Try and Trust; Or, Abner Holden's Bound Boy

“Then I think I will intrust this weapon to your charge,” said the old gentleman, drawing from his pocket a handsome pistol, and placing it in Herbert’s hand.

“Is it loaded, sir?”

“No, not at present. We will have it loaded before going to bed. I will tell you,” he added, in a lower tone, “my reason for going armed. It so happens that I have a large amount of money with me, and, of course, I feel a little concerned about its safety.”

“Perhaps it will be well not to say anything more about it at present, sir,” suggested Herbert, in a low voice. “You may be heard by someone who would like to take advantage of his discovery.”

“No doubt you are right. I will follow your advice.”

Herbert would not have thought to give this caution, but, just as Mr. Carroll uttered the words, “I have a large sum of money with me,” a man dressed in a rough frieze coat, with black whiskers, and a general appearance, which, to say the least, did not prepossess Herbert in his favor, chanced to walk through the car. Whether he caught the words Herbert could not tell, but he paused a moment, and fixed an unpleasant eye upon the two, as if determined to know them when he should meet them again. There was another suspicious circumstance. It had evidently been his intention to pass through the car, but he paused abruptly, and, turning back, sank into an unoccupied seat a few feet back of that occupied by Mr. Carroll and his young companion.

His attention naturally drawn by this suspicious conduct, Herbert was impelled to glance back once or twice. Each time he met the watchful look of the man fixed upon them, instead of being directed at the scenery outside, as was the case with the other passengers. When he saw that the boy was watching him, he turned his head carelessly, and commenced whistling. But this apparent indifference did not deceive Herbert for a moment.

“I will watch him,” thought our hero. “I do not like his looks. If he means mischief, as I think very probable, it is necessary that I should be on my guard against him.”

At half-past seven o’clock Mr. Carroll signified his intention of getting out at the next station. “I am beginning to feel tired,” he said, “and shall feel the better for a good supper and a night’s rest.”

“Very well, sir,” said Herbert.

It occurred to him that now they would get rid of the man who was watching them so closely.

“If he gets out of the train with us,” he thought, “I shall know what it means.”

The train slackened its speed, the sound of the whistle was heard, the brakes were applied, and soon the conductor, putting his head in at the door, called out “Oakland!”

“Here we are,” said Herbert. “Give me your hand, Mr. Carroll, and I will lead you out.”

The old gentleman rose from his seat, and, guided by Herbert, walked to the car door. At the door Herbert turned and looked back.

The man with the black whiskers, who a moment before seemed absorbed in a newspaper, had left his seat, and was but a few feet behind him.

Herbert did not believe that this was an accident. He felt sure that it meant mischief. But he did not on that account feel nervous, or regret that he had assumed a charge which seemed likely to expose him to peril. He had the pistol in his pocket, and that he knew would make him even with the rascal who was following them.

There was a covered carriage waiting outside to convey passengers to the only hotel which the village afforded.

“Shall we take the carriage, Mr. Carroll?” asked Herbert.

“Yes,” was the reply.

Herbert assisted him in, and placed himself in a seat opposite.

There were two or three other passengers, but the man with the black whiskers was not to be seen among them.

“I may be mistaken,” thought Herbert, who had rather expected to see him. “Perhaps he lives here, and I have been alarming myself without reason. Still, it is always best to be on one’s guard.”

A ride of half a mile brought them to a small but comfortable-looking inn. Herbert assisted Mr. Carroll to descend, and together they entered the house of entertainment.

“We shall want some supper. Herbert,” said Mr. Carroll. “You may order some.”

“What shall I order, sir?”

“I should like some tea and toast and some beef-steak. If there is anything that you would prefer, you may order that also.”

“No, sir, I should not wish anything better than you have ordered.”

“Tell them to get it ready as soon as possible. I feel weary with my day’s ride, and shall retire early.”

“I feel tired, too.” thought Herbert, “but it won’t do for me to sleep. I must keep my eyes open, if possible.”

Supper was soon served. The toast was well browned, and spread with excellent butter. The steak was juicy and tender, contrary to the usual custom of country inns, and the tea was fragrant and strong. Both the travelers partook heartily, having eaten nothing since noon, with the exception of a little fruit purchased from the car window at one of the stations. Herbert was not usually in the habit of drinking tea at night, but on this particular occasion he wanted to keep awake, and therefore drank two cups, of undiminished strength.

“Now, Herbert,” said Mr. Carroll, when they had finished supper, “you may ask the clerk to assign me to a large room with a couple of beds in it. I should prefer to have you in the same room with me.”

“Very well, sir.”

He rose from the table, and went to the public room, one portion of which was occupied by the office. As he made his way to the desk, he observed the man with black whiskers on a settee at one end of the room. He was smoking a clay pipe. Herbert caught a stealthy glance directed towards himself, but that was all. The man continued smoking, fixing his eyes with apparent interest on a large yellow handbill pasted on the opposite wall, announcing a performance by “The Great American Circus Company” the succeeding evening.

Herbert succeeded in obtaining such a room as he sought, and accompanied by a servant bearing a lamp, went back to the dining-room to accompany Mr. Carroll to it.

CHAPTER XX

FACING A BURGLAR

Herbert deliberated as to whether it would be best to inform his aged traveling companion of the suspicious-looking man, who appeared to have followed them for no good purpose. He finally decided not to do so, since it would only alarm Mr. Carroll, and prevent his sleeping off his fatigue, while there would be no advantage gained, since a blind and feeble man could be of little use in repelling the burglar, should the stranger prove to be such.

The bedroom was large and square, and contained two beds. The larger of these was placed in the corner, and this was assigned to the old gentleman. The smaller was situated between the two side windows, and was, of course, the more exposed of the two. This Herbert was to occupy.

“Do you know how to load the pistol, Herbert?” asked Mr. Carroll.

“Yes, sir,” said Herbert, confidently.

“I don’t anticipate any occasion for using it,” continued the old gentleman. “Still, it will be best to be prepared.”

“So I think, sir.”

“You won’t be afraid to use it, if it should be necessary?”

“No, sir.”

Mr. Carroll took a package from his carpet-bag and showed it to Herbert.

“This package,” he said, “contains five thousand dollars in bank bills. If it were known that I had it, I should be in danger. I suppose it will be best to put it back in the carpet-bag.”

“If it were mine,” said Herbert, “I would not do that.”

“Where, then, would you put it?”

“I would put it between the mattresses. If anyone should get into the room, they would seize the carpet-bag first, and, perhaps, make off before they could be stopped.”

“I don’t know but you are right,” said Mr. Carroll. “Perhaps it will be well to put my watch in the same place.”

“Yes, sir; I think it would be well.”

“You see, Herbert,” continued the old gentleman, “how much confidence I repose in you. Knowing where my watch and money are, it would be very easy for you to secure both, and leave me here, destitute and helpless.”

“But you don’t think there is any danger of my doing so?”

“No,” said the old gentleman. “Though our acquaintance is so recent, I feel great confidence in you. As I cannot see the face, I have learned to judge of the character by the tone of the voice, and I am very much mistaken if you are not thoroughly honest and trustworthy.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Herbert, his face flushed with pleasure at this evidently sincere commendation. “You shall not repent your confidence.”

“I am sure of that, Herbert,” said Mr. Carroll, kindly. “But I must bid you good-night. This has been a fatiguing day, and I shall lose no time in getting to sleep.”

“Good-night. I hope you will sleep well, sir,” said Herbert. “There won’t be much sleep for me,” he thought.

Mr. Carroll lay down, and his deep, tranquil breathing soon assured our hero that he was asleep. He rose from his bed and examined the windows. All but one were provided with fastenings. But the one on the right-hand side of his bed could be raised from the outside without difficulty.

“I wish I had a nail,” thought Herbert. “I could soon make it fast.”

But there was none in the room, and he did not wish to go downstairs for one, since he would probably meet the stranger, who would then learn what precautions he was taking, and so, perhaps, vary his attack.

“That window will need watching,” thought Herbert. “I wonder whether I shall be able to keep awake.”

The excitement of his situation, and, perhaps, the strong tea, to which he was unaccustomed, helped him to remain vigilant. His mind was active and on the alert, and his ears were open to catch the least sound.

It was only half-past ten. Probably the attempt to enter the room would not be made before twelve, at least, in order to insure their being asleep.

Herbert examined his pistol. It was in excellent order, and was provided with two barrels, both of which he loaded. Thus, he would have a double chance to defend himself. He did not remove all his clothing, but kept on his pants, in order to be prepared for emergencies.

There was an hour and a half to wait before midnight. The minutes passed slowly. Herbert for a time heard the murmur of voices in the barroom below, then steps ascended the stairs, and, after a while, all was hushed.

“I wish the fellow would come quick,” he thought, “if he is coming at all, so that it might be all over, and I might go to sleep.”

Time sped on. Herbert could hear the village clock striking twelve; but still all around remained quiet.

It might have been a half an hour later when he heard a slight noise, as he thought, under the window. Jumping softly out of bed, he took a peep out. It was just light enough for him to distinguish a dark form moving about, bearing something, which he soon perceived to be a ladder. That it was the black-whiskered man who had followed them, he did not doubt, and he felt confident that he intended to place the ladder against the window. He was not mistaken. He heard the top of the ladder softly inclined against the house, and then he felt that the critical moment, which was to test his courage, was close at hand.

Herbert’s heart began to beat rapidly. He felt that he was taking upon himself a fearful responsibility in shooting this man, as he would probably be obliged to do in self-defense. But one thing he resolved upon. He would not take his life. He would only use such a degree of violence as should be absolutely necessary. He would even give him a chance by firing the first barrel in the air, in hope of frightening the robber. If that failed, he must wound him. There was little time for these thoughts to pass through his mind, for all the while the man was creeping up the ladder.

Herbert had moved a little aside, that he might not be seen.

Soon he perceived, by the indistinct light, the face of the stranger rising above the window-sill. Next, the window was slowly raised, and he began to make preparations to enter the room. Then Herbert felt that it was time for him to appear.

Stepping intrepidly to the window, he said: “I know your purpose. Unless you go down instantly, I will shoot you.”

There was no tremor in his voice as he said this. Courage came with the occasion, and his tone was resolute, and self-possessed.

“So you’re awake, are you, my chicken?” was the reply. “If you know what’s best for yourself, you’ll hand over the old man’s money, and save me the trouble of getting in.”

“Never!” said Herbert, firmly.

“Then I will take it myself, and give you something to remember me by, you little fool!”

He placed his knee on the window-sill, and prepared to jump in.

“One step farther,” said Herbert, resolutely, “and I fire!”

He displayed the pistol, at the sight of which the burglar hesitated.

“Hold on a bit,” said he, pausing. “I’ll give you some of the plunder, if you’ll put up that shooting iron, and make no trouble.”

“Do you think me a villain, like yourself?” asked Herbert.

“By –, you shall repent this,” said the robber, with an oath, and he made another attempt to enter.

Click!

There was a sharp report, but Herbert had fired in the air, and the burglar was unhurt.

“Confusion!” he exclaimed; “that will raise the house!”

Then, espying the carpet-bag, he determined to jump in, seize it, and get away before the people in the house were fairly awake. As for the pistol, that had been discharged, and he supposed that nothing was to be feared from it. But he reckoned without his host. As he put one leg over, and had all but succeeded in getting in, Herbert fired once more, this time hitting him in the shoulder. He uttered a shriek of pain, and, losing his hold, tumbled backward to the ground.

The two reports alarmed the house.

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed Mr. Carroll, awakened and alarmed.

“Don’t be alarmed, sir,” said Herbert. “A man just attempted to get in through the window, and I have wounded him.”

“You are a brave boy,” said Mr. Carroll. “Where is he now?”

“He has tumbled to the ground, shot through the shoulder, I think.”

There was a loud thumping at the door. Herbert opened it, and admitted half a dozen guests, headed by the landlord.

“What’s the matter?” exclaimed all, in chorus.

“If you will come to the window, gentlemen, I will show you,” said Herbert.

They followed him curiously, and the sight of the ladder and the wounded man, who was uttering groans of pain from the ground below, told the story at once.

“Served the rascal right,” said the landlord. “Who is he?”

“The black-whiskered man who was in the barroom last night,” said Herbert.

“I remember now; he asked particularly where you were to sleep—you and the old gentleman—but I did not suspect his purpose.”

“I did,” said Herbert, “and kept awake to be ready for him.”

“You are a brave lad.”

“I only did my duty,” said Herbert, modestly.

“Help! help!” groaned the wretch below.

Herbert heard the cry of pain, and his heart was filled with pity. The man was, indeed, a villain. He had only been served right, as the landlord said. Still, he was a fellow-creature, and he was in pain. Herbert could not regret that he had shot him; but he did regret the necessity, and he felt sympathy for him in his suffering.

“Poor fellow!” he said, compassionately; “I am afraid he is a good deal hurt.”

“Poor fellow!” echoed the landlord. “It serves him right.”

“Still, he is in pain, and he ought to be cared for.”

“He has no claim upon us. He may be there till morning.”

“No,” said Mr. Carroll. “Herbert is right. He is guilty, but he is in pain, and it is the part of humanity to succor him. Landlord, if you will have him brought in, and send for the doctor, you may look to me for your pay.”

“Yet, he was going to rob you, sir,” said the landlord, considerably surprised.

“Yes, that is true; but you don’t know how strongly he was tempted.”

“He looks like a hard ticket. I didn’t like to give him a bed, but we can’t well refuse travelers, if they have money to pay their reckoning. I made him pay in advance.”

“Pray, lose no time,” said Herbert, as another groan was heard; “I will go out and help you bring him in.”

A lantern was lit, and the whole company followed the landlord out.

“Well,” said he, throwing the light of the candle full on the sufferer’s face, “you’ve got yourself into a fine pickle, haven’t you?”

“Oh,” groaned the burglar, “if it hadn’t been for that accursed boy!”

“You’d have got off with the old gentleman’s money. Well, it was rather unkind to interfere.”

“Are you in much pain?” asked Herbert, bending over him.

There was something in his voice that betrayed the compassion he really felt.

The burglar looked up.

“You’re the boy that wounded me, ain’t you?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Herbert.

“Curse you! I don’t know but you’ve killed me. I’m shot through the shoulder. Then, that cursed fall! I feel as if I had broken my back.”

“I did not want to shoot you,” said Herbert.

“What did you do it for, then?”

“Because you forced me to it. You were after Mr. Carroll’s money.”

“Didn’t I offer to divide with you?”

“Yes, but, of course, I would not agree to that.”

“Are you so much better than common folks?” sneered the burglar.

“I don’t know about that. I would not steal.”

“Take him up,” said the landlord to the hotel servants. “He don’t deserve it, but I’ve promised the old gentleman we’d see to him. Tom White, you may go for the doctor.”

Two men approached and attempted to lift the wounded burglar. But, in the first attempt, they touched the injured shoulder. He uttered a shriek of pain, and exclaimed, “You’ll murder me!”

“Let me lift him,” said Herbert. “Perhaps you were too rough.”

At length, but not without much groaning on the part of the burglar, he was got into the house, and laid on a bed in a small room on the first floor.

“Do you feel better?” asked Herbert.

“A little.”

“Do you think you have broken any bones in falling?”

“I thought so at first, but perhaps I am only bruised.”

“When the doctor comes, he will extract the bullet, and relieve you of a good deal of your pain.”

“You are a strange boy,” said the burglar, with a look of surprise.

“Why am I?”

“You shot me, and yet you pretend to be sorry for me now.”

“So I am.”

“Then, why did you shoot me?”

“I have already told you. Because I was obliged to. I would not have done it, if there had been any other way. I shot the first barrel in the air.”

“By accident?”

“No; I thought it would alarm you, and I might save the money without injuring you.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yes.”

“And you don’t have any ill-will against me now?”

“No.”

“That is strange.”

“I don’t know why it should be.”

“I suppose I ought to hate you, because you have brought me to this pass,” said the burglar, thoughtfully, “but I don’t. That is strange, too.”

“I am so glad you feel so,” said Herbert. “I am very sorry for your pain, and I will do what I can to relieve it.”

“I have no money to pay the landlord and the doctor.”

“Mr. Carroll says he will pay all needed expenses.”

“The man I wanted to rob?”

“Yes.”

“Then hang me, if I ain’t ashamed of trying to rob him,” said the burglar, earnestly.

“Have you ever robbed anyone before?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m a rough customer, and have done plenty of mean things, but this is the first job of the kind I ever attempted. I wouldn’t have done it, only I heard the old man say in the cars, that he had a lot of money with him. I was hard up, and on my way to Cedarville, to try to get work, but when I heard what he said, the devil tempted me, I believe, and I determined to keep you both in sight, and get out where you did. I’ve tried and failed, and that’s the end of it. It’s my first attempt at burglary.”

“I hope it will be the last.”

“You may bet your life on that!”

“Then,” said Herbert, quietly, “I will intercede with Mr. Carroll for you, and ask him not to have you arrested.”

“Will you do that?” asked the wounded man, eagerly.

“I promise it.”

“If you will, boy, I will bless you, and if God would listen to such a scamp as I am, I’d pray for you.”

“He will listen to you,” said Herbert. “Try to lead a better life, and He will help you.”

“I wish I’d met with such as you before,” said the burglar. “I’d have been a better man than I am.”

Here the doctor entered, and Herbert gave place to him. The wound was discovered not to be serious, and, the bullet being extracted, the sufferer found relief. Herbert returned to bed, and this time, having no anxious thoughts to weigh upon his mind, he soon sank into a refreshing sleep, in which the fatigues and excitements of the day were completely forgotten.

CHAPTER XXI

HERBERT’S REWARD

“I owe the safety of my money to you, my brave boy,” said Mr. Carroll, the next morning, as, after rising, he replaced the package of bank notes in his carpet-bag.

“I only did my duty,” said Herbert, but his face flushed with pleasure at the commendations bestowed upon him.

“But in doing your duty, you displayed a courage and fidelity rare in one of your age.”

“I am glad you approve of my conduct,” said Herbert.

“If you continue to deserve as well of those who employ you, I am sure you will achieve success.”

“I hope so, sir,” said our hero. “I shall try to do my duty in whatever situation in life I may be placed.”

“What are your plans when you reach New York?”

“I shall try to find a place in a store, or counting-room.”

“Have you friends in the city on whose influence you can rely to help you to such a situation as you desire?”

“No, sir; I have only myself to look to.”

“Only yourself! It is a bold undertaking.”

“Don’t you think I shall succeed?” asked Herbert, a little anxiously.

“I do not doubt that you will succeed, after finding a place, but that is the difficulty.”

“I supposed there must be plenty to do in a great city like New York.”

“There is truth in what you say, but, nevertheless, many are led astray by it. There is, indeed, a great deal to do, but there are a great many ready to do it, and generally—I may say, always—the laborers exceed the work to be done.”

“Perhaps,” said Herbert, “many fail to get work, because they are particular what they do. If I can find nothing better to do, I will black boots.”

“With such a spirit, I think you will succeed. But, perhaps, I can smooth away some of the difficulties in your path. I know a firm in New York—connections of our family—to whom I will give you a letter of introduction. If they have no room for you in their house, they may influence someone else to take you.”

“I shall feel very much obliged to you for such a letter. It will do me a great deal of good,” said Herbert, gratefully.

“I will gladly write it, but now let us go down to breakfast.”

After breakfast was over, they looked in upon the wounded man.

“How do you feel this morning?” asked Herbert, going up to the bedside.

“Rather stiff, but I am not in such pain as I was.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“That is the gentleman I was going to rob?” said the burglar, looking in the direction of Mr. Carroll.

“Yes.”

“Is he—did you say anything to him about not prosecuting me?” he asked, nervously.

“Be under no apprehension,” said Mr. Carroll, mildly. “I do not care to punish you more than you have already been punished. I prefer that you should lead a better life.”

“I will try to do so, sir; but I was poor, and that made the temptation stronger.”

“I can easily believe it. Are you wholly without means?”

“Nearly so.”

“Here, then, is a purse containing a hundred dollars. It will probably pay your expenses during your illness.”

The wounded man looked up in surprise.

“There ain’t many that would pay a man for trying to rob them,” he said.

“I do not pay you for that,” said Mr. Carroll, “but because I do not wish you to be subjected to a similar temptation again.”

The wounded man, who, under different treatment would have been defiant and profane, seemed quite subdued by such unexpected kindness.

“Well, sir,” he said, “all I can say is, that I am very much obliged to you, and I hope you will be rewarded for your kindness.”