing is possible,” replied Hart. Then 
 
304 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 seeing that the ladies who had been busy donning 
 their wraps, were ready to depart, he added in a whis- 
 per that was only intended: for the old gentleman’s 
 ears: “Please don’t bring the ladies down here again. 
 You don’t know how it rankles in my mind to be 
 obliged to have that guard present while we were talk- . 
 ing and I feel assured that they do not believe I am 
 guilty of any thing more disgraceful than a desire to 
 retain my life, sol would rather they would not see 
 me while I am in this degraded position.” 
 
 “Very well, Hart. I have an idea of how you feel 
 about it, but they both wished to assure you personally 
 that they believed you entirely innocent, so I brought 
 them down. I have yet to hear however, of any thing 
 disgraceful in your actions in this affair. A person 
 who would have continued the struggle with this rab- 
 ber when he had you in the position you described, 
 would either have been mentally unsound or else so 
 frightened by fear that they would not be conscious of 
 what they were doing. Thank heaven, your good 
 sense came to your rescue in this case,” replied the 
 old gentleman with considerable emphasis. And as 
 Hart bid adieu to the ladies, they retired from the 
 room. , 
 
 Several days followed this interview without any- 
 thing happening that had a bearing upon the case until 
 finally Ben brought the news in to Hart one evening 
 that the skiff and guns used by the robbers had been 
 found by the detectives who had been detailed for that 
 especial purpose; but this bit of evidence in no way 
 seemed to lift the cloud of suspicion that hung over 
 him; for the theory was now advanced by the detec- 
 tives that he must have voluntarily accompanied the 
 men who had lett the boat where it was discovered; 
 
ro iw = 
 
 A LUCKY MISHAP 305 
 
 and that the whole story related by Hart was a pre- 
 conceived plan to avert suspicion from himself by 
 means of having these bits of evidence placed in po- 
 sition beforehand with the idea of creating belief in 
 his statement. All the newspapers took up this theory 
 and with a flourish of trumpets preclaimed that Hart 
 was undoubtedly a shrewd villain, who had hoped by 
 this cunning scheme to shield himself from suspicion 
 but that the detectives had already accumulated 
 enough evidence to convict him of complicity in this 
 nefarious plot. Eyen the very’journal that Rushing 
 was employed upon denounced Hart in scathing terms 
 in spite of Ben’s protest that they would yet regret 
 taking such an action, which remark was only re- 
 ceived by a burst of derisive laughter and he was cau- 
 tioned to exercise a little more judgment before mak- 
 ing friends with every Tom, Dick and Harry. 
 
 No trace of the robbers could be found further than 
 their footsteps leading from the skiff toward the inter- 
 ior of the country where all further clues disappeared 
 completely. The agent at the nearest railroad station, 
 some twenty miles distant from where the skiff was 
 found, could not remember that any queer characters 
 purchased tickets at that time, and the detectives were 
 forced. to return to St. Louis completely discouraged. 
 
 As day after day went by without news of any 
 kind being recorded concerning the probable capture. 
 of the robbers, upon which so many anxious hearts 
 were depending to clear up the cloud of suspicion that 
 every day seemed to weave a tighter web of circum- 
 stantial evidence around the prisoner, a gloomy feel- 
 ing began to creep upon Hart; and he feared that it 
 might be his fate after all, to suffer the ignominy and 
 punishment of this crime. Even the letters that he 
 
306 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 wrote to his parents, which at first had been so con- 
 fident and cheerful, began to show traces of bitterness 
 at the irony which fate had subjected him to; and 
 although he constantly assured them that it was not 
 necessary for them to come to St. Louis, as it would 
 certainly be cleared up shortly, yet as week after week 
 went by without this assertion being verified, he well 
 knew howsdisheartened they must feel. 
 
 The court had fixed his bail at a fabulous amount 
 for which he would in no way consent to have Mr. 
 Bancroft stand as surety, although the old gentleman 
 was both willing and eager to assume the responsibility. 
 The trial was set for an early day in January, and the 
 lawyer, whom Mr. Bnacroft had retained as Hart’s 
 counsel, was hopeful although far from confident of 
 securing an acquittal, in spite of the strenuous efforts 
 he was making in his client’s behalf. 
 
 Even light-hearted, jovial Ben was feeling the effects 
 of continual discouragement, and aithough he passed 
 some cheering remark to Hart every day and kept his 
 eyes on the alert for any passing individuals who in 
 any way resembled the robbers as Hart had described 
 them to him, yet as he witnessed how every little 
 former incident and joke that his friend had indulged 
 in, were being brought forward and woven into a for- 
 midable mass of evidence, of which Disroe’s state- 
 ment formed the nucleus, he began to fear that his 
 friend was indeed in a bad predicament. 
 
 It was late one evening in December just a few days 
 before Christmas, that Ben began reasoning with 
 himself upon the probable outcome of the case, and 
 as he walked along ovér:the icy pavements, a feeling 
 of indignation burned within him, as he reflected upon 
 the injustice that Hart was receiving at the hands of 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 307 
 
 the press and the law. He had just taken leave of 
 Hart at the jail only ten minutes before and was hur- 
 rying along toward the office of the newspaper, when 
 a sound of music reached his ears as he came in front 
 of a gilded saloon; and, as he stopped for a moment 
 to light a cigar, the front door of the resort opened 
 from which three men hastily emerged, one of whom 
 seemed to be fully under the effects of liquor as he 
 staggered across the sidewalk towarda hack that stood 
 in waiting at the curb. 
 
 “You’ve got that box at the theatre engaged for us, 
 have you?” he yelled to one of his companions in a 
 tone of drunken hilarity that could have been heard 
 across the street. 
 
 “Yes I fixed that for you this afternoon,” was the 
 reply given by one of the party who was evidently the 
 driver of the team judging by his rough attire and the 
 whip that he carried in his hand. 
 
 “Pile in then, Nat, pile in,” shouted the first speaker 
 boisterously to the other member of the trio as he 
 opened the door of the hack; then turning toward 
 the driver, he pulled out a huge roll of currency from 
 which he carelessly abstracted a bill and handed it to 
 the patient Jehu without even glancing at it’s value. 
 
 “Here driver, take that and hustle your nags up a bit 
 so I can get to blow in some of this money for I’ve 
 got too much for one man. So let ’em outa bit and 
 have some style about you,” he added as he reeled in- 
 to the hack alongside of the other occupant. 
 
 “All right, Dan,” said the driver merrily, for his eyes 
 had caught the figure of a ten on the bill from the aid 
 of the flaring street lamp near by, and jumping upon 
 his seat, he cracked the whip, and in another second 
 the horses were going down the street at a breakneck 
 speed, 
 
308 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 Ben, who had curiously heard and observed all that 
 had just passed, thought nothing unusual about the 
 occurrence until the driver gave utterance to his last 
 exclamation, which struck him so forcibly that for a 
 second he felt his blood run cold in a tremor of excite- 
 ment and before he could regain his presence of mind, 
 the carriage with it’s occupants was whirling down 
 the street. 
 
 Like a flash Ben was speeding after it. First along 
 the sidewalk for a short distance and then out in the 
 street he ran like one on whom a life depended, for 
 the very words combined now with the remembrance 
 of the huge roll of money seemed to fill his mind like 
 an inspiration; and, though he fell twice upon the 
 icy street, he managed to keep the lights of the hack 
 in sight for block after block, until it finally drew 
 up before the entrance of a variety theatre. Bruised, 
 hatless and panting from the fearful pace he had kept 
 up for fully eight blocks, Ben hurried toward it with 
 his mind in a quandary as to what steps he had better 
 take. As he came up close to the vehicle, the driver 
 came out of an adjacent saloon and began putting his 
 blankets over the horses, which action at once con- 
 vinced Ben that he was engaged to wait for the same 
 parties; so, after taking a glance at the number in- 
 scribed upon the lamp of the carriage, he hurriedly 
 started at a brisk pace for the office of the express 
 company some six blocks distant, where as luck would 
 have it, he found both the superintendent and the 
 chief of the detectives in consultation even at this 
 hour of the night, for it was now after nine o’clock. 
 
 Without paying any attention to the glances of sur- 
 prise that they bestowed upon his odd appearance, 
 he hastily related the coincidence of the remark spoken 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP ; * 309, 
 
 by the driver and the reckless display of the money 
 by the man hailed as Dan; to all of which they ap- 
 peared to attach little importance although the chief 
 at once arose with the remark that he would get one 
 of his men, and in order to satisfy Ben, he would 
 make a thorough investigation in regard to both the 
 man’ and the money. 
 
 “Can I go with you?” asked Ben. “I can point this 
 man Dan out to you, and if anything favorable should 
 result from this incident it would do me a world of 
 good to carry the information to my friend, Mr. Fur- 
 long, for I would stake my head on his innocence, and 
 he is beginning to feel so blue over this trouble.” 
 
 “No,” replied the chief rather curtly. “I can easily 
 find this man if you have given me the correct num- 
 ber of that hack. But as for Furlong’s innocence it 
 will be time enough to talk of that when the trial 
 takes place. Your opinion may change then, young 
 man,” then turning to the superintendent, he asked in 
 a much milder tone, if he cared to await for the de- 
 velopments of this inquiry. 
 
 “Yes, I have some correspondence to attend to that 
 will keep me busy until eleven o’clock,” replied the 
 superintendent. “So if you discover anything new by 
 that time, call around here with the news,” and asthe 
 chief withdrew, he began the task of answering a vast 
 heap of correspondence, while Ben silently dropped 
 into a seat to await the developments of this inquiry. 
 
 To Ben, the hands of the clock never seemed to 
 travel so slowly as they did that evening, and as the 
 hour hand crept closer and closer to the time appointed 
 for the detective’s return a nervous feeling began to 
 arise within him as he thought of how many hearts 
 would be gladdened by the news of the prisoner’s in- 
 
 ‘ 
 
310 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 nocence, and he was just beginning to build an air- 
 castle in hopeful anticipation that the chief might 
 have discovered some clue leading to this joyful result, 
 when the door opened and the. detective stepped into 
 the room. . 
 
 “Anything in it?” laconically asked the superin- 
 tendent as he wheeled around in his chair. 
 
 “It’s about as I thought,” replied the chief brush- 
 ing the snow from off his coat in an indifferent man- 
 ner. “Nothing but a wild goose chase. I pinched 
 the chap and he showed up all straight. His uncle died 
 down in Texas lately and left him some fifteen hun- 
 dred dollars. Old story of a fool and his money soon 
 parted. [ telegraphed to Dallas and found that his 
 statement was all straight, so that ends the matter. 
 Are you ready to leave now?” he remarked to the 
 superintendent without appearing to notice Ben, 
 although he had carefully watched the latter from out 
 the corners of his eyes to note the effect of his state- 
 ment. 
 
 Ben arose with a dull weary feeling of failure, and 
 all the bright hopes he had conjured up in the last 
 two hours, were dashed away and engulfed in despair. 
 
 “I am sorry, gentlemen,” he said wearily, “to have 
 put you to all this trouble for nothing, but I thought 
 it might possibly throw some light on the case. Good- 
 night gentlemen,” he concluded, as he started toward 
 the door. . 
 
 “Hold on, you are not going-without a hat, are you?” 
 asked the superintendent with a smile. “Take one of 
 those on the rack, and you can return it to-morrow, 
 when you are passing this way.” 
 
 As Ben moved over toward the hat-rack to take ad- 
 vantage of this offer, the detective remarked very 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP sit 
 
 pleasantly: “It was no trouble at all, young man; for 
 I was just wishing for an errand of some kind that 
 would give me a bit of exercise when you came in. It 
 also shows your friendly interest in the case which 
 we are very grateful for,” and, his gaze followed Ben’s 
 form to the door with an expression of admiration and 
 respect. 
 
 “T am ready to leave now,” said the superintendent, 
 as he reached for his overcoat a moment or so after 
 Ben’s departure, but as he glanced over at the detec- 
 tive, he beheld such a look of nervous excitement up- 
 on his face, that it almost startled him. 
 
 “Why, man, what is the matter with you,” he ex- 
 claimed hastily. “Did you have a row with this Texas 
 gentleman you just interviewed, or what is it that 
 troubles you, for your face leoks as though you had 
 received an electric shock.” 
 
 “Tt means,” said the chief in alow tone as he ad- 
 vanced closer toward the manager, “that this ‘Texas 
 gentleman,’ as you call him, has just explained the 
 whole plot of this robbery on the promise of being 
 allowed to turn States’ evdience, and to retain the 
 hush money he received from the leader of the gang. 
 And it’s a fine kettle of fish we have been cooking, 
 through listening to all these cock and bull stories 
 about Furlong, for he is undoubtedly innocent of the 
 whole affair. I have arranged with some of my men 
 to use this office to-night, as I will have to send out a 
 batch of telegrams, so if you are going, please leave 
 me the key.” 
 
 “Good gracious,” exclaimed the manager in aston- 
 ishment. “I should say it was a bad kettle of fish, 
 if this proves to be as you say. Why this lawyer, 
 that old Bancroft has retained for Furlong, is a regu- 
 
312 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 lar fire-eater, and will jump on us with a damage suit 
 for a million, I suppose. But who are the robbers?” 
 
 “Your late discharged messenger, Richard Howard, 
 had something to do with it, but the leader is one 
 Jack Oldham and he is the man who undoubtedly has 
 the largest part of the money. If he has not gone to 
 Brazil or Australia by this time, we shall certainly 
 run him down, for our reputation is somewhat at stake 
 in this case, and we will never sleep until we capture 
 him.” 
 
 “I hope so, I hope so,” remarked the superintendent 
 as he handed over the office key to the detective who 
 had already seated himself to write. “But I never 
 would have suspected Richard Howard of having a 
 hand in such a case of robbery at this. Why I sup- 
 pose these villains will be kidnapping me next,” and 
 pulling on his overcoat, he left the chief busily en- 
 gaged at is work. 
 
CHAPTER, XX 
 
 The days that followed the arrest and imprisonment 
 of Hart Furlong were indeed sad and anxious ones to 
 the little family group at Montrovia; but, as the days 
 crept into weeks until the time now marked the dura- 
 tion of a whole month, since the first news of Hart’s 
 arrest had been received, a gloom seemed to have 
 settled upon every member of the family and, although 
 only a year ago, these long winter evenings were the 
 scene of mirth and amusement, all now had changed 
 into silence and sorrowful meditation; for, as both 
 Mary and Edward found that a discussion of the case 
 always brought a flood of tears to their mother’s eyes, 
 they chose to endure their suffering and anxiety in 
 silence. | 
 
 Mr. Furlong had twice made up his mind to send 
 Edward to St. Louis, and have him see what steps 
 were necessary, to be taken in Hart’s behalf, but each 
 time a hopeful letter from Hart, expressing the belief 
 that another week or so would certainly clear up the 
 mystery and, for them not to take any steps at present, 
 had caused him to delay Edward’s trip, in anticipa- 
 tion of the delevopments that Hart wrote so confi- 
 dently of occurring in the short time specified. 
 
 It was now only a few days before Christmas, and 
 all the joyful anticipations of a happy meeting with 
 the absent one had faded entirely away, together with 
 all thoughts of the usual preparations for that day; 
 and, as the family gathered around the supper-table 
 
 313 
 
314 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 one winter evening, upon the return of Edward from 
 the village, there were few households in the land 
 where so much anxiety was discernable in its effect, 
 as was stamped upon the faces of this little group. 
 “Here is a letter, father," said Edward as he handed 
 over a missive he had just taken from his coat-pocket, 
 while kicking the snow from off his boots into the 
 wood-box. “Hart never fails to write punctually, and 
 I hope this time there is something definite about the 
 
 capture of these robbers, for I am beginning to lose 
 
 all faith in their ever being apprehended.” 
 
 His father tore open the envelope, and after eagerly 
 scanning the contents of the letter, laid it upon the 
 table with a sigh, before his wife for her persual. 
 
 “Nothing new,” he murmured sadly, in answer to 
 the questioning glances of Mary and Edward. “The 
 trial. is set for some time in January. You will have 
 to go up there, Edward, with some money, right after 
 New Years; for of course these lawyers will not exert 
 themselves very greatly unless paid beforehand, and I 
 do not like the idea of Hart being dependent upon 
 this kind friend of his, Mr. Bancroft. I suppose we 
 will have to put a mortgage on the farm for five hun- 
 dred or so; but at anyrate, we must take every means 
 available to protect him.” 
 
 “lll only be too glad to go and do what I can for 
 him,” said Edward, as he took his place at the table. 
 
 For several minutes after this, no one spoke, for 
 their thoughts were of a nature that was in accord 
 with the gloomy silence observed by them all, and it 
 was not until supper was almost through with, that 
 Mary broke the ice by asking Edward if he had heard 
 any news. while at the postoffice. 
 
 “Oh, yes,” exclaimed Edward in the manner of one 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 315 
 
 who had just recollected of something quite note- 
 worthy to relate. “Do you know quite a sensation 
 has occurred down at the village.” 
 
 “What is it,” inquired Mary. “Remember we have 
 heard dll the details of Dr. Edgerton’s marriage to 
 Nellie Goodwin last week. Sue Johnson, who attended 
 the wedding, called here yesterday afternoon, and told 
 us all about it.” 
 
 “It is a regular fairy story,” replied Edward. “It 
 
 eems that Mr. Oldham had a son who run away from 
 
 home years ago, when they lived in New York State, 
 and they had not heard from him for years until the 
 other day when the old gentleman received a letter 
 from a banker at New Orleans, stating that he had ten 
 thousand dollars for him, which Mr. Oldham’s son 
 had deposited at the bank, with instructions to for- 
 ward it to his father here.” 
 
 “And how did the young man make this ten thousand 
 dollars?” asked Mr. Furlong with considerable inter. 
 est, for, remembering that Hart had written of the 
 robbers leaving him in the swamp in Louisiana, and 
 the proxmity of that point to New Orleans from where 
 this windfall came, caused no small amount of sus- 
 picion to flash across him. 
 
 “It was a lottery ticket that this roving son of Mr. 
 Oldham’s was lucky enough to hold. The banker’s 
 letter told all about it, even gave the number of the 
 ticket and how they had collected the money from the 
 lottery company. But it is disgusting to see the way 
 Mr. Goodwin, Andrews, the grocer, and Dr. Edgerton 
 are hobnobbing around the old man, and trying to 
 make themselves very agreeable, when before this hap- 
 pened they never went near him.” 
 
 This explanation of the windfall coming from the 
 
316 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 proceeds of a lottery ticket at once set at rest all Mr. 
 Furlong’s suspicion of it having the slightest connec- 
 tion with the money Hart had been robbed of, so, tak- 
 ing up a newspaper, he relapsed into silence. 
 
 “T never knew that the Oldhams had any children,” 
 remarked Mary after a slight pause. “I should think 
 he ought to come home and live with his parents in- 
 stead of roving around.” : 
 
 “Hart always had an idea that they had a son, but 
 the old man never liked to talk about children, and 
 was gruff toward any one who tried to question him 
 on that point. May be this young man ran away to 
 sea when he was a boy, and that is why Mr. Oldham 
 never liked to speak about the matter,” said Edward 
 after some reflection. 
 
 “Did you learn what he intends to do with his 
 money?” asked his mother. “If it is carefully invested 
 it would yield quite a little income.” 
 
 “TI heard he had concluded to let his money remain 
 with the banker at New Orleans for the present, but 
 I’711 warrant some of those smooth talking sycophants 
 at the village will swindle him out of part of it, un- 
 less he is over prudent; for now that the new railroad 
 does not appear to be coming this way, these men, 
 who have bought up all these worthless tracts of land, 
 would be only too glad to sell them to some innocent 
 person,” replied Edward with some spirit in his tone; 
 for the thought of the old gentleman being swindled 
 in any way, aroused his indignation. 
 
 After this remark, a silence fell upon them all as 
 their minds reverted to the cause of their own troubles, 
 and nothing more of much consequence was said, until 
 it was nearly time to retire for the night, when Mr. 
 Furlong remarked, turning toward Edward: “You had 
 
 AD 
 
 3 
 
 j 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 317 
 
 better see that boy at Needham’s some time this week 
 and make arrangments with him to attend to the stock 
 after New Years, for you will have to be in St. Louis 
 probably a whole month. When you reach there, find 
 out from this friend of Hart’s, Mr. Bancroft, how 
 much money is required for a good legal defence, and 
 we will raise the money’ on the farm and send it to 
 you. I little thought, however, that things would 
 come to such a pass as this, or I would have insisted 
 on Hart remaining here, instead of trying to attain 
 ends that do not lie within the reach of a poor man’s 
 son,” and the sad, bitter way in which he spoke in 
 alluding to the encumbrance of a mortgage on the home- 
 stead, caused his wife to burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 “Don’t cry, mother,” said Mary as she went over 
 toward her, and standing at one side of the chair, 
 wound her arms around her mother’s neck. “It will 
 all come right in time, [feel sure. Why, only to- 
 night, when I was at the well, the sky was all cast 
 over, but suddenly the moon broke through a rent in 
 the: clouds and just see how bright it is outside now. 
 There is not evena cloud in sight. Somehow, I feel 
 as though it will all clear away just like that with the 
 beginning of the New Year.” 
 
 “Oh, I have tried to think hopefully so often,” 
 sobbed her mother with a vain attempt to check the 
 grief that had been straining at her heart ail day. 
 “And have prayed so earnestly évery night for those 
 robbers to be caught, so as to prove Hart’s innocence 
 to everybody, but now that the trial is so close at 
 _hand, I have about lost all hope. And yet I can not 
 see what wrong we have ever done that this affliction 
 should fall upon us,” and then completely worn out 
 under the nervous strain, that she had bravely tried 
 
 e 
 s 
 
318 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 to hide ever since the news of Hart’s arrest, she cried 
 as though her heart would break. 
 
 “Now, mother,” said Edward terderly, as ibe bent 
 over her, ‘‘a trial does not always mean a conviction, 
 and I am sure it never will in his case; but whether 
 it does or not, he will always be the same Hart to us. 
 So let us try and hope for the best.” 
 
 “Yes, mother,” broke in Mr. Furlong, ‘“Edward’s ad- 
 vice to hope for the best, is what we should follow; 
 but should it be possible for the worst to happen, 
 then, ‘God’s will be done,’ and we will bear the 
 affliction as best we can,” he added very gravely, and 
 a few minutes later, when the clock marked the hour, 
 which they always observed as the time for retiring, 
 all further discussion ceased. 
 
 Christmas came a few days later, and a long dreary 
 day it was, for the family, who only a short time be- 
 fore had looked forward to such a happy reunion on 
 this occasion. 
 
 Mr. Oldham called on them in the afternoon, having 
 walked all the way out from the village, and brought 
 with him a few presents, which he argued in his odd, 
 quaint way, that he could now afford from the fortune 
 his son had bestowed upon him. 
 
 They consisted of a huge gilt album for Mary, and 
 a handsome, tasty needle-basket with all the appli- 
 ances belonging thereto for Mrs. Furlong, which two 
 gifts he explained were from his wife. Then followed 
 a large meerschaum pipe for Mr. Furlong, and acom- 
 plete shaving outfit for Edward; the two latter pres- 
 ents he acknowledged to be from himself. 
 
 “T will have something for Hart, too, when he comes 
 home, after all this trouble of his is cleared up; for I 
 never shall forget all his little acts of kindness to an, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 319 
 
 old man like me,” remarked the old gentleman in a 
 tone that plainly betokened the gratitude he felt. 
 
 “T hardly know how to thank you for all these gifts,” 
 began Mr. Furlong gratefully. “And -now that this 
 trouble of Hart’s has come on us, [ am afraid it will be 
 a long time before we can return the compliment. But 
 I can assure you we will always remember your kind- 
 ness, for I feel as though these presents, coming as 
 they do now in this hour of anxiety and trouble, show 
 the true freindship you have for us.” 
 
 “Say no more about it,” said Mr. Oldham raising 
 his hand in a gesture of deprecation. “If you only 
 knew half of the many little kindnesses Hart has done 
 for me, to say nothing of the fine shots he would turn 
 over tome when we would take a hunt down along 
 the river, you would see that I am still in his debt. 
 Ah, Mr. Furlong, that is what will tell a man’s true 
 feeling toward you. If he bea sportsman, and will 
 allow you to take first shot at game that he points 
 depend upon it there is no selfishness in his nature,” 
 then changing his manner slightly, the old genlteman 
 added: “If you are in need of a few hundred dollars, 
 Mr. Furlong, to use in Hart’s case, I can let you have 
 it just as well as not.” 
 
 “Iam much obliged to you for your kind offer, but 
 I can arrange otherwise” replied Mr. Furlong, for he 
 had always advocated the theory of never borrowing 
 money from a friend, and he had often paid a higher 
 rate of interest on his note to some bank or profes- 
 sional lender than accept the loan from a friend at 
 more generous rates. : 
 
 “Are you expecting to receive a visit from your son 
 anyways soon?” asked Mrs. Furlong as she laid down 
 the needle-basket with an admiring glance at its 
 
320 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 many handy articles that she had so often wished for. 
 
 “I don’t know whether he will come or not,” replied 
 Mr. Oldham slowly, and then after pausing for a mo-_ 
 ment, he continued in a sort of constrained voice, with 
 his eyes fixed steadily upon the ashes in the hearth: 
 
 “You see, Mrs. Furlong, he is one of these roving 
 lads, who are never content to stay very long in one 
 place, and to tell the truth, 1 expect I was a little too 
 hasty with miy tongue on some occasions. He got 
 into a\bit of trouble several years ago, and when it 
 was all over, I gave him a piece of my mind concern- 
 ing his conduct and told him he would have to act 
 differently; perhaps. I made some threats,—I don’t re- 
 member exactly. He never said a mean word in re- 
 
 ‘ turn, but two days afterwards, he left home without 
 
 saying a word to either of us, and that was the last we 
 saw of him until—until—” and here the old man 
 choked up somewhat while some big tears that gath- 
 ered in his eye betrayed the emotion he felt. 
 
 “Oh yes, 1 understand; until this money came from 
 him,” said Mrs. Furlong tenderly, for she quickly per- 
 ceived how the old gentleman’s feelings were hurt by 
 alluding to the absence of his son, and resolved to 
 change the subject at once. 
 
 “No, he came through here once early this spring,” 
 continued Mr. Oldham in a sad_ way of speaking that 
 went straight to the hearts of the listeners. “It was 
 early one Sunday morning before daylight that he came 
 to the tank where I was working and talked with me 
 quite a while, but I didn’t recognize him, and never 
 would have known that it was he, but when I went to 
 the house, after the train had passed, there was his 
 mother crying her heart out. It seems he had been 
 there after leaving me, and had even talked with his 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 321 
 
 mother from the door step and left her some money 
 by telling a roundabout story, but he did not even 
 acknowledge himself to her. Some misgivings must 
 have come upon him though, after leaving his mother 
 in that way, for as she was wondering at the sight of 
 the money, she happened to glance at the window, 
 and there was john, standing close by the rosebush, 
 looking in at her, and she knew him the minute 
 their eyes met. I think he must have stolen back to 
 take another look at his mother before leaving, and I 
 am sure if he did so, that all his feeling for us is not 
 dead. Don’t you think so, Mrs. Furlong?” and the 
 appealing way in which the old man uttered this last 
 remark, caused them all to forget their own trouble 
 for the time. 
 
 “But did he not come into the house, when Mrs. 
 Oldham recognized him?” asked Mary, who had be- 
 ,come so interested in the story that she spoke before 
 her mother could frame a reply to his last remark. 
 
 *“No, Miss, he didn’t. You see, the train that he 
 was waiting for, came along just then, and without 
 waiting to say a word to any one he ran and got 
 aboard the cars just as they went by the house.’ I 
 can’t understand why he acted in that way for he must 
 have known that my anger against him died out years 
 ago, and it would have made us feel so happy, even if 
 he had stayed a day or two. It made his mother sick 
 with disappointment and heartache for weeks after- 
 wards,” and here the old man almost broke down 
 completely while the tears coursing silently down his 
 face indicated the force of his pent-up emotion, 
 
 “He must have had some good reason for not stop- 
 ping, and some day it may be all explained, for de- 
 pend upon it, he is not entirely forgetful of you, or he 
 
322 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 would never have sent you that money,” remarked 
 Mrs. Furlong soothingly. 
 
 “That is the way I try to think about it,” said Mr. 
 Oldham brokenly.: “And it has done his mother a 
 power of good to know that he is alive and well, but 
 we would far sooner have had him come home to stay, 
 even if he hadn’t acent, than to receive all this 
 money he sent us, and. not even be granted the chance 
 to thank him. I tell you, Mrs. Furlong, I would will- 
 ingly give all the money in the worldif I had it, just 
 to have our boy come home, even if it was only for a 
 week,” and the pathetic way in which he shook his 
 head, showed that the hope of his son’s return was 
 the one remaining desire of his_ heart. 
 
 “He will get tired of roving around before long, and 
 will come home to settle down for.a steady life. . Per; 
 haps he sent that money to pave the way for his re- 
 turn in a few months. It would not surprise me much 
 if such a thing happened,” said Mr. Furlong cheer- 
 fully. : 
 
 “That would be the happiest day of my life, and it 
 would do his mother more good than all the medicine 
 in the land,” said Mr. Oldham, brightening up some- 
 what under the cheering remarks that had been spoken. 
 “That money he sent has placed us in very good cir- 
 cumstances, and we would be so happy to have him 
 with us, for you see, Mr. Furlong, I have been very 
 successful in investing a part of the money so that it 
 will bring in quite a nice income,” he added with a 
 slight tinge of pride in his tone. 
 
 “May I ask you how you have invested it?” inquired 
 Mr. Furlong kindly, | 
 
 “T have loaned Mr. Goodwin and Dr. Edgerton four 
 thousand dollars at ten per cent interest and taken a 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 323 
 
 mortgage for security on land that is worth twice the 
 money I advanced. I only get six per cent interest 
 on the other six thousand from the banker at New 
 Orleans, and they wrote such a short independent 
 letter, when I inquired what interest they would allow 
 me, if I let the money remain with them, that I felt 
 like withdrawing it from their hands entirely. My 
 wife argued, however, that such a spirit on their part 
 was a good sign of surety, so, to please her, I let it 
 remain there for present.” 
 
 “Quite a good idea in Mrs. Oldham, for the chances 
 are that the bank is sound or they would not be so 
 independent, as you term it. But about the money 
 you loaned Mr. Goodwin and Dr. Edgerton; on what _ 
 land did you take the mortgage?” asked Mr. Furlong 
 with only the best of intentions in making this in- 
 quiry, for rumor had it that since the railroad boom 
 had subsided, there had been some sharp trading and 
 dealing in real estate, whereby some one was sure to 
 be swindled, tinless he was thoroughly posted in the 
 value of land throughout the country. 
 
 “Here is the description of the land according to 
 the recorder’s way of putting it down. I don’t under- 
 stand their way of locating farms,” responded the old 
 gentleman, as he handed over to Mr. Furlong a piece 
 of paper he had just taken from a note-book that gave 
 the section, range and township of the land upon which 
 he had advanced the money; and as Mr. Furlong was 
 thoroughly versed in the location of these defines, it 
 took but a moment for him to realize that the old en- 
 gineer had been fearfully duped in the transaction. 
 
 “Who told you that this land was worth twice the 
 amount you advanced upon it?” he inquired in a tone 
 that little expressed the indignation he felt. 
 
324 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Why, Andrews, the storekeeper, with whom I have 
 always traded, first informed me that these gentlemen 
 wished to borrow some money, and he assured me that 
 the land was worth all of ten thousand dollars, so that 
 the loan would be perfectly safe. But why do you 
 ask?” asked the old-man with a _ shade of anxiety in 
 his voice. 
 
 Mr. Furlong hesitated some time before answering, 
 for he felt as though to tell the truth in this case would 
 only cause another load of trouble where the burden 
 was indeed already heavy enough; and yet, feeling it 
 his duty to warn the old man, so that such a device 
 could not be practiced on him again, he replied as he 
 handed the paper back to Mr. Oldham: “I think Mr. 
 Andrews greatly exaggerates the value of this land, 
 still, it may be worth all that your loan calls for; but 
 if you take my advice, Mr. Oldham, you will loan no 
 more money on real estate around here, for if this 
 new railroad does not come to Montrovia, you may be 
 left with all his land on yourhands. [think the bank 
 is the safest place for your money at present until the 
 prices on real estate stop fluctuating, and have some 
 fixed basis for valuation.” 
 
 “That is what my wife says, and now that you are 
 of the same opinion, I will follow your advice,” re- 
 marked Mr. Oldham, and then, as his gaze wandered 
 over toward the clock, he arose hastily on noticing 
 the time. “I’ll have to be going, or I won’t get home 
 until after dark,” and after Edward had helped him on 
 with his overcoat, he bade them adieu and withdrew. 
 
 Hardly had the sight of his figure been lost to view 
 along the highway, when Edward exclaimed turning 
 toward his father: “What is wrong, father, about 
 that loan of Mr. Oldham’s? Surely such men as An- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 325 
 
 drews and Goodwin have not been mean enough to 
 swindle the old gentleman on this loan; and yet, I 
 should judge by your face, that some such scheme had 
 been played upon him.” 
 
 “That is just what they have done,” replied his 
 father wrathfully. “And if they don’t refund the 
 money, I’ll see that every man inthe country hears of 
 their rascality. Why this tract of land that they have 
 pawned off upon Mr. Oldham, is that big ravine known 
 as Wagner’s Hollow, and is entirely worthless unless 
 the railroad takes that course to get through the hills. 
 Now, that there is no certainty of the railroad ever 
 coming, they have cast aside all honor and duped this 
 old man out of four thousand dollars, for what did not 
 cost them more than a thousand. It’s a_ burning 
 shame,” he exclaimed in a spirit of righteous indigna- 
 tion. 
 
 “They should be made to pay it back to him at 
 once,” cried Mrs. Furlong warmly. “And there ought 
 to be laws enacted that would send any one to prison 
 who attempted such rascality.” 
 
 “T suppose now, we will ‘hear of Dr. Edgerton and 
 his wife taking that postponed trip to New York 
 which they talked about just before the wedding. I 
 think we ought to quit trading at Andrew’s store after 
 the shameful way in which he assisted these men to 
 swindle Mr. Odlham,” exclaimed Mary, whose spirit 
 was also aroused at the thought of such an infamous 
 scheme. 
 
 “I will talk to Andrews about it, but I think I can 
 see through it all; and while it might be easy to force 
 him to refund his profits from this rascally trick, yet 
 I fear it will be a hatd task to do so with Goodwin 
 and his precious son-in-law, this Dr. Edgerton. How- 
 
326 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ever, I shall try to do something even if it only re- 
 sults in exposing the scoundrels,” remarked Mr. Fur- 
 long firmly. 
 
 The conversation on the affair was stopped suddenly 
 at this point by the appearance of a neighboring far- 
 mer, who had called in to have a social chat, and to 
 inquire about Hart’s chances of being released or his 
 probable conviction; for he was far from being careful 
 of anybody’s feelings and, while he extolled the many 
 good traits in Hart’s character, he was not at all back- 
 ward in thoroughly discussing the dangerous position in 
 which he was placed, so that it was with a great feel- 
 ing of relief that Mr. Furlong and Edward bade him 
 good-night an hour or so later; for they well knew 
 that his blunt way of speaking about the case might 
 cause another outburst of grief from the women, which 
 they both dreaded to witness. 
 
 The New year was ushered in with one of those 
 bright clear cold days, that show more. plainly than 
 words can express, the complete triumph accomplished 
 by snow and ice in their devastating effects, for it needed 
 but a glance at the dark sombre aspect of the timber 
 and the ragged outlines of each ravine and broken hill- 
 side to view ascene, which, inits complete desolation, 
 showed the terrible victory that winter had achieved in 
 its warfare upon the face of nature. And even the 
 keen cold wind, that swept arcoss the snow-covered 
 fields and whistled as it shook the benumbed branches 
 of the trees, seemied to be only sounding its savage 
 glee at the alliance it had formed with the victors. 
 
 Another letter had been received from Hart, a few 
 days after Christmas, but as it contained no welcome 
 news that might lead to the establishment of his in- 
 nocence, Mr. Furlong had Edward make arrangements 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP ; 327 
 
 to start that very afternoon for St. Louis; and, as 
 each member of the family brought forward some little 
 article to be crowded into the spacious valise as a re- 
 membrance to the one they all loved so dearly, the 
 tears came silently stealing down their faces as they 
 thought of the disgrace and ignominy that he was be- 
 ing forced to endure unjustly. 
 
 “Now, be careful of these, Edward, for the slightest 
 blow may break them,” said his mother as she brought 
 forth a couple of glass jars containing some preserved 
 fruit she had been saving for this occasion. 
 
 “And here are those handkerchiefs I made last 
 week,” said Mary. “Be sure to tell him, Edward, that 
 I made them, or he may think I have partly forgotten 
 him. As if any of us could ever do that,” she added 
 sadly; for now that the New Year had come without 
 any sign of her expectations being realized, her hopes, 
 also, were beginning to change into despair. 
 
 “Have I everything now?” asked Edward a few 
 minutes later, after he had crowded a half dozen more. 
 little articles intended for Hart into the already well- 
 packed valise; and on receiving no dissenting reply, 
 he snapped the clasps and buckling up the straps, 
 was ready for departure. 
 
 As he stood in the middle of the room putting on 
 his overcoat with Mary’s assistance, the whole scene 
 of Hart’s departure, only a few months before, of 
 which this seemed to be such an exact counterpart, 
 rushed upon the mother’s mind, and it was only by a 
 great effort that she restrained herself from an cut- 
 burst of grief as she thought of how differently she 
 had pictured the future at that time. 
 
 “And now, Edward,” said Mr. Furlong very gravely. 
 ‘I do not suppose that it is necessary for me to tell 
 
328 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 you how to inform Hart of our feeling toward him in 
 this trouble. ‘ Your own heart will find words to ex- 
 press our feelings, but you can assure him that every 
 means will be taken to fight this prosecution, even if 
 we have to sell the farm and begin life anew.” 
 
 As Mrs. Furlong arose,and striving hard to keep down 
 the choking feeling that was fast gathering in her 
 throat, began to murmur out a few words of her love 
 and affection which she wished Edward to convey as 
 her message to Hart, a hasty knock was heard at the 
 door, and in response to Mary’s cry of, “come in,” the 
 door opened and, to their surprise, Mr. Oldham walked 
 into the room. . 
 
 The old man’s face, upon which there always had 
 ‘appeared a sad, resigned look now bore an expression 
 of dull, hopeless despair, while the careworn lines on 
 his face, seemed as if sunk deeper by some recent 
 trouble; and his eyes had such a dazed, stony look, 
 that every member of the family noticed the change 
 in him at once. 
 
 “Here isa telegram that came for you, Mr. Furlong, 
 in care of the station agent, and as he could not leave 
 the office at present, I brought it over myself,” said 
 the old gentleman; and as-he handed over the mes- 
 sage, in such a quiet, subdued manner, it caused the 
 worst of fears to arrse in the mind of each one pres- 
 ent. 
 
 With his hands trembling under the effect of the 
 _ nervous strain, Mr. Furlong tore open the envelope, 
 but on taking a hasty glance at it, his eyes filled up 
 with tears of joy, and as they met his wife’s anxious 
 gaze, he murmured aloud: “God be praised,” for upon 
 the yellow tinted missive, was the written inscription: 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 329 
 
 Saint Louis, Jany’. rst, 18— 
 Robbers arrested in Chicago. My innocence fully 
 established. Will be released to-day. 
 Hart. 
 As Edward picked up the telegram from the floor, 
 where it had fallen from the shaking hand of his 
 father, and read it aloud, it’created a scene of heart- | 
 felt gladness and joy, such as words could never de- 
 pict; ‘for all the anxious cares, that had formed in the 
 hearts of each one of the family, went out in a flow 
 of happy tears which this joyful news had wrought. 
 “And we are so thankful to you, Mr. Oldham, for 
 being so kind as to walk all the way out here with 
 this message. But you will never know how happy 
 you have made us all feel,” said Mrs. Furlong after 
 she had controlled her emotion sufficiently to speak. 
 “The telegraph operator informed me what the mes- 
 sage was, and,—he also told me some other news that 
 is passing over the wires to all the newspapers,” re- 
 marked the old man in a broken tone of voice, while 
 an expression of utter wretchedness came over his 
 face. “I suppose I ought to be glad that Hart is now 
 proven to be innocent of this charge; but,—Oh, Mrs. 
 Furlong, how true is that “saying of, what brings joy 
 to one, may cause sorrow to another; for this man, 
 the robber, is my son.” 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 Yes, it was an assured fact as the newspapers 
 stated. The perpetrators of the late mysterious train 
 robbery, had been captured; and when the full de- 
 tails were divulged, showing that the tale which the 
 messenger had related, was true in every particular, 
 and how the clue which led to the detection of the 
 robbers, had actually been furnished by the messenger 
 himself, by relating what he had overheard the robber 
 say while in his car and how the detectives had been 
 put on the right trail by the fortunate discovery of the 
 rising young reporter, Mr. Rushing, public opinion 
 veered, and the same journals, that only a few weeks 
 before had published editorials stating the undoubted 
 complicity of the messenger in the affair, now loudly 
 applauded the coolness and sagacity, which he had 
 displayed while under the ordeal to which he had been 
 subjected, while a captive in the robbers’ power, and 
 to which talent the arrest. of the perpetrators was 
 partly due. 
 
 It fell to the happy lot of Ben, to be the first one 
 to carry the news to the jail, and seldom was there a 
 more welcome message given to a more joyous Carrier. 
 
 He had just finished getting in his various reports 
 for the day, concerning the local topics, and, as it was 
 then creeping on close to midnight, which hour would 
 mark the expiration of the old year on this occasion, 
 he had arisen with the intention of.leaving for the 
 night, when the telegraph messenger entered with a 
 
 330 
 
A LUCKY. MISHAP 5 331 
 
 huge bunch of telegrams,-at which the night editor 
 had no sooner glanced than his eye lighted up urder 
 the feeling of suppressed excitement. 
 
 “Hold on, Rushing,” he exclaimed as Ben was mov- 
 ing toward the door. “I am afraid you will have to 
 help us out to-night. This is something quite impor- 
 tant in regard to the last express robbery. It seems 
 the robbers have been captured in Chicago, and—By 
 Jingo—” he ejaculated as his eyes hurriedly scanned* 
 the written message. “It looks as though your friend’s 
 * story was true in every particular. Just step up to 
 the composing room and tell the foreman to save 
 space on the second page for a four or five column 
 article,” 
 
 To say that Ben worked that night would be a poor 
 way of expressing his activity, and as he hurriedly 
 filled out the telegrams for the printers’ copy his ex- 
 citement became aroused to the highest pitch when he 
 read how the generous detectives acknowledged that 
 they were all at sea in regard to locating the robbers, 
 until furnished witha straight clue from an accidental 
 discovery by the young reporter, Mr. Rushing of the 
 Cosmopclitan, who, being a close friend of the impris- 
 oned messenger, had ‘taken an exceptional interest in 
 his behalf, and to whom they tendered their sincere 
 thanks. 
 
 Then followed the full story of how Ben*had made 
 his famous race after the hack, solely on the strength 
 of having noticed the large roll of bills in Morgan’s 
 hand, and on hearing the coinciding remark, “All 
 right, Dan,” the result of which he had promptly re- 
 ported to them; and how they had mislead him in re- 
 gard to the success that attended his achievement, in 
 order to insure perfect secrecy in the case until they 
 
332 A LUCKY. MISHAP 
 
 should have located every member of the robber gang. 
 
 A full account of the whole plot and execution of 
 the crime was given with the confession of Morgan, 
 who had turned state’s evidence; and then an hour 
 later, there came two long telegrams one of which was 
 in substance, a statement by the leader of the robbers 
 in which he gave a full account of the struggle in the 
 car, that resulted in the submission of the messenger 
 when death seemed to be the only alternative, the other 
 was a corrobating statement of Richard Howard, who 
 had also been apprehended. 
 
 There was not a shadow of guilt or dishonor cast 
 upon the actions of Hart in any portion of the differ- 
 ent statements. : 
 
 It was far into. the night when Ben _ was released 
 from his duties at the office, and, as he hurried briskly 
 along toward the jail to impart the glad news to Hart, 
 he could not refrain from thinking how many hearts 
 would be made joyful by the establishment of his 
 friend’s innocence; for, although Ben laid no claims 
 to being an adept in mind reading, yet he had come 
 to the conclusion some time before that there was one 
 fair being not far distant whose mind’ would now be 
 more at ease than it had since the affair had occurred: 
 
 He could not be granted an interview with the pris- 
 oner at this late hour, said the night captain at the 
 jail. But’ as the news was of such importance, he 
 would see that Furlong was informed of it the first 
 thing in the morning; so, as there was nothing else 
 that Ben could do at present, he started for his room, 
 with the intention of putting in the few remaining 
 hours of the night in slumber. 
 
 When Ben awoke in the morning he at once per- 
 ceived that he had overslept his regular time of rising 
 
 ~ 
 | a 
 ——-? 
 
 3 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 333 
 
 fully two hours, owing to the work and excitement of 
 the previous night; and, when he finally reached the 
 jail, after partaking of only a cup of coffee for break- 
 fast he found both Mr. Bancroft and Louis Norman 
 there in close conversation with the prosecuting attor- 
 ney who, after some assuring argument advanced by 
 the elder gentleman, seemed to be so fully convinced 
 onthe debate in question, that he signed over an order 
 for the release of Hart Furlong from custody. 
 
 On perceiving Ben’s presence, they both welcomed 
 him warmly, and then at Norman’s suggestion that 
 they have Hart released at once and adjourn from 
 these’ undesirable quarters before talking over the 
 strange developments in the case, the excited trio at 
 once proceeded to the prisoner’s’ quarters armed with 
 the official document for release. 
 
 It was a work of but a few minutes for the jailer to 
 record the case on his memoranda, and Hart was ush- 
 ered out before them, a free man. He had just been 
 told the news of the robbers, arrest in a somewhat un- 
 satistactory manner by one of the jail guards, but when 
 he was given a morning newspaper by the jailer, which 
 contained a full account of the affair, his spirits rose 
 to their former degree of buoyancy, and after a talk 
 with the officer in charge, he had been granted permis- 
 sion to send the telegram to his parents, of which 
 mention has already been made. 
 
 But as he was being led out from the prison confines, 
 again a free man, without a stain of suspicion upon 
 his character; and although buoyed up in spirit by the 
 reassuring grasp of friendly hands upon him, a sud- 
 den weakness came upon him that caused him to trem- 
 ble as one just recovering from a spell of sickness. 
 He tried to thank them for the unflinching belief in 
 
334 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 his innocence that they had shown so often during the 
 whole time of his imprisonment, but his heart felt far 
 more grateful toward them than his tongue could find 
 words to express. 
 
 “Don’t bother saying anything now, old boy. Just 
 wait until we get up town; and after you have had a 
 taste of turkey and oysters, then we will listen to 
 everything you have to say,” exclaimed Norman, 
 whose enthusiasm had risen to the top notch on read- 
 ing how the newspapers had changed their sentiments 
 in regard to the error of Furlong’s imprisonment. 
 
 “Yes, Hart,” interposed Mr. Bancroft. “I think a 
 change from that prison diet would be beneficial to 
 you, and we can discuss the case then to our heart’s 
 content. So let us be off,” and signaling toa carriage 
 across the street, they were soon being whirled along 
 toward a café where half an hour later, they sat down 
 to an appetizing lunch that was enjoyed by all; for 
 
 both Mr. Bancroft and Norman had rushed off to the ~~ 
 
 jail without eating breakfast, on seeing the startling 
 headlines of the robber’s capture in the morning pa- 
 per; and as Hart and Ben had only partaken of a cup 
 of coffee, it is needless to say that the repast was in- 
 deed highly relished by every one of them. 
 
 “But how was it, Ben, that you did not tell me any- 
 thing concerning this chase of yours after the hack 
 which resulted so favorably for me?” inquired Hart as 
 he helped himself to a second slice of turkey. 
 
 “It made me feel so blue when the detective told 
 me it had only been a wild goose chase, that I never 
 gave it a second thought,” replied Ben with a smile, 
 on thinking of the queer figure he must have cut that 
 night, when running, hatless, at full speed through 
 the streets, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 335 
 
 “By Jove. But I wish I stood in your shoes now, 
 Hart, although I must confess I did not envy your po- 
 sition yesterday,” remarked Norman quite seriously. 
 
 “Why so?” inquired Hart in surprise. 
 
 “IT suppose you know that somebody will have to 
 pay you handsomly now, for all this trouble you’ve 
 been put to. Can’t he easily get a judgment against 
 the express company for damages, Mr. Bancroft?” 
 asked Norman, addressing his last remark to that gen- 
 tleman. SESS 
 
 “Yes, I think so,” replied Mr. Bancroft. “They have 
 caused Hart and his parents to suffer no small amount 
 of anxiety in this affair, and unless they are willing 
 to come down with a few thousand, a suit for damages 
 should be instituted against them at once,” asserted 
 the old gentleman quite emphatically. 
 
 “By the way,” he continued, turning toward Hart. 
 “We better go around to Mr. Hedrick’s office this morn- 
 ing, and instruct him on what amount he may com- 
 promise the matter.” 
 
 After some further animated conversation, they arose 
 from the table and as both Ben and Norman had 
 other engagements for the day, they excused them- 
 selves, while Mr. Bancroft and Hart wended their way 
 to the lawyer’s office. _ 
 
 A walk of fifteen minutes brought them to the sanc- 
 tum of the legal adviser, whom they found pacing the 
 floor as if a matter of no little perplexity was upon 
 his mind. 
 
 “The very person I wished to see,” he exclaimed 
 with a broad, confiding smile, such as only lawyers 
 can produce when anticipating a fee running up into 
 four figures, and as Hart and Mr. Bancroft took seats, 
 he continued ina tone that indicated quite an increased 
 
336 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 interest in Hart’s behalf: “I was at the jail just ten 
 minutes'after you gentlemen left, and thinking that 
 you would call here, I hurried back at once. The case 
 is now unraveling in a manner quite favorable to our 
 young client. This imprisonment may prove to be 
 quite a lucky mishap, Mr. Furlong, but what might 
 have been your lot, if these robbers had not been cap- 
 tured, is an unplesant matter to reflect upon. Thank 
 goodness, that is now a thing of the past; but still 
 some satisfaction should be obtained for all the trouble 
 caused Mr. Furlong, and the case has now assumed 
 such a different phase that I think such a course could 
 be pursued to a successful issue.” 
 
 “As I understand it now,” began Mr. Bancroft, “our 
 friend can claim damages for this imprisonment. The 
 question is, how much to value the claim, and how 
 to secure it; I suppose that is what you wish to haye 
 our opinion on, is it not?” 
 
 “Exactly, exactly,” exclaimed the lawyer. “Unless 
 the company are willing to compromise the case by 
 paying Mr. Furlong kandsomely for what he has 
 suffered, I should advise that a damage suit for fifty 
 thousand dollars be instituted at once.” 
 
 “What do you think about taking that course, Hart?” 
 inquired Mr. Bancroft after a pause of a few seconds. 
 
 “I think you are far more able to judge of this mat-. 
 ter than I and it would be a great load off my mind, 
 if you and Mr. Hedricks would finish up the case. 
 You have shown yourself to be such a staunch friend 
 toward me when almost every one believed me to be 
 a thief, that any course you take, I will approve of,” 
 replied Hart frankly. 
 
 “In that case, Mr. Hedricks, I will now notify you to 
 commence suit for the amount you stated, fifty thous- 
 
 ’ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 337 
 
 and dollars; and accept no compromise for any sum 
 less than twenty thousand,” said Mr. Bancroft firmly. 
 
 “Very well, I shall follow your instructions. I will 
 give them a chance to-morrow to settle the case before 
 I file the suit and, if they are wise, they will accept 
 the offer. However, if they conclude to fight it, I 
 will leave no stone unturned to get the verdict in our 
 favor.” 
 
 “T am quite sure on that.point, Mr. Hedricks,” as- 
 sented Mr. Bancroft, confidently. “Now are there 
 any further questions you would like to ask? If not, 
 I will take my leave, for the ladies made me promise 
 ’ to bring the news home at once, and I am now three 
 hours behind time,” and on receiving a reply from the 
 lawyer that nothing further was needed, he and Hart 
 took their departure. 
 
 “Now Hart,” said the old’ gentleman as they re- 
 gained the street, ‘is there any reason why you can 
 not pay us a call this evening, and bring Mr. Rushing 
 with you? I am going home now, and will undoubt- 
 edly have to put in the rest of the day answering all 
 the questions that three feminine minds can conceive; 
 and if you and Ben don’t come to my relief by even- 
 ing, the consequences of bearing a longer strain upon 
 my faculties will rest on your shoulders. The ladies 
 will all be glad to see you; so remember we will look 
 for you and Rushing about eight o’clock.” 
 
 “Thank you,” said Hart. “I shall be only too happy 
 to comply with your kind invitation, and the hour you 
 mention will allow me plenty of time to fix up a bit, 
 for I feel as though it will require six hours steady 
 bathing, to make me feel as I did before I entered 
 that prison. But I’ll be on hand at eight o’clock and, 
 Ben will certainly have to come in order to explain 
 
338 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 this exploit of his to the satisfaction of the ladies.” 
 
 “T shall depend on you, then,” said the old gentle- 
 man hurriedly. “And as there is my car coming now, 
 I will say good-bye until this evening,” and as Mr. 
 Bancroft boarded the street car, Hart set out at a brisk 
 pace to the room he had formerly occupied in com- 
 mon with Rushing, with the intention of making him- 
 self a trifle better in appearance before meeting with 
 the one being on whom his thoughts had so often been 
 hopelessly centered during the many idle hours of his 
 forced stay at the prison. 
 
 It was a few hours later when twilight was casting 
 its gloom over all, and the street-lamps were each be- 
 ginning to shed a faint glow of light as the fleet footed 
 lighter hurried on his way from post to post, while 
 the occasional burst of song and revelry heard along 
 the street, denoted that the first day of the New Year 
 had brought good spirits to many a one in the passing 
 crowds that jostled each other on the walk without the 
 slightest show of ill nature on either side, that a bit 
 of enthusiasm began to show its spirit in Hart, for 
 he was merrily whistling a lively air while trying to 
 put in place a bothersome necktie, when Ben came 
 in upon him a half hour or so before time for supper. 
 
 “It seems to me that the change from your late 
 quarters has a very agreeable effect upon you, judging 
 from that tune you are giving vent to,” exclaimed 
 Ben, as he took off his coat and began to bathe his 
 face and hands. 
 
 “Yes, I should say it does,” commented Hart, with 
 especial emphasis on the last word. “And, by the way, 
 Ben, I have accepted an invitation for us both to put 
 in an appearance at Mrs. Arbor’s to-night at eight 
 o’clock; so it is useless to make any excuses, old fel- 
 low, for go you must.” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 339 
 
 “T thought something of the kind was on the pro- 
 gramme, when I observed the way those boots of yours 
 were shined. I would wager my week’s salary, if the 
 truth could ever be reached, that you have been primp- 
 ing before the mirror for the last hour. Well, old boy, 
 from the talk ] hear about your case on the street, you 
 may yet be able to catch the heiress,” remarked Ben 
 in his former jolly, bantering way of speaking. 
 
 “What is it you hear on the street?” asked Hart 
 quickly, for the thought that any mention of Nora’s 
 name had come into publicity, caused him to flush 
 with anger. 
 
 “Oh, it is nothing concerning Miss Arbor,” replied 
 Ben, with a smile as he noticed the flush on Hart’s 
 face. “But every one thinks you have such an excel- 
 lent case for damages, that the company will have to 
 pay you a good round sum for the trouble they have 
 caused you; and, of course, if you receive any reason- 
 able amount, I have a very good idea of the plan you 
 would pursue. No offence for expressing my opinion 
 I hope,” and the genial, tantalizing laugh, that Ben 
 followed up this sally with, made Hart long for an 
 opportunity to retaliate. 
 
 “Any other news of interest, Mr. Reporter, that you 
 can relate? Give us something of fact, and not that 
 which borders so much on theory, for I suppose you 
 know that damage suits are seldom converted into 
 cash, until after long, tedious siege at law,” said Hart 
 as he put on his coat and took a seat to wait for his 
 friend to finish his toilet. 
 
 “News; well I should say so,” asserted Ben emphat- 
 ically. “Why, this affair is a regular picnic for us re 
 porters. No need of us running all over town to hunt 
 up items, as long as this case lasts, and the best of 
 
 ’ 
 
540 is, A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 it is that each day develops some new sensation that 
 any scrub can work up into a two or three column 
 article. You will find the evening paper in my coat- 
 pocket. They got the scoop on us to-night in good 
 shape. It gives an account of the arrival here of the 
 robbers from Chicago, on the noon train. It appears 
 the leader, Oldham, and your former acquaintance, 
 Dick Howard, are the only ones to be prosecuted; but 
 the strangest thing about the matter is, that the par- 
 ents of this robber, Oldham, live at the same town 
 you hail from. Is that enough news to satisfy you?” 
 asked Ben, as he vigorously dashed the water over his 
 face. 
 
 “Good heavens! You don’t mean to say this rob- 
 ber is a son of Mr. Oldham of Montrovia?” ejaculated 
 Hart in consternation; for he could not help thinking 
 of the anguish and sorrow it would cause in case this 
 was true. 
 
 “Read the paper, and it will explain the whole mat- 
 ter to you. The fellow gives a full account of the case 
 and says that you made quite a struggle in the car be- 
 fore giving in. The bulk of the money has all been 
 recovered except a few thousand; but there must have 
 been some kind of a compromise made to get it, for 
 I see that the young fellow, whom you knew by the 
 name of Bob, goes scot free; and it seems that a pack- 
 age of money, which was sent by the big robber to his 
 parents, is not to be asked for. In fact, it is stated 
 that a clear release for that money was sent to his 
 parents to-day; so it seems that the fellow wasn’t the 
 worst man in the world, even if he did hold an ugly 
 looking revolver close to your head. But I say, Hart,” 
 Ben added jokingly, “the ,fellow says that the barrel 
 of his pistol wasn’t three feet long, as you imgine,” 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 341 
 
 “It was long enough, at any rate. But, hang it—I 
 almost wish now that this fellow had not been cap- 
 tured,” answered Hart, as he began to scan the article 
 in the paper, purporting to be an interview held with 
 Howard and Oldham upon their arrival at the jail that 
 day; and besides feeling deeply grateful to both of 
 them for their public acknowledgement of his entire 
 innocence in the crime, a feeling of such strong sym- 
 pathy was aroused within him, as he pictured the: 
 sorrow and grief it would cause his old friend, Mr. 
 Oldham, that all the hard feelings he had borne to- 
 ward the robbers were swept entirely away. 
 
 He had just finished reading how the lottery ticket 
 had been obtained by the robber, and the proceeds 
 sent to Montrovia, when Ben declared, after a glance 
 at his watch, that it was a case of getting supper now, 
 or not at all; so thrusting the paper in his pocket for 
 future reference, the two young men descended to the 
 dining-room, and after partaking of the inviting viands, 
 they started on a brisk walk to the Arbor mansion. 
 
 “What is the next occupation you intend to try, 
 Hart? I suppose you would not care to go in the ex- 
 press business again, would you?” inquired Ben, after 
 they had settled down to a steady gait over the icy 
 pavements. 
 
 “No, I hardly think they,would care about employ- 
 ing me again, as this affair will now cause some hard 
 feeling. I am all at sea concerning any other employ- 
 ment now that Mr. Huntoon is not here; but, 1 am 
 going home to-morrow night, and will probably re- 
 main there until spring.” 
 
 “Just my luck,” grumbled Ben. “I run my legs off 
 to find a clue to get you out of jail for the sake of 
 your companionship, and now you clear out altogether. 
 Pretty rough on me, I think.” 
 
342 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “T doubt very much if you have seen the last of me 
 though, for I am like the unlucky penny, always turn- 
 ing up to bother my friends in some manner. When 
 this damage suit takes place, you may be called up in 
 court so often, that you will wish you had never seen 
 me,” remarked Hart with a nervous laugh 
 
 “Tf you intend leaving to-morrow night, I suppose 
 this is your last visit to the Arbor’s; or, will you pay 
 a parting call to morrow afternoon,” asked Ben curi- 
 ously, while at the same time he tried to note the 
 effect of his remark in Hart’s countenance. 
 
 “No, I shall scarcely have time to call to-morrow, 
 as I wish to see this robber, Oldham, in the morning. 
 He may wish to have some message taken to his par- 
 ents, and I shall be only too glad to do that for him; 
 but, Ben, I wish you would not mention to-night my 
 intention of leaving for home to morrow, for I do so 
 dislike these parting scenes, and—Oh, hang it,” he 
 burst out desperately, “I guess you know how the 
 case stands with me. I wouldn’t talk to another soul 
 on earth about this but you, old fellow; but the truth 
 is that I love Nora with that kind of affection I never 
 could bestow on any other girl, and, as I suppose this 
 may be the last time I shall see her, do your best to 
 keep up a conversation, for when I once begin to feel 
 blue, [ act as glum as an oyster.” 
 
 “Look here, Hart, I wouldn’t let these queer ideas 
 of yours interfere in this case. Why don’t you speak 
 frankly to her, man; and see what she says,” suggested 
 Ben energetically. “Unless I am greatly mistaken in 
 her disposition, you wouldn’t receive “no” for an an- 
 swer; for she seems to be interested in everything you 
 say; at least, it struck me that way, when we were 
 attending those card parties last September, and on 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 343 
 
 other occasions when you were on the road, it was reg- 
 ular uphill work for either Norman or Disroe to cor-’ 
 ner her for a private chat. Then, there was that chap 
 fresh from Harvard, Engard; he backed out completely 
 after a month’s chase, and swore that she was engaged 
 to some one, by the rebuffs he received, and if ever 
 there was a fellow, who was smooth at that kind of a 
 game, it was he. I tell you, Hart, if I were you, I 
 would try my fate before leaving, even if your finan- 
 ces are in a rather bad state.” 
 
 Hart slowly shook his head while a dreary smile 
 stole over his face. “You don’t stop to consider fully 
 the position I now am in,” he began in a hopeless 
 tone. “I would be a fine fellow to take advantage of 
 her brother’s kindness, in extending us an invitation 
 to visit the family in so mean a way as to propose 
 marriage to Nora without having so much as a hun- 
 dred dollars that I can call my own, or even holding 
 a position where I might look forward to something. 
 What you noticed in her actions was more likely an 
 out-cropping of the gratitude she feels toward me, on 
 account of that runaway accident rather than any 
 deeper affection. No, Ben, it is no use talking about 
 it. I shall leave here to-morrow night, and try to 
 efface the last six months of my life entirely from my 
 memory.” 
 
 “That may be your way of looking at the case,” 
 argued Ben, with no attempt to follow the last clause 
 in Hart’s remark. “But I think you are foolish, and 
 besides; she is no butterfly who would expect to be 
 kept by you in the same style she now lives in. I tell 
 you, there is a lot of common sense in her composi- 
 tion that would come forward in a case of emergency.” 
 
 “IT must say, Ben, that you present the case with the 
 
344 - A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 accomplished guile of a lawyer,” remarked Hart, with 
 a bitter laugh. “It is all well enough to read in 
 novels about young couples dwelling in bliss on bread 
 and cheese and kisses, as I have seen quoted some- 
 where; but I think an actual survey would hardly 
 bring a satisfactory case to light. A six months dose 
 of money troubles worrying on a man’s mind would 
 sear all tender sentiment within him. Of course in 
 this case, you figure that Miss Arbor, being an heiress, 
 there need be no great anxiety on my part of coming 
 down to such straits as bread and cheese; but it 
 always struck me as a humiliating spectacle, whenever 
 I noticed a man living on his wife’s money; and 1 
 have no desire to follow in that line; for where such 
 a state of affairs exists for any length of time, the hus- 
 band gradually loses all self-reliance and in some cases 
 self-respect. Then, the wife assumes the reins of the 
 household while the husband takes second place, and 
 my idea of true happiness in married life, exists only 
 where the man is captain of the ship. One good, firm 
 pilot on a boat, is better than two poor weak ones at any 
 time, and will result in a safer voyage for the crew 
 every time.” . 
 "I guess I’ll have to give up arguing with you” said 
 Ben discouraged. “I see from the way you talk, that 
 you would want to have a few thousand yourself be- 
 fore making any attempt to change Miss Arbor’s name, 
 Where you could get such a sum is a mystery at pres- 
 ent, unless the express company would compromise 
 that suit, and as they have the reputation of fighting 
 every legal case to the last ditch, I am afraid, Hart, 
 that we shall always be a pair of old bachelors; how- 
 ever, I suppose we can manage to exist comfortably 
 in that state at anyrate. Still it does seem to me 
 
¥ 
 A LUCKY MISHAP 345 
 
 as though you were going to wreck a life of happiness 
 by stickling at one small point of principle.” 
 
 “One small point of principle,” repeated Hart. “Yes, 
 that is what it looks like; but that small point would 
 act on my life like a gadfly, and I don’t intend to 
 abandon a jot of my self-respect if I can help it. But 
 you forget another important point that cuts quite a 
 figure in my eyes,” said Hart very gravely. “And that 
 is the uncertainty of Miss Arbor saying “yes”, to a 
 proposal from me, even if I had a few thousand. 
 As I have said before this evening, it may only bea 
 feeling of gratitude that she bears toward me, and in 
 that case all this discussion is a waste of breath; so, 
 let us change the subject. Here, have a cigar and 
 join me in a smoke; that will save your conversational 
 powers for a half-hour or so, until we reach Mrs. Ar- 
 bor’s,” and, as Ben accepted the proposed truce, the 
 remaining part of the way was pursued in silence. 
 
 The city clocks were just striking the hour named 
 by Mr. Bancroft, when the two young men arrived at 
 the house, and the cordial reception they received 
 from every one the moment they entered the drawing- 
 room, started.a merry conversation on all sides. 
 
 “Tam so glad that this has terminated at last: for 
 it will be such a relief to your parents,” said Mrs. 
 Bancroft, shaking hands with Hart quite warmly, as 
 she entered the room a moment later. 
 
 “You must give Ben the credit for that; for without 
 his aid, I would still be in prison,” replied Hart, 
 thinking that, perhaps, the old lady had not been in- 
 formed of his friend’s exploit. 
 
 “Yes, indeed, Mr. Rushing,” continued the old lady, 
 addressing her remark now to Ben. “Your act can not 
 be commended too highly; and I hope it will make 
 
346 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 you quite as famous as some of those New York re- 
 porters, who outdid the detectives completely in ex- 
 posing the perpetrators of several mysterious crimes. 
 
 “He has already been thinking some of resigning 
 his position as reporter, and establishing a detective 
 agency,” said Hart jokingly, which provoked a general 
 laugh. 
 
 “Tam sure, Mr. Rushing, you would do a flourish- 
 ing business, and in the position that I now hold in 
 the Poor Relief, I could give you the office of hunting 
 up all the lost children, which task alone, I think, 
 would keep you quite busy,” added Nora, in the same 
 spirit of raillery which she well knew Ben would take 
 in good part. 
 
 “Does it not seem queer, Mrs. Arbor,” remarked 
 Ben to that lady with the idea of getting back a blow 
 at his two assailants, “that one of these two never at- 
 tacks a person but what the other immediately joins 
 in the fray. Have you not noticed it on several occa- 
 sions lately?” 
 
 This retaliation now set the honors even, and Hart 
 wisely concluded not to follow up the attack, although 
 the laugh was now at his expense; for the wily Ben 
 generally came out best in the majority of these banter- 
 ing affrays, and now that the jests would be directed 
 jointly at Nora and himself, they would have too tell- 
 ing an effect to be easily parried. 
 
 ‘Now Ben, don’t be too severe on them. Remember 
 how Hart has been under restriction for the last two 
 months, so that you are virtually combating with an 
 invalid in his case,” said Mr. Bancroft, still laughing 
 
 -at the effect produced by Ben’s remark, so very visi- 
 ble on Nora’s blushing face. 
 
 “T should think after you had done so much to fur- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 347 
 
 nish news for his paper, Mr. Furlong, that he ought 
 to stand a few jests without retaliating,” laughingly 
 remarked Mrs. Arbor. 
 
 “Yes indeed,” broke in Nora with a womanly im- 
 pulse to have the last word. “And it is the first in- 
 teresting topic I have noticed in their paper for a long 
 time. I am sure you reporters must be a very sleepy 
 set of fellows to glean so little local news from sucha 
 large city as this.” 
 
 “T will see that the personal and society articles are 
 extended at once, Miss Arbor,” replied Ben witha 
 mock display of graciousness. “I notice that when- 
 ever any of those highly intellectual paragraphs, re- 
 ferring to the arrival of Johnny So and So, or the de- 
 parture of Willie .Do and Do, are curtailed in the 
 slightest, that a complaint from the young ladies 
 always follows. Pray extend mercy now, and I will 
 see that an abundance of those classical essays appear 
 hereafter.” 
 
 This turned the laugh back in Ben’s favor; but before 
 it had entirely subsided, Hart, feeling in duty bound 
 to come to the rescue of his fair champion, said: “Ben 
 is quite in fighting trim to-night, Miss Arbor. You 
 see he has become quite inflated by riding on this 
 wave of notoriety that he has attained through detect- 
 ing my assailants; and it will be several days, Iam 
 afraid, before the poor boy subsides into his natural 
 self. Until then, we should bear with him when he 
 breaks out in these brilliant but sarcastic flights; for 
 of course, he is not responsible for what he says in 
 his present excited state of mind.” 
 
 “Two against one is hardly fair at any game,” in- 
 terposed Mr. Bancroft with a broad smile at this last 
 sally of Hart’s. “And to tell the truth, I counted on 
 
348 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 having a rubber of whist to-night; so why not fight it 
 out on that line, as Grant once remarked.” 
 
 “Let us accept the challenge, Mr. Furlong,” said 
 Nora rising and moving over toward the card-table. 
 “Tam sure we can give them a good drubbing at whist,” 
 and after the table had been moved toward the center 
 of the room, the game began with Nora and Hart 
 paired off as partners against Mr. Bancroft and Ben; 
 for neither of the other two ladies present ever took 
 any great interest in cards, and always preferred look- 
 ing on rather than assuming the part of player. » 
 
 It was certainly owing more to good luck than to 
 scientific playing, that enabled Nora and Hart to score 
 two rapid successive victories over their opponents; 
 for mistakes on the part of Hart ‘happened quite fre- 
 quently. Whether it was the unsettled state of his 
 mind, or the numerous questions that were put to 
 him on every spare occasion by both Mrs. Bancroft 
 and Mrs. Arbor, that caused him to *make so many 
 misplays, would be a hard matter to determine; but 
 in spite of all his errors they succeeded in winning 
 the first two games, when the cards were dropped, on 
 Mrs. Arbor announcing that a slight repast was now 
 spread in the dining room, and, at her suggestion, 
 they all went down to supper where, instead of the 
 “slight repast”, as. mentioned by the hostess, the table 
 was fairly loaded with all the viands and delicacies of 
 the season. 
 
 From the beginning of the supper when the oysters 
 were served, until they arose to wend their way back 
 to the drawing-room, an incessant conversation was 
 kept up; for, although the ladies had questioned and 
 cross-questioned Mr. Bancroft about Hart’s case dur- 
 ing the day, until the old gentleman had declared that 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 349 
 
 he was beginning to entertain serious doubts of retain- 
 ing his sanity under the ordeal, yet the evening paper 
 having come out with such strange but accurate 
 statements, caused them to make Hart recite in full 
 all of the remarks addressed to him by the robbers, 
 during the long journey down the river, in which they 
 seemed to take the deepest interest. He also told 
 them of the lonely life led by the robber’s parents, 
 and how he had often suspected that their sad de- 
 meanor was owing to an absent wayward son’ whose 
 whereabouts and mode of livelihood being unknown, 
 was undoubtedly the cause of their silent grief, 
 
 “When I think of the sorrow that the out-come of 
 this crime will bring to the Oldhams, I almost wish 
 that the robber had not been apprehended,” concluded 
 Hart, as his thoughts went back to the scene of the 
 old railroad tank, and the many pleasant hours he had 
 whiled away there, years before, listening to the in- 
 teresting tale¢ of the old engineer,—those narratives 
 which had created the deep feeling of romance and 
 desire for travel that had always been uppermost in 
 his mind. 
 
 “Could not something be done for these robbers to 
 lighten their sentence of punishment? Surely, a law- 
 yer might be of some help in the way of asking fora 
 mitigation of the sentence that will be passed upon 
 them,” exclaimed Nora appealing to her uncle for a 
 reply. 
 
 “I am afraid it will be many years before any steps, 
 that might be taken, would be of much avail; for it 
 seems he is already standing under a ten year’s sen- 
 tence, which he escaped, and now this crime being 
 highway robbery, will add another long duration of 
 imprisonment to the unexpired part of his first sen- 
 
350 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 tence. So you see that justice alone demands his con- 
 finement for five or six years, even viewing the case 
 with leniency,” replied Mr. Bancroft, thoughtfully. 
 
 “It does not seem right to me to punish him so 
 severely when he returned nearly all the money and 
 told the truth about the affair, so that Mr. Furlong’s 
 innocence was clearly proven; while in the other case, 
 it appears he did not succeed in accomplishing any- 
 thing criminal,” rejoined Nora, with a slight ring in 
 her voice that expressed her sense of injustice in deal- 
 ing so severely with law-breakers. 
 
 “It also seems to me that his returning the money 
 ought to mitigate the sentence in this case consider- 
 ably. Will not that point cut quite a figure in court?” 
 asked Hart, who held the same view of the case that 
 Nora had just expressed. 
 
 “You both look at this case far too leniently,” an- 
 swered Mr. Bancroft. “Suppose, for a minute, Hart, 
 that you had continued to struggle with this robber 
 after he had warned you to desist; what then might 
 have happened? It is not likely after he had gained 
 admittance to the car, that he intended leaving with- 
 out the money at any cost; or, suppose he had met 
 with interference at some of the many towns along the 
 river; undoubtedly, serious violence would have en- 
 sued, as those guns, which were discovered in the 
 swamp, were found loaded with buckshot, and of a 
 size that is not used for'any kind of wild game, to be 
 found on a journey down the Mississippi. Of course, 
 as everything happened favorably to him, nothing of 
 a serious nature occurred; but he is, undoubtedly, a 
 lawless character who should not be allowed to go un- 
 punished,” asserted the old gentleman, who always be- 
 lieved that the strict enforcement of the law in all 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 351 
 
 cases was the best remedy to prevent a repetition of 
 the offense. 
 
 “No doubt you are right; and I am afraid the robber 
 will receive a long sentence,” said Ben, who had pa- 
 tiently waited for a chance to present his view of the 
 case. “But still, there must be a grain or two of feel- 
 ing in him; for, although the guns were intended to 
 be used with deadly intent in case of any attempt at 
 capture, yet if he had been entirely heartless, how 
 easy it would have been for him to have killed and 
 buried Hart on that lonely sand-bar where he marched 
 him after they had left the car. The detectives then 
 would always have been looking for Hart as the one 
 who had decamped with the money.” 
 
 “Oh, for goodness sake, Mr. Rushing,” cried Nora, 
 shuddering at the thought. “Don’t expound any more 
 of such fearful cold-blooded theories or we will all — 
 have the nightmare.” 
 
 “Beg your pardon, ladies; if I startled your nerves 
 by my blunt way of speaking,” said Ben, apologeti- 
 cally. “But as suggestions seemed to be in order, I 
 thought I would give that one as the idea I had heard 
 expressed by an old detective well versed in the crim- 
 inal side of life. But, I am sure you will not have 
 any dreams at all to-night, if we stay here much 
 longer,” he added, as his eyes happened to notice the 
 clock upon the mantel. “It is actually half-past 
 eleven.” 
 
 This remark caused Hart to arise for departure, and, 
 turning towards Mrs. Arbor, he uttered a few pleasant 
 remarks concerning how much _ he had enjoyed the 
 evening; then with a feeling of despair in his heart, 
 he slowly turned to bid Nora good-bye, when he was 
 suddenly interrupted by Mrs. Bancroft, who stood 
 close beside him. 
 
352 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “Just see how it is snowing, Mr. Furlong,” exclaimed 
 that lady, pointing to the window-sill where the snow 
 had crept up three or four inches on the pane since 
 their arrival. “I suppose it will give you your first 
 sleigh-ride this winter; for you certainly ought to take 
 a good ride after such a long confinement.” 
 
 “I may,” replied Hart in a vague tone; for his mind 
 was in such a wretched state as he began to realize 
 that this might be his last meeting with Nora, that 
 the remark just put to him by Mrs. Bancroft, had 
 startled him out of a short reverie in which he had 
 mentally begun to weaken in his. determination of 
 making this his last opportunity of seeing the girl 
 now before him, in whom his whole ideas of life seemed 
 to be centered. 
 
 _ He found as thousands of others have before him, 
 
 when passing through the ordeal of an act, wherein 
 one retains his own self-respect and maintains the 
 high opinion that others. have formed of him, but to 
 do so, must sacrifice feelings to the extent of ruthlessly 
 tearing out of one’s mind all thoughts of a tender 
 affection toward another, which is so twined in and 
 around one’s self, that the absence of its support 
 would seem to deaden and cause to be useless, any 
 further attempt at maintaining an indenpendent exis- 
 tence, is truly one of the most heroic deeds, and 
 which many a man, made of a sterner nature than 
 Hart Furlong, has shrunk from and weakened when 
 the decisive moment was at hand; and, if not actually. 
 throwing aside the point in principle in order to seek 
 self-enjoyment, have silently, but not without a twinge 
 of conscience taken a reprieve. 
 
 The latter was the case with our hero, and with the 
 suggestion of Mrs. Bancroft to take a sleigh ride, there 
 
 ——- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 353 
 
 arose a vision in his mind of once more being alone 
 with the girl, whom he so loved, with the chance of 
 one more joyous indulgence in a free exchange of 
 thoughts and views with her, which to Hart would be 
 an interval of blissful rapture, wherein every thought 
 and impulse within him would be elevated to a higher 
 and nobler standard thereafter. 
 
 It was with this idea of turning the very last oppor- 
 tunity into one more short period of bliss, that he 
 bade Nora good-night and, after stumbling through a 
 few light remarks complimentary to the enjoyment 
 he felt at that evening’s entertainment, begged the 
 pleasure of her company in a sleigh-ride on the after- 
 noon of the following day. 
 
 “IT shall be delighted,” replied Nora with one of 
 her sweetest smiles. “For I always enjoyed a sleigh- 
 ride, even if it winds up with an upset.” 
 
 “T have no doubt of that,” broke in Ben, with the 
 intention of giving one last sally before leaving. “I 
 have never known a girl but what was willing to run 
 the chance of being buried in a snow bank as it always 
 gives some kind of an excuse for a bold fellow to steal 
 a hug or a kiss in the excitement. What a pity that 
 Hart is such a good horseman, otherwise—” 
 
 “Here now, stop your joking and march,” said Hart, 
 and putting on his hat, he interlocked his arm in that 
 of Ben’s and started with him toward the door, leav- 
 ing the rest of the company laughing heartily at 
 Nora’s expense. 
 
 “What does this sleigh-ride to-morrow afternoon 
 mean, old boy?” asked Ben, after they were a block 
 or so away from the house. 
 
 “Means nothing,” answered Hart gloomily. ‘“Ex- 
 cept that I found my courage all oozing away from 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 354 
 
 me when I should have stood firm; but this ride to- 
 morrow will be the last. I sometimes wonder what 
 in the world I was born for,” he went on in a dis- 
 heartened tone. First comes this robbery to knock my 
 prospects all in the head, and then I am foolish enough 
 to allow myself to drift along in this affair when I 
 ought to have known better. It’s pretty rough though, 
 Ben, or else I am a regular tenderfoot, which is it?” 
 and he gave vent to a nervous, bitter laugh that 
 _caused Rushing to banish all further thoughts ofa tri- 
 fling nature at once. 
 
 “It’s nothing but the course of your life, old fellow,” 
 said Ben in a spirit of sympathy. “But, however 
 black things may look now, don’t give up heart and 
 act recklessly; for the sun will shine in your field 
 some day. Perhaps in three or four years from now 
 you may look back, and would not, if you could, efface 
 or change in one iota the present current of your life.” 
 
 4 de 
 oS a 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 There is an old saying which states that, A wise 
 man sometimes changes his mind while a fool never 
 does; but whether the change of opinion always results 
 in better judgment, is a matter upon which we are 
 still left in the dark. 
 
 Infact, it is surprising, when one carefully peruses a 
 set of these so-called adages, with the intention of seek- 
 ing advice from the ancient sage,how quickly he notices. 
 their striking resemblance to the prophecies of a mod- 
 ern almanac in its attempt to foretell the character of 
 a future day by booking it under the fearfully wide 
 scope of, “partly clear or partly cloudy weather, rain 
 in places,” which vague prediction, like the Irishman’s 
 musket when used as a shotgun, is sure to catch 
 everything within range. 
 
 It was not, however, the influence of any belief in 
 ancient saying, that caused Jack Oldham to change 
 his mind from the intention he had formed to leave 
 for South America, after he and his chum, Bob Cook, 
 had even gone so far as to engage passage at Savan- 
 nah for Rio Janeiro; but as the days slowly went by, 
 while waiting for the ship to receive its cargo, a feel- 
 ing of perfect safety came upon the robber, as he read 
 of the continued imprisonment of his late captive, 
 and the idea of taking such great precautions for 
 safety, as to fly to Brazil, seemed entirely unnecessary. 
 
 “T tell you, Bob,” he remarked to that faithful 
 worthy, one afternoon, as they were driving on one 
 
 355 
 
356 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 of the shell roads, of which Savannah is justly proud, 
 “I think this South American trip is useless, and I have 
 about concluded to give it up altogether. These de- 
 tectives will never run down that affair to Jack Old- 
 ham, unless Morgan or Howard giveit away; and they 
 haven’t done that so far, or this messenger wouldn’t 
 be still confined in jail.” 
 
 “Don’t talk that way, Jack,” said Bob, as his face 
 paled a trifle; for he only too well knew that for Jack 
 to frame an idea in words, meant it’s execution. “This 
 is a bad case of highway robbery; and then consider 
 what you are liable for, even behind this affair. Why, 
 Jack, if you were captured you would never get out of 
 prison until you were an old man.” 
 
 “Unless I took French leave, as I did before,” sug- 
 gested Jack, grimly. 
 
 “You will never have another such chance as that. 
 If they get you back, you can depend on staying 
 twelve or fifteen years at the least. It was only chance 
 luck, that you escaped that time, and they would never 
 let another trusty smuggle you in a lot of steel saws. 
 I tell you, Jack, the sooner we are in Brazil, the bet- 
 ters: 
 
 “I am sorry to disagree with you,” replied Jack, in 
 a tone which plainly indicated that his mind was made 
 up on this point. “But I have thought the matter all 
 over, and my intention is to go back to Chicago, brace 
 up Howard, so that there will be no weakening there, 
 then draw Morgan away from St. Louis, and, then if 
 the detectives run the case down, they are ten times 
 sharper than I think they are. You also forget about 
 those horses and wagons that I rented out to Terrill. 
 They ought to be disposed of some way, or it may 
 cause some inquiry, if IJ don’t show up pretty soon; 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 357 
 
 for property worth several hundred dollars, and the 
 owner missing, would undoubtedly cause some com- 
 ment.” 
 
 Bob gazed rather thoughtfully for a few moments 
 at the end of the whip, and then, as if he had care- 
 fully reasoned out some theory within himself, he 
 slowly began: “Jack, this talk sounds all right, but 
 it won’t go down. Now, speak out plainly; what has 
 caused you to change your mind? I feel quite sure 
 that this reason you just gave, is all a blind; fora 
 letter to Terrill, mailed from here the day we sail, 
 would fix the matter of that little property, so that 
 no further inquiry would come from that source; and, 
 as for covering up all tracks of Morgan and Howard, 
 they ought to be able to paddle their own canoe. So 
 come out, Jack, and don’t be beating around the bush; 
 what has occurred to change your mind?” 
 
 For fully a minute after Bob had ceased speaking, 
 an awkward interval of silence ensued, which was 
 finally broken as Jack slowly began his reply: “Well, 
 Bob, to tell the truth, my mind has changed entirely 
 in the last four or five days, and I am beginning to 
 think, that if we have to live out the balance of our 
 lives in some foreign land among strangers, we would 
 be paying too dear a price for the privilege of spend- 
 ing this money. Just look at the record of all these 
 defaulting bank cashiers, who have skipped over to 
 Canada, with money that didn’t belong to them; they 
 are so heartily despised over there, that one hears 
 every day through the newspapers, of their appeals to 
 relatives and friends for aid to make good their deficit, 
 so as to allow them to return unmolested. I have been 
 thinking that if we go back to Chicago, see Howard, 
 and agree to employ some good attorney to compromise 
 
358 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 this case, by returning about four-fifths of the money, 
 that we could secure ourselves from prosecution. J 
 have heard of such things being arranged.” 
 
 “But even then, there still remains that old charge 
 which will have to be satisfied before you are clearly 
 a free man; and, you cannot compromise that ten years 
 sentence with money.” 
 
 “That is true enough,” assented Jack. “But every 
 one told us after the trial, that the punishment we 
 received, was entirely too severe for the offence, and 
 even the jail guards said that if we had employed an 
 attorney, our sentence would have been far lighter. Of 
 course, as we were financially embarrassed at the time, 
 that was out of the question; but still if I gave myself 
 up, after this case is compromised, I might get that 
 affair commuted to four or five years.” 
 
 “And would you serve those four or five years?” 
 asked Bob, regarding his companion witb a look of 
 complete astonishment. 
 
 “It would be the best way to clear up all old scores. 
 “Yes,” said Jack firmly, looking straight ahead, as 
 though ashamed to meet Bob’s earnest gaze. 
 
 “Good Lord!” exclaimed Bob, “I should say your 
 ‘mind had not only changed but was affected. I thought 
 something queer had come over you lately, when I no- 
 ticed how suddenly you quit that game last night, 
 after losing only twenty dollars. It struck me then, 
 that you were becoming very careful of your money, 
 and the other day when we were down at the rosin- 
 wharf, you had left both of your pistols in your room.” 
 
 “T might as well throw them away; for to tell you 
 the truth, I haven’t got the heart to use them now. 
 But, Bob, what is your opinion of this compromise 
 plan?” remarked Jack, with a slight trace of uneasi- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 359 
 
 ness in his manner; for, although, no division of the 
 spoils had been actually made between him and Cook, 
 yet Jack considered that his companion was entitled 
 to a generous share of the booty, and, if both Cook 
 and Howard should object to his plan of returning any 
 of the money, with a view to there being no prosecu- 
 tion, he might as well abandon the idea. 
 
 “Whatever you say or do, Jack, goes with me; for 
 you have worked this thing along so smoothly, when 
 I would have completely given it up, that whatever 
 course you take, seems to be the proper caper. But, 
 in regard to that old case; surely you don’t intend to 
 turn dead square by serving out any time on that old 
 charge, do you?” asked Bob with an air of incred- 
 ulity. 
 
 “That is about the decision I have come to,” replied 
 Jack, very gravely. “Or at anyrate, Iam going home 
 after we compromise this affair.” 
 
 “Well, well,” ejaculated Cook, staring at Jack as 
 though he had some doubts of the latter’s sanity. 
 “What in the world has come over you?” 
 
 “My mind has changed altogether, Bob, during the 
 last fortnight. -I feel as though I would be far more 
 contented living with my folks, and working at’some- 
 thing, than to be running around the country, even 
 with all this money to spend. This idle life isn’t what 
 it?s cracked up to be, by a long ways,” answered Jack 
 in a tone that was far different from his usual reckless 
 way of speaking. 
 
 “Then when do you intend leaving for Chicago?” 
 asked Bob, abstractedly; for this sudden change from 
 Jack’s usual way of reasoning, had completely upset 
 Cook’s mind, and caused a feeling of doubt to arise 
 within him, as to the safety of such a course. 
 
360 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 “The sooner, the better. Say we leave here to- 
 morrow night, that will enable us to arrive in Chicago 
 in time to eat Christmas dinner with Howard. I guess 
 Dick will be having turkey and oysters, and we can 
 arrange the whole details in a few days,” said Jack, 
 and then noticing how the horse they were driving had 
 dropped into a slow walk, under Cook’s listless man- 
 agement, he added: “Hustle up that nag a bit, Bob. 
 It is getting dark, and the ride has made me hungry 
 as a wolf,” and, as they sped along toward town, he 
 began to whistle the first merry tune Bob had heard 
 him give utterance to for many a week. 
 
 It would make a very long, wearisome tale to nar- 
 rate in detail, the journey of the robbers back to 
 Chicago, and their prompt capture there by the detec- 
 tives, who had been stationed in force around Jack’s 
 former haunts ever since the day following Morgan’s 
 arrest in St. Louis. Then ensued a long parley be- 
 tween Jack and one of the high officials of the corpor- 
 ation he had robbed, in which he disclosed the place 
 of the hidden treasure in the far distant cemetery, 
 upon receiving the solemn promise, that Bob would 
 be allowed to go free, and that no attempt would be 
 made on their part to obtain any portion of the money, 
 resulting from the proceeds of the lottery ticket; and, 
 to their credit, let it be said that these two obliga- 
 tions were faithfully adhered to. 
 
 And so swift and rapid had been the movements of 
 the detectives in charge of the case, that New Years 
 afternoon found Jack Oldham and Richard Howard 
 who had been shadowed night and day since Morgan’s 
 exposure of the crime incarcerated in the St. Louis 
 jail upon the charge of highway robbery, while only a 
 
 few blocks distant, in one of the many saloons that 
 > 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 361 
 
 exist in the neighborhood, sat Bob Cook trying to 
 drown his gloomy and despairing thoughts by imbibing 
 _ liquor enough to intoxicate a half-dozen men, but 
 which, owing to his wretchedness, seemed to have 
 little effect other than to arouse a morose desire for 
 revenge. 
 
 In the hurried settlement of Jack’s effects in Chicago, 
 
 everything had been hastily disposed of, and the 
 money, amounting to a few hundred dollars, turned 
 over to Cook; but, instead of betaking himself to his 
 step-father’s home in New York, as Jack had earn. 
 estly directed him to do, he came on to St. Louis, with 
 the detectives and the prisoners, swearing that he was 
 going to see the affair out, and then after the trial, 
 seek revenge on Morgan, who, the detectives acknow- 
 ledged, had informed on the captives. 
 _ It was a strange meeting that took place in the jail 
 on the morning of the day following the arrival of the 
 robbers; for, no sooner had Hart Furlong and Ben 
 Rushing arrived and taken seats in the jailer’s office, 
 to await the presence of the turnkey to admit them to 
 the prisoner’s quarters, than in came Mr. Oldham, ac- 
 companied by Edward Furlong, and, before Hart had 
 finished greeting his two friends, Bob Cook entered, 
 carrying a basket that contained a couple of hearty 
 breakfasts which he had purchased at an adjacent 
 restaurant for the prisoners. 
 
 It was indeed a surprise to Hart, and the rapid 
 change in his emotions which took place on beholding 
 _ thethreenew-comers, would be hard to truly depict; 
 for the joyous feeling of pride, in thus being able to 
 greet his brother as a free man, with every suspicion 
 removed from his character, changed at once into sym- 
 pathy, as he viewed the care-worn, drawn features of 
 
362 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 his old friend, Mr. Oldham, and thought of the sor- 
 row and anxiety he would suffer on account of his son’s 
 misdeeds. 
 
 Scarcely had Hart’s gaze fallen upon Cook, who 
 unflinchingly returned it with a sullen, defiant stare, 
 than an exclamation of astonishment broke from his 
 lips and he barely checked himself in time to refrain 
 from giving vent to an accusation against the luckless 
 Bob; but suddenly remembering what Rushing had 
 told him the night before, about Cook being 
 allowed to go,free, he gave no further sign of recog- 
 nition, and, after shaking hands with Mr. Oldham 
 and his brother, he introduced them to Rushing. 
 
 “We received your telegram, thanks to Mr. Oldham, 
 who brought it out to the house, just as I had every- 
 thing packed, and was coming to see you,” said Ed- 
 ward, with his eyes beaming with a true brother’s 
 love. “And, as Mr. Oldham intended coming, I made 
 up my mind to accompany him. But how did you 
 manage to secure your release so promptly?” he asked, 
 as they took seats. 
 - Hart then commenced telling him in as brief a man- 
 ner as possible, all that had transpired in connection 
 with the affair, and of the generous, friendly way Mr. 
 Bancroft had aided him; and, while Hart was explain- 
 ing the events of the past few days to Edward, Rush- 
 ing had started a conversation with Mr. Oldham, with 
 the intention of alleviating, to some extent, the old 
 gentleman’s anxiety, which was plainly discernable in 
 every line of his face. 
 
 “You see, Mr. Oldham,” said Ben after they had 
 been talking some time. “Nobody has been killed or 
 hurt in this affair, and as nearly all the money has 
 been refunded, any jury would be sure to bring ina 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 363 
 
 light verdict. As to the other case, it seems he had 
 no lawyer, and, after pleading guilty was given the 
 full extent of the law, which is far from being the 
 custom now in vogue. Of course, he will be kept in 
 prison for a few years, but not for fifteen or twenty, 
 as you think. Oh, bless me. It is not near sucha 
 bad.case as that,” and the confident, reassuring man- 
 ner in which Ben spoke, took away half of the old 
 man’s fears at once, and even caused a sudden gleam 
 of hope to spring up in Cook, who had carefully lis- 
 tened to all of Ben’s remarks. 
 
 The entrance of the turnkey, at this point, with his 
 bunch of big brass keys in hand, checked the conver- 
 sation; and, as they followed him down the long cor- 
 ridor, Hart also found time to put in a cheering re- 
 mark to Mr. Oldham, by stating that, in all probabil- 
 ity, Jack’s release could be secured after a few years. 
 
 As the two prisoners stepped out into the corridor, 
 after turnkey had unlocked their cell door, it took but 
 a glance to notice the extreme difference in their com- 
 position. Howard, who had been upon the rack of a 
 torturing conscience ever since he had accepted the 
 huge package of stolen money from Cook, worea 
 thoughtful, penitent look upon his face, that reflected 
 more to his credit, than the careless, indifferent ex- 
 pression, assumed by Jack. 
 
 When the little group of visitors advanced toward 
 them, the reckless demeanor disappeared instantly from 
 the burly robber, and the flippant remark he had in- 
 tended for Hart, was buried out of thought, as he 
 recognized his father coming toward him, with a look 
 upon his countenance, that plainly denoted the suffer- 
 ing he had undergone. 
 
 “What brings you here, dad,” he asked rather gruffly, 
 
364 A LUCKY MisHAB 
 
 as he took his parent’s hand in his grasp for the first 
 time in years; and although Jack tried to assume a 
 stiff appearance of hardihood, yet he by no means felt 
 that way, and would much sooner have preferred hear- 
 ing his father break out in stern reproach of his con- 
 duct, than to see the old man standing before him, 
 with tears in his eyes, as was the present case. 
 
 “Don’t speak that way now, John,” began his father, 
 tremblingly, while the rest of the party, realizing the 
 relation between them, withdrew with Howard out of 
 hearing. “It is too late in life for us to quarrel now, 
 and you are no longer the boy, whom I used to scold 
 and threaten. But, John, it was not my angry words 
 that brought you to this, was it? God knows I thought 
 it was for the best whenever I spoke harshly to you,” 
 and here the old man broke down, and clutching the 
 strong arm of the robber, he cried like a child. 
 
 “Oh, no, dad, it was my own obstinate spirit. But 
 don’t give way like that, or you will have me crying 
 next. How is mother, any better?” inquired Jack 
 hoarsely, trying his best to restrain his feelings, and 
 keep down the lump which had risen in his throat at 
 the first sight of his parent’s grief. 
 
 “She is just the same, John. I have a letter and a 
 package of things in my valise, which she sent you. 
 She felt very bad for a long time, at your not stop- 
 ping at least a day or so with us when you were at 
 the house that night last spring. But we know now, 
 John, why you didn’t dare to remain, and that was the 
 one thought of consolation that came to us when we 
 heard of this trouble,” sobbed out the old man while 
 he still clung to Jack’s arm, as the robber gently led 
 
 the way toward some seats that were placed along- . 
 
 side the wall. “And, John, you must not mind what 
 
 eo 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 365 
 
 I said to you that night for I did so long to see you 
 again, that I felt bitter for a moment as I thought of 
 the long years that had passed without even hearing a 
 word from you. Your mother always said, though, 
 that you would come back and live with us again after 
 you got tired of roving around, and she always wrote 
 regularly to all our old acquaintances in New York, 
 and gave them our address, so you could find us. That 
 is how you knew where we were, was it not, John?” 
 asked his father, after his grief had subsided some- 
 what. 
 
 “No, it was an accident that I met you there. I 
 would have written to you at our old home, dad, but 
 I thought it would lead to my arrest for that assault 
 on Logan, and I didn’t wish to go back there in irons 
 disgracing you again. I am afraid it is too late though, 
 now, to expect any good to come of me. -My wild 
 oats have turned into a fearful bed of thorns,” replied 
 Jack in a choking voice that betokened the emotion 
 he felt. 
 
 “No, no, John, it is not so bad as that. You will 
 never be bothered about Logan; for he had quite a 
 sum of money left him by a relative and the day he 
 left for Dakota he called and told us he would never 
 prosecute you on that account. And, John, with this 
 money that you sent us, surely you can get a very light 
 sentence, by returning it to the company. See, I 
 have brought it all with me, John,” said his father, 
 as he nervously drew a package from his coat-pocket. 
 “There is the banker’s certificate for six thousand, 
 and the notes for the rest which I loaned out on good 
 security. Surely by giving this up, John, they ought 
 not to deal harshly with you,” added the old gentle- 
 man, brightening up a little as he finished speaking. 
 
366 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ' The robber’s face was a study, as his gaze shifted 
 from his father’s face to the package containing the 
 treasure, while his thoughts went back to the days of 
 his youth, when, free from all stain of crime, he had 
 often imagined what a glorious feeling must possess 
 one who owned such a sum of money as was in this 
 package before him; and now, here it was; his own 
 by right of the agreement assented to by the corpor- 
 ation; and yet, here were his parents only too willing 
 to part with it, in order to lighten the punishment 
 in store for himself. 
 
 What he had been striving for years to obtain; risk- 
 ing his life, time and again, in unlawful attempts to 
 procure; had, after all, only proven to be a false de- 
 lusion, bringing misery and sorrow upon the only per- 
 sons for whom he had any love. 
 
 As these thoughts came to him, he fully realized 
 how complete had been the failure of his life up to 
 the present time, and, a sense of how differently he 
 might be situated, had he but followed a course of 
 honest toil. 
 
 And, as the conviction forced itself upon him, of 
 what a poor deluded fool he had been, that bitter 
 thought drove away the feeling of sorrow, which had 
 nearly overcome him, and the iron spirit in him once 
 more reasserted itself; but, the remembrance of how 
 lightly his parents held this money, when his welfare 
 was at stake, could never be forgotten. 
 
 “There is no use talking about that money father,” 
 said Jack, wearily. “It belongs to you and mother, 
 and no amount of money can help my case at present. 
 I would like though, for you to do one thing for me, 
 dad, and that is, to take Bob Cook home with you, 
 and try to make it pleasant enough for him, so that he » 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 367 
 
 will stay there. He will catch on to something to do 
 around the village, before long,” added Jack, nodding 
 toward poor Bob, who was standing at the door of the 
 cell from which the prisoners had just emerged, look- 
 ing wistfully at the breakfast spread out on the bench 
 now quickly becoming cold. 
 
 "Surely that is not Bob Cook, who used to go to 
 school with you. Why, he was in the jail office with 
 us; but I didn’t recognize him,” said Mr. Oldham, look- 
 ing at the slight figure of Jack’s faithful chum. “But 
 certainly, John, he is welcome to come and stay with 
 us, if he wishes. There is a spare room in the cot- 
 tage, which we were always saving for you,” and the 
 last part of the remark, spoken so tenderly, went 
 straight to Jack’s heart. 
 
 “And, dad, 1 want you to go back heaie to-night, 
 without fail; for it breaks me all up to see you around 
 this place. Here, put this money back in your pocket, 
 itis yours; and, it isn’t stolen money, either, although 
 it took dishonest wealth to win it. But, by the way,” 
 said Jack, as a sudden look of alarm came in his face, 
 “to whom did you loan this four thousand dollars at 
 Montrovia?” 
 
 “To a young doctor, named Edgerton, who is also 
 engaged in the real estate business, but the money is 
 well secured by his father-in-law’s endorsement, and 
 a mortgage on some land, worth double the money,” 
 replied Mr.-Oldham, with an anxious, affectionate gaze 
 still fixed upon his son’s face. 
 
 “Let me see those notes again, for a moment, dad,” 
 asked Jack, affecting a half curious tone, that readily 
 deceived the old man, in regard to his true feeling of 
 alarm; then, as if suddenly recollecting something, 
 he remarked: “By the way, you spoke about a pack- 
 
368 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ~ 
 
 age from mother that you left in the office; if you get 
 it now, I may have time to send some reply in return.” 
 
 As the old gentleman started down the _ coridor, 
 toward the jail office, Jack glanced over toward the 
 group assembled around Howard, and, catching Hart’s 
 eye, he beckoned him for an interview. 
 
 “IT suppose you feel a little queer toward me,” said 
 Jack, as Hart took the seat beside him, just vacated 
 by Mr. Oldham, “and I must say it is rather cheeky 
 in me to ask a favor otf you, after the way Bob and I 
 treated you on that long -trip down the Mississippi; 
 but, as I know, from that letter I found on you the 
 day after the robbery, that you and the old gentleman 
 are friends, I intend asking you to try and recover a 
 sum of money that dad has loaned to a “shark,” down 
 there at your place, Montrovia. You see, Furlong, 
 this is money that now belongs to the old folks right- 
 fully, as agreed to by the company, and dad has been 
 roped into loaning four thousand to a sharper there, 
 who goes by the name of Dr. Edgerton. Do you know 
 him?” : 
 
 “Yes, I know him,” replied Hart, rather startled at 
 this announcement. “But I never heard him men- 
 tioned as a sharper.” 
 
 “Well, he is, all the same, as the records of Sing 
 Sing will prove. But I would like to state a plan to 
 you, before dad. returns, whereby I think you can force 
 this bogus doctor to refund the money; for I am sure 
 the whole loan is a dead swindle of some sort. I will 
 not go into his past life very deeply, but the facts are 
 these; Edgerton’s right name is Henry Briscoe, and 
 he married a girl in New York State, in ’78, I think, 
 named Laura-—-. Heafterwards deserted her, and she 
 died a short time ago out in one of those frontier 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP ' 369 
 
 towns; but I am almost sure that Briscoe is not aware 
 of her death, and, as dad says these notes are endorsed 
 by Edgerton’s father-in-law, I take it that he must 
 have married again at Montrovia. How is that?” 
 asked Jack hurriedly, for he did not wish to burden 
 his parent with this new source of anxiety, if it could 
 be avoided. 
 
 “Yes,” responded Hart, in amazement. ‘He mar- 
 ried a young lady in that vicinity not long ago; but 
 may not you be mistaken in the person? Why, Doctor 
 Edgerton is rated quite highly around Montrovia.” 
 
 “No mistake at all. Why, I borrowed a hundred 
 dollars from him last spring, the same night that you 
 brought out a lunch to a poor tramp,” said the robber, 
 with a faint smile. “But, to return to the matter of 
 getting back the money. Now, if you would employ 
 some good lawyer down in that neighborhood, and 
 impart to him a knowledge of these facts, I think 
 Briscoe could be forced to refund the money. Of 
 course; you understand it would not be necessary to 
 let him know cf his first wife’s decease, until the money 
 was turned over. Let the talk be, no prosecution or 
 exposure, if the money is promptly returned. Un- 
 doubtedly, a good lawyer could make it win, and, if 
 you do succeed, return to Briscoe a hundred dollars, 
 which is the amount I bulldozed him out of, one 
 night last spring; and that will even up the score all 
 around.” 
 
 “Very well, I am going too Montrovia to-night, and 
 will work on the case until I see that the money is paid 
 back into your father’s hands; but, suppose this loan 
 is perfectly secure, what then?" asked Hart, who was 
 so astounded at these statements of the robber, that 
 he began to wonder if it was not all a dream; for the 
 
370 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 idea of Doctor Edgerton, whom nearly every one at 
 Montrovia regarded as such a shrewd, energetic busi- 
 ness man turning out to be such an unscrupulous crim- 
 inal, seemed incredible. 
 
 “Take up the loan anyway, for even if the security 
 is all right now, in less than a year, Briscoe would 
 have it twisted and changed so that the mortage would 
 be on some worthless property,” replied Jack, earnestly. 
 
 “It would serve me about right, I guess, if I lost 
 it; for I overheard him talking to some farmer on the 
 road, that day I was in Montrovia, and Slicky was 
 laying the wires then for a swindle of some sort, which 
 I ought to have checked. The result is, that I only 
 prepared a pitfall for myself; but if you can regain 
 this money, and put it in a reliable bank for dad, 
 where it will draw four or five per cent interest, I shall 
 be mighty thankful to you, Furlong.” 
 
 “Rest assured that I will do all I can for you; but, 
 as for thanks, even if I succeed, it would still leave 
 me in arrears for your kind act, in declaring my in- 
 nocence in this robbery,” spoke up Hart, with a de- 
 gree of earnestness that he truly felt. 
 
 “Oh, that had to come out,” said the robber ina 
 matter of fact tone. “You see, neither Howard nor 
 Bob, there, would stand by and see an innocent man 
 go to prison. Besides the fact that there was no pre- 
 vious connection between you and us, would of itself 
 establish your innocence; so don’t bother mentioning 
 that,” he added, arising ata signal from Bob, to come 
 and join Howard, who was preparing to attack the re- 
 past. 
 
 As the two prisoners, surrounded by Ben, Edward 
 and Hart, began to make havoc with the viands brought 
 in by Cook, who stood leaning against the grated iron 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 371 
 
 door of their cell, with a rueful. look of misery im- 
 printed on his face, a brisk conversation sprang up 
 between them all, and it would, indeed, have taken 
 some proof to have convinced a stranger of how differ- 
 ently the previous meeting had been between two of 
 them on that eventful night in the railway car. 
 
 “This is a very good breakfast, that you have brought 
 us, Bob, but I guess it is the last one that Dick and 
 I will receive from you, old fellow,” remarked Jack 
 as, he helped himself to a second cup of coffee. 
 
 “Why so?” inquired Cook, gloomily, coming toward 
 Jack, as Howard arose and withdrew a short distance, 
 in company with Ben and Hart, to enjoy a smoke. 
 
 “Because I have made arrangements for you to re- 
 turn home with my dad. I see you won’t go back to 
 New York; so I would like you to go down there with 
 him, and stay there until you learn to run that engine 
 at the tank. When you once learn that, you can 
 easily get a place as fireman on the railroad, and it is 
 high time you were learning something to make an 
 honest living. Don’t look so glum, Bob; but do as I 
 say; for Dick and I. leave this place in less than a 
 week, and that is the best place for you to go,” said 
 the robber, with so much earnestness, that Bob made 
 no dissenting reply. 
 
 Hart came over toward his two former captors, at 
 this juncture, and had just begun to pass a few pleas- 
 ant remarks to Cook, when he was interrupted by the 
 hasty approach of a young man, whom he at once rec- 
 ognized as the clerk of Mr. Hedricks, his attorney. 
 
 “I beg your pardon, for interrupting you, Mr. Fur- 
 long,” he began, hastily, “but, Mr. Hedricks desires 
 to see you at once, upon some matter of importance; 
 and told me to request you to come to his office im- 
 mediately, if possible,” 
 
372 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 Hart bade a hasty adieu to the prisoners, and then 
 giving Edward directions as to the whereabouts of the 
 café, where he dined, so that they could meet at noon, 
 he started off with the clerk, down the corridor, pass- 
 ing Mr. Oldham on the way, who was returning with 
 the package he had left in the office, and a paper sack 
 of oranges, which he had purchased across the street 
 for the prisoners. 
 
 It was only a walk of fifteen or twenty minutes to 
 the lawyer’s office, and, as Hart followed the clerk 
 into the recom, Mr. Hedricks arose to greet him. . 
 
 “So my clerk found you at last. Well, Mr. Furlong, 
 you can consider yourself a lucky man,” exclaimed the 
 lawyer, shaking hands with Hart, in a hearty, jovial 
 manner. “I have had a response to the ultimatum I 
 left the company, in the shape of a call from the head 
 manager who has arrived from the east; and, after 
 some legal sparring, I agreed to compromise the case 
 on your behalf, for the sum of twenty thousand dol- 
 lars. I suppose that meets with your approval, does 
 it not, Mr. Furlong?” 
 
 Whether Hart said yes or no ‘to this proposition, 
 he does not to this day distinctly remember; for the 
 bewildering idea, that he was about to become the 
 possessor of such an enormous sum as twenty thousand 
 dollars, caused him to think that, perhaps, the whole 
 series of events, which had occurred in the past eight 
 months might turn out to be a dream from which he 
 would presently awake, and find himself once more, 
 in the snug cot he had formerly occupied when at 
 home on the farm. 
 
 The reality of the whole affair, however, soon forced 
 itself upon him, as, by the directions of the lawyer, 
 he signed in the presence of the notary public, a re-. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 373 
 
 lease of all claims for imprisonment, etc., according 
 to the methods of law; and, when another half hour 
 had passed, Mr. Hedricks returned from the company’s 
 office, where he had taken the release, with a check 
 for the sum mentioned. 
 
 ' Accompanied by the attorney, Hart then proceeded 
 to the bank where, after settling for the legal counsel 
 in the matter, a certificate of deposit for the sum of 
 nineteen thousand dollars, made out to the credit of 
 Hartley Furlong, was handed to him. 
 
 “It is the best way of settling the case; for a course 
 of litigation only adds expense to both sides,” said 
 Mr. Hedricks, as he shook hands with Hart as they 
 parted at the bank steps. 
 
 Hart thanked him for the interest he had taken in 
 his behalf, with the best words that his joyous but 
 still partly bewildered intellect could frame; and, as 
 he began to retrace his steps toward the café, where he 
 had agreed to meet Edward and Mr. Oldham, for it 
 was now nearly noon, the thought came slowly to him, 
 that the accession of this wealth removed the last bar- 
 rier, that might always have kept him from expressing 
 the innermost feelings of his heart to the one being 
 he so adored. 
 
 And, as he thought of the sleighride in anticipation for 
 that afternoon, the resolution to then speak out like a 
 man, and ask for her sweet Soup anionseip through 
 life, fixed itself firmly in his mind. 
 
CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 To one who has been reared in this world with the 
 full knowledge that whatever headway or position he 
 attains, must come mainly from his own individual 
 exertions, the sudden possession of a sum of wealth, 
 after the possessor has passed through some of the 
 rough experiences of life, creates such new ideas with- 
 in him, that in a certain sense, it changes the entire 
 character of the man. 
 
 If, perchance, he was of a careless, shiftless nature 
 before fortune smiled upon him, the chances are, that 
 the sudden acquisition of riches, will only result in the - 
 public display of a boastful fool for such length of 
 time as the money lasts; but, if the competencé falls 
 to the lot of one, who has been frugal and careful of 
 his earnings, while only in easy circumstances, it 
 creates that feeling of manly independence and power, 
 so universally admired as a trait in character, which, 
 however, seldom exists in mankind when not sup- 
 ported by the possession of wealth. 
 
 Wealth is power; and, the activity exercised by all 
 mankind in striving to attain this much desired prize, 
 only indicates the advancement of ideas in the human 
 race—that is, where honest methods only are employed 
 in its attainment. 
 
 It is often that we read nowadays, the disparaging 
 comment of some writer, lamenting the money grub- 
 bing instincts that seem to be bred and nurtured in the 
 
 present race of humanity; but the fact, that with 
 374 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 375 
 
 wealth comes independence, is so thoroughly demon- 
 strated in our every day life, that the writer’s argu- 
 ments are cast aside as so much idle chaff, and, in 
 
 » truth, that is the fate they deserve; for, aS we gain 
 
 wealth, we also become more independent in thought, 
 impulse and action, and only from independent spirits 
 do ideas spring, which tend to push the present race 
 toward a higher plane of civilization. 
 
 In making these remarks, it is well to have it dis- 
 tinctly understood that we refer only to the honest 
 accumulators of riches, not the thieving, scheming 
 trickster, who, by disposing of a lot of fraudulent 
 watered stock to a set of duped investors, becomes 
 the dishonest possessor of millions, nor the gambler, , 
 who seeks by artifice to bull or bear some stock ex- 
 change for his personal gain; but of the many, who, 
 by falling heir to a legacy from some deceased rela- 
 tive, are advanced to the independent position just de- 
 scribed, or of the salaried workers, who, by carefully 
 laying aside each month a portion of their earnings, 
 soon acquire a position in the eyes of their employer, 
 so that he well knows they would not tolerate for an 
 instant, any arrogance or tyranny on his part. 
 
 It would probably be proper to class Hart Furlong 
 among the former division of this last clause; for, cer- 
 tainly, his wealth had come to him in the shape of a 
 legacy, and now that he felt all public suspicion to 
 be removed from his character, besides being the poss- 
 essor of this money, a feeling of such financial secur- 
 ity seemed to be guaranteed him, that one can easily 
 imagine that there was quite an apparent change in 
 the demeanor of our hero, as he, in company with 
 Nora, sped along over the icy roads that evening be- 
 hind as fiery a steed as ever a good horseman would 
 have desired. 
 
376 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 They had driven far out in the suburbs long before 
 twilight had set in; for the roads had been in excel- 
 lent condition before the snow had fallen, so that 
 
 now one could heartily enjoy the splendid sleighing, - 
 
 on any of the thoroughfares. 
 
 Time and again Hart had endeavored to turn thecon- 
 versation into a serious train of thought, with the 
 intention of stating his purpose and exposing his true 
 feeling of devotion toward her; but the moment he 
 bordered on anything of a serious nature, the laughing 
 reply by which she would turn his remark back into 
 the channel cf merry topics with which the conversa-, 
 tion had begun soon caused Hart to come to the con- 
 clusion that the most delicate task of his life lay in 
 exposing his heart to Nora, and asking for her hand. 
 
 Love is a powerful passion with us all, and, in Hart’s 
 case, where it was centered upon one virtuous, gentle, 
 and kind, it exerted an ennobling influence, sufficient 
 to elevate his thoughts and impulses above all selfish 
 tendencies or vices. 
 
 It was beginning to turn dark as they started back 
 along one of the boulevards leading in toward the 
 heart of the city and Hart was well nigh in despair 
 of ever securing a suitable occasion to talk earnestly; 
 for, as he had not informed Nora of the good fortune 
 that had befallen him in the morning, she supposed 
 that every grave remark Hart had uttered, was caused 
 by his taking a gloomy view of the future and had 
 sought to dispel such’ thoughts by merriment. 
 
 “So you and Mr. Rushing visited the robbers this 
 morning. It must be dreadful for one to be in their 
 position, ventured Nora after an awkward silence had 
 ensued for a few moments. ( 
 
 “I should say so; but still I believe their parents 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 377 
 
 will suffer every bit as much as they, for the thought 
 that their sons are in prison must cause a constant 
 anxiety to them,” replied Hart, thoughtfully. 
 
 “How long does your brother intend to remain here?” 
 asked Nora, with the intention of getting away from 
 so grave a subject. 
 
 “We leave for home to-night with Mr. Oldham,” 
 answered Hart, at the same time trying to perceive if 
 this reply caused any effect, 
 
 “So soon,” echoed Nora. “And, pray, what is the 
 cause of so sudden a departure; and when can we ex- 
 pect your return?” 
 
 “I fear it may be a long time before I visit St. 
 Louis again, as 1 regard the time spent here some- 
 what in the light of a failure, as far as any advance- 
 ment in business is concerned. I think I shall en- 
 deavor to start some small business in Montrovia, as 
 I have a little money, and, one can use it to greater 
 advantage in a small place, than in such a large city 
 as this,” answered Hart with his nerves toned to the 
 MEnest pitch. 
 
 “Then you repent of ever Baa come to St. Louis,” 
 said Nora, with just the faintest ‘tinge of disappoint- 
 ment in her voice. 
 
 “No, no,” hastily exclaimed Hart. “I would not 
 have the experiences I have passed through since leav- 
 ing home, nor the friendships I have formed, effaced 
 from my life; for the world. But—but—Oh, Nora, I 
 love you so,” he broke out passionately, with all the 
 force of his long checked emotion. “Every thought, 
 every ambition seems useless if I can’t win your love. 
 The only wish I have, is to have you for my wife. 
 Can you give me no word of hope, I—I can wait—” 
 
 Why Hart’s outburst of passion ceased so suddenly 
 
378 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 is a matter, which we are in honor bound never to 
 mention. 
 
 If the horse, poor dumb brute, could only talk, I 
 fancy he would say that Nora began to cry at this 
 point. However, the tears seemed any but sad ones, 
 while such a happy, joyous look shone out from her 
 eye, that Hart became reckless enough to imagine 
 that one arm was sufficient to control the reins, and 
 even presumed to clasp her about the waist and kiss 
 her, which demonstration seemed to meet with scarcely 
 a sign of resistance on Nora’s part. 
 
 “Then you really love me, and will be my wife?” 
 said Hart, with his. whole being filled to overflowing 
 at this gift of happiness, which he had won. 
 
 “Yes; you have been my only knight,” she mur- 
 mured, hiding her blushing face close to his shoulder, 
 as he drew her form close to him. 
 
 “You have made me so happy,” began Hart, on re- 
 covering to some degree, from the intoxication of bliss 
 that Nora’s answer had caused. “It all seems like a 
 fairy tale, and I hardly deserve all the good fortune 
 that has befallen me to-day. Only this morning I re- 
 ceived several thousand dollars from the express com- 
 pany for the imprisonment I underwent, and now to 
 hear you say that you will be my wife, makes it all 
 seem like a dream. -Suppose I should wake up and 
 find it so," he added, gazing down into the glistening 
 eyes of the girl he adored. 
 
 “If you do, please don’t forget me entirely; for I 
 shall always have the same feeling toward you,” whis- 
 pered Nora, smiling up at him in a way that sent 
 Hart in fancy, far above the clouds, and caused him 
 to drive right by Mrs. Arbor’s without perceiving 
 where they were, until they were midway into the 
 next square, 
 
 Ld 
 
 ~~ we 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 379 
 
 Turning the horse about, Hart drove slowly back to 
 the house, where he was somewhat surprised on see- 
 ing Mr. Bancroft rush out toward them, even in the 
 darkness that ndw prevailed. The old gentleman had 
 heard of the compromise from the attorney that after- 
 noon, which had excited him so, that he had been 
 watching for the return of the young couple for some 
 time; and, no sooner had the ring of the sleigh-bells 
 - checked their sound in front of the house, than he 
 rushed out to see Hart, with all his enthusiasm aflame 
 at the legal victory his attorney had achieved. 
 
 “My dear boy,” he exclaimed, shaking Hart’s hand 
 warmly. “I was afraid you might get away without 
 my seeing you. Let me congratulate you on your 
 success. Mr. Hedricks tells me you received the full 
 
 - amount that we decided to ask for.” 
 
 “Yes,” replied Hart, as he assisted Nora to alight 
 from the sleigh, and, then without releasing her hand, 
 he continued: ‘But I have won a better suit than 
 that this afternoon; for Nora has promised to be my 
 wife. I hope we have your consent.” 
 
 To say that the old gentleman was surprised, would 
 have been a mild way of expressing his feelings on 
 receiving this news; but he needed only to take a 
 glance at Nora to be convinced that it was all true. 
 
 With her fair face red with blushes at Hart’s manly 
 confession, she stood, hand in hand, close up to her 
 lover, showing that in him she was willing to repose 
 her future safety and happiness. 
 
 “Iam very—very glad of this,” replied Mr. Bancroft 
 on recovering his self-possession. “For I am sure it 
 will prove a happy union. But come in the house 
 and get warm, and let us hear what the ladies have to 
 say about it,” he said, rushing in ahead to inform 
 them. 
 
380 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 The smiling welcome which both Mrs. Arbor and 
 Mrs. Bancroft accorded him, made Hart the happiest 
 man in the universe, for even assured of Nora’s love, 
 he had felt a slight anxiety as to the open consent of 
 her relatives, but that doubt now seemed entirely dis- 
 pelled, as it would be folly to suppose that her brother - 
 - would raise any objections, with all the others consent- 
 ing. 
 
 “Has she returned your handkerchief yet?” asked 
 Mrs. Arbor of Hart, after both the ladies had signified 
 by speech, their hearty approval of the contemplated 
 union. 
 
 “Oh, Julia. Don’t tell him about that,” exclaimed 
 Nora, rushing toward her sister-in-law, while the blush 
 on her face was heightened several degrees by the effect 
 of this remark. 
 
 “What handkerchief do you mean?” inquired Hart, 
 completely puzzled, looking from Mrs. Arbor to Nora 
 for an answer. 
 
 “Why, the handkercheif with which you bound her 
 forehead, at the time of the runaway,” cried Mrs. Arbor 
 laughingly, as she released herself from Nora who had 
 vainly attempted to check her from speaking. “She 
 has treasured it, as though it was worth millions. | 
 suppose you have been wearing it next to your heart, 
 haven’t you dear?” she added, in a spirit of fun, caus- 
 ing Nora to retreat into the hall at the hearty laugh- 
 ter which this sally provoked, where Hart immediately 
 joined her afier bidding them all a hasty good-bye for 
 the present. 
 
 To fully describe the parting between the happy 
 lovers in the hali-way, secluded from the presence of 
 the rest of the household, would be exposing too freely 
 the utterances that sprung from their pure, young 
 hearts. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 381 
 
 “Now, remember, I'll. expect two letters a week,” 
 concluded Hart, as he released Nora from an embrace 
 in which she seemed to nestle very contentedly. 
 
 “Yes, and, perhaps, an extra long one every Sunday, 
 if aunt and Julia don’t tease me todeath. But every- 
 day will seem like a month until we meet again,” 
 whispered Nora, standing as close to her lover as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 Their lips met in one last fond embrace, and then 
 Hart tore himself away, and a moment later was speed- 
 ing on his way down town, with his mind so bewil- 
 dered with joyousness and good-will toward all that 
 he was well-nigh bereft of his senses. 
 
 The only thought that came to him was that the girl 
 in whom all his hopes were centered, had said she 
 loved him and would be his wife; and such a gener- 
 ous feeling did it create within him toward all hu- 
 manity, that if a beggar had accosted him for alms, 
 the entire contents of his. pocket-book would have 
 been given. 
 
 How he managed to return the horse and sleigh to 
 the livery stable, and reach the depot just in time to 
 catch the train that Mr. Oldham, Edward and Bob 
 Cook had already boarded, will, probably, always re- 
 main a blank mystery to him. 
 
 The long ride home lasted fully two days, occa- 
 sioned by a snow blockade; but it was only when the 
 train had reached a point within a dozen miles of 
 their destination, that he recovered from his happy 
 reverie sufficiently, to assist in gathering together the 
 articles belonging to Mr. Oldham and Edward, and 
 stow them away in their valises. 
 
 It had been a sad parting at the jail when the time 
 came for the separation between father and son, and, 
 
382 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 as Edward led the old gentleman away from the pris- 
 oner’s cell, followed by Bob Cook, who had finally 
 consented to Jack’s wish, and agreed to go with Mr. 
 Oldham, the sight caused many a sober reflection from 
 some of the most hardened of the imprisoned criminals. 
 
 As the train drew near to Montrovia, it was arranged 
 between them that Edward and Bob with Mr. Oldham, 
 should get off the car upon the side opposite the de- 
 pot platform in order to avoid meeting any of the 
 curious throng which would undoubtedly appear in 
 force on their arrrival; while Hart took it upon him- 
 self to face the crowd, and, by giving a few replies to 
 whomsoever might inquire, quell the excitement 
 sufficiently to keep any of the most curious from ques- 
 tioning Mr. Oldham. 
 
 However, as Hart alighted from the train, he was 
 not a little puzzléd as well as agreeably surprised; 
 for, besides the railroad agent, the only person present 
 on the platform, was one Silas Davis, a sort of tinker 
 at all trades about the village, when not regularly en- 
 gaged at carpentering, and who, although lazy and 
 shiftless, was generally credited with picking up more 
 news than the county newspaper. 
 
 “Things'seem rather quiet around here to-day, Silas; 
 or, perhaps the intensely cold weather keeps everybody 
 indoors,” remarked Hart, as Silas advanced to meet 
 him, shaking hands-quite genially. 
 
 “Quiet. Why, Mr. Hart, this has bin the liveliest 
 town on the road fur the pas’ three days, an’ the ex- 
 citement hain’t only begun,” he exclaimed, witha 
 semi-mysterious air that would have excited any one’s 
 curiosity. 
 
 “Why, what has happened? Tell me all about it;” 
 asked Hart, as they walked into the waiting-room 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 383 
 
 where he had agreed to wait for Edward, before pro- 
 ceeding to the farm. 
 
 “Waal,” began Silas taking a fresh chew of tobacco, 
 and stretching out his long legs toward the stove. 
 “Queer hap’nin’s have bin a pilin’ up here so thick 
 and fas’ lately, that I kinder ’pected one o’ them 
 newspaper chaps would be comin’ down here from 
 Springfield ter write the town up. Yer see, Mr. Hart, 
 yer case has kinder kept things a stirrin’ fur a long 
 time; but no sooner does this robber git ketched, than 
 Dr. Edgerton, who I allers ’lowed was a slippery cuss, 
 skips out an’ leaves the country.” 
 
 “What,” cried Hart, excitedly, “has Dr. Edgerton 
 left?” for the thought of Mr. Oldham’s loan, was in- 
 stantly recalled when Silas mentioned the doctor’s 
 name. 
 
 “Yas, he made a clean skip of it, too, 
 Silas, composedly. “Yer see he had bin sendin’ in 
 wrong reports ter the head fellers of that loanin’ com- 
 pany at St. Louis. Insted o’ makin’ straight loans, 
 an’ securin’ ’ 
 o’ the company say, it seems as how he’d bin specer- 
 latin’ on his own hook; an’ a hearin’ as how they was 
 goin’ ter send somebody down here to kinder check 
 up his business, he picks up an’ skeedaddled. Left 
 his wife behind, an’ I’ve heerd —" here Silas dropped 
 his voice down to the level of a confidential whisper— 
 “as how old Goodin and Anders, the grocer, have thar 
 names on the backs ’o two or three big notes held by 
 the bank at Springfield. It sarves ’em jest right, too, 
 everybody says; fur they helped that slick doctor ter 
 unload that hill an’ hollory piece o’ ground upon.Old- 
 ham fur four thousand dollars, what the doctor bought 
 from old man Wagner fur most a song. But the tank 
 
 ” 
 
 continued 
 
 em by cast-iron mortgages as the rules 
 
384 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 ingineer will get a clar title to it on ther tenth, onless 
 the doctor can be injuced ter come back an’ pay ther 
 taxes an’ settle up; but I don’t reckon he’s goin’ ter 
 show hisself around these parts no more, fur they say 
 that ther St. Louis loanin’ company will put him be- 
 hind the bars, if they ketch him.” 
 
 “What good will a clear title be to Mr. Oldham, 
 when there is hardly an acre in the whole tract that 
 can be cultivated? I tell you, Silas, we ought to force 
 Andrews and Goodwin to pay back every cent of that 
 money to the Oldhams,” said ‘Hart, waxing warm at 
 the thought of the bare-faced swindle upon his old 
 friend. 
 
 “Maybe they wouldn’t like ter. Maybe they wouldn’t 
 like ter,” chuckled Silas, while a heavy grin stole over 
 his scraggy features. “But it can’t be did, Hart, it 
 can’t be did. Edgerton hed the land in his own name 
 afore he married Goodin’s gal, an’ he’ll have ter show 
 up in pussen, if he wants to pay the money back. 
 That’s the pinion o’ ol’ man Lysander, an’ he’s win 
 an’ lose more law cases than eny other man in ther 
 county. But only think o’ that slick doctor a hidin’ 
 away whiun sich a good thing has turned up,”-and the 
 roar of laughter that Silas gave vent to, caused Hart 
 to have some doubts as to his sanity. 
 
 “What good things do you mean?” inquired Hart, 
 completely at a loss to account for this outburst of 
 mirth from Silas. 
 
 “That’s whar the tables got turned on ’em,” began 
 Silas, with the air of a man who likes to hold off with 
 the good point of his story until the last moment. 
 “Yer see, Mr. Hart, thar has bin a brother of Peter- 
 son, the drugman, visitin’ him durin’ the pas’ month. 
 He’s one o’ these skyantific chaps from the east, an’ 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 385 
 
 whin he was out huntin rabbits up ther in the holler, 
 he thought he must have seed somethin’ that looked 
 queer, fur he kim back ter town in a hurry, an’ got 
 them two Jackson boys ter go back with them with 
 ther picks an’ shovels—” here Silas paused for a mo- 
 ment to roll his quid of tobacco to the other side of 
 his mouth—“Wall they dug a bit of a hole at the foot 
 o’ the hill, an’ afore they hed got fifteen feet, they 
 struck somethin’ that seemed ter satisfy him, an’ then 
 they went furder up the holler, whar they tried dig- 
 gin’ agin, an’ sure enough, at saczty ther same deep- 
 ness thar it was agin’ —” 
 
 “What was it?” exclaimed Hart, breathlessly, with 
 his curiosity aroused to the very highest pitch. 
 
 “Why, coal, a regeler three foot wain, an’ it ain’t 
 nary a pocket either, but thar’s a hull bed of it under 
 that blamed hill. Nigh onto everybody in ther village 
 has gone out thar to-day ter take a look at it; but, by 
 gum, thar they kim now,” ejaculated Silas, rushing to 
 the window, followed by Hart, and, sure enough, 
 coming down the road, from the direction of where 
 the mortgaged land lay, was a two-horse farm wagon, 
 loaded full of black, dirty coal, while along the road, 
 on both sides of the cart, followed an excited crowd 
 of men and boys, and even a few women were seen 
 walking a short distance in the rear. 
 
 “Thar’s some o’ the stuff as will make Montrovia 
 git up an’ hum in less than a year. No need now o’ 
 beggin’ these railroads ter cum this way; fur, by gum, 
 they’ll have ter, if they want ter buy cheap coal,” re- 
 marked Silas with more energy and enthusiasm than 
 Hart ever thought he possessed. “An’ now I wonder 
 how long Oldham’s son will be in state’s prison, with 
 his dad ownin’ a big chunk o’ land, havin’ a stiddy 
 
386 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 three foot wain o’ coal under it. I’ll bet it won’t be 
 long, fur it’s contrary ter human nater in sich hard 
 times as these be. But I sa—” 
 
 Whatever Silas had further to say, he said to him- 
 self; for Hart was gone. . 
 
 Like a flash he had run toward the rapidly approach- 
 ing wagon with its black wealth, and, seizing a big 
 chunk with his hands, regardless of the damaging 
 effect upon his clothes, he rushed across the vacant 
 lots to Mr. Oldham’s home, with the intention of ap- 
 prising his friend of this good fortune, before any un- 
 
 scrupulous speculator would have an opportunity to, 
 
 defraud him. 
 
 4 
 . 
 4 
 
 ‘é 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 The trial and speedy conviction of Jack Oldham and 
 Richard Howard, followed within a week after the de- 
 parture of Hart and Mr. Oldham from St. Louis. And 
 as the prisoners made no defense, they. received the 
 lightest sentenc@ that the law could grant in the case 
 of so grave an offense. 
 
 The part taken in the affair by Howard was fully 
 explained to the prosecuting attorney by both Jack 
 and the detectives; and in view of the fact that he had 
 been hundreds of miles away when the robbery oc- 
 curred, and had also tried at the last moment to dis- 
 suade Jack from) attempting the design, created points 
 sufficiently in his favor to enable him to be classed 
 only as an “accessory after the fact,” securing thereby 
 the mild decree of four years at hard labor, while Jack’s 
 former sentence of ten years was again decreed upon 
 him, making his total duration of imprisonment 
 twenty years. 
 
 They were taken at once to state’s prison, where 
 Howard was assigned to work within one of the many 
 factories within its gloomy walls, while Jack, to more 
 surely prevent any repetition of his former escape, 
 was given the place of night attendant in that part of 
 the hospital, occupied exclusively by consumptives. 
 
 Jack was regularly in receipt of letters from home, 
 and before many weeks had passed, he was informed 
 of how strangely, yet fortunately the loan to Dr. Edger- 
 ton had resulted; for, acting according to a printed 
 
 387 
 
388 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 clause in the bond given by the bogus doctor, which 
 made the note due at once in case the taxes were notpaid 
 at the proper time, Mr. Oldham foreclosed his claim, 
 and in a short time, was declared by the courts to be 
 the legal owner of the land. 
 
 Within a week after this, Mr. Oldham entered into 
 an agreement with Hart Furlong, in which the latter 
 agreed to invest ten thousand dollars in the effort to 
 develope the hidden weaith, and, within a fortnight 
 thereafter, the work began with Bob Cook in the ca- 
 pacity of chief roustabout. , 
 
 This was welcome news to Jack and, if he could 
 have looked forward to his release with any certainty, 
 in the same period of time as had been decreed to 
 Howard, it is doubtful if a single thought of escape 
 would have entered his mind. 
 
 But in spite of the hopeful assurances with which 
 the letters from his parents were always tinged, stat- 
 ing that after a few years had rolled by, his release 
 could surely be effected, the idea of grasping the very 
 first opportunity whereby he could take leave of his 
 present unpleasant quarters, was ever uppermost in 
 his thoughts; for he needed but a glance about the 
 ‘ hospital-ward to behold a score or more of invalid 
 prisoners, who had been vainly expecting relief in the 
 form of a commutation or pardon, for years. 
 
 It was indeed a sad spectacle to view these physical 
 and moral wrecks of manhood daily wasting away, as 
 they approached nearer to the end of life’s stormy 
 pathway, and if the bitter thoughts of regret, that 
 were constantly being expressed by these poor unfor- 
 tunates, could only be earnestly impressed upon many 
 a wild and reckless youth, they might be saved from 
 the path of sin, leading inevitably to a disgraceful 
 
 death or long years of imprisonment. 
 i 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 389 
 
 In one of these rooms that gave quite a good view 
 of the river and the country beyond, lay a young man 
 named Frank Miner, who was slowly wasting away 
 from day to day as the dread disease secured a firmer 
 hold upon its victim. 
 
 He had been the leader of a little band of four wild 
 young fellows, who, with a daring, reckless spirit 
 equalled only by the alleged exploits of Rob Roy or 
 Robin Hood, had boldly rode into a town in the 
 northern part of the state, in broad daylight, some 
 five years previous to this time, and, by the threaten- 
 ing display of their revolvers secured the funds of the 
 bank, and, defying the fast gathering crowd in the 
 streets, rode off with their booty, only to be surrounded 
 at their rendezvous in the forest three days later, where 
 they were forced to surrender to the overwhelming 
 odds against them. 
 
 There had not been a single person killed in the 
 affair, but with the idea of deterring others from at- 
 tempting to repeat such acrime, the court had inflicted 
 the fearful punishment of twenty-five years imprison- 
 ment upon each of them; and now, when only five 
 years had been served, the -leader of this little band 
 lay upon his narrow cot, fully conscious that his dis- 
 solution was only the matter of a few short months. 
 
 Quite a friendly feeling had sprung up between 
 Miner and Jack; for the room occupied by the patient 
 was situated directly opposite to the dispensary table 
 in the hall, where Jack was nightly stationed, so that 
 there was scarcely more than ten feet of space be- 
 ’ tween Jack’s seat and the cot occupied by the dying 
 consumptive, and rarely did an evening pass without 
 a conversation springing up between them on some 
 topic, 
 
390 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 At first the points of discussion were chiefly con- 
 fined to the events of the day, appearing in the news- 
 papers; but as their acquaintance ripened, graver and 
 more thoughtful topics were introduced, until they 
 finally began to exchange views upon that highest and 
 most mysterious of all debatable subjects, religion. 
 
 It may séem a little incredulous to you, kind reader, 
 to read here of two prisoners freely conversing, where 
 silence is always laid down as the first restraint im- 
 posed upon the culprit; but there are exceptions to 
 all rules, and it was indeed a both wise and merciful 
 idea of the official who first banished that most rigid 
 rule of restraint from the hospital; for the recovery 
 of a patient would be almost hopeless if he were forced 
 to observe the same strict discipline, as is maintained 
 throughout the shops and cell buildings. 
 
 The hospital was a large, brick structure, having 
 three stories entirely for the use of sick prisoners, 
 while the basement was fitted up as a kitchen to pre- 
 pare the food for the occupants of the three wards 
 above. 
 
 The entire floor of the second story was used ex- 
 ‘clusively for consumptives, the top floor for the in- 
 sane patients, while the lower or first story, was in- 
 tended for prisoners, having any of the other numer- 
 ous ailments allotted to mankind. 
 
 And, while the whole building was virtually trusted 
 at night to the care of the three attendants, one being 
 on each floor, yet so carefully was it guarded upon 
 the outside, that escape would have been less difficult 
 from one of the cell buildings; and it took many and 
 many an hour’s close study and observation, before 
 Jack discovered the one weak point in this iron-barred 
 prison. 
 
391 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 But, to return to the intimacy that existed between 
 Jack and Miner. 
 
 It was early one evening in the latter part of Feb- 
 ruary, that Jack entered the ward as usual in pursuance 
 of his duty for the night, and, after glancing over the 
 list, to whom medicine was to be administered during 
 the night, by order of the physician, he took a seat 
 near his accustomed place and, leaning back against 
 the wall, began to carelessly scrape down the edge of 
 a bone with a piece of glass, apparently with the in- 
 tention of making some odd trinket therefrom. 
 
 “What are you working at now, Jack? Is it to be 
 another watch-charm, or a toothpick?” spoke up 
 Miner from the cot, upon which he was bolstered up 
 close to the seat occupied by Jack. 
 
 “ll make some knicknack or other out of this be- 
 fore I get through. -Anything to kill time, as we’ve 
 plenty of that to spare, you know,” replied Jack, 
 grimly. 
 
 “Maybe for you, Jack; but I think my time is draw- 
 ing close at hand,”said Miner in a slow, feeble tone. 
 “IT don’t mind the thought of it so badly now as I did 
 at first; but still—Oh Jack, I would give anything if 
 I could only have the chance to live my life over 
 again. It would be so different,” and the sad, regret- 
 ful way in which he uttered this last remark, made 
 Jack feel decidedly uncomfortable. 
 
 “Tut-tut! don’t talk that way Frank. You’re worth 
 a dozen dead men yet and even if the worst does come, 
 it is no more than what we have all got to face some 
 day; and, as you say there is no blood on your hands, 
 the chances are you’!l come right side up with care 
 when you strike the next world,” remarked Jack, with 
 an attempt to cheer up the patient. 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 392 
 
 “Then you really believe in that theory you expressed 
 the other evening; that when the soul goes from the 
 body here, it takes up a new existence on some one of 
 the other planets?” asked Miner, and the faint smile 
 that played around his haggard features, betokened the 
 joy he would have felt, could he but be convinced of 
 this belief. 
 
 “Yes, I do,” began Jack earnestly. “The Bible says 
 that nothing was made except for some purpose, and 
 astronomy teaches us that those big planets, such as 
 Jupiter, Saturn, and the rest of them, all revolve 
 round the sun the same as the earth does, and most 
 of them are furnished with moons to shed light upon 
 them at night. Now, why in thunder those planets 
 have been swinging around through space in their 
 regular orbits for hundreds of years, unless they are 
 populated with some form-of life, is a matter I can’t 
 conceive of; for if they are not inhabited it would 
 certainly appear to be a useless waste of will power, 
 on the part of the Supreme Being, in controlling 
 their revolutions so uniformly.” 
 
 “And when would you have the final goal reached; 
 that which the Bible refers to, as Heaven?” eagerly 
 inquired Frank, with his eyes shining brightly at the 
 interest he took in Jack’s remarks, 
 
 “Not until one’s mind is free from every selfish and 
 immoral thought. My idea is, that the time one 
 puts in on this earth is spent like going to school; the 
 experience we gain here, prepares us in a certain de- 
 gree to adapt ourselves to some higher form of civ- 
 ilization, which I fully believe to exist on some of the 
 other planets.” 
 
 “Go on; let’s hear the rest of your ‘theory,’ 
 the sick man excitedly. 
 
 cried 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 393 
 
 “Well, to tell the truth, there isn’t much more to 
 my religion,” replied Jack gravely. “But, I think that 
 when the soul has become so ~purified, that it enter- 
 tains none but righteous and noble aims, and with 
 every selfish and immoral thought cast out of the 
 mind, then the being is sufficiently elevated to reach 
 what you call the ‘final goal,’ Heaven. It, may be, 
 that a soul, on leaving this earth might have to reside 
 on several of the other planets, before it becomes 
 sufficiently improved to take its place in heaven; or 
 perhaps, in some cases, where the being encounters 
 the right kind of experience and trouble on this earth, 
 ,wherein his conscience triumphs over a host of evil 
 influences, the journey there might be bya much 
 shorter route, than will be allotted to some of these 
 pious, church-going merchants, who are continually 
 scheming to defraud their fellow men,” he added, em- 
 phatically, still scraping away at the bone, one end of 
 which had begun to assume an oblong shape, not un- 
 like that of a huge piano-key. 
 
 “Do you think that a soul, on leaving this planet, 
 and beginning a new existence on some other sphere, 
 would remember its previous life, and connections on 
 this earth?” asked Miner, with a gleam of keen inter- 
 est shining in his eyes. Sass 
 
 “Now, you’ve got me. That’s the very question 
 I’ve studied over many an hour, and it still puzzles 
 me,” exclaimed Jack, with a curious smile, as he laid 
 the bone and glass upon the table. “I was afraid 
 you would bring up that question when we were talk- 
 ing the other night. At first I thought that we would 
 be gifted with retaining the knowledge of our life 
 here; but, lately, I think it would not be of any bene- 
 fit to us. Jet us suppose a case of two brothers; one 
 
394 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 lives a fairly righteous life here, and follows almost 
 strictly to the ordains of his conscience, while the 
 other casts aside all friendly advice, and plunges into 
 a riotous, immoral life; now, when the former dies and 
 begins a new life, the absence of his brother would be 
 a constant cause of grief to him, if he was permitted 
 to retain the knowledge of his previous existence. No, 
 Frank, I think that our life on this earth is judged 
 and passed upon by the manner in which we have up- 
 held ourselves, as ordained by our conscience. Every 
 person who reaches the age of thirty passes through a 
 score of encounters, wherein that silent mentor always 
 points out the rugged path of self-denial, to be fol- 
 lowed; and by those battles are we judged.” 
 
 “That’s a glorious belief, Jack. But do you really 
 and truly believe that way?” gasped Miner, with so 
 much earnestness in his tones, that it betrayed the ex- 
 citement under which he was laboring. 
 
 “Dead certain, Frank, although I must confess, I 
 haven’t lived up to it in the slightest degree,” said the 
 robber solemnly. “But here, the doctor’s orders are 
 for you to be kept quiet. Suppose we drop the sub- 
 ject for this evening, and let me help you over to the 
 window, where you can get a view of the river. The 
 ice all broke up to-day, and the sight of the blue 
 water makes it hard for me to believe that is the same 
 old dirty Missouri,” and after arranging a chair com- 
 fortably beside the window, he assisted Miner to a 
 seat, 
 
 It was an interesting sight to gaze down upon the 
 river at the foot of the hill, and watch the huge cakes 
 of ice floating down stream so majestically, until meet- 
 ing with some projecting obstruction from the shore, 
 they would reel, quiver, and then either surge be- 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 395 
 
 neath the cruel obstacle, or lose all of their awe-in- 
 spiring power, by being shattered into fragments. 
 
 Within half an hour or so, it became too dark to 
 distinguish anything at a distance outside, and when 
 Jack helped his patient back to bed, the look of ani- 
 mation upon his pale, thin face, denoted that his 
 thoughts were still intent upon the late discussion; 
 and, as the strong arm of the robber gently tucked the 
 blankets about his wasted form, Miner glanced up at 
 him with a happy, contented look. 
 
 “T’ve gone over to your belief, old fellow, and I’m 
 ready to go now, any time. I feel quite contented, 
 quite contented,” he murmured, and as his faint voice 
 ceased Jack stole away, leaving him to his own reflec- 
 tions. 
 
 And, like the ice breaking up in spring time upon 
 the bed cf the mighty river below, which had lain 
 frozen solid for months, so was all fear of death fast 
 melting away in the mind of the dying prisoner. 
 
 It was nearly ten o’clock that night, when the clang 
 of the huge iron door being opened below, caused Jack 
 ‘to drop the book he had been reading, and arise to 
 ascertain the cause of this untimely intrusion; but be- 
 fore he reached the end of the hall, the sound of ner- 
 vous footsteps was heard mounting ‘the stairs, and a 
 moment later the prison physician, entered the ward, 
 coming noisily toward him. 
 
 “How is Miner to-night?” inquired the doctor, in 
 that low, quick tone so peculiar to all physicians. 
 
 “I think he is asleep now,” replied Jack, as he 
 started toward the patient’s room to see. 
 
 “Never mind,” said the doctor. “I presume he will 
 be awake in the morning long before you are off duty, 
 and you can tell him then to prepare for a journey. 
 
396 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 His wife, in company with some of his folks, arrived 
 this evening, and the governor has pardoned him, so 
 that to-morrow he will leave here. The outside guard 
 will give you a square’suit of clothes for him the first 
 thing in the morning, and you can assist him in get- 
 ting ready. Pack up whatever he wishes to take of 
 those books and other articles belonging to him. You 
 understand how to arrange the matter, Oldham?” 
 
 “Perfectly,” replied Jack, thinking only of what a 
 joyful effect this news would have upon Miner. “But 
 doctor,” he added, hurrying over toward the physician, 
 as he was about to descend the stairs, “is there no 
 possible hope of his living?” 
 
 “Possibly one month,” answered the physician 
 gravely, as he left the room; and the clang of the iron 
 door below a moment later, announced his departure. 
 
 The task given to Jack by the doctor could not have 
 been assigned to one more willing, while the surprise 
 and joy which Miner expressed, when the news was 
 imparted to him, is beyond the power of words to 
 describe; and, as the doctor predicted, his wife, ac- 
 companied by her friends came to the prison on the 
 following morning, and he was taken out again into 
 the world, far away from what had been to poor Frank 
 a living tomb for five long years. 
 
 But his days upon this earth were numbered; for in 
 scarce a fortnight, from the time of leaving the prison, 
 his soul passed over to that mysterious realm from 
 which no wanderer returns to whisper its secrets; and 
 when the gentle spring winds waft their breath through 
 the cemetery at Terre Haute, they catch up the fra- 
 grance of violets and pansies as they pass o’er the grave 
 of one who, brave, daring, and generous to a fault, 
 
 died through the committal of one rash, boyish deed. 
 * * * * * * ** * 
 
: A LUCKY MISHAP 567: 
 
 ‘It was a sweltering, hot night in June, four months 
 _ after the occurrence of the events just narrated, and as 
 the echoing whistle of the midnight call, resounded in 
 reply from the towers along the wall, there suddenly 
 rang out that most terrible of all cries,—Fire. 
 
 It was the hospital; and, as the guards rushed over 
 towards the building, and beheld the seething flames 
 and smoke, which were pouring out from the base 
 ment windows of the kitchen, the sight struck terror 
 to many a heart when they thought of the many help- 
 less ones in danger. 
 
 The huge iron door on the first floor opening into 
 the dispensary, which was the only exit for those in- 
 side, was thrown open at once to admit a half dozen 
 of the night guards, who quietly and hurriedly began 
 to carry out those who were unable to walk. 
 
 It was the work of but a few minutes to save those 
 on the first floor; then without hesitating a moment, 
 the brave guards rushed upstairs through the fast gath- 
 ering smoke that was stealing up from the kitchen, 
 where they at once began the labor of carrying down- 
 stairs those patients, whom Jack designated as being 
 unable to walk; and just as the flames shot up from 
 below close to the stairway, the last consumptive in 
 Jack’s ward passed safely through the open doorway, 
 leading into the dispensary, followed by the night at- 
 tendant of the top floor, accompanied by only a few 
 of the insane prisoners whom he had succeeded in 
 bringing with him; for in truth, he had long been in 
 the habit of dozing tor a few hours during the night, 
 and, on this occasion, had not been wakened until 
 the noise of hurrying footsteps’ on the floor below, 
 caused him to start up in terror, and, at once per- 
 ceiving the danger of delay, he had hastily aroused 
 
398 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 the most docile of the inmates, and telling them to 
 follow him, made his way down the stairs. 
 
 That there were still some prisoners in the top ward 
 was plainly evident by the alarming cries that could 
 be heard coming from that direction; but, with the 
 flames and smoke rushing up alongside of the only 
 stairway leading to them, it seemed suicidal for any 
 one to attempt their rescue, and the blanched faces of 
 the guards denoted the dismay, with which they con- 
 templated the fearful fate of the poor idiots remaining 
 in the doomed building. . 
 
 Suddenly Jack darted over to the side of the guard 
 whose duty it was to patrol the hospital yard during 
 the night. 
 
 “I know a way to get them out upon the roof. Let 
 us try to save them, Crane,” he exclaimed hastily, and, 
 before the astounded guards could interpose a word 
 of remonstrance, they both rushed into the building, 
 and hand in hand, they made their way up the stair- 
 way through the blinding suffocating smoke to the top 
 floor. 
 
 Here they paused for a moment to shut the door be- 
 hind them to keep back the dense smoke that was now 
 pervading every part of the building, and pouring out 
 through all the iron barred windows that were opened. 
 
 “Come this way, quick,” shouted Jack, grabbing up 
 a lighted lamp left by the attendant, and rushing to- 
 ward the wash-room at the north-east end of the ward. 
 
 The puzzled guard quickly followed, and- to his 
 amazement beheld Jack raise a loose board from the 
 floor of the wash-room, and, from the cavity exposed, 
 draw out a short rope ladder, which he dexterously 
 threw up against the ceiling, where it caught ona 
 stout iron hook just below the trap door opening out 
 
399 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 upon the roof, which, however, was apparently secured 
 by a large brass padlock heretofore always deemed in- 
 vulnerable. 
 
 Climbing up the rope ladder, Jack whipped out a 
 notched looking bone from bis pocket, which he hastily 
 thrust into the key-hole of the padlock, and twisted 
 around with the confident manner of one who had per- 
 formed this task several times before. 
 
 And, as the staple fell to the floor in separating from 
 the lock, he gave the door a violent push which threw 
 it back upon the roof, leaving an opening, plenty large 
 enough for a man to pass through. 
 
 The moment the guard saw the trap door open, he 
 understood his companion’s plan of rescue, and, be- 
 fore Jack had descended the rope ladder, after making ° 
 it a trifle more secure and easier to mount he perceived 
 the room to behalf full of insane prisoners, which the 
 guard was rushing toward that quarter from all parts 
 of the ward. 
 
 “Fireworks! Fireworks! Fourth of July! Get up 
 on the roof quick, or you’]l miss seeing them,” yelled 
 the guard, coming in the room with all the remaining 
 patients just as Jack descended to the floor. 
 
 Like a lot of eager school-boys, the poor imbeciles 
 began to scramble up the ladder under the guidance 
 of the guard, who, fortunately,-had once held a simi- 
 lar position in one of the state insane asylums, and, 
 understood better how to handle them in a case of 
 emergency, then their own attendant could have done. 
 
 “We've got them all up there, now to herd them 
 over on the Armory building, and they will be saved; 
 but it looks to me, as though you had deen planing to 
 leave this place, young fellow,” remarked the guard 
 grimly to Jack, as he started to mount the ladder, 
 
400 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 followed a moment later by the robber, who had man- 
 aged to conceal a short coil of rope within his blouse, 
 during the excitement. 
 
 As the poor lunatics and their two rescuers de- 
 scended the short distance from the hospital roof upon 
 the Armory building that adjoined the burning struc- 
 ture at one corner, they came in view of the crowd 
 below, and cheer after cheer went up from the guards 
 and trusties, who thought they all had been suffocated 
 by the smoke which was now pouring out in volumes 
 
 through the windows of the ward just vacated by | 
 
 them, while the flames were rapidly eating their way 
 all through the second story of the building in spite 
 of the two steady streams of water that a score or 
 more of released trusties were manfully directing upon 
 it. 
 
 It had been Jack’s intention, when he secreted the 
 rope upon his person, to effect his escape therewith 
 from the roof of. the adjoining building which at one 
 place formed a part of the outside wall, and from 
 which point he thought he might descend unobserved 
 during the uproar and confusion that prevailed; but, 
 before he could slip away from the eye of his com- 
 panion, a file of guards made their appearance on the 
 roof, coming up a short ladder from the armory porch, 
 to which point the entire group of prisoners, includ- 
 ing Jack, were promptly marched and forced to de- 
 scend into the prison court where they were at once 
 taken to one of the cell buildings, and safely locked 
 up for the night. 
 
 This was a bitter pill for Jack, and caused him to 
 indulge in no end of bitter’reflections during the bal- 
 
 ance of the night; for he had everything prepared to | 
 
 attempt an escape, and was only waiting for a dark, 
 
A LUCKY MISHAP 401 
 
 rainy night, to insure the success of the project; but 
 now the fire, happening just when everything was ar- 
 ranged had swept away all of his cherished hopes, and 
 in all probability it would be years before such an other 
 opportunity would be afforded. 
 
 But while these gloomy thoughts were passing 
 through the mind of the hapless robber, a grateful 
 feeling was brewing toward him by the officials of the 
 prison, on account of his aid in rescuing the idiots. 
 
 The guard who accompanied Jack in the rescue, 
 and, who, by the way, was promoted on the following 
 day, extolled at great length the cool, quick percep- 
 tion displayed by Jack in the ordeal, until the officials 
 came to the universal opinion that such an act should 
 be rewarded, in spite of the fact that it had revealed 
 the prisoner’s intention to escape. 
 
 “It’s a lucky thing that he was attempting to escape, 
 or else those poor cranks would have perished in the 
 fire; and then every newspaper in the state would 
 have set up a cry about the carelessness of having 
 such a defective building,” remarked one of the prison 
 directors as a knot of the officials were conversing 
 about the fire, near the burning ruins on the follow- 
 ing morning. 
 
 "It was a big mistake in not making it fire-proof 
 when it was erected,” said one of the town merchants. 
 “And I always thought it would prove a fire-trap some 
 day.” 
 
 As the news spread of the remarkable incident, 
 which enabled the guard, with Jack’s assistance to 
 rescue the insane, the leading journals took it up and 
 began to argue that it would be a wise move in this 
 case to reward the prisoner, and thus show a spirit 
 of gratitude which might bear good fruit in some fu- 
 ture riot or similar catastrophe. 
 
402 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 It all culminated about ten days after the night of 
 the fire, when Jack was called up before the deputy 
 warden, a grim old veteran, who began by severely 
 lecturing him, for the plans he had arranged to effect 
 his escape, and the punishment that should be meted 
 out to him for this breach in the rules; then gradually 
 veering around in the discussion, he informed Jack 
 that the governor had concluded that his services on 
 the night of the fire, should be rewarded, and had 
 commuted his sentence to four years, the same as 
 that of his unlucky confederate, Richard Howard, 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 About three years after the events just narrated had 
 taken place, two young men, who in former days had 
 been boyhood friends of Jack Oldham and Richard 
 Howard, called at the prison to see them, while on a 
 tour throughout the western states. 
 
 “Richard Howard! John Oldham! Why they were 
 both pardoned out about five months ago, Howard is 
 down at Memphis, I understand, and Oldham is 
 living at Montrovia in this state with his parents. 
 They are both doing quite well, I am told; but you 
 will have to go to Montrovia, if you wish to ascertain 
 definitely concerning them,” affably remarked the clerk, 
 whose duty it was to attend to all visitors. 
 
 Not a bit daunted at the distance to be traveled, 
 which such a journey implied, they at once started for 
 Montrovia, taking the route suggested to them by the 
 prison clerk. 
 
 Let us follow them. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 “Good gracious. We've got off at the wrong place, 
 Surely this can’t be Montrovia. Why just look at 
 those fine brick-buildings,” exclaimed one of the travel- 
 ers, two days later, on arriving at their destination. 
 
 “Notice that bank on the corner. See the firm 
 name, Furlong & Co. I shouldn’t wonder but that’s 
 the very fellow whom Jack held up,” replied the other 
 
 403 
 
404 A LUCKY MISHAP 
 
 in amazement, stopping for a moment to gaze at the 
 neat little two story brick building on the corner, 
 while his companion was questioning a small boy as 
 to where they would be most likely to find John Old- 
 ham. 
 “Come on, Ned,” exclaimed the first speaker, re- 
 joining his companion. “This lad says we will be apt 
 to find Jack over at the coal mine, which lies about 
 half a mile down that switch track. We had better 
 hurry though, for it is now nearly five o’clock.” 
 
 “By jove! Things look rather lively around here: 
 Coal. Coal everywhere. Nothing but coal and rail- 
 road cars out here,” exclaimed one of them, after a 
 brisk walk of twenty minutes. “Ha, there’s the mine. 
 See that hoisting machinery at the foot of the hill. I 
 presume they must be loading some cars over there 
 now, to judge from the noise and racket that’s going 
 on. Why there’s the office, across the way; we had 
 better go there first and inquire.” 
 
 “What, not here?--You say Mr. Oldham.went home 
 rather early this afternoon. Your face seems rather 
 familiar, book-keeper.—Bob Cook, as I live. Well! 
 well! well!—You say you’ll walk over to Oldham’s 
 with us in a few minutes. All right, we’ll wait with 
 pleasure.” 
 
 “So you like this country better than the east. But 
 when do you intend taking a run back there, Bob?— 
 What’s that! . You say you are married now? Well, 
 what next.—So everything is prospering, both bank 
 and coal mine making money. .And that messenger, 
 Furlong, married a St. Louis girl two years ago. What 
 was the name you mentioned, Miss Nora Arbor?—And 
 they named their first child after that newspaper re- 
 
 porter, who picked up the clue, upon which Jack was — 
 
 q 
 i 
 a 
 q 
 
A LUCKY MisHAP 405 
 
 nailed? Well, that’s not a bad idea.—By the way, 
 what became of Rushing?—What, an editor, already? 
 —And what is Dick Howard doing down in Memphis? 
 —Running a commission store for his uncle, you say, 
 and doing well? That’s good.—And Dick’s wife se- 
 cured a divorce while he was in prison? Well, it 
 strikes me that was about the kindest act she ever 
 did toward Dick; for he never could have any pleasure 
 in life, while tied to such a discontented woman. 
 
 “So Jack has settled down now for keeps?—Just 
 finished moving his folks into their new house?—And 
 both his parents are still alive?—That white cottage 
 yonder, you say, is where they live?—Let us go right 
 in and surprise him.—Hello Jack, old boy, shake 
 hands.” 
 
 THE END 
 
a 
 POR eyed 
 
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Tl cca 
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 he 
 
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 ( ‘ 
 
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