Brave and Bold; Or, The Fortunes of Robert Rushton

But first he must try to find some clew to Ben Haley. He had now a personal interest in bringing to justice the man who had made him so much trouble. He had scarcely got on shore than the boy who had sold Ben Haley the hatchet, strolled up.

"Who was that man who came across in your boat?" he asked.

"Did you see him?" asked Robert, eagerly.

"To be sure I did," said Tom Green, with satisfaction. "I sold him my old hatchet for money enough to buy a new one, and he give me a quarter besides for my trouble."

"I wish you hadn't done it, Tom," said Robert, gravely. "See what he's done with it."

Tom Green opened his eyes wide with astonishment.

"What did he do that for?" he asked.

"To be revenged on me. I'll tell you what for another time. Now I want to find him. Can you tell me where he went?"

"No; I left him here, while I went to the store for a new hatchet."

The old hatchet was found under a clump of bushes. Robert took possession of it, feeling that he had a right to it, as part compensation for the mischief it had done.

"We'd better go to the railroad depot, Mr. Dunham," he said. "He'd be most likely to go there."

"You're right. We'll go."

They walked rapidly to the station, but too late, of course, for the train. The station-master was standing on the platform, superintending the removal of a trunk.

"Mr. Cross," said Robert, "I want to find out if a particular man left by the last train. I'll describe him."

"Yes," said the station-master, "that's the man I was wondering about. He had a wound in the shoulder."

"He got that from me," said Robert.

"Sho! you don't say so," returned the station-master, in surprise. "He said he was out hunting with a friend, and his friend's gun went off accidentally."

"I don't believe he feels very friendly to me," said Robert, smiling. "He's stolen five or six hundred dollars in gold from old Paul Nichols."

"It'll about kill the old man, won't it?"

"He feels pretty bad about it. For what place did he buy a ticket?"

"For Cranston; but that ain't no guide. When he gets there, he'll buy a ticket for further on."

Had there been a telegraph station, Robert would have telegraphed on to have Ben Haley stopped, but there was none nearer than the next town. He determined to give information to a justice of the peace, and leave the matter in his hands. But Justice in a country town is slow, and it may as well be stated here, before anything was done Ben Haley was out of danger. But Robert was destined to fall in with him at a future day.

This business attended to, Robert bent his steps to Mr. Paine's office. This brings us to his meeting with Halbert Davis at the door. He was slightly surprised at the encounter, but was far from guessing the object of Halbert's call.

Mr. Paine looked up as he entered, and had no difficulty in guessing his errand.

"What can I do for you, Robert?" he asked, kindly.

"I bring bad news, Mr. Paine," said our hero, boldly plunging into the subject which had brought him to the office.

"It's about the boat, isn't it?" said the lawyer.

"What, do you know about it?" asked Robert, in surprise.

"Yes; a disinterested friend brought the news."

"Halbert Davis?"

"The same. He takes a strong interest in your affairs," added the lawyer, dryly. "Now tell me how it happened."

Robert gave a full explanation, the lawyer occasionally asking a question.

"It seems, then," he said, "that you incurred this man's enmity by your defense of Mr. Nichols' money."

"Yes, sir."

"It was incurred in a good cause. I can't blame you, nor will my son. I will get Mr. Plane, the carpenter, to look at the boat and see what he can do to repair it."

"Some time I will pay you the cost of the repairs, Mr. Paine. I would now if I had any money; but you know how I am situated."

"I shall not call upon you to do that," said the lawyer, kindly. "It was not your fault."

"But the damage would not have happened if Will had not lent the boat to me."

"That is true; but in undertaking the defense of Mr. Nichols you showed a pluck and courage which most boys would not have exhibited. I am interested, like all good citizens, in the prevention of theft, and in this instance I am willing to assume the cost."

"You are very kind, Mr. Paine. I was afraid you would blame me."

"No, my boy; I am not so unreasonable. It will save me some trouble if you will yourself see Mr. Plane and obtain from him an estimate of the probable expense of putting the boat in order."

Robert left the office, feeling quite relieved by the manner in which his communication had been received. A little way up the road he overtook Halbert Davis. In fact, Halbert was waiting for him, expressly to get an opportunity of enjoying his discomfiture at the ruin of the boat.

"Hallo, Rushton!" he said.

"Good-morning, Halbert!"

"Are you going out in your boat this afternoon?" asked Halbert, maliciously.

"You know why I can't."

"I wonder what Will Paine will say when he sees the good care you take of it."

"I don't believe he will blame me when he knows the circumstances."

"You ain't fit to have the charge of a boat. I suppose you ran it on a rock."

"Then you suppose wrong."

"You won't be able to go out fishing any more. How will you make a living?"

"Without your help," said Robert, coldly. "You will probably see me out again in a few days, if you take the trouble to look."

"How can you go?"

"Mr. Paine has asked me to see Mr. Plane about repairing the boat."

"Is he going to pay the expenses?"

"Yes."

"Then he's a fool."

"You'd better not tell him so, or he might give you a lesson in politeness."

"You're a low fellow," said Halbert, angrily.

"You are welcome to your opinion," returned Robert, indifferently.

CHAPTER XVI.

ON THE RAILROAD TRACK

Robert saw the carpenter, according to Mr. Paine's instructions, but found him so busy that he would not engage to give his attention to the boat under a week.

The delay was regretted by our hero, since it cut him off from the employment by which he hoped to provide for his mother. Again Mrs. Rushton was in low spirits.

"I am sorry you couldn't agree with Halbert Davis, Robert," she said, with a sigh. "Then you could have stayed in the factory, and got your wages regularly every week."

"I know that, mother, but I am not willing to have Halbert 'boss me round,' even for a place in the factory."

"Then, Robert, you quarreled with the man you took across the river."

"I think I did right, mother," said Robert. "Don't get out of spirits. I don't expect to succeed always. But I think I shall come out right in the end."

"I am sure I hope so."

Mrs. Rushton was one of those who look on the dark side. She was distrustful of the future, and apt to anticipate bad fortune. Robert was very different. He inherited from his father an unusual amount of courage and self-reliance, and if one avenue was closed to him, he at once set out to find another. It is of this class that successful men are made, and we have hopes that Robert will develop into a prosperous and successful man.

"I am sure I don't see what you can do," said Mrs. Rushton, "and we can't live on what I make by braiding straw."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Robert, "I'll go on Sligo Hill and pick blueberries; I was passing a day or two ago, and saw the bushes quite covered. Just give me a couple of tin pails, and I'll see what I can do."

The pails were provided, and Robert started on his expedition. The hill was not very high, nor was its soil very good. The lower part was used only to pasture a few cows. But this part was thickly covered with blueberry bushes, which this season were fuller than usual of large-sized berries. Robert soon settled to work, and picked steadily and rapidly. At the end of three hours he had filled both pails, containing, as near as he could estimate, eight quarts.

"That's a pretty good afternoon's work," he said to himself. "Now I suppose I must turn peddler, and dispose of them."

He decided to ask ten cents a quart. Later in the season the price would be reduced, but at that time the berries ought to command that price.

The first house at which he called was Mr. Paine's. He was about to pass, when he saw Hester at the window. Pride suggested, "She may despise me for being a berry peddler," but Robert had no false shame. "At any rate, I won't be coward enough to try to hide it from her." Accordingly he walked up boldly to the door, and rang the bell.

Hester had seen him from the window, and she answered the bell herself.

"I am glad to see you, Robert," she said, frankly. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," said our hero, "but I called on business."

"You will find my father in his office," she said, looking a little disappointed.

Robert smiled.

"My business is not of a legal character," he said. "I've turned peddler, and would like to sell you some blueberries."

"Oh, what nice berries! Where did you pick them?"

"On Sligo."

"I am sure mother will buy some. Will you wait a minute while I go and ask her?"

"I will wait as long as you like."

Hester soon returned with authority to buy four quarts. I suspect that she was the means of influencing so large a purchase.

"They are ten cents a quart," said Robert, "but I don't think I ought to charge your father anything."

"Why not?"

"Because I shall owe him, or rather Will, a good deal of money."

"I know what you mean—it's about the boat."

"Did your father tell you?"

"Yes, but I knew it before. Halbert Davis told me."

"He takes a great interest in my affairs."

"He's a mean boy. You mustn't mind what he says against you."

Robert laughed.

"I don't care what he thinks or says of me, unless he persuades others to think ill of me."

"I shall never think ill of you, Robert," said Hester, warmly.

"Thank you, Hester," said Robert, looking up into her glowing face with more gratification than he could express. "I hope I shall deserve your good opinion."

"I am sure you will, Robert, But won't you come in?"

"No, thank you. I must sell the rest of my berries."

Robert left the house with forty cents in his pocket, the first fruits of his afternoon's work. Besides, he had four quarts left, for which he expected to find a ready sale. He had not gone far when he met Halbert. The latter was dressed with his usual care, with carefully polished shoes, neatly fitting gloves, and swinging a light cane, the successor of that which had been broken in his conflict with Robert. Our hero, on the other hand, I am obliged to confess, was by no means fashionably attired. His shoes were dusty, and his bare hands were stained with berry juice. He wore a coarse straw hat with a broad brim to shield him from the hot sun. Those of my readers who judge by dress alone would certainly have preferred Halbert Davis, who looked as if he had just stepped out of a band-box. But those who compared the two faces, the one bright, frank and resolute, the other supercilious and insincere, could hardly fail to prefer Robert in spite of his coarse attire and unfashionable air.

Halbert scanned his rival with scornful eyes. He would have taken no notice of him, but concluded to speak in the hope of saying something disagreeable.

"You have found a new business, I see," he said, with a sneer.

"Yes," said Robert, quietly. "When one business gives out, I try another."

"You've made a good choice," said Halbert. "It's what you are adapted for."

"Thank you for the compliment, but I don't expect to stick to it all my life."

"How do you sell your berries?"

"Ten cents a quart."

"You'd better call on your friend, Miss Hester Paine, and see if she won't buy some."

"Thank you for the advice, but it comes too late. She bought four quarts of me."

"She did!" returned Halbert, surprised. "I didn't think you'd go there."

"Why not?"

"She won't think much of a boy that has to pick berries for a living."

"I don't think that will change her opinion of me. Why should it?"

"It's a low business."

"I don't see it."

"Excuse my delaying you. I am afraid I may have interfered with your business. I say," he called out, as Robert was going on, "if you will call at our house, perhaps my mother may patronize you."

"Very well," said Robert, "if I don't sell elsewhere, I'll call there. It makes no difference to me who buys my berries."

"He's the proudest beggar I ever met," thought Halbert, looking after him. "Hester Paine must be hard up for an escort if she walks with a boy who peddles berries for a living. If I were her father, I would put a stop to it."

The same evening there was a concert in the Town Hall. A free ticket was given to Robert in return for some slight service. Mr. Paine and his daughter were present, and Halbert Davis also. To the disgust of the latter, Robert actually had the presumption to walk home with Hester. Hester laughed and chatted gayly, and appeared to be quite unconscious that she was lowering herself by accepting the escort of a boy "who picked berries for a living."

The next day Robert again repaired to Sligo. He had realized eighty cents from his sales the previous day, and he felt that picking berries was much better than remaining idle. Halbert's sneers did not for a moment discompose him. He had pride, but it was an honorable pride, and not of a kind that would prevent his engaging in any respectable employment necessary for the support of his mother and himself.

Returning home with well-filled pails, he walked a part of the way on the railroad, as this shortened the distance. He had not walked far when he discovered on the track a huge rock, large enough to throw the train off the track. How it got there was a mystery. Just in front there was a steep descent on either side, the road crossing a valley, so that an accident would probably cause the entire train to be thrown down the embankment. Robert saw the danger at a glance, and it flashed upon him at the same moment that the train was nearly due. He sprang to the rock, and exerted his utmost strength to dislodge it. He could move it slightly, but it was too heavy to remove. He was still exerting his strength to the utmost when the whistle of the locomotive was heard. Robert was filled with horror, as he realized the peril of the approaching train, and his powerlessness to avert it.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE YOUNG CAPITALIST

The cars swept on at the rate of twenty miles an hour, the engineer wholly unconscious of the peril in front. Robert saw the fated train with its freight of human lives, and his heart grew sick within him as he thought of the terrible tragedy which was about to be enacted. Was there any possibility of his averting it? He threw himself against the rock and pushed with all the strength he could command. But, nerved as he was by desperation, he found the task greater than he could compass.

And still the train came thundering on. He must withdraw to a place of safety, or he would himself be involved in the destruction which threatened the train.

There was one thing more he could do, and he did it.

He took his station on the rock which was just in the path of the advancing train, and waved his handkerchief frantically. It was a position to test the courage of the bravest.

Robert was fully aware that he was exposing himself to a horrible death. Should he not be seen by the engineer it would be doubtful whether he could get out of the way in time to escape death—and that of the most frightful nature. But unless he did something a hundred lives perhaps might be lost. So he resolutely took his stand, waving, as we have said, his handkerchief and shouting, though the last was not likely to be of any avail.

At first he was not seen. When the engineer at last caught sight of him it was with a feeling of anger at what he regarded as the foolhardiness of the boy. He slackened his speed, thinking he would leave his place, but Robert still maintained his position, his nerves strung to their highest tension, not alone at his own danger, but at the peril which he began to fear he could not avert.

Reluctantly the engineer gave the signal to stop the train. He was only just in time. When it came to a stop there was an interval of only thirty-five feet between it and Robert Rushton, who, now that he had accomplished his object, withdrew to one side, a little paler than usual, but resolute and manly in his bearing.

"What is the meaning of this foolery?" the engineer demanded, angrily.

Robert pointed in silence to the huge rock which lay on the track.

"How came that rock there?" asked the engineer, in a startled tone, as he took in the extent of the peril from which they had been saved.

"I don't know," said Robert. "I tried to move it, but I couldn't."

"You are a brave boy," said the engineer. "You have in all probability saved the train from destruction. But you ran a narrow risk yourself."

"I know it," was the reply; "but it was the only thing I could do to catch your attention."

"I will speak to you about it again. The first to be done is to move the rock."

He left the engine and advanced toward the rock. By this time many of the passengers had got out, and were inquiring why the train was stopped at this point. The sight of the rock made a sensation. Though the peril was over, the thought that the train might have been precipitated down the embankment, and the majority of the passengers killed or seriously injured, impressed them not a little. They pressed forward, and several lending a hand, the rock was ousted from its its position, and rolled crashing over the bank.

Among the passengers was a stout, good-looking man, a New York merchant. He had a large family at home waiting his return from a Western journey. He shuddered as he thought how near he had been to never meeting them again on earth.

"It was providential, your seeing the rock," he said to the engineer. "We owe our lives to you."

"You do me more than justice," replied the engineer. "It was not I who saved the train, but that boy."

All eyes were turned upon Robert, who, unused to being the center of so many glances, blushed and seemed disposed to withdraw.

"How is that?" inquired the merchant.

"He saw the obstruction, and tried to remove it, but, not being able to do so, took his station on the rock, and, at the risk of his own life, drew my attention, and saved the train."

"It was a noble act, my boy; what is your name?"

"Robert Rushton."

"It is a name that we shall all have cause to remember. Gentlemen," continued the merchant, turning to the group around him, "you see before you the preserver of your lives. Shall his act go unrewarded?"

"No, no!" was the general exclamation.

"I don't want any reward," said Robert, modestly. "Any boy would have done as much."

"I don't know about that, my young friend. There are not many boys, or men, I think, that would have had the courage to act as you did. You may not ask or want any reward, but we should be forever disgraced if we failed to acknowledge our great indebtedness to you. I contribute one hundred dollars as my share of the testimonial to our young friend."

"I follow with fifty!" said his next neighbor, "and shall ask for the privilege of taking him by the hand."

Robert had won honors at school, but he had never before been in a position so trying to his modesty. The passengers, following the example of the last speaker, crowded around him, and took him by the hand, expressing their individual acknowledgments for the service he had rendered them. Our hero, whom we now designate thus appropriately, bore the ordeal with a self-possession which won the favor of all.

While this was going on, the collection was rapidly being made by the merchant who had proposed it. The amounts contributed varied widely, but no one refused to give. In ten minutes the fund had reached over six hundred dollars.

"Master Robert Rushton," said the merchant, "I have great pleasure in handing you this money, freely contributed by the passengers on this train, as a slight acknowledgment of the great service which you have rendered them at the risk of your own life. It does not often fall to the lot of a boy to perform a deed so heroic. We are all your debtors, and if the time ever comes that you need a friend, I for one shall be glad to show my sense of indebtedness."

"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.

The passengers hurried into the cars, leaving our hero standing by the track, with one hand full of bank notes and in the other the card of the New York merchant. It was only about fifteen minutes since Robert had first signaled the train, yet how in this brief time had his fortunes changed! From the cars now rapidly receding he looked to the roll of bills, and he could hardly realize that all this money was his own. He sat down and counted it over.

"Six hundred and thirty-five dollars!" he exclaimed. "I must have made a mistake."

But a second count turned out precisely the same.

"How happy mother will be!" he thought, joyfully. "I must go and tell her the good news."

He was so occupied with the thoughts of his wonderful good fortune that he nearly forgot to take the berries which he had picked.

"I shan't need to sell them now," he said. "We'll use a part of them ourselves, and what we can't use I will give away."

He carefully stored away the money in his coat pocket, and for the sake of security buttoned it tight. It was a new thing for him to be the custodian of so much treasure. As Halbert Davis usually spent the latter part of the afternoon in promenading the streets, sporting his kids and swinging his jaunty cane, it was not surprising that Robert encountered him again.

"So, you've been berrying again?" he said, stopping short.

"Yes," said Robert, briefly.

"You haven't got the boat repaired, I suppose."

"Not yet."

"It's lucky for you this is berrying season."

"Why?"

"Because you'd probably have to go to the poorhouse," said Halbert, insolently.

"I don't know about that," said Robert, coolly. "I rather think I could buy you out, Halbert Davis, watch, gloves, cane and all."

"What do you mean?" demanded Halbert, haughtily. "You seem to forget that you are a beggar, or next to it."

Robert set down his pails, and, opening his coat, drew out a handful of bills.

"Does that look like going to the almshouse?" he said.

"They're not yours," returned Halbert, considerably astonished, for, though he did not know the denomination of the bills, it was evident that there was a considerable amount of money.

"It belongs to me, every dollar of it," returned Robert.

"I don't believe it. Where did you get it? Picking berries, I suppose," he added, with a sneer.

"It makes no difference to you where I got it," said our hero, returning the money to his pocket. "I shan't go to the almshouse till this I is all gone."

"He must have stolen it," muttered Halbert, looking after Robert with disappointment and chagrin. It was certainly very vexatious that, in spite of all his attempts to humble and ruin our hero, he seemed more prosperous than ever.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A VISIT TO THE LAWYER

Mrs. Rushton was braiding straw when Robert entered with his berries.

"Couldn't you sell your berries, Robert?" she asked.

"I haven't tried yet, mother."

"The berrying season won't last much longer," said his mother, despondently.

"Don't borrow trouble, mother. I am sure we shall get along well."

"You feel more confidence than I do."

"I just met Halbert Davis in the street."

"Have you made up with him?"

"It is for him to make up with me."

"I am afraid you are too high-spirited, Robert. Did Halbert speak to you?"

"Oh, yes," said Robert, laughing. "He takes a great interest in my affairs. He predicts that we shall come to the poorhouse yet."

"He may be right."

"Now, mother, don't be so desponding. We've got enough money to pay our expenses for more than a year, even if we both stop work."

"What can you mean, Robert?" said his mother, looking up in surprise. "You must be crazy."

"Does that look like going to the poorhouse?" asked Robert, drawing out his money.