Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune

"What time does he shut up shop?"

"About this time," answered Chester, rather puzzled by the tramp's persistence in asking questions.

"What's your name?"

"Chester Rand."

"Can't you give me a quarter? I'm awful hungry. I ain't had a bit to eat since yesterday."

"I have no money to give you, but if you will come to our house I'll give you some supper."

"Where do you live?"

"About five minutes' walk."

"Go ahead, then; I'm with you."

Mrs. Rand looked up with surprise when the door opened and Chester entered, followed by an ill-looking tramp, whose clothes were redolent of tobacco, and his breath of whisky.

"Mother," said Chester, "this man tells me that he hasn't had anything to eat since yesterday."

"No more I haven't," spoke up the tramp, in a hoarse voice.

"He asked for some money. I could not give him that, but I told him we would give him some supper."

"Of course we will," said Mrs. Rand, in a tone of sympathy. She did not admire the appearance of her late visitor, but her heart was alive to the appeal of a hungry man.

"Sit down, sir," she said, "and I'll make some hot tea, and that with some bread and butter and cold meat will refresh you."

"Thank you, ma'am, I ain't overpartial to tea, and my doctor tells me I need whisky. You don't happen to have any whisky in the house, do you?"

"This is a temperance house," said Chester, "we never keep whisky."

"Well, maybe I can get along with the tea," sighed the tramp, in evident disappointment.

"You look strong and healthy," observed Mrs. Rand.

"I ain't, ma'am. Looks is very deceiving. I've got a weakness here," and he touched the pit of his stomach, "that calls for strengthenin' drink. But I'll be glad of the victuals."

When the table was spread with an extemporized supper, the unsavory visitor sat down, and did full justice to it. He even drank the tea, though he made up a face and called it "slops."

"Where did you come from, sir?" asked Mrs. Rand.

"From Chicago, ma'am."

"Were you at work there? What is your business?"

"I'm a blacksmith, ma'am."

"I thought you were a machinist and came from Pittsburg," interrupted Chester, in surprise.

"I came here by way of Pittsburg," answered the tramp, coughing. "I am machinist, too."

"His stories don't seem to hang together," thought Chester.

After supper the tramp, who said his name was Robert Ramsay, took out his pipe and began to smoke. If it had not been a cold evening, Mrs. Rand, who disliked tobacco, would have asked him to smoke out of doors, but as it was she tolerated it.

Both Chester and his mother feared that their unwelcome visitor would ask to stay all night, and they would not have felt safe with him in the house, but about a quarter past ten he got up and said he must be moving.

"Good-night, and good luck to you!" said Chester.

"Same to you!" returned the tramp.

"I wonder where he's going," thought Chester.

But when the next morning came he heard news that answered this question.

CHAPTER VII.

SILAS TRIPP MAKES A DISCOVERY

When Silas Tripp went into his store the next day he was startled to find a window in the rear was partially open.

"How did that window come open, Abel?" he asked, as Abel Wood entered the store.

"I don't know, sir."

"It must have been you that opened it," said his employer, sternly.

"I didn't do it, Mr. Tripp, honest I didn't," declared Abel, earnestly.

"Then how did it come open, that's what I want to know?"

"I am sure I can't tell."

"Somebody might have come in during the night and robbed the store."

"So there might."

"It's very mysterious. Such things didn't happen when Chester was here."

Abel made no answer, but began to sweep out the store, his first morning duty.

When Silas spoke of the store being robbed he had no idea that such a robbing had taken place, but he went to the money drawer and opened it to make sure all was safe.

Instantly there was a cry of dismay.

"Abel!" he exclaimed, "I've been robbed. There's a lot of money missing."

Abel stopped sweeping and turned pale.

"Is that so, Mr. Tripp?" he asked, faintly.

"Yes, there's—lemme see. There's been burglars here. Oh, this is terrible!"

"Who could have done it, Mr. Tripp?"

"I dunno, but the store was entered last night. I never shall feel safe again," groaned Silas.

"Didn't they leave no traces?"

"Ha! here's a handkerchief," said Mr. Tripp, taking the article from the top of a flour barrel, "and yes, by gracious, it's marked Chester Rand."

"You don't think he took the money?" ejaculated Abel, in open-eyed wonder.

"Of course it must have been him! He knew just where I kept the money, and he could find his way about in the dark, he knew the store so well."

"I didn't think Chester would do such a thing."

"That's how he came by his five-dollar bill. He came in bold as brass and paid me with my own money—the young rascal!"

"But how could he do it if the money was took last night? It was two or three days ago he paid you the five-dollar bill."

This was a poser, but Mr. Tripp was equal to the emergency.

"He must have robbed me before," he said.

"You haven't missed money before, have you?"

"Not to my knowledge, but he must have took it. Abel, I want you to go right over to the Widow Rand's and tell Chester I want to see him. I dunno but I'd better send the constable after him."

"Shall I carry him his handkerchief?"

"No, and don't tell him it's been found. I don't want to put him on his guard."

Abel put his broom behind the door and betook himself to the house of Mrs. Rand.

The widow herself opened the door.

"Is Chester at home?" asked Abel.

"Yes, he's eating his breakfast. Do you want to see him?"

"Well, Mr. Tripp wants to see him."

"Possibly he wants Chester to give him a little extra help," she thought.

"Won't you come in and take a cup of coffee while Chester is finishing his breakfast?" she said.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Abel was a boy who was always ready to eat and drink, and he accepted the invitation with alacrity.

"So Mr. Tripp wants to see me?" said Chester. "Do you know what it's about?"

"He'll tell you," answered Abel, evasively.

Chester was not specially interested or excited. He finished his breakfast in a leisurely manner, and then taking his hat, went out with Abel. It occurred to him that Mr. Tripp might be intending to discharge Abel, and wished to see if he would return to his old place.

"So you don't know what he wants to see me about?" he asked.

"Well, I have an idea," answered Abel, in a mysterious tone.

"What is it, then?"

"Oh, I dassn't tell."

"Look here, Abel, I won't stir a step till you do tell me. You are acting very strangely."

"Well, somethin' terrible has happened," Abel ejaculated, in excited tones.

"What's it?"

"The store was robbed last night."

"The store was robbed?" repeated Chester. "What was taken?"

"Oh, lots and lots of money was taken from the drawer, and the window in the back of the store was left open."

"I'm sorry to hear it. I didn't know there was anybody in Wyncombe that would do such things. Does Mr. Tripp suspect anybody?"

"Yes, he does."

"Who is it?"

"He thinks you done it."

Chester stopped abruptly and looked amazed.

"Why, the man must be crazy! What on earth makes him think I would stoop to do such a thing?"

"'Cause your handkerchief was found on a flour barrel 'side of the money drawer."

"My handkerchief! Who says it was my handkerchief?"

"Your name was on it—in one corner; I seed it myself."

Then a light dawned upon Chester. The tramp whom he and his mother had entertained the evening before, must have picked up his handkerchief, and left it in the store to divert suspicion from himself. The detective instinct was born within Chester, and now he felt impatient to have the investigation proceed.

"Come on, Abel," he said, "I want to see about this matter."

"Well, you needn't walk so plaguy fast, wouldn't if I was you."

"Why not?"

"'Cause you'll probably have to go to jail. I'll tell you what I'd do."

"Well?"

"I'd hook it."

"You mean run away?"

"Yes."

"That's the last thing I'd do. Mr. Tripp would have a right to think I was guilty in that case."

"Well, ain't you?"

"Abel Wood, I have a great mind to give you a licking. Don't you know me any better than that?"

"Then why did you leave the handkerchief on the flour barrel?"

"That'll come out in due time."

They were near the store where Mr. Tripp was impatiently waiting for their appearance. He did not anticipate Abel's staying to breakfast, and his suspicions were excited.

"I'll bet Chester Rand has left town with the money," he groaned. "Oh, it's awful to have your hard earnin's carried off so sudden. I'll send Chester to jail unless he returns it—every cent of it."

Here Abel entered the store, followed by Chester.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SCENE IN THE GROCERY STORE

"So you've come, have you, you young thief?" said Silas, sternly, as Chester entered the store. "Ain't you ashamed of yourself?"

"No, I'm not," Chester answered, boldly. "I've done nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh, you hardened young villain. Give me the money right off, or I'll send you to jail."

"I hear from Abel that the store was robbed last night, and I suppose from what you say that you suspect me."

"So I do."

"Then you are mistaken. I spent all last night at home as my mother can testify."

"Then how came your handkerchief here?" demanded Silas, triumphantly, holding up the article.

"It must have been brought here."

"Oho, you admit that, do you? I didn't know but you'd say it came here itself."

"No, I don't think it did."

"I thought you'd own up arter a while."

"I own up to nothing."

"Isn't the handkerchief yours?"

"Yes."

"Then you stay here while Abel goes for the constable. You've got to be punished for such doin's. But I'll give ye one chance. Give me back the money you took—thirty-seven dollars and sixty cents—and I'll forgive ye, and won't have you sent to jail."

"That is a very kind offer, Mr. Tripp, and if I had taken the money I would accept it, and thank you. But I didn't take it."

"Go for the constable, Abel, and mind you hurry. You just stay where you are, Chester Rand. Don't you go for to run away."

Chester smiled. He felt that he had the key to the mystery, but he chose to defer throwing light upon it.

"On the way, Abel," said Chester, "please call at our house and ask my mother to come to the store."

"All right, Chester."

The constable was the first to arrive.

"What's wanted, Silas?" he asked, for in country villages neighbors are very apt to call one another by their Christian names.

"There's been robbery and burglary, Mr. Boody," responded Mr. Tripp. "My store was robbed last night of thirty-seven dollars and sixty cents."

"Sho, Silas, how you talk!"

"It's true, and there stands the thief!"

"I am sitting, Mr. Tripp," said Chester smiling.

"See how he brazens it out! What a hardened young villain he is!"

"Come, Silas, you must be crazy," expostulated the constable, who felt very friendly to Chester. "Chester wouldn't no more steal from you than I would."

"I thought so myself, but when I found his handkerchief, marked with his name, on a flour barrel, I was convinced."

"Is that so, Chester?"

"Yes, the handkerchief is mine."

"It wasn't here last night," proceeded Silas, "and it was here this morning. It stands to reason that it couldn't have walked here itself, and so of course it was brought here."

By this time two other villagers entered the store.

"What do you say to that, Chester?" said the constable, beginning to be shaken in his conviction of Chester's innocence.

"I agree with Mr. Tripp. It must have been brought here."

At this moment, Mrs. Rand and the minister whom she had met on the way, entered the store.

"Glad to see you, widder," said Silas Tripp, grimly. "I hope you ain't a-goin' to stand up for your son in his didoes."

"I shall certainly stand by Chester, Mr. Tripp. What is the trouble?"

"Only that he came into my store in the silent watches of last night," answered Silas, sarcastically, "and made off with thirty-seven dollars and sixty cents."

"It's a falsehood, whoever says it," exclaimed Mrs. Rand, hotly.

"I supposed you'd stand up for him," sneered Silas.

"And for a very good reason. During the silent watches of last night, as you express it, Chester was at home and in bed to my certain knowledge."

"While his handkerchief walked over here and robbed the store," suggested Silas Tripp, with withering sarcasm, as he held up the telltale evidence of Chester's dishonesty.

"Was this handkerchief found in the store?" asked Mrs. Rand, in surprise.

"Yes, ma'am, it was, and I calculate you'll find it hard to get over that evidence."

Mrs. Rand's face lighted up with a sudden conviction.

"I think I can explain it," she said, quietly.

"Oh, you can, can you? Maybe you can tell who took the money."

"I think I can."

All eyes were turned upon her in eager expectation.

"A tramp called at our house last evening," she said, "at about half-past nine, and I gave him a meal, as he professed to be hungry and penniless. It was some minutes after ten when he left the house. He must have picked up Chester's handkerchief, and left it in your store after robbing the money drawer."

"That's all very fine," said Silas, incredulously, "but I don't know as there was any tramp. Nobody saw him but you."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Tripp," said the minister, "but I saw him about half-past ten walking in the direction of your store. I was returning from visiting a sick parishioner when I met a man roughly dressed and of middle height, walking up the street. He was smoking a pipe."

"He lighted it before leaving our house," said Mrs. Rand.

"How did he know about my store?" demanded Silas, incredulously.

"He was asking questions about you while he was eating his supper."

Silas Tripp was forced to confess, though reluctantly, that the case against Chester was falling to the ground. But he did not like to give up.

"I'd like to know where Chester got the money he's been flauntin' round the last week," he said.

"Probably he stole it from your store last night," said the constable, with good-natured sarcasm.

"That ain't answerin' the question."

"I don't propose to answer the question," said Chester, firmly. "Where I got my money is no concern of Mr. Tripp, as long as I don't get it from him."

"Have I got to lose the money?" asked Silas, in a tragical tone. "It's very hard on a poor man."

All present smiled, for Silas was one of the richest men in the village.

"We might take up a contribution for you, Silas," said the constable, jocosely.

"Oh, it's all very well for you to joke about it, considerin' you didn't lose it."

At this moment Abel Wood, who had been sweeping the piazza, entered the store in excitement.

"I say, there's the tramp now," he exclaimed.

"Where? Where?" asked one and another.

"Out in the street. Constable Perkins has got him."

"Call him in," said the minister.

A moment later, Constable Perkins came in, escorting the tramp, who was evidently under the influence of strong potations, and had difficulty in holding himself up.

"Where am I?" hiccoughed Ramsay.

"Where did you find him, Mr. Perkins?" asked Rev. Mr. Morris.

"Just outside of Farmer Dexter's barn. He was lying on the ground, with a jug of whisky at his side."

"It was my jug," said Silas. "He must have taken it from the store. I didn't miss it before. He must have took it away with him."

"There warn't much whisky left in the jug. He must have absorbed most of it."

Now Mr. Tripp's indignation was turned against this new individual.

"Where is my money, you villain?" he demanded, hotly.

"Whaz-zer matter?" hiccoughed Ramsay.

"You came into my store last night and stole some money."

"Is zis zer store? It was jolly fun," and the inebriate laughed.

"Yes, it is. Where is the money you took?"

"Spent it for whisky."

"No, you didn't. You found the whisky here."

Ramsay made no reply.

"He must have the money about him," suggested the minister. "You'd better search his pockets, Mr. Perkins."

The constable thrust his hand into the pocket of his helpless charge, and drew out a roll of bills.

Silas Tripp uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Give it to me," he said. "It's my money."

The bills were counted and all were there.

Not one was missing. Part of the silver could not be found. It had probably slipped from his pocket, for he had no opportunity of spending any.

Mr. Tripp was so pleased to recover his bills that he neglected to complain of the silver coins that were missing. But still he felt incensed against the thief.

"You'll suffer for this," he said, sternly, eying the tramp over his glasses.

"Who says I will?"

"I say so. You'll have to go to jail."

"I'm a 'spectable man," hiccoughed the tramp. "I'm an honest man. I ain't done nothin'."

"Why did you take my handkerchief last night?" asked Chester.

The tramp laughed.

"Good joke, wasn't it? So they'd think it was you."

"It came near being a bad joke for me. Do you think I robbed your store now, Mr. Tripp?"

To this question Silas Tripp did not find it convenient to make an answer. He was one of those men—very numerous they are, too—who dislike to own themselves mistaken.

"It seems to me, Mr. Tripp," said the minister, "that you owe an apology to our young friend here for your false suspicions."

"Anybody'd suspect him when they found his handkerchief," growled Silas.

"But now you know he was not concerned in the robbery you should make reparation."

"I don't know where he got his money," said Silas. "There's suthin' very mysterious about that five-dollar bill."

"I've got another, Mr. Tripp," said Chester, smiling.

"Like as not. Where'd you get it?"

"I don't feel obliged to tell."

"It looks bad, that's all I've got to say," said the storekeeper.

"I think, Mr. Tripp, you need not borrow any trouble on that score," interposed the minister. "I know where Chester's money comes from, and I can assure you that it is honestly earned, more so than that which you receive from the whisky you sell."

Silas Tripp was a little afraid of the minister, who was very plain-spoken, and turned away muttering.

The crowd dispersed, some following Constable Perkins, who took his prisoner to the lockup.

CHAPTER IX.

NEW PLANS FOR CHESTER

Two days later Chester found another letter from Mr. Conrad at the post office. In it were two bills—a ten and a five.

Mr. Conrad wrote:

"I have disposed of your two sketches to the same paper. The publisher offered me fifteen dollars for the two, and I thought it best to accept. Have you ever thought of coming to New York to live? You would be more favorably placed for disposing of your sketches, and would find more subjects in a large city than in a small village. The fear is that, if you continue to live in Wyncombe, you will exhaust your invention.

"There is one objection, the precarious nature of the business. You might sometimes go a month, perhaps, without selling a sketch, and meanwhile your expenses would go on. I think, however, that I have found a way of obviating this objection. I have a friend—Mr. Bushnell—who is in the real estate business, and he will take you into his office on my recommendation. He will pay you five dollars a week if he finds you satisfactory. This will afford you a steady income, which you can supplement by your art work. If you decide to accept my suggestion come to New York next Saturday, and you can stay with me over Sunday, and go to work on Monday morning.

"Your sincere friend,

"Herbert Conrad."

Chester read this letter in a tumult of excitement. The great city had always had a fascination for him, and he had hoped, without much expectation of the hope being realized, that he might one day find employment there. Now the opportunity had come, but could he accept it? The question arose, How would his mother get along in his absence? She would be almost entirely without income. Could he send her enough from the city to help her along?

He went to his mother and showed her the letter.

"Fifteen dollars!" she exclaimed. "Why, that is fine, Chester. I shall begin to be proud of you. Indeed, I am proud of you now."

"I can hardly realize it myself, mother. I won't get too much elated, for it may not last. What do you think of Mr. Conrad's proposal?"

"To go to New York?"

"Yes."

Mrs. Rand's countenance fell.

"I don't see how I can spare you, Chester," she said, soberly.

"If there were any chance of making a living in Wyncombe, it would be different."

"You might go back to Mr. Tripp's store."

"After he had charged me with stealing? No, mother, I will never serve Silas Tripp again."

"There might be some other chance."

"But there isn't, mother. By the way, I heard at the post office that the shoe manufactory will open again in three weeks."

"That's good news. I shall have some more binding to do."

"And I can send you something every week from New York."

"But I will be so lonely, Chester, with no one else in the house."

"That is true, mother."

"But I won't let that stand in the way. You may have prospects in New York. You have none here."

"And, as Mr. Conrad says, I am likely to run out of subjects for sketches."

"I think I shall have to give my consent, then."

"Thank you, mother," said Chester, joyfully. "I will do what I can to pay you for the sacrifice you are making."

Just then the doorbell rang.

"It is Mr. Gardener, the lawyer," said Chester, looking from the window.

A moment later he admitted the lawyer.

"Well, Chester," said Mr. Gardener, pleasantly, "have you disposed of your lots in Tacoma yet?"

"No, Mr. Gardener. In fact, I had almost forgotten about them."

"Sometime they may prove valuable."

"I wish it might be soon."

"I fancy you will have to wait a few years. By the time you are twenty-one you may come into a competence."

"I won't think of it till then."

"That's right. Work as if you had nothing to look forward to."

"You don't want to take me into your office and make a lawyer of me, Mr. Gardener, do you?"

"Law in Wyncombe does not offer any inducements. If I depended on my law business, I should fare poorly, but thanks to a frugal and industrious father, I have a fair income outside of my earnings. Mrs. Rand, my visit this morning is to you. How would you like to take a boarder?"

Chester and his mother looked surprised.

"Who is it, Mr. Gardener?"

"I have a cousin, a lady of forty, who thinks of settling down in Wyncombe. She thinks country air will be more favorable to her health than the city."

"Probably she is used to better accommodations than she would find here."

"My cousin will be satisfied with a modest home."

"We have but two chambers, mine and Chester's."

"But you know, mother, I am going to New York to work."

"That's true; your room will be vacant."

Mr. Gardener looked surprised.

"Isn't this something new," he asked, "about you going to New York, I mean?"

"Yes, sir; that letter from Mr. Conrad will explain all."

Mr. Gardener read the letter attentively.

"I think the plan a good one," he said. "You will find that you will work better in a great city. Then, if my cousin comes, your mother will not be so lonesome."

"It is the very thing," said Chester, enthusiastically.

"What is your cousin's name, Mr. Gardener?" asked the widow.

"Miss Jane Dolby. She is a spinster, and at her age there is not much chance of her changing her condition. Shall I write her that you will receive her?"

"Yes; I shall be glad to do so."