The Erie Train Boy

"Especially as he has raised your pay to twenty-five dollars a week," said the banker smiling.

"You can't be in earnest, sir?"

"When you get your first week's salary on Saturday, you will see that I am in earnest."

"I see, then, that I must do without you," said the merchant. "Wainwright, I take back all I said. I advise you to keep Fred by all means as long as he will stay with you."

The banker had opened his check book and was writing out a check. He tore it from the book and handed it to Fred. It ran thus:

No. 10,531

PARK NATIONAL BANK.

Pay to the order of FRED FENTON

ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS.

$1000.

JOHN WAINWRIGHT.

"Is this for me?" asked Fred in amazement.

"Yes. I ought perhaps to make it more, for it is less than ten per cent. of the value of the bonds."

"How can I thank you, sir?" ejaculated Fred, feeling uncertain whether he was awake or dreaming. "I feel like a millionaire."

"Have you been home yet, Fred?"

"No, sir; I came here at once."

"Go home, then, and spend the rest of the day with your mother. Do you want to cash the check this morning?"

"No, sir."

"Indorse it, then, and I will hand you the money in bills to-morrow."

Fred, his face radiant with joy, left the office, and going to the nearest station on the Sixth Avenue Elevated Road bought a ticket and rode up town.

There a surprise awaited him.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

A LETTER FROM TOM SLOAN

When Fred presented himself at home, after a fortnight's absence, his mother and little brother were overjoyed.

"It's been awfully lonely since you went away, Fred," said Albert.

"I have felt like Albert," said Mrs. Fenton. "But it was not that that worried me most. I was afraid you might meet with some accident."

"I've come home safe and sound, mother, as you see. But you don't ask me whether I succeeded in my mission."

"I don't know what your mission was."

"No; it was a secret of Mr. Wainwright's, and I was bound to keep it secret. I can tell you now. I was sent to Canada to recover over ten thousand dollars' worth of stolen bonds."

Mrs. Fenton looked amazed.

"A boy like you!" she said.

"I don't wonder you are surprised. I was surprised myself."

"But who had the bonds, and how did you recover them?"

"Two men were in the conspiracy. One of them was sorry for the theft, and ready to help me. The other meant to keep them. He had taken them away from his partner and hidden them in the forest."

"And you found them?"

"Yes; sit down and I will tell you the story."

Fred did so, and when it was finished he added: "How much do you think Mr. Wainwright paid me for my trouble?"

"He ought to pay you handsomely."

"What would you consider paying me handsomely?"

"Fifty dollars," answered his mother.

"He gave me a thousand dollars!"

"A thousand!" ejaculated Mrs. Fenton, incredulous.

"Yes."

"Where's the money?" asked Albert.

"He gave it to me in a check. I shall collect it to-morrow, and invest it in some safe way."

"I can't realize it, Fred," said Mrs. Fenton. "Why, it will make us rich."

"But that isn't all. My salary is raised to twenty-five dollars a week."

"I never heard of such wages being given to a boy like you."

"It was my second offer this morning. A merchant, a friend of Mr. Wainwright, offered me twenty dollars to go into his office."

"That is better than being a train boy, Fred."

"Yes; but I was glad to work on the trains when I had nothing better to do."

Just then the peculiar whistle of the postman was heard.

"Run down-stairs, Albert, and see if there are any letters for us," said Fred.

The little boy returned in a moment with an envelope directed to Fred Fenton, and postmarked Central City, Colorado. He opened it hastily, and exclaimed: "This is from Mr. Sloan, who visited us a few months since."

"Read it, Fred."

The letter was written in rather an illegible hand, and the spelling was rather eccentric, for Mr. Sloan was not a scholar. As corrected it ran thus:

FRIEND FRED – I suppose you haven't forgotten your old friend Tom Sloan. I have often thought of how I enjoyed myself at your home, and wished I could call in and take a cup of tea with you and your mother.

About that land you asked me to see, I've got good news for you. There's a town built around it, and the price has gone up to fancy figures. There's a party here that wants to buy it for five thousand dollars, but I think I can get a little more. If your mother will send me a power of attorney, I will sell it, and send you on the money. I'll do my best for you. No wonder that old skinflint, your uncle, wanted to buy it. He'd have made a big thing out of it. He was a fool not to take it at your own figures.

I hope you are all well, and I shouldn't wonder if I might see you pretty soon. I've been lucky myself, and made a respectable pile. Old Tom Sloan doesn't get left if he can help it.

Well, good-by. Send on the power of attorney by return of mail.

Yours till death,

TOM SLOAN.

"Five thousand dollars!" ejaculated Mrs. Fenton. "I can't believe it."

"You will, mother, when you get the money. There's no time to be lost. I'll go out at once and get the power of attorney, and we'll write at once, telling Mr. Sloan to do whatever he thinks best. Do you agree to that, mother?"

"Yes, Fred. He is a good man and I trust him entirely."

CHAPTER XXXVII.

COUSIN FERGUSON

In a fortnight Fred received from Colorado an order on a New York banker for six thousand five hundred dollars, being the purchase money on the Colorado lands.

He at once carried it to Mr. Wainwright, and invested it in securities recommended by that gentleman.

"I congratulate you heartily, Fred," said the banker. "I didn't know that I was taking into my employ a young man of fortune."

"It has come upon me so suddenly that I can't realize it myself."

"I consider you worthy of your good luck, my boy. You ought to save up money out of your wages."

"I intend to sir, but I am going to give my mother a better home now that I can afford it, and will see that my little brother has a better education than I have had."

"It is not too late to supply the deficiency in your own case. You cannot do better than join the evening classes of the Young Men's Christian Association, and do what you can to improve yourself."

"I will follow your advice, Mr. Wainwright. Now that I am no longer anxious about money matters, I want to qualify myself for a better social position."

Only two days after the receipt of the money from Colorado, another letter, as unexpected as Mr. Sloan's, reached Mrs. Fenton. The substance of it was comprised in the closing paragraph "Send your son round to my house this evening I am prepared to make you a better offer for the Colorado laud. It's of little value, but some day may be worth more than at present. As you are straitened in means I can better afford to wait than you, and I shall feel satisfaction in relieving your necessities."

Fred read this letter attentively. "I hate a hypocrite," he said. "Mr. Ferguson pretends that he wants to help us, while he is scheming to cheat us out of a large sum, relying upon our ignorance of the increased value of the land."

"Shall I write and tell him that we have sold the land?" asked Mrs. Fenton.

"No, I will call and see him this evening, as he requests."

"But it will do no good."

"I want to find out how much he is willing to give. I shan't let him know that the land is sold till he has made an offer."

"Don't say anything to provoke Cousin Ferguson, Fred."

"Don't worry, mother. I will be perfectly respectful."

About half-past seven Fred rang the bell at the door of the house on East Thirty-Ninth Street. Evidently he was expected, for, on his inquiring for Mr. Ferguson, he was shown at once into the presence of his rich relation.

"Good evening, Frederick," said Mr. Ferguson, With unusual graciousness. "How is your mother?"

"Very well, thank you, sir."

"I hope you are getting along comfortably."

"Yes, sir; we have no right to complain."

"That is well," said Mr. Ferguson condescendingly. "I presume the boy is making five dollars a week or some such matter," he soliloquized. "That is very well for a boy like him."

"I made you an offer for your father's land in Colorado a few months ago," he went on carelessly.

"Yes, sir."

"You thought my offer too small."

"Yes, sir. Twenty-five dollars would be of very little value to us."

"There I disagree with you. Twenty-five dollars to a family situated as yours is, is no trifle."

A faint smile flickered over Fred's face. He wondered what Mr. Ferguson would say if he knew precisely how they were situated.

"Still," resumed the merchant, "you did right to refuse. I am inclined to think the land is a little more valuable than I supposed."

Fred was rather surprised. Was Cousin Ferguson going to act a liberal part, and offer anything like a fair price for the land? He waited curiously to hear what he would say next.

"Yes," continued Mr. Ferguson magnanimously, "I admit that I offered you too little for your land."

"So I thought at the time, sir," Fred said quietly.

"And I am now prepared to rectify my mistake. You may tell your mother that I will give her a hundred dollars for it."

"A hundred dollars?"

"Yes; that is probably more than it is worth at present, but I can afford to wait until it increases in value."

Mr. Ferguson sat back in his armchair and fixed his eyes on Fred with the air of one who has made a most generous offer.

"Did your mother authorize you to make a bargain?" he inquired.

"No, sir."

"She wished you to report to her, I suppose. This offer will hold good for twenty-four hours. You can come around to-morrow evening, and the matter can be settled at once. It may be well for your mother to come round also, as her signature will be required to the bill of sale."

"I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Ferguson, but I don't think we will sell."

"Young man," said Ferguson severely, "if you advise your mother to reject this offer, you will take upon yourself a great responsibility."

"Mr. Ferguson," rejoined Fred, fixing his eyes on the merchant, "do you advise my mother, as a friend, to accept this offer?"

"Of course, of course. It is the best thing she can do."

"I have no right to doubt your sincerity, but I think the land is worth more than you offer."

"What can you know about it?" demanded Ferguson impatiently.

"A gentleman who had traveled in Colorado called on us a while ago. He seems to think the land is quite valuable."

"Stuff and nonsense! The man was humbugging you."

"He was a miner," continued Fred placidly. "He promised to look up the matter for us."

"You were very rash to trust a stranger. The best thing you can do is to disregard any advice he may have given you, and accept my offer."

"There is one difficulty in the way," said Fred.

"What is that?"

"We have sold the land!"

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

CONCLUSION

"You have sold the land?" repeated Mr. Ferguson in dismay.

"Yes, sir."

"Then permit me to say that you and your mother have acted like fools!" said Ferguson harshly. "In a matter like this you should have consulted ME. What do you or your mother know about business?"

"I think we did pretty well," said Fred placidly.

"What did you sell for?" asked Ferguson abruptly.

"Six thousand five hundred dollars!" answered the ex-train boy.

Robert Ferguson stared at Fred in amazement and incredulity.

"Don't play any of your practical jokes on me!" he said sternly.

"I don't intend to, sir. We gave Mr. Sloan a power of attorney, and he sold it for us."

"He says he did!" sneered Ferguson. "You will never get the money."

"Excuse me, Mr. Ferguson. We have received the money already."

"When?" gasped the merchant.

"Two days ago."

The face of Robert Ferguson was a study. Disappointed cupidity succeeded his first incredulity. He began to consider that he must convince Fred that he had acted in good faith. With an effort he smoothed down his face and conjured up a smile.

"You quite take my breath away," he said. "I can hardly believe that the land which I thought worthless should have realized such a sum. Have any mines been discovered on them?"

"No, sir; but a village has sprung up in the immediate neighborhood."

"I am heartily glad of it. Tell your mother so. How could I have been so deceived? By the way, it will be best for you to put the money in the hands of some responsible person to take care of for you. As a near relative I shall be glad to invest the amount for you safely along with my own."

"Thank you, sir, but we have already invested it."

Mr. Ferguson frowned.

"I predict that you will lose half of it," he said.

"I don't think so. I had advice in the investment."

"Who advised you?"

"John Wainwright, the banker."

"Do you know him?"

"Yes; he is my employer."

"I believe I remember that Raymond told me so. Of course he is a good adviser. How much does he pay you?"

"Twenty-five dollars a week."

"Do you take me for a fool?" demanded Ferguson angrily.

"No, sir; and you have no right to take me for a liar," answered Fred, firmly.

"But such a salary for a boy of sixteen is ridiculous!"

"It does seem so; but Mr. Wainwright sent me to Canada to recover over ten thousand dollars' worth of stolen bonds, and I succeeded in bringing them back."

Slowly it dawned upon Mr. Ferguson that the youth before him was not only a favorite of fortune, out a remarkably smart boy. He was evidently on the rise. Would it not be politic to take notice of him?

"Fred," he said with sudden friendliness, "I am pleased to hear of your good fortune. You have done credit to the family. We ought to be more intimate. In proof of my desire for closer relations I shall send cards to you and your mother for my Daughter Luella's wedding. She is to be married next Thursday evening to an Italian count. Probably you have suitable attire, or, if not, you can easily obtain it. Give me your address."

"Thank you, sir. I am not sure whether my mother will attend, but I shall be happy to do so."

The door opened, and Raymond Ferguson entered.

"Good evening, Raymond," said Fred pleasantly.

"Good evening," answered Raymond, coldly.

"Your cousin Frederick has been very fortunate," said the elder Ferguson genially. "He and his mother have come into some thousands of dollars, and he is receiving a handsome salary from Mr. Wainwright, the banker. I shall be glad to see you two intimate."

"Is that so?" asked Raymond, thawing.

"I am glad to say it is," answered Fred.

"Would you like to invite your cousin to attend the theater, Raymond?"

"Just what I was going to ask. There is a good play on at Wallack's."

"Very well! Here is a five-dollar bill."

"Come along, Fred," said Raymond, who had made up his mind it would be wise to cultivate the acquaintance of his once despised relative.

Before they parted for the evening, Raymond borrowed five dollars of Fred, and struck up a close friendship with him. While Fred understood perfectly well what had produced this remarkable change in his cousin he was philosophical enough to take the world as he found it, and accepted Raymond's advances.

The next day wedding cards, elaborately engraved were received at Fred's modest home, requesting Mrs. Fenton and her son's presence at the marriage ceremony of Luella Ferguson and Count Vincento Cattelli. But an unexpected circumstance prevented the nuptials from being celebrated.

One evening the count and Miss Ferguson were sitting at supper at Delmonico's. At a table near by sat a gentleman, who watched the young couple with curious attention. He rose finally and approached them.

"Miss Ferguson, I believe," he said.

"Yes, sir."

"I don't know if you remember me, but I dined at your father's house one evening in February. My name is Stanwood."

"I remember you now, Mr. Stanwood. Let me make you acquainted with Count Cattelli."

"I am honored," said Stanwood with a curious smile.

"This lady is my affianced bride," said the count, "Indeed! I congratulate you. By the way, haven't I met you before?"

"If you have been in Italy, sare. I am Count Cattelli of Milan."

Stanwood smiled slightly, and returned to his own table.

The next day Miss Ferguson received the following note:

MY DEAR MISS FERGUSON:

What I am about to write will pain you, but I cannot permit you to be grossly deceived. The gentleman whom you introduced to me as Count Cattelli at Delmonico's last evening shaved me last March in a barber-shop in Chicago. He may be a count, but I advise you to speak to your father on the subject. Your well wisher,

CHARLES STANWOOD.

Miss Ferguson went into a fit of hysterics, but followed the advice of her correspondent. The count, on being taxed with his deception, first indulged in bravado, but finally acknowledged that he had served as a barber, but still claimed to be a count. Mr. Ferguson, intensely mortified, agreed to give him two hundred dollars if he would leave the city at once. Notices that the wedding had been indefinitely postponed were sent to all who had received cards, and Luella disappeared for a time. There were numerous reports as to the cause of the marriage being postponed, but the secret was well kept. Luella is still unmarried, and is likely to remain so, unless some one marries her for her money.

Ruth Patton is now the wife of Alfred Lindsay. The young lawyer made a private call on Mr. Ferguson, which resulted in the latter disgorging the ten thousand dollars of which he had defrauded Ruth's mother, so that she did not come to her husband portionless.

All goes well with Fred Fenton. He is still in the employ of John Wainwright, on a largely increased salary, and is always a welcome guest at the home of the banker. Rose is as partial to him as ever, and it would not be surprising if she should some day marry the ex-Erie train-boy. Fred and his mother live in a handsome flat up town, and Albert, his younger brother, is making rapid progress as a designer. It looks as if the clouds had passed away, succeeded by the sunshine of permanent prosperity.

THE END