Mark Mason's Victory: The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy

"How long is your father going to keep me here?" he asked.

"Maybe a month."

This opened a terrible prospect to poor Phil, who thought Mr. Sprague quite capable of inflicting such a severe punishment.

"If he does I won't live through it," he said desperately.

"You don't mean to kill yourself?" said Oscar, startled.

"No, but I shall starve. I am awfully hungry now."

"What, after eating two slices of bread?"

"They were very thin, and I have exercised a good deal."

"Then I advise you to make it up with pa. If you get down on your knees and tell him you are sorry, perhaps he will forgive you, and let you out."

Phil did not feel willing to humiliate himself in that way, and remained silent.

"There ain't any bed for me to sleep on," he said, looking around.

"You will have to sleep on the floor. I guess you'll get enough of it."

Oscar locked the door on the outside and went down-stairs. Disagreeable as he was Phil was sorry to have him go. He was some company, and when left to himself there was nothing for him to do. If there had been any paper or book in the room it would have helped him tide over the time, but the apartment was bare of furniture.

There was one window looking out on the side of the house. Phil posted himself at this, and soon saw Oscar and his father leave the premises and go down the street. Nahum had a bottle in his hand, and Phil concluded he was going to the drinking saloon to get a fresh bottle of whisky.

Phil continued to look out of the window.

Presently he saw a boy pass whom he knew – a boy named Arthur Burks.

He opened the window and called out eagerly, "Arthur!"

Arthur turned round and looking up espied Philip.

"Hello!" he cried. "What are you doing up there?"

"I am locked in."

"What for?"

"I accidentally dropped a bottle of whisky, and spilled it. Mr. Sprague got mad and locked me up here."

"That's a shame. How long have you got to stay?"

"Oscar says he may keep me here a month."

"He's only frightening you. Old Sprague wouldn't dare to do it."

"That isn't all. I am half starved. He only gave me two small slices of bread for dinner."

"He's a mean old hunks. I just wish you could come round to our house. We'd give you enough to eat."

"I wish I were there now," sighed Philip.

"I've got an idea," said Arthur, brightening up. "What time do Mr. Sprague and Oscar go to bed?"

"Very early. About nine o'clock."

"Would you run away if you could?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do. At half-past nine Albert Frost and I will come around with a tall ladder – Mr. Frost has got one – and we'll put it up against your window. Will you dare to get out of the window, and come down?"

"Yes, I'll do anything to get away. But can you get the ladder?"

"Yes; Albert will manage it. Do you think the old man will be likely to see or hear us?"

"No; he sleeps on the other side of the house."

"All right! You can expect us. I guess I had better go now, for fear I may be seen, and they might suspect something."

"But where can I go when I leave here?"

"Come to our house. You can sleep with Rob, my little brother."

"Thank you, Arthur. I'll expect you."

Philip felt a good deal more cheerful after Arthur had gone. He knew that in Arthur's house he would be very differently treated from what he had been by Nahum Sprague. He did not feel it wrong to leave the Spragues', as they were constantly complaining that he was a burden.

"If Mr. Burks would only let me live with him," he thought, "I should be happy, and I would be willing to work hard."

At half-past five Oscar came up to the room again, this time accompanied by his father.

"How do you like being locked up here?" asked Nahum.

"Not very well."

"Get down on your knees and beg my pardon for your bad conduct, and I will let you out."

"I would rather not, sir."

"Do you hear that, Oscar? He would rather not."

"I heard it, pa."

"It is only right that he should suffer the penalty of his headstrong conduct. Give him his supper and we will leave him to think of his sinfulness."

Oscar produced two more thin slices of bread and a cup of very weak tea.

"You are not entitled to tea," said Nahum. "It is only because we are kind-hearted that I permitted Mrs. Sprague to send up a cup. I have not put in milk or sugar because I refuse to pamper you."

Philip made no comment, but disposed of the tea and bread in a very short space of time. He felt ready to join in with Oliver, in Dickens's immortal story, when he asked for "more." But he knew it would be of no use.

"Now, we will go down, Oscar."

"All right, pa. I hope the house won't catch fire in the night," he added, with the laudable purpose of terrifying Philip, "for we might not be able to come up and unlock the door."

Philip felt uncomfortable, but he reflected that before many hours, if Arthur Burks kept his promise, he would no longer be an inmate of Mr. Sprague's home.

"He'll have a sweet time sleeping on the floor, pa," said Oscar as they went down-stairs.

"It will serve the little fool right," returned Nahum Sprague grimly.

CHAPTER XXXII

NAHUM SPRAGUE'S SURPRISE

Philip waited impatiently from supper-time till half-past nine o'clock. Fortunately Mr. Sprague and Oscar went to bed rather earlier than usual.

On account of Philip's being locked up some of the "chores" which he had been accustomed to do fell to the father and son. So it happened that when it was twenty minutes to eight Mr. Sprague said: "I feel sleepy. I think I shall turn in now."

"I am sleepy too, pa," said Oscar. "I wonder how Philip feels."

"You can sleep with him if you want to," said Mr. Sprague jocosely.

"Thank you, dad. You're very kind, but I don't care to sleep on the floor. I guess the young beggar will feel pretty sore in the morning."

"It's his own fault," said Nahum grimly.

"All the same you'd better let him out to-morrow. I don't care about doing his chores right along."

"I'll see about that. Whenever he will get down on his knees and beg my pardon he can go free."

By nine o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Sprague and Oscar were in bed, and by half-past nine all were fast asleep. The whole family were good sleepers, and it may be added for the senior Sprague that he was a good snorer also.

Philip posted himself at the window. About five minutes after the time agreed upon he saw in the moonlight his two boy friends approaching, bearing between them a long ladder.

His heart leaped within him. They had not forgotten him after all.

He stood at the open window and waved his hand.

"There he is, Albert!" said Arthur Burks. "I guess he's glad to see us. We'll soon have him out of there."

The two boys came under the window and called up softly:

"Has old Sprague gone to bed?"

"Yes," answered Phil. "I hear him snoring."

"I hope they are all fast asleep," said Albert. "Here, Arthur, you just hold on to the ladder while I raise it."

"Do you think it is tall enough?" asked Arthur.

"I'll risk it."

The two boys worked till they had the ladder raised and leaning against the window.

"Will you dare to get out of the window and get down?" asked Arthur.

"I guess so."

"Be very careful. You don't want to fall."

Cautiously Phil put out one leg and placed his foot on one rung of the ladder. Then clutching firm hold of the side he put out the other, and now he had both feet on the rung.

"Now come down carefully!" said Albert.

Phil followed directions. He was only ten years old, and he certainly did feel a little timid, but he felt that behind him was a prison and before him was liberty, and he did not hesitate. So rung by rung he cautiously descended, till he stood on the ground beside the ladder in the company of his two friends.

"Bravo, Phil!" said Arthur Burks. "You've done splendidly. Now, Albert, let's get away before old Sprague hears us."

The ladder was carefully taken down, and the two boys walked off with it. Albert at the head and Arthur at the foot, while Phil followed behind.

"We'll go to your house first, Albert, and take the ladder," said Arthur. "Then Phil will go home with me."

The two boys lived not far apart, and this arrangement proved convenient.

"I wonder what old Sprague will say in the morning," laughed Albert. "He'll wonder how in the world Philip got away."

"Perhaps he'll think he jumped out of the window."

"How do you feel, Phil?" asked Arthur.

"I feel pretty hungry."

"What did you have for supper?"

"Two thin slices of bread and a cup of tea."

"I guess we'll find something in the pantry at our house," said Arthur, "unless Rob's got out of bed and eaten it up."

By ten o'clock the ladder was replaced and the several boys were safe at home.

Arthur was as good as his word. He got out some bread and butter, some cold meat and a glass of milk, and Philip made a hearty meal.

"I haven't had as good a supper for a long time," he said with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"That's why you're so skinny. If we had you here we'd soon fat you up. Now are you ready to go to bed?"

"Yes, Arthur. How kind you are to me."

"I can't compare with your friend Oscar, Phil."

"I hope not. Oscar's about as mean a boy as I know. He's very different from you and Albert."

Meanwhile unconscious of the loss of one of their little household Mr. and Mrs. Sprague and Oscar slumbered on till after sunrise.

"Get up, Oscar!" called Nahum Sprague, going to his son's room. "You must get up."

"What must I get up for?" grumbled Oscar.

"Because you will have to do Philip's chores this morning."

"Why don't you call him, pa? I don't see why I should do his work."

"Because he is locked up for punishment. I am not ready to let him out yet."

"It seems to me I am being punished. He has nothing to do while I have to get up early and work."

"Would you be willing to change places with him, be locked up all day, live on bread and water, and sleep on the hard floor?"

"Well, he's done it, and now you might let him out and set him to work."

"I have already said that I would let him out when he got down on his knees and begged my pardon."

"And have I got to do his work till he begs your pardon? I say, that ain't fair."

"I begin to think, Oscar, you are very lazy. I'll tell you what you may do. When you are dressed you may go to the door of the attic room and ask Philip if he is ready to apologize to me. If he says yes, I'll go up and receive his apology, and then he can come down and go to work."

"All right, pa, I'll do it. I guess he's got enough by this time."

Five minutes later Oscar was at Philip's door. He had forgotten to bring up the key which his father had taken down-stairs the evening previous.

He put his mouth to the keyhole, first rapping at the door to command attention.

"I say, you Phil!" he called out.

There was no answer.

Oscar rapped again.

"Philip Lillis!" he called.

For reasons which we understand, though Oscar didn't, there was no response.

Oscar became angry, and began to pound vigorously at the door.

"There, if he doesn't hear that he must be deaf!" he said to himself.

"I say, do you want to be let out?"

No answer.

"He hears me, and won't answer out of pure spite," reflected Oscar indignantly.

He continued to pound.

"Look here, you young beggar," he cried, "if you don't answer me I'll get pa to bring up the horsewhip and flog you within an inch of your life. There won't be any bar-room loafers to save you this time."

Even this threat seemed to produce no effect, and Oscar, quite out of temper, descended the stairs.

"Well," said Mr. Sprague, "what does he say?"

"What does he say? He won't say anything."

"Perhaps he didn't hear you," suggested Mr. Sprague.

"If he didn't he must be as deaf as a post."

"Slickening, is he?"

"That's about the size of it."

"Well, we can cure him of that."

"I'll tell you what to do, pa. I'll get the horsewhip and you can give him a good thrashing. I told him you would. There won't be any one to interfere up there."

"That's true. Go and get the whip, Oscar."

No employment was more congenial. Oscar went down-stairs with alacrity and soon reappeared with the whip. By this time his father was dressed and ready for action.

"Here's the whip, pa. May I go up with you?"

"Yes; come up."

Father and son ascended the stairs and stood before Philip's door.

"Speak to him first, pa, and see if he will answer you."

Nahum Sprague in a stern and authoritative tone called "Philip."

No answer.

"Didn't I tell you, pa."

"Philip Lillis!"

Again no reply.

"I didn't think the boy would be so owdacious. I'll soon learn him!"

Mr. Sprague turned the key and opened the door, entering the room with upraised whip. He gave a gasp of surprise.

"Why, he isn't here!" he ejaculated.

"Isn't here?" shouted Oscar in amazement.

"No; and the winder is open," exclaimed Mr. Sprague.

"He wouldn't dare to jump out, would he?"

Nahum Sprague advanced to the window and put his head out, expecting to see Philip on the ground beneath, perhaps with a broken limb. But no Philip was visible!

CHAPTER XXXIII

A CHANGE FOR PHILIP

Mr. Sprague and Oscar looked at each other in complete stupefaction.

"What does it mean? Where can the boy have gone?" ejaculated Nahum.

"I'll be blest if I know," returned Oscar.

"The door was locked. He must have gone through the window. There wasn't any rope in the room, was there?"

"No."

"And if he jumped out he would certainly have broken his neck, or his limbs."

"He wouldn't have dared to jump. He's no braver than a mouse."

"It's the most mysterious thing I ever heard of," said Mr. Sprague, wrinkling his brows.

"What are you going to do about it, dad?"

"I don't know. I'm flabbergasted."

"I'll tell you what to do when you get him back," suggested Oscar. "Give him a sound thrashing. It will do him good."

"You can depend upon that. I think it may be well after breakfast for you to go round and inquire if he has been seen in the village."

"What shall I say about his running away?"

"Say he's a little touched in the upper story."

"I guess he'd better be touched somewhere else," said Oscar with a loud laugh at his own wit.

Considerably to his disgust Oscar was set to work doing some of Philip's chores directly after breakfast, and it was nine o'clock before he got ready to start in quest of Philip. Even then he did not start, for an open buggy stopped at the gate, driven by a man from the village, and containing as passenger, a boy of sixteen. This boy was Mark Mason, as the reader will easily conjecture.

"Who's that, Oscar! Is it one of your friends?" asked Nahum Sprague.

"No; never saw him before in my life."

Mark advanced directly to Mr. Sprague.

"Is this Mr. Nahum Sprague?" he asked.

"Yes; that's my name."

"Does a boy named Philip Lillis live with you?"

"And what if there does?" inquired Mr. Sprague cautiously.

"I am sent from New York to take charge of him."

"You! A boy like you?" exclaimed Nahum in surprise. "Why, you ain't over sixteen."

"You've guessed my age exactly," said Mark with a smile.

"Who sends you?"

"Mr. David Gilbert."

"Is he – rich?" asked Nahum curiously.

"Well, he's pretty well off."

"And he is willing to take care of the boy?"

"Yes. Can I see Philip?"

"Well," answered Nahum Sprague in an embarrassed tone, "you can pretty soon."

"And why not now?"

"The fact is, rather a cur'us thing happened last night. The boy disappeared."

"Is that true?" asked Mark with some suspicion.

"Yes. Fact is, the boy ain't quite right in his head."

"I am sorry for that," said Mark gravely. "How long has he been affected that way?"

"Only lately, I don't think it will last."

"Please tell me the circumstances."

"Why, we locked him in the attic for fear he might get out and come to some harm when he was light-headed, and this morning we couldn't find him."

"Please show me the room."

Though a boy, Mark spoke with unconscious authority, and Mr. Sprague immediately complied with his request.

He led the way up into the attic, and Mark looked into the room. He was struck at once with its bare, unfurnished aspect.

"Did the boy spend the night here?" he asked abruptly.

"Yes."

"Where did he sleep?"

Mr. Sprague saw his mistake too late.

"Why – the fact is," he said hesitating, "the boy acted badly, and I confined him here as a punishment."

"Expecting him to sleep on the floor?"

"Well, yes – as a punishment."

"How old is the boy?"

"Ten years old."

"Then all I can say is, that you treated him very cruelly."

"That ain't the way to talk to me," blustered Sprague. "I guess I know the way to treat boys. You're only a boy yourself."

"That is true, but what has that got to do with it?"

"You should be more respectful to your elders."

"Suppose we get back to business, Mr. Sprague. Has Philip ever run away before?"

"No, and it's very ungrateful for him to do it now. Why, I have supported him ever since his father's death, and I paid the expenses of his father's funeral."

"I shall probably repay you for that – when you find, and deliver to me the boy."

This was welcome intelligence to Mr. Sprague, who straightway became very polite to Mark.

"Thank you, my dear young friend. I wouldn't accept it if I was not a poor man. I am very much attached to the boy, and I wouldn't let him go if I could afford to keep him. Oscar, go to the village at once and see if you can see anything of Philip."

"I will go with him, Mr. Sprague."

"Very well; but be sure to come back before you take him away."

"I certainly shall. It would not be fair to you to do otherwise. You may get ready the items of expense while I am gone."

"Thank you, I will."

"How provoking that Philip should go away just at this time!" thought Nahum. "It seems so mysterious, too. I do hope nothing has happened to the boy, or this fellow, who seems very sharp, may not be willing to pay me my bill."

Meanwhile Oscar and Mark went to the village.

"Do you live in New York?" asked Oscar.

"Yes."

"Are you Mr. Gilbert's son?"

"No; I am only his messenger."

"And you actually came all the way from New York alone?"

"Yes."

"Did he give you plenty of money for traveling?"

"Well, a pretty good sum," answered Mark, smiling. "What do you think has become of Philip?"

"Blest if I know. I don't see how he could get out of the window."

"I hope he hasn't come to any harm."

"Oh, I guess not," said Oscar indifferently.

"Do you like the boy?" asked Mark keenly.

"Well, I don't care much about kids," answered Oscar.

"Have you any idea where Philip would be likely to go? Has he ever left home before?"

"No; and he wouldn't now if he wasn't crazy."

At this moment they met Albert Frost.

"Do you know that boy?" asked Mark. "Perhaps he has seen Philip."

"I say, Albert," said Oscar, "have you seen anything of Philip Lillis?"

"Why do you ask? Don't he live at your house?"

"Yes, but he's taken French leave."

Something in Albert's face led Mark to suspect that he knew more of Philip than he cared to tell, also that he was a friend of the young boy.

"I have come from New York to take Philip with me," he said significantly. "A friend of his father is going to adopt him."

"Is this sure?" asked Albert.

"Yes; I am very anxious to find the boy."

"Come here," said Albert. "Perhaps I can put you on his track. No, not you!" This last was addressed to Oscar.

"Now," went on Albert, "can I depend on your being a friend of Philip?"

"Yes, you can. The boy will be in good hands when he reaches New York."

"He isn't now," said Albert. "I helped him escape from old Sprague's last night. I can get him for you."

"Do so then."

"You are sure Sprague won't beat him?"

"Yes; I am to pay him some money, and I won't do it if any harm comes to the boy."

"Go back with Oscar," said Albert aloud, "and I will have Philip at the house inside of half an hour."

"Where is he?" asked Oscar curiously.

"I don't know – exactly, but I can find him."

"Is he at your house?"

"No. Go back and you will soon see him."

Nahum Sprague was much pleased when the two boys brought home this intelligence. He had prepared a bill for expenses amounting to a hundred dollars, on which his profit would be considerable. Money with him was all powerful, and though he would have been glad to give Philip a good thrashing, he cared still more for money.

When Philip made his appearance, accompanied by Albert and Arthur Burks, Mr. Sprague greeted him with a genial smile.

"I am almost tempted to call you a bad boy," he said. "You have made me feel quite anxious. This young gentleman has come here to take you to New York. We shall miss you sadly, Mrs. Sprague and I, but if it is for your good we won't complain."

"Are you willing to go with me, Philip?" asked Mark.

Philip looked up in Mark's face, and did not hesitate a moment.

"Yes," he said, placing his hand in Mark's; "I am ready to go now."

"I don't know whether your clothes are ready," said Mr. Sprague. "They may need washing."

Poor Philip's appearance was such that Mark felt that he would at once have to buy him a new outfit.

"Never mind about the clothes, Mr. Sprague," he said. "I shall buy Philip some new ones."

When they were preparing to start Mr. Sprague ostentatiously wiped his eyes on a large bandana handkerchief.

"Pardon my emotion, Mr. Mason," he said, addressing Mark, "but Philip is very near and dear to me, and so was his father. I cannot part from him without a pang. Yet if he is to be better off I will not murmur. Philip, my dear child, don't forget your uncle Nahum."

"I shall remember you, Mr. Sprague," said Philip. This at least he could say with truth.

"Thank you, thank you! I thought you would."

"I say, kid," put in Oscar, "my birthday comes the 17th of October. If you're rich and prosperous, you might send me a birthday gift."

Philip smiled. All this unwonted attention amused him.

"I won't forget you, Oscar," he said.

The buggy drove up, and Mark helped Philip inside.

"If you want to cry, don't mind me," he said to Philip with a smile.

"If I cry, it will be for joy," said Philip. "I never want to see Mr. Sprague or any of his family again."

CHAPTER XXXIV

ON THE WAY HOME

At San Francisco Mark stopped over a day to buy some clothing for Philip.

"Did Mr. Sprague select your clothes, Philip?" asked Mark. "If so, I can't compliment him on his taste."

"They are some old clothes of Oscar's," answered Philip. "They are the best I could get."

"We'll see if San Francisco can't furnish you with something better."

At a clothing store on Market Street, Mark bought a complete outfit for Philip. The latter was much pleased when he saw his transformation in a pier glass in the store.

"Now I shall have nothing to remind me of Mr. Sprague," he said. "Do you want me to take the old clothes with me?"

"No; we will leave them here."

They stopped at the Russ House. Just after supper Mark met an old acquaintance, the bronzed miner whom he had seen in Omaha. The latter walked up eagerly and grasped Mark's hand.

"It does me good to see you again, young pard," he said. "And is this the kid?"

"Yes."

"Well, upon my word he looks like a little gentleman."

"He has improved in appearance since I made his acquaintance in Gulchville," said Mark with a smile. "I have just bought him a new outfit."

"So, so! Well, fine feathers make fine birds. Well, my boy, does Mark make you call him father?"

Philip laughed heartily at the idea.

"Why, he's only a boy!" he rejoined.

"Philip," said Mark with a warning finger, "you must treat me with proper respect."