Brave Tom; Or, The Battle That Won Read online

  For two weeks Tom Gordon prosecuted his vocation as a newsboy in the cityof New York, by which time he had gained enough experience to earn hisdaily bread, but nothing beyond that. Such being the case, he felt that hewas not making a success of his calling, as there was no reserve fund uponwhich to draw for clothing or other necessities.

  The greater portion of a month wore by, during which he never gained theslightest knowledge of the fate of Jim Travers.

  Tom went to the morgue, and applied to the police, and, in fact, usedevery means at his command to learn something. He occasionally encounteredhis friend Patsey, who rendered all the assistance he could, but itavailed nothing.

  When the fortnight was up, Tom received an unexpected offer, that theIrishman, through some acquaintance, secured for him. It was theopportunity to sell newspapers and periodicals on the Hudson RiverRailroad. He was to leave New York in the morning, "working the train" onthe way up to Albany, and come down again in the afternoon.

  This was such a big advance on what he had been doing, that he joyfullyaccepted the offer, even though he held not the slightest intention offollowing it as a continuous occupation. It would do very well until hecould obtain something more suitable.

  The lad found at the end of the first week that he was much better offthan he anticipated. The privilege was conceded to him of charging doublethe price for the papers which was asked on the streets or at thenews-stands, and his percentage of profits was very large.

  Tom held his position for a couple of months to the satisfaction of hisemployer, and he had accumulated quite a sum, which was deposited in asavings-bank that wasn't likely to "suspend" for the benefit of theofficers.

  Spring had opened, the Hudson was clear of ice, and his business becamequite agreeable.

  It happened that he encountered, on several occasions, some of his formerfriends of Briggsville, who could not conceal their surprise at seeing himengaged in selling newspapers.

  Tom could not always keep back the flush that stole over his handsome faceat such times. But he began to believe there was a nobility in honestlabor like his, of which he had no right to feel ashamed.

  There were any number of young fellows who envied him his position, andwho were ready to use all sorts of artifices to have him "bounced."Slanderous reports were carried to his employers, who took measures toinvestigate them, reaching the conclusion that Tom was without a superiorin the way of integrity, politeness, and faithfulness.

  The tiny gold chain and locket obtained from the drowning girl in sosingular a manner, he preserved with a religious devotion. It wasdeposited in the savings-bank, beyond all danger of loss, and he wouldhave starved to death before consenting to part with it.

  The sweet face within the locket was as vividly fixed in his memory as ifthe original were a sister of his, and he never passed through the trainwithout looking around, in the hope of seeing the little girl herself.

  The only sister which Tom had ever had died in infancy, and there wassomething which linked the memory of the two in the tenderest and mostsacred manner.

  There were true modesty and manhood in the noble fellow, when he overhearda visitor in his employer's office relate the incident of the rescue,without suspecting that the hero stood before him, and never dropped theslightest intimation that he knew anything about it.

  One bright spring morning Tom was passing through the smoking-car, when ayoung man, very flashily dressed, whistled to him, and asked for a copyof a sporting paper.

  Tom had but a single copy left. This he tossed over into the lap of theapplicant in that careless, off-hand style which characterizes the veterannewsboy.

  The purchaser passed over a quarter in coin, and as Tom pulled out ahandful of silver from his pocket, from which to select the change, theflashy young man said,--

  "Never mind, sonny; I'll make you a present of that."

  "But you have given me five times the price of the paper," said Tom,thinking there was an error.

  "That's all right. When I see a fellow of your style I like to encouragehim."

  Tom thanked him and passed on.

  The incident would not be worth recording but for the fact that it wasrepeated the next day, when the same young man bought a _Herald_, andcompelled the lad to accept a bright silver quarter in payment, withoutallowing him to give any change.

  Six times on successive days was this done, and then the liberal purchaserdisappeared from the train.

  Aside from the repetition of his favors, it was rather curious that oneach occasion he should have placed a silver quarter in the palm of Tom.

  Each coin was of the same date as that year, and was so bright and shinythat Tom believed they must have come directly from the mint. They lookedso handsome, indeed, that he determined to keep them as pocket-pieces,instead of giving them out in change.

  There is nothing like actual experience to sharpen a fellow's wits; and,on the first day the munificent stranger vanished, a dim suspicion enteredthe head of Tom that some mischief was brewing.

  That night in New York he examined the coins more minutely thanheretofore. Half an hour later he walked down to the wharf and threw theminto the river.

  The whole six were counterfeit. It wasn't safe for any one to carry suchproperty about him.

  Tom was strongly convinced, further, that a job was being "put up" on him,and he was mightily relieved when thoroughly rid of them.

  That same evening one of his employers sent for him, and told him that hehad received reliable information that he, Thomas Gordon, was working offcounterfeit money on the road.

  The boy denied it, of course, but he did not choose to tell all he knew,for he saw that his own situation was a dangerous one; but he demandedthat the proof should be produced.

  There was an officer present, who thereupon searched the lad for the"queer," but he acknowledged there wasn't a penny on him which was notsound.

  Tom was kept at the office while another officer went to hislodging-house and ransacked his room. The result was _nil_. This ratherstumped the detective, who was acting on the charge of some one else, andhe started off, remarking that the business wasn't done yet, and the bestthing the boy could do was to confess.

  "I must first have something to confess," replied Tom, who was excusablefor some honest indignation.

  "Where is the man who said I was in _that_ business?"

  "You'll meet him in the court-room," was the significant reply of thedetective.

  "That's just where I'd like to meet him, and you too, but you're afraid totry it."

  "Come, come, young man, you'd better keep a civil tongue in your head, orI'll jug you as it is. I've enough against you."

  "Why don't you do it, then?" was Tom's defiant question; "I've learnedenough during the last few minutes to understand my rights, and if youthink I don't, now's the time to test it."

  The officer went out muttering all sorts of things; and Tom, turning tohis employer, his breast heaving with indignation, said,--

  "They have been plotting against me ever since I've been on the road. Theywent with all kinds of stories to you, and now they've been trying to makeit appear that I am in the counterfeit business."

  "But there must have been something tangible, or that detective would nothave come here with the charge."

  "There was something;" and thereupon Tom told the story of the six shiningquarters.

  His employer was angered, for he saw through it all; and from thedescription of the donor, he recognized a worthless scamp who had beendischarged for stealing some time before Tom went on the route. Thedetective was sent for, and the case laid before him. That night Mr. DickHorton, who made the charge, was arrested, and in his rooms were foundsuch proofs against him as a counterfeiter that, a few months later, hewent to Sing Sing for ten years.

  For a time succeeding this incident Tom was left undisturbed in thepursuit of his business, the occurrence becoming pretty generally knownand causing much sympathy for him.

  It was about a mont
h subsequent that Tom missed his afternoon train downthe river, and took another, which left later, not reaching New York tilllate at night.

  It was a fierce drive.]

  As there was nothing for him to do, the train being in the hands ofanother newsboy, he sat down in the smoking-car, which was only moderatelyfilled. Directly in front was a man who, he judged from his dress, was aTexan drover, or some returning Californian He was leaning back in thecorner of his seat, with his mouth open and his eyes shut, in a way tosuggest that he was asleep.

  Seated next him was an individual who looked very much like the Italianwho had shoved his head into the door of Tom's room some months before.This foreigner was watching the Californian--if such he was--as a catwatches a mouse.

  "I believe he means to rob him," was Tom's conclusion, who, without beingsuspected by the scoundrel, was taking mental notes of the wholeproceeding.

  The supposition was confirmed within five minutes, when the Italian,leaning over toward the other, in an apparently careless manner, begancautiously inserting his hand into his watch-pocket.

  The instant Tom saw this, he bent forward and shook the Californian'sshoulder so vigorously that he started up, and demanded in a gruff voicewhat was the matter. The Italian, of course, had withdrawn his hand like aflash, and was leaning the other way, with his eyes half-closed, like onesinking into a doze.

  "I saw that man there," said Tom, pointing to the Italian, "with his handin your pocket, about to steal your watch, and I thought I'd best let youknow."

  "Is that so?" demanded the stranger, a giant in stature, as he laid hisimmense hand on the shoulder of the other, who started up as if justaroused from sleep, and protested in broken English that he was not awareof being seated with the gentleman at all.

  His vehement declarations seemed to raise a doubt in the mind of theCalifornian, who began an examination of his pockets. He found everythingright, and so declared.

  "He was just beginning operations," said Tom in explanation, "when I wokeyou."

  "Bein' as he ain't took nothin', I won't knock the head off him," said theCalifornian, as he announced himself to be; "but he ain't any business tolook so much like a sneaking dog, so I'll punch him on generalprinciples."

  Whereupon he gave the fellow such a resounding cuff that he flopped out ofthe seat, and, scrambling to his feet, hurried out of the car.

  The Californian thanked Tom, and then resumed his nap.

  In half an hour Tom found the tobacco-smoke so oppressive that he rose togo into the next car. On the platform stood the discomfited Italian, whoseemed to be waiting for revenge.

  "You lie of me," he muttered, before Tom suspected his danger. "I showyou."

  With a quick push he gave the lad a violent shove, thrusting him entirelyoff the platform and out upon the ground, fortunately clear of the rushingwheels.

  Chapter XIII.