The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

Stratemeyer Edward

The Missing Tin Box Or The Stolen Railroad Bonds

CHAPTER I.

AN INTERESTING CONVERSATION

"What are the bonds worth, Allen?"

"Close on to eighty thousand dollars, Hardwick."

"Phew! as much as that?"

"Yes. The market has been going up since the first of December."

"How did he happen to get hold of them?"

"I don't know the particulars. Mr. Mason was an old friend of the family, and I presume he thought he could leave them in no better hands."

"And where are they now?"

"In his private safe."

"Humph!"

The conversation recorded above took place one evening on a Pennsylvania Railroad ferry-boat while the craft was making the trip from Jersey City to New York.

It was carried on between two men, both well dressed. He, called Allen, was a tall, sharp-nosed individual, probably fifty years of age. The other was a short, heavy-set fellow, wearing a black mustache, and having a peculiar scowl on his face.

They sat in the forward part of the gentlemen's cabin, which was but partly filled with passengers. Two seats on one side of them were vacant. On the other side sat a shabbily-dressed boy of sixteen, his hands clasped on his lap and his eyes closed.

"The safe is often left open during the day," resumed Allen, after a brief pause, during which Hardwick had offered his companion a cigar and lit one himself.

"That won't do," replied Hardwick, shortly.

"Why not?"

"Because it won't."

"But we can make it appear – "

"Hush!" The heavy-set man, who sat next to the vacant seats, nudged his companion in the side. "That boy may hear you," he continued, in a whisper.

The man addressed glanced sharply at the youth.

"No, he won't," he returned.

"Why not?"

"He's fast asleep."

"Don't be too sure." The heavy-set man arose. "Let us go out on the forward deck, and talk it over."

"It's too cold, and, besides, it's beginning to – "

"Wrap yourself up in that overcoat of yours, and you will be all right. We don't want to run any chances, Allen."

"Some one may hear us out there just as well as in here," growled the elderly man.

Nevertheless, he pulled up his coat collar and followed his companion through the heavy swinging doors.

As the two walked outside, the eyes of the boy opened, and he glanced sharply after the pair.

"That was a queer conversation they held," he muttered to himself. "I am half of the opinion that they are up to no good. If I were a policeman I believe I would follow them and find out who they are."

Hal Carson hesitated for a moment, and then arose and walked to the doors.

Stepping outside, he saw the two men, standing in the gangway for horses, in deep conversation.

"They are hatching out some scheme," thought Hal, as he watched the pair.

But it was bitter cold outside for one without an overcoat, and the youth soon returned to his seat in the cabin, leaving the two men to themselves.

Hal was a poor-house boy, having lived at the Fairham poor-house ever since he could remember. Who his parents were he did not know, nor could Joel Daggett, the keeper of the institution, give him any definite information on the subject.

"You were picked up in front of Onders' carpenter shop on one Fourth o' July night," Daggett had said more than once. "They found out some strange man was responsible, but who he was, nobuddy knows, or leastwise they won't tell, and that amounts to the same thing."

There had been a peculiar golden locket about Hal's neck when he was found, but this had never led to the establishing of his identity, and after the boy was at the poor-house a year the facts concerning his being found were almost forgotten.

But Hal had clung fast to that locket as a sort of birthright, and it was at this moment safe in his trousers pocket.

Two days before the opening of this story the trustees of the Fairham Poor-house had decided to bind Hal out to Daniel Scrogg, one of the most miserly farmers in the county.

Hal had protested, stating he could make more in the town, where a lawyer named Gibson was willing to take the youth into his office on a salary of three dollars a week and found. The trustees were obdurate, and the upshot of the matter was that the youth quietly packed his clothing into a bundle and ran away.

He left a note behind for Joel Daggett, telling what he had done, and stating that as soon as he was in position to do so he would reimburse the trustees for all they had paid out for his keep for the past fifteen years; a big undertaking for any boy, but Hal was plucky, and meant what he said.

Hal's destination was New York. Once in the great metropolis, he felt certain he would find something to do. To be sure, his capital was less than a dollar, but he was used to being without any money, and consequently this did not bother him.

It was about eight o'clock in the evening, and as the man Allen had said, it was just beginning to snow, the first fall of the season. Hal looked out of the window as the flakes glittered in the electric light and fell into the waters of the river.

Presently there came a bump, and the ferry-boat veered to one side. The slip had been reached, and, pulling shut the rather thin jacket he wore, and bringing his cap further down over his forehead, Hal mingled with the crowd outside, and a minute later went ashore.

Once on West Street, Hal stood still, undecided what to do next. He did not know a soul in New York, did not know one street from another, but understood very well that it would be next to useless to try to obtain employment at this late hour.

As Hal stood meditating, the two men mentioned above brushed past him. The boy noticed them, and then almost mechanically followed the pair.

The men passed up Cortlandt Street until they came to the Sixth Avenue Elevated Railroad. Hal saw them mount the stairs on the opposite side of the street, and a minute after knew they had taken an uptown train.

"I suppose I'll never see them again," thought the youth.

But Hal was mistaken. The two men were to play a most important part in the youth's future life in the great metropolis.

Hal walked along under the elevated road until he came to Barclay Street. He passed several fruit stands and a queer little booth where coffee and cakes were sold.

The sight of the latter made him remember how hungry he was. He had not had anything to eat since early morning, and although he was accustomed to a very scanty fare at the poor-house, his stomach rebelled at this unusually long fast.

He counted up his money, and resolved to invest fifteen cents of it in a plate of pork and beans and some buttered cakes.

He entered a restaurant near the corner, and was soon served.

While Hal was eating he became interested in the conversation of several young men who stood near the counter, smoking.

"You say Nathan wants more help?" he heard one of the young men say.

"Yes."

"Thought he took on two new hands yesterday."

"So he did, but the holiday trade is very heavy this year."

"Then I'll send Billy around to see him. I suppose he could do the work."

"Anybody could who is strong and willing," was the reply. "Nathan wants three young fellows."

At these words Hal's eyes brightened.

He arose and touched the speaker on the arm.

"Excuse me, sir," he began.

"What is it?" asked the man, rather abruptly.

"I heard you telling your friend that somebody wanted help. I am looking for work."

The man looked Hal over, and gave a short laugh.

"I'm afraid you ain't strong enough, my boy," he said.

"I was brought up to hard work," replied Hal, earnestly.

"Well, that makes a difference."

"If you will tell me where that place is – "

"Certainly. It is the first warehouse this side – "

The man got no further. There was a commotion on the street, and two or three rushed outside.

"Brady's place just below here is on fire!" shouted some one.

"Brady's place?" ejaculated the man. "By George! I wonder how that happened?"

He seemed to forget all about Hal, and making a rush for the door, disappeared down the street.

The youth started after him. He had eaten and paid for his meal, and he did not wish to miss the opportunity of questioning the fellow further.

On the street all was commotion. Wagons were scattering right and left to make way for the steam engines, hose carts and hook and ladder trucks which came dashing up to the spot.

Hal soon found himself surrounded by a crowd. The man had disappeared, apparently for good, and with a sigh the youth walked away, there being no signs of a fire, so far as he could see.

The youth started to cross the street. He was directly behind an elderly gentleman, and was about to pass the man when there came a warning cry:

"Get out of the way there! Here comes another engine!"

Hal looked up and saw that the engine, pulled by three fiery horses, was close at hand. He started to return to the curb. As he did so the elderly gentleman slipped and went down flat on his back.

"He'll be killed!" cried half a dozen, who saw the accident.

Hal's heart seemed to leap into his throat. The horses were not over ten feet away. A moment more and the elderly gentleman would be crushed to death.

The youth leaped forward, and caught the man by the arm. Then he gave a sudden jerk backward, and both he and the gentleman went rolling into the gutter, while the engine went thundering by.

CHAPTER II.

A BRAVE YOUTH'S REWARD

A cheer arose from the by-standers.

"Good for the boy!"

"That's what I call a genuine hero!"

"He deserves a medal."

Paying no attention to what was said, Hal assisted the elderly gentleman to his feet.

"Are you hurt, sir?" he asked kindly.

"I – I think not," was the labored reply. "That was a narrow escape, young man." The last with a gasp.

"You are right, sir. How did you happen to go down?"

"The snow made a slippery spot on the ice, I believe. My wind is almost gone."

"Wait till I brush you off," said Hal, and taking off his cap he commenced to strike off the snow and dirt from the gentleman's clothing.

"Oh, never mind that," was the comment. "Come along with me. I don't like crowds."

The gentleman caught the youth by the arm, and walked him toward Broadway.

"You did me a great service," he went on, as the two stood on the corner, opposite the post-office.

"I didn't do much," replied Hal, modestly.

"Don't you call saving my life much?" asked the man, with a smile.

"Oh, I don't mean that, sir. But any one would have done what I did."

"I'm not so sure about that. In New York it is every one for himself. What is your name?"

"Hal Carson."

"You live here, I suppose?"

"No, sir."

"Where then, if I may ask?"

"I just came to New York not over half an hour ago. I intend to stay here."

The elderly gentleman looked puzzled.

"I don't quite understand you," he said.

"I came from a small place in Pennsylvania, sir, and I intend to try my luck here."

"Ah! Are you alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any friends here?"

"No, sir."

"Yes, you have."

"I have?"

"Yes – myself." The elderly gentleman laughed at his little joke. "No one shall say he saved my life and I didn't appreciate it. So your name is Hal Carson. Parents living?"

"I don't know, sir." Hal blushed in spite of himself. "I was brought up at the poor-house."

"Humph! Well, you are a manly looking chap and a brave one. Have you any idea where you are going to obtain employment?"

"No, sir. I intend to hunt around until I strike something."

"You'll find that rather up-hill work, I fancy."

"I didn't expect any snap, Mr. – "

"My name is Horace Sumner. I am a broker, and have an office on Wall Street, near Broad. I am just returning from a visit to my sister, who lives in Morristown. Have you any sort of an education?"

"I can read and write, and figure pretty well, and I've read all the books I could get hold of."

"The reason I ask is because I think I may be able to help you to obtain employment. I won't offer you money as a reward – I don't believe in such things."

"I would not accept your money. But I would like work."

Horace Sumner meditated for a moment.

"Supposing you stop at my office to-morrow morning," he said.

"I will, sir. What time?"

"Ten o'clock."

"And what number, please?"

"Here is my card." Horace Sumner handed it to him. "Do you know where you are going to stop over night?"

"I shall hunt up some cheap hotel."

Mr. Sumner was about to say something to the effect that Hal could accompany him to his house and sleep in one of the rooms over the barn, but he changed his mind.

"Let the boy hoe his own row. It will do him good," he thought to himself.

Horace Sumner was a self-made man, and he knew that self reliance is one of the best traits a boy can cultivate.

"I am going over to the Third Avenue elevated now," he said. "Remember, I expect to see you at ten sharp."

"I will be on hand, sir," returned Hal.

"Then good-night."

"Good-night, Mr. Sumner, and much obliged."

Hal watched the gentleman cross City Hall Park, and then started up Broadway.

The brilliant holiday display in the show windows charmed him, and he spent fully two hours in looking at all that was to be seen.

"Who knows but what I may go to work to-morrow, and then I won't get much chance to look around," he reasoned to himself.

He was accustomed to work at the poor-house from six in the morning until eight or nine at night, and he did not know but what he would have to do more in such a bustling city as New York.

By ten o'clock Hal found himself tired out. The snow was now six inches deep and was still coming down.

He turned from Broadway through Grand Street and presently found himself well over on the east side.

"Good Beds for 25 Cents per Night."

This was the announcement on a banner strung over the sidewalk, and after reading it, Hal glanced at the building.

It was rather a dingy affair, but to the youth direct from the Fairham poor-house it appeared quite comfortable. He entered the office, and approached the clerk at the desk.

"I would like a room for to-night," he said.

"A room or a bed?" asked the clerk.

"I mean a twenty-five cent place."

"Oh, all right. Pay in advance."

Hal handed out a quarter. Then he was conducted to a long, narrow apartment on the third floor. There were eight beds in the room, six of which were already occupied.

To a person used to good accommodations this apartment would have almost disgusted him. But quarters at the poor-house had been but little better, and Hal did not complain. He managed to get a bed in one corner, and, as the window was slightly open, he slept very well.

He was up and dressed at six o'clock and out on the street. The snow was now all of a foot deep, and Hal was much interested in the snow-plows on the car tracks.

As he passed down the street a snow-ball whizzed past the youth's ear. Another followed, striking him in the head. He turned, and saw a boy slightly taller than himself standing close at hand and laughing heartily.

Instead of getting angry, Hal laughed in return. Then he picked up some snow, made it into a hard ball, and let fly.

The snow-ball took the other boy in the chest, and in his effort to dodge he went over head first into a drift near the gutter. Hal burst out laughing, and then ran back and helped the stranger up.

"Say, wot did yer do dat fer?" demanded the other boy, as soon as he was once more on his feet.

"Tit for tat, you know," returned Hal. "I guess you're not hurt, are you?"

The stranger stared at Hal. He had never met with such a kindly answer before.

"Hurt! o' course I ain't hurt," he returned, slowly.

"You threw at me first, didn't you?"

"Wot if I did?"

"Nothing, only that's why I threw back."

The stranger stared at Hal for a moment.

"Who are you?" he asked, abruptly.

"My name is Hal Carson. What's yours?"

"Jack McCabe."

Hal held out his hand.

"I'm glad to know you. I just came to New York, and I only know one person here."

"Git out! is dat so?" Jack McCabe shook hands rather gingerly. "Den yer ain't one o' der boys, is yer?"

"What boys?"

"Der fellers around town."

"Hardly."

"Got work here?"

"I expect to get work from a man in Wall Street."

"Goin' ter be a broker, hey?" grinned Jack.

"Here, get to work there, you lazy dog!" shouted a man from the inside of a near-by store, and Jack dropped his conversation and began to clean off the sidewalk with vigor.

Hal walked on. He did not know under what exciting circumstances he was to meet Jack McCabe again.

Promptly at ten o'clock Hal presented himself at the number given him on Wall Street. The sign over the door read Sumner, Allen & Co., Brokers.

He opened the door and entered. There was a small place in the front partitioned from the rear office by a counter and a brass grating.

A man sat writing at a desk in the rear. He glanced at Hal, and seeing it was only a boy, went on with his work.

Five minutes passed. Then the man swung around leisurely, got down from his stool, and came forward.

As soon as Hal caught sight of the man's face he was astonished.

It was Hardwick, the fellow whose conversation he had overheard on the ferry boat the evening before.

CHAPTER III.

A SERIOUS CHARGE

"What do you want?" asked Hardwick abruptly.

"Is Mr. Sumner in?" returned Hal.

"No."

"Then I'll wait till he comes."

Hardwick stared at Hal.

"Won't I do?" he asked sharply.

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"What do you want to see him about?"

"He asked me to call," replied the youth. He was not particularly pleased with Hardwick's manner.

"I am the book-keeper here, and I generally transact business during Mr. Sumner's absence."

"Mr. Sumner asked me to meet him here at ten o'clock."

"Oh! You know him, then?"

"Not very well."

"I thought not." Hardwick glanced at Hal's shabby clothes. "Well, you had better wait outside until he comes. We don't allow loungers about the office."

"I will," said Hal, and he turned to leave.

It was bitter cold outside, but he would have preferred being on the sidewalk than being in the way, especially when such a man as Felix Hardwick was around.

But, as he turned to leave, a coach drove up to the door, and Mr. Sumner alighted. His face lit up with a smile when he caught sight of Hal.

"Well, my young friend, I see you are on time," he said, catching Hal by the shoulder, and turning him back into the office.

"Yes, sir."

"That's right." Mr. Sumner turned to Hardwick. "Where is Dick?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir," returned the book-keeper.

"Hasn't he been here this morning?"

"I think not."

"The sidewalk ought to be cleaned. That boy evidently doesn't want work."

"I will clean the walk, if you wish me to," put in Hal.

"I have an office boy who is expected to do such things," replied Mr. Sumner. "That is, when the janitor of the building doesn't get at it in time. But he is getting more negligent every day. Yes, you might as well do the job, and then come into the back office and have a talk with me."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Hardwick, just show Carson where the shovel and broom are."

The book-keeper scowled.

"This way," he said, and led the boy to a small closet under a stairs.

Just as Hal was about to leave the office with the broom and the shovel, a tall, well dressed boy entered.

He was whistling at a lively rate, but stopped short on seeing Mr. Sumner.

"Well, Ferris, this is a pretty time to come around," said the broker, sharply.

"I couldn't help it," returned the boy, who was considerably older than Hal, and had coarse features and fiery red hair.

"Why not?"

"My aunt forgot to call me."

"That is a poor excuse."

Dick Ferris began to drum on the railing with his flat hands.

"Didn't I tell you to be here every morning at nine o'clock?" went on the broker. "I am sure that is not very early for any one."

"'Tain't my fault when it snows like this," returned the boy. "My aunt ought to call me."

"Did you arrange that file of papers yesterday afternoon after I left?" continued Mr. Sumner.

"I was going to do that this morning."

"I told you to do it yesterday. You had plenty of time."

"I ain't got nothing to do this morning."

"There are a great number of things to do, Ferris, but evidently you are not the boy who cares to do them. I warned you only a week ago that you must mend your ways. I think hereafter we will dispense with your service. Mr. Hardwick, please pay him his wages in full for the week. We will get some one else to fill his position."

Mr. Sumner turned to the rear office.

"I don't care," muttered Ferris. "Hand over the stuff," he said to Hardwick.

Having received his money, he calmly lit a cigarette, puffed away upon it for a minute, and then went out slamming the door as hard as possible after him.

Hal was already at work, clearing away the snow at a lively rate. Ferris approached him.

"Say, are you the fellow that did me out of my job?" he asked, savagely.

"I haven't done any one out of a job," returned Hal. "Do you work here?"

"I did, but I don't any more."

"Why not?"

"Because old Sumner expects the earth from me and he can't get it; see?" Ferris winked one eye. "I'm too smart to allow myself to be stepped onto, I am. You had better quit working; he won't pay you much for your trouble."

"I'll risk it," replied Hal.

"If I find you played me foul, I'll break you all up," went on Ferris. And with this threat he hurried off.

Hal looked after the boy for an instant and then continued his work. The sidewalk was soon cleaned, and he returned to the office.

Hardwick let him in behind the railing, giving him a sharp look as he passed.

"I've seen him somewhere before," he muttered to himself, as he continued at his books. "But where I can't remember."

"What! done already?" exclaimed Mr. Sumner to Hal.

"Yes, sir."

"It didn't take long."

"It wasn't much of a job, sir."

"Ferris would have taken all of the morning."

"Was that the boy who just left?"

"Yes."

"He said he would whip me if I played him foul."

"Humph! He is a bad boy. You must be careful, and not get into any trouble."

"I will, sir. But I am not afraid of him."

"No; you look as if you could take care of yourself." Mr. Sumner rubbed his chin. "So you say you have no prospects ahead?"

"No, sir, but I am not afraid – "

"Let me see your handwriting."

The broker shoved a pad toward Hal, and handed him a pen filled with ink.

Hal put down a sentence or two, and added his own name.

"That will do very well. You say you can figure fairly?"

"I have been through the common school arithmetic."

"What would my commission be on six thousand dollars' worth of bonds, sold at one hundred and fifteen, commission one-quarter of one per cent?"

Hal figured for a moment.

"Seventeen dollars and twenty-five cents," he said.

Mr. Sumner gave him several other sums. The youth answered all of them quickly and correctly.

"That will do first-class," said the broker. "Now to come to business. Would you mind telling me why you left Fairham?"

"Not at all, Mr. Sumner," replied Hal.

And, sitting down, he told how the trustees had intended to use him, and of his determination to do for himself.

"And I will not go back, no matter what happens," he concluded, decidedly.

"Well, I cannot say as I blame you," was the slow reply. "Of course, you owe them something, but perhaps you can pay them back quicker in the way you have undertaken. Have you any idea in regard to salary?"

"I intended to take what I could get, and then look around for something better."

"How would you like to work for me?"

"First-rate, sir."