AMERICAN BOYS’ SERIES

[Illustration]


The books selected for this series are all thoroughly American, by
such favorite American authors of boys’ books as Oliver Optic, Elijah
Kellogg, Prof. James de Mille, and others, now made for the first time
at a largely reduced price, in order to bring them within the reach of
all. Each volume complete in itself.

UNIFORM CLOTH BINDING ILLUSTRATED NEW AND ATTRACTIVE DIES Price per
volume $1.00

  1. ADRIFT IN THE ICE FIELDS   By Capt. Chas. W. Hall
  2. ALL ABOARD or Life on the Lake   By Oliver Optic
  3. ARK OF ELM ISLAND By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
  4. ARTHUR BROWN THE YOUNG CAPTAIN   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
  5. BOAT CLUB, THE, or the Bunkers of Rippleton   By Oliver Optic
  6. BOY FARMERS OF ELM ISLAND, The   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
  7. BOYS OF GRAND PRÉ SCHOOL   By Prof. James de Mille
  8. “B. O. W. C.” THE   By Prof. James de Mille
  9. BROUGHT TO THE FRONT or the Young Defenders   By Rev. Elijah
         Kellogg
 10. BURYING THE HATCHET or the Young Brave of the Delawares
         By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 11. CAST AWAY IN THE COLD   By Dr. Isaac I. Hayes
 12. CHARLIE BELL THE WAIF OF ELM ISLAND   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 13. CHILD OF THE ISLAND GLEN   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 14. CROSSING THE QUICKSANDS   By Samuel W. Cozzens
 15. CRUISE OF THE CASCO   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 16. FIRE IN THE WOODS   By Prof. James de Mille
 17. FISHER BOYS OF PLEASANT COVE   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 18. FOREST GLEN or the Mohawk’s Friendship   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 19. GOOD OLD TIMES   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 20. HARDSCRABBLE OF ELM ISLAND   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 21. HASTE OR WASTE or the Young Pilot of Lake Champlain   By
         Oliver Optic
 22. HOPE AND HAVE   By Oliver Optic
 23. IN SCHOOL AND OUT or the Conquest of Richard Grant   By
         Oliver Optic
 24. JOHN GODSOE’S LEGACY   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 25. JUST HIS LUCK   By Oliver Optic
 26. LION BEN OF ELM ISLAND   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 27. LITTLE BY LITTLE or the Cruise of the Flyaway   By Oliver Optic
 28. LIVE OAK BOYS or the Adventures of Richard Constable
         Afloat and Ashore   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 29. LOST IN THE FOG   By Prof. James de Mille
 30. MISSION OF BLACK RIFLE or On the Trail   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 31. NOW OR NEVER or the Adventures of Bobby Bright   By Oliver Optic
 32. POOR AND PROUD or the Fortunes or Kate Redburn   By Oliver Optic
 33. RICH AND HUMBLE or the Mission of Bertha Grant   By Oliver Optic
 34. SOPHOMORES OF RADCLIFFE or James Trafton and His Boston Friends
         By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 35. SOWED BY THE WIND or the Poor Boy’s Fortune   By Rev
         Elijah Kellogg
 36. SPARK OF GENIUS or the College Life of James Trafton   By
         Elijah Kellogg
 37. STOUT HEART or the Student from Over the Sea   By Rev
         Elijah Kellogg
 38. STRONG ARM AND A MOTHER’S BLESSING   By Rev. Elijah
         Kellogg
 39. TREASURE OF THE SEA   By Prof. James de Mille
 40. TRY AGAIN or the Trials and Triumphs of Harry West   By
         Oliver Optic
 41. TURNING OF THE TIDE or Radcliffe Rich and his Patients
         By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 42. UNSEEN HAND or James Renfew and His Boy Helpers   By
         Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 43. WATCH AND WAIT or the Young Fugitives   By Oliver Optic
 44. WHISPERING PINE or the Graduates of Radcliffe   By Rev.
         Elijah Kellogg
 45. WINNING HIS SPURS or Henry Morton’s First Trial   By Rev
         Elijah Kellogg
 46. WOLF RUN or the Boys of the Wilderness   By Rev. Elijah
         Kellogg
 47. WORK AND WIN or Noddy Newman on a Cruise   By Oliver Optic
 48. YOUNG DELIVERERS OF PLEASANT COVE   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg
 49. YOUNG SHIPBUILDERS OF ELM ISLAND   By Rev. Elijah Kellogg.
 50. YOUNG TRAIL HUNTERS   By Samuel W. Cozzens


ADDED IN 1900

In 1899 we increased this immensely popular series of choice
copyrighted books by representative American writers for the young to
fifty titles. In 1900 we added the ten following well-known books,
making an important addition to an already strong list:

 51. =Field and Forest= or The Fortunes of a Farmer   By Oliver Optic
 52. =Outward Bound= or Young America Afloat   By Oliver Optic
 53. =The Soldier Boy= or Tom Somers in the Army   By Oliver Optic
 54. =The Starry Flag= or The Young Fisherman of Cape Ann   By Oliver
         Optic
 55. =Through by Daylight= or The Young Engineer of the Lake Shore
         Railroad   By Oliver Optic
 56. =Cruises with Captain Bob around the Kitchen Fire=
         By B. P. Shillaber (Mrs. Partington)
 57. =The Double-Runner Club= or The Lively Boys of Rivertown
         By B. P. Shillaber (Mrs. Partington)
 58. =Ike Partington and His Friends= or The Humors of a Human Boy
         By B. P. Shillaber (Mrs. Partington)
 59. =Locke Amsden the Schoolmaster=   By Judge D. P. Thompson
 60. =The Rangers=   By Judge D. P. Thompson


ADDED IN 1901

This year we still further increase this list, which has become
standard throughout the country, by adding the ever-popular “Green
Mountain Boys” and four volumes of “Oliver Optic,” “All Over the World
Library,” especially timely books in view of the present interest in
Asiatic matters.

 61. =The Green Mountain Boys=   By Judge D. P. Thompson
 62. =A Missing Million= or The Adventures of Louis Belgrave
         By Oliver Optic
 63. =A Millionaire at Sixteen= or The Cruise of the “Guardian Mother”
         By Oliver Optic
 64. =A Young Knight Errant= or Cruising in the West Indies   By Oliver
         Optic
 65. =Strange Sights Abroad= or Adventures in European Waters
         By Oliver Optic


LEE AND SHEPARD Publishers Boston




[Illustration]




_THE LAKE SHORE SERIES._


 THROUGH BY DAYLIGHT;
 OR,
 THE YOUNG ENGINEER
 OF THE
 LAKE SHORE RAILROAD.

 BY

 OLIVER OPTIC

 _Author of “Army and Navy Stories,” “Great Western Series,” “Onward
 and Upward Stories,” “Woodville Stories,” Famous “Boat-Club
 Series,” “The Starry-Flag Series,” “Young America Abroad,”
 “Lake-Shore Series,” “Riverdale Storybook,” “Yacht-Club
 Series,” and “The Boat-Builder Series.”_


 BOSTON
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS




 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1869, by

 WILLIAM T. ADAMS,

 In the Clerk’s Office of the District Court
 of the District of Massachusetts.


 Copyright, 1897, by Alice Adams Russell.


 _All Rights Reserved._


 THROUGH BY DAYLIGHT.




 TO

 MY YOUNG FRIEND,

 JAMES ELLIOT BAKER,

 This Book

 IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.




PREFACE.


THE LAKE SHORE SERIES, of which this book is the first volume, includes
six stories, whose locality and principal characters are nearly the
same, and which were originally published in Oliver Optic’s Magazine,
Our Boys and Girls. The railroad, which is the basis of the incidents
in the first and second volumes, was suggested by the experience
of several young gentlemen in Ohio, who had formed a company, and
transacted all the business of a railroad in regular form, for the
purpose of obtaining a practical knowledge of the details of such a
corporation. They issued certificates of shares, bonds, with interest
coupons, elected officers, and appointed all the employees required for
the management of a well-ordered railroad. The author is the fortunate
possessor of one of the bonds of this company--“The Miami Valley
Railroad.”

The young engineer is doubtless a smart boy; but so far as his
mechanical skill is concerned, several counterparts of him have come
to the knowledge of the writer. If he has an “old head,” he has a young
heart, which he endeavors to keep pure and true. As he appears in this
and the subsequent volumes of the series, the author is willing to
commend him as an example of the moral and Christian hero, who cannot
lead his imitators astray; for he loves truth and goodness, and is
willing to forgive and serve his enemies.

  HARRISON SQUARE, MASS.,
                July 21, 1869.




CONTENTS.


 CHAPTER I.                           PAGE
 MR. WADDIE WIMPLETON                   11

 CHAPTER II.
 A TREMENDOUS EXPLOSION                 21

 CHAPTER III.
 WOLF’S FATHER                          32

 CHAPTER IV.
 ON THE LOCOMOTIVE                      42

 CHAPTER V.
 CHRISTY HOLGATE                        52

 CHAPTER VI.
 ON THE LOCOMOTIVE                      62

 CHAPTER VII.
 THE VIAL OF WRATH                      72

 CHAPTER VIII.
 THE DUMMY ENGINE                       83

 CHAPTER IX.
 TOPPLETONIANS AND WIMPLETONIANS        94

 CHAPTER X.
 COLONEL WIMPLETON AND SON             105

 CHAPTER XI.
 BETTER THOUGHTS AND DEEDS             116

 CHAPTER XII.
 WOLF’S FORTRESS                       127

 CHAPTER XIII.
 CAPTAIN SYNDERS                       138

 CHAPTER XIV.
 RAISING THE DUMMY                     150

 CHAPTER XV.
 GETTING UP STEAM                      161

 CHAPTER XVI.
 THE FIRST TRIP OF THE DUMMY           172

 CHAPTER XVII.
 MOTHER’S ADVICE                       183

 CHAPTER XVIII.
 WADDIE’S MISTAKE                      194

 CHAPTER XIX.
 RICH MEN’S QUARRELS                   205

 CHAPTER XX.
 THE BEAUTIFUL PASSENGER               216

 CHAPTER XXI.
 SOME TALK WITH COLONEL WIMPLETON      227

 CHAPTER XXII.
 THE CONSTRUCTION TRAIN                239

 CHAPTER XXIII.
 OFF THE TRACK                         251

 CHAPTER XXIV.
 THE GRAND PICNIC                      263

 CHAPTER XXV.
 WOLF’S SPEECH                         275

 CHAPTER XXVI.
 THE AUCTION SALE                      287




THROUGH BY DAYLIGHT;

OR,

THE YOUNG ENGINEER OF THE LAKE-SHORE RAILROAD.




CHAPTER I.

MR. WADDIE WIMPLETON.


Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop, pop--six pops.

Mr. Waddie Wimpleton, an elegant young gentleman of fifteen, by all
odds the nicest young man in Centreport, was firing at a mark with a
revolver. It was a very beautiful revolver, too, silver-mounted, richly
chased, and highly polished in all its parts, discharging six shots at
each revolution, not often at the target, in the unskilful hands of Mr.
Waddie, but sometimes near enough to indicate what the marksman was
shooting at.

Even the target was quite an elaborate affair; and though Mr. Waddie
had been shooting at it for a week, it was hardly damaged by the trial
to which it had been subjected. It was two feet in diameter, having in
its centre a tolerably correct resemblance of one of the optics of a
bovine masculine; and this enigma, being literally interpreted, meant
the bull’s eye, which Mr. Waddie was expected to hit, or at least to
try to hit. Around it were several circles in black, red, yellow,
green, and blue, each indicating a certain distance from the objective
point of the shooter. There were a few holes in the target within these
circles, but the central eye was not put out, and still glared defiance
at the ambitious marksman.

Mr. Waddie Wimpleton had everything he wanted, and therefore never
wanted anything he had. There was no end to the ponies, sail-boats,
row-boats, guns, pistols, fishing-rods, and other sporting gear, which
came into his possession, and of which he soon became weary. His father
was as rich as an East-Indian prince, and Mr. Waddie being an only
son, though there were two daughters who partially “put his nose out
of joint,” his paternal parent had labored industriously to spoil the
child from babyhood. I am forced to acknowledge that he succeeded even
better than he intended.

Mr. Waddie was always waiting and watching for a new sensation. A
magnificent kite, of party-colored silk, had evidently occupied his
attention during the earlier hours of the morning, and it now lay
neglected on the ground, the line stretched off in the direction of the
lake. The young gentleman had become tired of the plaything, and when
I approached him he was blazing away at the target with the revolver,
at the rate of six shots in three seconds. I halted at a respectful
distance from the marksman. He was not shooting at me, but I regarded
this as the very reason why he would be likely to hit me. If he had
been aiming at me, I should have approached him with more confidence.

Keeping well in the rear of the young gentleman, I came within hailing
distance of him. I did not belong to the “upper-ten” of Centreport, and
I could not be said to be familiarly acquainted with him. My father
was the engineer in his father’s steam-flouring mills, and a person of
my humble connections was of no account in his estimation. But I am
forced to confess that I had not that awe and respect for Mr. Waddie
which wealth and a lofty social position demand of the humble classes.
I had the audacity to approach the young scion of an influential house;
and it was audacious, considered in reference to his pistol, if not to
his social position.

Pop, pop, pop, went the revolver again, as I placed myself about five
rods in his rear, feeling tolerably safe in this position. When he had
fired the three shots, he stopped and looked at me. I could not help
noticing that his face wore an unusual aspect. Though he was at play,
engaged in what would have been exceedingly exciting sport to a boy of
my simple tastes, he did not appear to enjoy it. To be entirely candid,
he looked ugly, and seemed to have no interest whatever in his game.

Mr. Waddie Wimpleton could not only look ugly, but he could be ugly--as
ugly as sin itself. Only the day before he had been concerned in an
awful row on board of a canal boat, which lay at the pier a dozen
rods from the spot where he was shooting. The boat had brought down
a load of coal for the use of the steam mill, and, having discharged
her cargo, was waiting till a fleet should be gathered of sufficient
numbers to employ a small steamer to tow them up the lake. Mr. Waddie
had gone on board. The owner’s family, according to the custom, lived
in the cabin, and the young gentleman had employed his leisure moments
in teasing the skipper’s daughter, a pretty and spirited girl of his
own age. She answered his taunting speech with so much vim that Mr.
Waddie got mad, and absolutely insulted her, using language which no
gentleman would use in the presence of a female.

At this point her father interfered, and reproved the nice young man
so sharply, and withal so justly, that Waddie’s wrath turned from the
daughter to the parent, and in his anger he picked up a piece of coal
and hurled it at the honest skipper’s head. The latter, being the
independent owner and master of the canal boat, and also an American
citizen with certain unalienable rights, dodged the missile, and
resented the impudence by seizing the young scion of an influential
house by the collar of his coat, and after giving him a thorough
shaking, much to the discomfiture of his purple and fine linen, threw
him on the pier, very much as a Scotch terrier disposes of a rat after
he has sufficiently mauled him.

Mr. Waddie was not accustomed to this sort of treatment. Whatever he
did in Centreport, and especially about his father’s estate and the
steam mills, no one thought of opposing him. If he set any one’s shed
on fire, shot anybody’s cow, or did other mischief, the only remedy
was to carry a bill of damages to the young gentleman’s father; and
then, though the claim was for double the value of the cow or the shed,
the fond parent paid it without murmuring. No one had ever thought of
taking satisfaction for injuries by laying violent hands on the scion.

But the worthy captain of the canal boat, though he knew Colonel
Wimpleton very well, had not learned to appraise an insult to him or
his family in dollars and cents. The “young rascal,” as he profanely
called the young gentleman, had insulted his daughter, had used vile
and unbecoming language to her, and, if he had had a cowhide in his
hand at the time, he would have used it unmercifully upon the soft
skin of the dainty scion. He had no weapon but in his strong arms. Mr.
Waddie had been made to feel the weight of his muscle, and to see more
stars than often twinkled over the tranquil surface of Lake Ucayga.

Perhaps, if the indignant skipper of the canal boat had known Mr.
Waddie better, he would have been disposed to moderate his wrath, and
to have chosen a less objectionable mode of chastising his victim;
though on this point I am not clear, for he was an American citizen,
and an unprovoked insult to his daughter was more than he could
patiently endure.

Mr. Waddie struck the pier on his “beam ends.” I beg to inform my
readers that I am a fresh-water sailor, and from the force of habit
sometimes indulge in salt expressions. In the rapid evolutions which
he had been compelled to make under the energetic treatment of the
stalwart skipper, his ideas were considerably “mixed.” His body had
performed so many unwonted and involuntary gyrations, that his muscles
and limbs had been twisted into an aching condition. Besides, he
struck the planks, whereof the pier was composed, so heavily, that the
shock jounced from his body almost all the breath which had not been
expended in the gust of passion preceding the final catastrophe.

The scion lay on the pier like a branch detached from the parent tree;
for if he realized anything in that moment of defeat and disaster,
it was that not even his father’s influence had, on this occasion,
saved him from deserved retribution. He must have felt for the instant
like one alone in the world. Mr. Waddie was ugly, as I have before
suggested. The dose which had just been administered to him needed
to be repeated many times, in order to effect a radical cure of his
besetting sin. He was well punished, but unfortunately his antecedents
had not been such as to prepare him for the remedial agency. It did him
no good.

Mr. Waddie lay upon the pier roaring like a bull. According to the
legends of his childhood, some one ought to come and pick him up;
some one ought to appear and mollify his rage, by promising summary
vengeance upon the “naughty man” who had upset his philosophy, and
almost riven his joints asunder. But no one came. His father and mother
were not within the hearing of his voice--no one but myself and the
irate skipper and his family. The young gentleman lay on the pier and
roared. All the traditions of the past were falsified, for no one
came to his aid. I did not consider it my duty to meddle, under the
circumstances, and the skipper would sooner have shaken him again than
undone the good deed he had accomplished.

As no one came to comfort him, Mr. Waddie roared till he was tired of
roaring--till the breath came back to his body, and the full measure
of ugliness came back to his mind. He got up. He walked down to the
side of the canal boat, where the honest captain was sitting composedly
on his stool. Mr. Waddie stormed furiously; Mr. Waddie even swore
violently. Mr. Waddie inquired, in heated terms, if the honest skipper
knew who he was.

The honest skipper did not care who he was. He was an “unlicked cub.”
No man or boy should insult his “darter” without as heavy a thrashing
as he felt able to give him; and if the young gentleman gave him any
more “sarse,” he would just step ashore and dip him a few times in the
lake, just by way of cooling his heated blood, and giving him a lesson
in good manners.

Mr. Waddie had already tasted the quality of the skipper’s muscle, and
he slowly retreated from the pier; but as he went, he vowed vengeance
upon the author of his disaster. As he passed the spot where I was
stopping a leak in an old skiff belonging to my father, he repeated his
threats, and I felt confident at the time that Mr. Waddie intended to
annihilate the honest skipper at the first convenient opportunity.




CHAPTER II.

A TREMENDOUS EXPLOSION.


Mr. Waddie fired three shots from his revolver, and then turned to look
at me; and he looked ugly.

My father’s house was near the spot. I had been planting peas in the
garden all the morning, and I had observed that the young gentleman was
unusually steadfast in his occupations. He had raised his kite, and
kept it up for half an hour. Then he had fastened the string to the
target, and “run it down.” Occasionally I glanced at him to see what he
was about. After he had brought the kite down, I saw him bringing it
up to the target. Then he went on board of the canal boat at the pier.
The honest skipper had locked up the cabin, and gone with his family to
visit his relations at Ruoara, eight miles below Centreport.

Mr. Waddie appeared to be making himself at home on board. He went
down into the hold, and remained there a considerable time. After
the savage threats I had heard him make the day before, it would not
have surprised me to see the flames rising from the honest skipper’s
craft; but nothing of this kind had yet occurred, though I was fully
satisfied that the scion was plotting mischief. After he had been on
board half an hour, he returned to the target and popped away a while
at it, though, as I have before observed, he did not seem to take any
particular interest in the amusement.

On this day the flour mills were not at work, having suspended
operations to put in a new boiler. After everything was ready for
it the boiler did not arrive, and all hands were obliged to take a
vacation, to await its coming. The mill was, therefore, deserted, and
my father had a little time to attend to his own affairs. He was going
down to Ucayga, at the foot of the lake, upon business, which I shall
have occasion to explain by and by. He had gone up to the town, and as
he had given me permission to go with him, I was to meet him at the
steamboat landing. I was on my way to this point when I paused to
observe Mr. Waddie’s shooting.

A revolver is a very pretty toy for a boy of fifteen. My father would
as soon have thought of giving me a live rattlesnake for a pet, as a
pistol for a plaything. At the same time, I understood and appreciated
the instrument, and should have been proud and happy as the possessor
of it. Mr. Waddie, in one of his gracious moments, had permitted me to
fire this pistol, and I flattered myself that I could handle it much
better than he. He never did anything well, and therefore he did not
shoot well. As I stood there, at a respectful distance, admiring the
splendid weapon, I envied him the fun which might be got out of it,
though I was very sure he did not make the most of it.

He suspended his operations, and looked at me. I hoped he was going to
give me an invitation to shoot; and I felt that, if he did, I could
soon spoil the enigmatical eye that glared at the shooter from the
target.

“What do you want, Wolf?” said he.

Perhaps it is not necessary for me to explain that I was not actually
a wolf; but it is necessary for me to say that this savage appellation
was the name by which I was usually known and called in Centreport. My
father’s name was Ralph Penniman, and at the time I was born he lived
on the banks of the Hudson. He had taken such a strong fancy for some
of the creations of Washington Irving, that he insisted, in spite of
an earnest protest on the part of my mother, upon calling me Wolfert,
after one of the distinguished author’s well-known characters, who
obtained a great deal of money where he least expected to find it.
In vain my mother pleaded that the only possible nickname--in a land
where nicknames were as inevitable as the baby’s teeth--would be Wolf.
My father continued to insist, having no particular objection to the
odious name. I was called Wolfert, and I shall be Wolf as long as I
live,--perhaps after I die, if the width of my tomb-stone compels the
lapidary to abbreviate my name.

“What do you want, Wolf?” asked Mr. Waddie in a surly tone, which led
me to think that I was an intruder.

“Nothing,” I replied; and knowing how easy it was to get up a quarrel
with the scion, I began to move on.

“Come here; I want you,” added Mr. Waddie, in a tone which seemed to
leave no alternative but obedience.

“I can’t. I have to go to the steamboat wharf,” I ventured to suggest.

“Oh, come here--will you? I won’t keep you but a minute.”

Mr. Waddie was almost invariably imperious; but now he used a coaxing
tone, which I could not resist. I could not help seeing that there
was something about him which was strange and unnatural--a forced
expression and manner, that it bothered me to explain. If the young
gentleman was engaged in any mischief, he was sufficiently accustomed
to it to do without any of the embarrassment which distinguished his
present demeanor. But I could not see anything wrong, and he did not
appear to be engaged in any conspiracy against the canal boat, or
the honest skipper in command of it. Appearances, however, are often
delusive, and they could hardly be otherwise when Mr. Waddie attempted
to look amiable and conciliatory.

“You are a good fellow, Wolf,” he added.

I knew that before, and the intelligence was no news to me; yet
the condescension of the scion was marvellous in the extreme, and
I wondered what was going to happen, quite sure that something
extraordinary was about to transpire.

“What do you want of me, Waddie?” I asked, curiously.

“I’m going up to the steamboat wharf, and I want you to help me wind up
my kite-line,” he added, bustling about as though he meant what he said.

“How came your kite-line over there when your kite is up here?”

“Oh, I untied it, and brought it up here so as not to tear the
kite--that’s all. Take hold of the string and pull it in.”

I picked up the line. As I did so, Mr. Waddie gave a kind of a start,
and held his elbow up at the side of his head. But I did not pull on
the line, for, to tell the honest truth, I was afraid he was up to some
trick.

“Why don’t you haul it in, you fool?” demanded Waddie, with more
excitement than the occasion seemed to require.

“I can’t stop to wind it up, Waddie; I’m in a hurry. My father is
waiting for me up at the wharf.”

“It won’t take but a couple of minutes; pull in, and I’ll give you
three shots with this revolver,” he added.

“I can’t stay to fire the shots now.”

“Yes, you can! Come, pull in, and don’t be all day about it,” continued
he, impatiently.

I was almost sure he was up to some trick; he was earnest and excited.
The longer I stayed, the worse it would be for me, and I dropped the
string.

“Pick it up again!” shouted Waddie; and at the same moment he fired off
the pistol.

I did pick it up; for though the pistol ball did not come very near me,
I heard it whistle through the air, and as I had never been under fire,
I am willing to confess that it frightened me. I do not think Waddie
meant to hit me when he fired, but this consciousness made me all the
more fearful for my own safety.

“Now, pull in, you ninny! If you don’t mind when your betters speak to
you, I’ll put one of these bullets into you.”

“Do you mean to kill me, Waddie?” I asked.

“No, not if you mind what I say to you.”

“But I tell you my father is waiting for me at the steamboat wharf.”

“No matter if he is; he’s paid for waiting when I want you. Why don’t
you pull in?”

I don’t know exactly why I did not pull in. He threatened to shoot
me, on the one hand, if I didn’t pull in, and I felt as though
something would happen, on the other hand, if I did pull in. It was not
improbable to me, just then, that the young scion had planted a torpedo
in the ground, which was to be touched off by pulling the string,
and which was to send me flying up into the air. I would have given
something handsome, at that moment, for ten rods of space between me
and the imperative young scion at my side.

“Why don’t you pull?” yelled he, out of patience with me at last.

Springing forward, he grasped the string which I then held in my
hand, and gave it a smart jerk, at the same time pointing the revolver
at my head, as if to prevent my sudden departure. The pulling of the
kite-string more than realized my expectations. The very earth was
shaken beneath me, and the lake trembled under the shock that followed.
High in air, from the pier, a dozen rods distant, rose, in ten thousand
fragments, the canal boat of the honest skipper. By some trickery,
which I could not understand, the gaily-painted craft had been blown up
by the pulling of that kite-string.

I could not see through it; in fact, I was so utterly confounded by
the noise, smoke, and dust of the explosion, that I did not try to see
through it. I was amazed and confused, bewildered and paralyzed. The
fragments of the boat had been scattered in a shower upon us, but none
of them were large enough to do us any serious injury.

My first thought was a sentiment of admiration at the diabolical
ingenuity of Mr. Waddie. It was clear enough now that this was the
revenge of the young gentleman upon the skipper for the punishment he
had inflicted upon him. By some contrivance, not yet explained, the
young reprobate had ignited a quantity of powder, placed in the hold
of the boat, with the kite-line. The honest skipper seemed to be the
victim now.

“Now see what you have done!” exclaimed Mr. Waddie, when he, as well as
I, had in some measure recovered from the shock.

“I didn’t do it,” I replied, indignantly.

“Yes, you did, you fool! Didn’t you pull the string?”

“Not much! You pulled it yourself,” I protested.

“At any rate, we are both of us in a very sweet scrape.”

“I’m not in it; I didn’t know anything about it, and I’m not going to
stay here any longer,” I retorted, moving off.

“Stop, Wolf!”

He pointed the pistol at me again. I had had about enough of this sort
of thing, and I walked back to him.

“Now, Wolf, if you want to”--

I did not wait for him to say any more. Choosing my time, I sprang
upon him, wrested the pistol from his grasp, threw him over backwards,
and made good my retreat to a grove near the spot, just as the people
were hurrying down to ascertain the cause of the explosion.

[Illustration: THE EXPLOSION.--Page 30.]




CHAPTER III.

WOLF’S FATHER.


The grove into which I had retreated was on the border of Colonel
Wimpleton’s estate, and in its friendly covert I made my way to the
road which led to the steamboat wharf. I put the pistol into my breast
pocket, intending, of course, to give it back to Waddie when I saw him
again. Just then I heard the whistle of the steamer, and hastened to
the pier.

I was now far enough away from the scene of the explosion to be out
of the reach of suspicious circumstances, and I had an opportunity to
consider my relations to the startling event which had just transpired.
I could not make up my mind whether Mr. Waddie had been afraid to pull
the string which was to produce the blow-up, or whether he wished to
implicate me in the affair. If he had not been utterly wanting in all
the principles of boy-honor, I should not have suspected him of the
latter. I could not attribute his conduct to a lack of brute courage,
for he had finally pulled the string, though it was in my hands at the
time he did so. But it was of no great consequence what his motives
were. I had taken no part in the blowing up of the honest skipper’s
boat, and did not know what the programme was until the explosion
came off. I felt that I was all right, therefore, especially as I had
escaped from the spot without being seen by any one.

After the catastrophe had occurred, Waddie had rudely asked me to see
what I had done. I had taken the trouble to deny my own personal agency
in the affair, but he had finally insisted that I pulled the string.
This indicated a purpose on his part. I was in some manner mixed up in
the matter; but, as I had no grudge against the honest skipper, I could
not see why any person should be willing to believe Waddie, even if he
did declare that I was engaged in the mischief. But above and beyond
all other considerations, I felt that I was not guilty, and it was not
proper that an honest young man like me should bother his head about
contingencies, and situations, and suspicions. It was enough to be
free from guilt, and I was content to let the appearances take care of
themselves.

I found my father on the pier when I arrived. He was dressed in his
best clothes, and looked like the solid, substantial man that he was.
He could not very well be genteel in his appearance, for the smoke and
oil of his occupation clung to him, even when he wore his holiday suit.
I have noticed that men of his calling--and my own for some years--find
it almost if not quite impossible to get rid of a certain professional
aspect which clings to them. I have almost always been able to tell an
engineer when I see one. There is something in the calling which goes
with the man wherever he goes.

Though my father was not, and could not be, genteel, I was not ashamed
of him. On the contrary, I was very proud of him, and proud of the
professional aspect he wore. His look and manner had a savor of engines
and machinery, which I tried to obtain for myself. When I was going
to have any new clothes, I always insisted that they should be blue,
because my father never wore any other color; and I used to think,
though I had not yet been thoroughly steeped in oil and smoke, that I
was not very unlike an engineer.

Having acknowledged the possession of this pride of occupation, I
ought to explain where I got it. It was not a mere vanity with me, for
I desired to look like an engineer because I was one. My father and
mother had been good parents to me, and had proper notions in regard to
my present and future welfare. I was sixteen years old, and had been at
school all the time, summer and winter, until the spring of the year
in which my story opens. I do not like to be egotistical, but I must
say--since there is no one else to say it for me--that I was considered
a very good scholar. I had just graduated at the Wimpleton Institute,
where I had taken a high rank. I had particularly distinguished myself
in natural philosophy and chemistry, because these studies were nearer
to my heart than any other.

I was my father’s only boy, and he had always manifested a peculiar
interest in me. Even before I was old enough to go to school, while
we lived on the banks of the Hudson, my father was in the habit of
taking me into the engine-room with him. I used to ask him hundreds of
childish questions about the machinery, whose answers I was not old
enough to understand; but, as I grew in years and mental power, the
questions were repeated, and so carefully explained, that, before I
ever read a description of the steam-engine, I had a very tolerable
idea of the principles upon which it was constructed, and knew its
mechanical structure.

When I was old enough to read and understand books, the steam-engine
became the study of my life. I not only studied its philosophy in
school, but my father had quite a little library of books relating to
the subject, which I had read a great many times, and whose contents I
had considered with the utmost care. A large portion of my spare time
was spent in the engine-room at the mills. I had even run the machine
for a week when my father was sick.

I had gone farther than this in the study of my favorite theme. As an
engineer, my father was well acquainted with all of the men of the
same calling in the steamboats on the lake, and with some of them on
the locomotives which ran on the railroad through Ucayga, at the foot
of the lake. When our family paid a visit to our former residence on
the Hudson, I rode on the engine all the way, and made a practical
study of the locomotive. I flattered myself I could run the machine
as well as the best of them. Christy Holgate was the engineer of the
steamer now coming up to the pier, and under his instruction I had
mastered the mysteries of the marine engine, with which I was already
acquainted in theory, after much study of the subject in the books.

I did not pretend to know anything but the steam-engine, and I thought
I understood that pretty well. My father thought so too, which very
much strengthened my confidence in my own ability. I am sorry I have
not some one else to tell my story for me, for it is very disagreeable
to feel obliged to say so much about myself. I hope my friends will not
think ill of me on this account, for they will see that I can’t help
saying it, for my story would seem monstrously impossible without this
explanation.

“Wolf, what was that noise down by the mill, a little while ago?” asked
my father, as I joined him at the wharf.

“The canal boat at the mill pier was blown up,” I replied, with some
embarrassment.

“Blown up!” exclaimed he.

“Yes, sir.”

“They were blowing rocks back of the mill, and I thought they must have
set off a seam-blast; but the noise did not seem to be in the direction
of the quarry. I don’t see how the canal boat could have blown up. It
wasn’t the water that blew her up. Do you know anything about it, Wolf?”

“Yes, sir; I know a good deal more about it than I wish I did,” I
answered, for my father had always been fair and square with me, and I
should as soon have thought of cutting off my own nose as telling him a
falsehood.

“What do you know, Wolf?” he asked, with a look which betokened a
rather painful interest in the nature of the answer. “I hope there
wan’t any mischief about it.”

“It was all mischief.”

“Who did it? Not you, I hope.”

“No, sir; I did not know anything about it till the boat blew up.
Waddie Wimpleton did it.”

“Of course he did,” said my father, nodding his head significantly.
“Did you see him do it?”

In reply I told the whole story, after we had gone on board of the
steamer, giving every particular as minutely as though I had been a
witness in a murder trial.

“I heard Waddie had had a row with the captain of the canal boat,”
added my father, who seemed to be vexed and disturbed more than I
thought the occasion required, as he could not but see that I had no
guilty knowledge of the conspiracy. “The young rascal must have stolen
the powder to be used for blasting. Well, his father can pay the
damages, as he has done a hundred times before; and I suppose it will
be all right then.”

We went into the engine-room, and took seats with Christy Holgate, who
manifested no little interest in the affair of the morning.

“The little villain intends to have you mixed up in the scrape
somehow, Wolf,” continued my father, who could not turn his attention
from the subject.

“I don’t care if he does. I didn’t do anything, and I’m willing to face
the music,” I replied, confidently. “I took his pistol away from him to
keep him from shooting me; but I mean to give it back to him as soon as
we return.”

“I hope it will be all right, Wolf,” said my father, anxiously.

“Your boy ain’t to blame, Ralph,” added Christy, the engineer.

“I know he isn’t; but Colonel Wimpleton is the worst man to get along
with in the world when Waddie gets into a scrape with other boys. He
thinks the little villain is an angel, and if he ever does any mischief
he is led away by bad boys. Well, no matter; I am glad this thing takes
place to-day instead of last week.”

“Why so, father?” I asked.

“Don’t you know what I am going up to Ucayga for, this morning?”

“No, sir; I haven’t heard.”

“Well, I talked it over long enough with your mother this morning.”

“I wasn’t there.”

“I’ll tell you, Wolf,” replied my father, throwing one leg over the
other, and looking particularly well satisfied with himself and all the
rest of mankind. “When we first went to Centreport, I bought the place
we live on of Colonel Wimpleton. I gave him one thousand down, and a
note, secured by mortgage, for two thousand more. I think the place,
to-day, is worth four thousand dollars.”

“All of that,” added Christy.

“Well, I’ve been saving up all my spare money ever since to pay off
that mortgage, which expires next week. I have got the whole amount,
and four hundred dollars more, in the bank at Ucayga, and I’m going to
take it out to-day, and pay up. That’s what’s the matter, Wolf; but I
don’t quite like this row with Waddie.”

Christy listened with quite as much interest as I did to the story of
my father.




CHAPTER IV.

ON THE LOCOMOTIVE.


After we had sufficiently discussed the explosion and my father’s
financial affairs, Christy Holgate took from under the seat where he
sat a curiously-shaped black bottle and a tumbler. I would rather
have seen him take a living rattlesnake from the box, and place it
at my feet--or rather at my father’s feet, for it was on his account
that I shuddered when I heard the owner of the bottle declare that it
contained “old rye whiskey.” Christy told a tedious story about the
contents of this “vial of wrath”--where it was distilled in the State
of Kentucky; how a particular friend of his had procured two quarts of
it, and no more of that year’s manufacture could be had in the whole
nation, either for love or for money.

One would have supposed, from the eloquent description of its virtues,
that it was the nectar of the gods, instead of the fiery fluid which
men put into their mouths to take their brains away. I was disgusted
with the description, and I shuddered the more when I saw that my
father was interested in it, and that he cast longing glances at the
queer-shaped bottle. I had heard that my father lost his situation
at the town on the Hudson by drinking to excess, and I trembled lest
the old appetite should be revived in him. If he had been a man like
Christy Holgate I should not have trembled, as I viewed the case, for
he had drunk liquor all his lifetime to moderation, and no one had
ever known him to be intoxicated. It was not so with my father. He had
struggled manfully against the insidious appetite, and, with only a
couple of exceptions, he had always done so successfully. Twice, and
twice only, had he been under the influence of liquor since he came to
Centreport. I feared, if he tasted the contents of the strange-looking
bottle, that the third time would have to be added to the list.

Christy poured out a glass of the “old rye” and my father drank it. The
engineer of the boat took one himself; and both of them talked very
fast then till the steamer arrived at her destination. I was alarmed
for my father’s safety, and I tried to induce him to go on shore the
moment we reached the wharf; but before we could leave Christy produced
the bottle again, and both of them took a second dram, though I noticed
that the engineer took a very light one himself.

The effect upon my father was soon apparent, though he did not appear
to be actually intoxicated. He did not stagger, but he talked in a
loud and reckless manner. He gave me a dollar, and told me to spend it
for anything I wanted. He said it was a holiday, and he wished me to
have a good time. I put the dollar in my pocket, but I did not leave
my father. I was mortified by his blustering speech and extravagant
manner, but I still clung to him. I hoped my presence would prevent him
from taking another dram; and I think it did; for though, on our way to
the bank, we passed several bar-rooms, he did not offer to enter one of
them. Two or three times he hinted to me that I had better go and enjoy
myself alone, which assured me that he desired to drink again, but did
not wish to do so before me.

I have since learned that a man will always be more circumspect before
his children than when away from them. He feels his responsibility at
such times, and is unwilling to degrade himself before those who are
his natural dependents. I told my father I had no place to go to, that
I did not wish to buy anything, and that I preferred to remain with
him. He was vexed at my obstinacy, but he did not say anything. We went
to the bank together, and he drew out his money, twenty-four hundred
dollars--more than he had ever possessed at one time before. It would
discharge the mortgage on the place, and leave him four hundred dollars
to make certain improvements which he contemplated.

The whiskey which he had drunk made him feel rich, and it pained me
to see him manifest his feelings in a very ridiculous way. He put the
money in a great leather pocket-book he carried, and placed it in his
breast pocket. By various little devices I induced him to return to
the steamer with me. When it was too late I was sorry I had done so,
for Christy Holgate again placed the bottle to his lips, taking hardly
a teaspoonful of its contents himself. It would be an hour before the
train arrived, whose passengers the steamer was to convey up the lake,
and I trembled for the safety of my father and of the large sum of
money he had in his pocket.

It seems very strange to me, and I dare say it has seemed so to others,
that some men, when they have the greatest work of their lifetime in
hand, or are pressed down by the heaviest responsibility that ever
weighed upon them, choose this very time to get intoxicated. My father
had certainly done so. With more than two thirds of his worldly wealth
in his pocket, he had taken to drinking whiskey--a thing he had not
done before for at least a year. Half of the hour we had to wait had
passed away, and my poor father made himself very ridiculous. I had
never felt so bad before in my life.

“Wolf, my boy, I forgot to get my tobacco when I was up in town,” said
he, handing me a quarter. “Run up to that store next to the hotel, and
get me half a pound of his best plug.”

I did not want to leave him, but I could not disobey without making a
terrible scene. I went as fast as my legs would carry me, and returned
out of breath with running. My father had drunk nothing during my
absence, and I was startled when I beheld his changed appearance on
my return. He was deadly pale, and was trembling with emotion. He was
searching his pockets, and gazing nervously into every hole and corner
in the engine-room, where I found him.

“What is the matter, father?” I asked, alarmed at his appearance.

“I have lost my pocket-book, Wolf,” gasped he, in an awful and
impressive whisper.

“Lost it!” I exclaimed, almost paralyzed by the intelligence.

“Nonsense, Ralph!” added Christy, with a forced laugh. “You can’t have
lost it, if you had it when you came here.”

“I did have it; I know I did. I felt it in my pocket after I came on
board.”

“Then it must be in your pocket now. You haven’t been out of the
engine-room since you came,” persisted Christy.

I helped my father search his pockets; but the pocket-book was
certainly gone.

“You must have dropped it out on your way down from the bank,” said the
engineer.

“How could I drop it out?” groaned my father, as he pointed to the deep
pocket in which he always kept it.

I searched again in every part of my father’s clothing, but in vain.
He was perfectly sober now, so far as I could judge, the grief and
mortification attending his heavy loss having neutralized the effects
of the liquor. On the seat stood the queer-shaped bottle from which
my father had imbibed confusion. By its side was the tumbler, half
filled with the whiskey. I concluded that it had been poured out
for my father, and that the discovery of his loss had prevented him
from drinking it. I put them on the floor and looked into the box; I
examined every part of the engine-room again, but without success. The
missing treasure could not be found.

My father sat down upon the box again, and actually wept for grief
and shame. I heard the whistle of the approaching train. It seemed
to startle the victim of the whiskey bottle from his sad revery. He
removed his hands from his face, and glanced at Christy, with a look
which was full of meaning to me, and seemed to be quite intelligible to
the engineer.

“I guess I’ll take a look on the wharf,” said Christy, beginning to
edge slowly out of the engine-room.

“Christy Holgate,” cried my father, springing at the throat of the
engineer, and clutching him like a madman, “you have got my money!”

“Why, Ralph, what ails you? Do you think I’d take your money?” replied
Christy; but his face was as pale as my father’s and his lip quivered.

“I know you have! That’s what you made me drunk for,” continued my
father savagely, as he began to claw into the garments of the engineer,
in search of his treasure.

Christy started as though he had been stung by a serpent when my father
placed his hand upon his breast pocket, and a violent struggle ensued.
As my maddened parent tore open his coat, I distinctly saw enough of
the well-known pocket-book to enable me to identify it. He had taken it
from my father’s pocket and transferred it to his own while handing him
the glass of whiskey.

“He has it, father!” I shouted. “I see it in his pocket.”

Christy was a powerful man, and with a desperate effort he shook off
my father, hurling him upon the floor with much violence. Having
shaken off his fierce assailant, he rushed from the engine-room to
the gang-plank forward, by which the passengers were coming on board,
and disappeared in the crowd. Without waiting to learn the condition
of my father, I followed him. I lost sight of him in the throng, but
I commenced an earnest search for him. Presently I discovered him
skulking along by the train on the side opposite that at which the
passengers were getting out.

The engine had been detached from the train, and had moved forward
to the water tank to have her tender filled. The engineer had left
the locomotive to speak with a friend on the wharf; and the fireman,
after the tender was filled, helped the men throw in the wood. I went
ahead of the engine, where I could observe the movements of Christy. I
thought he would hide till the train started, and then jump on board.
If he did, I meant to be a passenger on the same train.

The tender was filled with wood, and the men walked away, including
the fireman. The moment they had gone, Christy sneaked along by the
woodsheds, and jumped upon the locomotive. He could not see me, for I
was concealed by the smoke-stack. He started the engine. I jumped upon
the cow-catcher. In a moment, as he let on the steam, the locomotive
was flying like lightning over the rails. I clung to the cow-catcher
till the motion was steady, and then climbed up to the side of the
machine, exhibiting myself to the astonished villain. At this moment,
I happened to think of Waddie’s revolver in my pocket. It was a useful
plaything for an emergency like this, and I drew it forth.




CHAPTER V.

CHRISTY HOLGATE.


“Stop her!” I shouted again and again to Christy Holgate, as I pointed
the pistol at his head through the window of the cab.

When I first made my appearance, he had thrust his head and shoulders
through the window, apparently to examine the situation, and determine
in what manner he could best dispose of me. I threatened to shoot him,
and he drew in his head, placing himself where I could not see him
without changing my position.

I pointed the pistol at Christy and threatened to fire; but I had as
little taste for shooting a man as I had for eating him, and I beg the
privilege of adding, that I am not a cannibal. I found it very easy to
talk about firing, but very much harder to do it. Christy had proved
that he was a villain, and a very mean villain too; but I found it
quite impossible to carry my threat into execution. I could reason it
out that he deserved to be shot, and as he was running away with my
father’s money, and did not stop the engine when I told him to do so,
that it would be perfectly right for me to shoot him.

If I had been a bloodthirsty, brutal monster, instead of an ordinary
boy of sixteen, with human feelings, I suppose I could have fired the
pistol while the muzzle covered the head of the rascal in the cab. If
I had not been afraid of killing him, I think I should have fired; for
I had considerable confidence in my skill as a marksman, though it had
not been fortified by much practical experience.

Though Christy had been very useful in enabling me to enlarge my
knowledge of the mysteries of the marine engine, and though I was
reasonably grateful to him for the privilege he had afforded me, I did
not feel under great obligations to him. Whenever I made a trip with
him in the engine-room, for the purpose of studying my favorite theme,
he invariably set me at work upon some dirty job, either at oiling the
machinery or cleaning the bright parts. He was rather stout, and it was
always my function to climb up and oil the gudgeons and other working
parts of the walking-beam. I had done almost everything pertaining to
an engine, under his direction. He used to praise me without stint, and
call me a smart boy; which perhaps he intended as my reward, though I
found it in the knowledge and experience I had gained.

I did not refrain from pressing the trigger of the revolver while
aiming it at Christy’s head on account of the debt of obligation
which weighed me down. I knew enough about an engine to make myself
useful, and I worked hard for all the information I obtained. Still I
considered myself indebted to him for the opportunities he had afforded
me; and, if he had not chosen to be a villain, I am quite sure I should
always have felt grateful to him, even while I paid in hard work for
every scrap of knowledge I obtained from him.

Christy and my father were quite intimate; though, as the steamer
in which he served always lay nights and Sundays at the lower end
of the lake, they had not been together much of late years. He had
recommended my father for the position he then held in the flour mills.
I know that my father felt under great obligations to him for the kind
words he had spoken in his favor, and had often urged me to help him
all I could, encouraging me by the hope that I might, by and by, get a
place as engineer on a steamboat.

The engineer of the Ruoara--for this was the name of the steamer in
which we had gone down to Ucayga--was a strange man in some respects.
He made a great deal of the service he had rendered to my father and
to me, and very little of the service we had rendered to him, for my
father had often made him little presents, often lent him money, and
had once, when the mills were not working, run his steamer for him a
week, while he was sick, without any compensation. I never thought
Christy had any cause to complain of either of us. But I dislike this
balancing of mutual obligations, and only do it in self-defence; for it
is the kindness of the heart, and the real willingness to do another a
favor, which constitute the obligation, rather than what is actually
done. “And if ye do good to them that do good to you, what thank have
ye? For sinners also do even the same.”

Christy was a man who always believed that the world was using him
hardly. He was unlucky, in his own estimation. The world never gave
him his due, and everybody seemed to get the better of him. Though he
had good wages, he was not worth any money. He spent his earnings as
fast as he got them; not in dissipation, that I am aware of, but he
had a thriftless way of doing business. He never could get rid of the
suspicion that the world in general was cheating him; and for this
reason he had an old grudge against the world. On the passage to Ucayga
he discoursed in his favorite strain with my father when he learned his
errand. The unhappy man seemed to think that it was unjust to him for
one in the same calling to have twenty-four hundred dollars in cash,
while he had not a dollar beyond his wages.

The engineer of the steamer had not pluck enough to resent and resist
injustice. Perhaps he thought that, in introducing my father to his
situation, he had been the making of him, and that he was therefore
entitled to the lion’s share of his savings for five years. Whatever he
thought, he had deliberately formed his plan to rob my father of his
money, and had actually succeeded in his purpose. Christy knew the weak
point of his intended victim, and had plied him with whiskey till he
was in a situation to be operated upon with impunity. I think my father
wanted to drink again, and had sent me for the tobacco so that I should
not see him do so.

My father afterwards told me that he recalled the movements of Christy
when he took the pocket-book from him, though he thought nothing of
them at the time.

“Ralph, you are a good fellow--the best fellow out! Let’s take one more
drink,” said Christy, as reported by my father.

“I’m a good fellow, Christy, and you’re another,” replied the victim.
“Just one more drink;” and my father, in his maudlin affection for his
friend, had thrown his arms around his neck, and hugged him.

During this inebriated embrace Christy had taken the money from
his pocket. After he had poured out the liquor, he found that his
pocket-book was gone. The discovery paralyzed him; but his head was too
much muddled at first to permit him to reason on the circumstances. He
remembered that he had felt the pocket-book only a few minutes before;
and, as soon as he could think, he was satisfied that his companion had
robbed him, for the simple reason that no one else had been near him.
He was ashamed of his own conduct. He was conscious that he had drunk
too much, and that this had been the occasion of his misfortune.

I do not know what Christy’s plan was, or how he expected to escape the
consequences of his crime. He had easily shaken my father off, and made
his escape. However hardly the world had used him, he was certainly
more severe upon himself than his tyrant had ever been; for when a man
commits a crime, he treats himself worse than any other man can treat
him. I could not fathom the villain’s plan in running away with the
locomotive. I doubt whether he had any purpose except to escape from
immediate peril, and thus secure his ill-gotten prize.

The circumstances had devolved upon me the responsibility of capturing
the treacherous friend. Half a dozen times I threatened to shoot him
if he did not stop the engine, but somehow my muscles did not seem to
have the power to execute the threat. Christy had placed himself where
I could not see him through the cab window. I examined the revolver,
which contained two charges, and then walked up to the window. The
villain had crouched down by the fire-box, evidently having a wholesome
regard for the weapon in my hand. The engine was going at the rate of
thirty miles an hour, and I judged that we had gone about ten miles.

“Christy Holgate, I don’t want to shoot you, but I’ll do it, as sure as
you live, if you don’t stop her!” I shouted, as loud as I could yell,
while I aimed the revolver at him again.

“Don’t fire, Wolf, and I’ll stop her as soon as I can,” he replied; and
I think his guilty conscience terrified him quite as much as the pistol.

He stood up, and I saw the pocket-book sticking out of his outside
breast pocket. I concluded that he had taken it out to examine
its contents, and I felt pretty confident that I should have the
satisfaction of restoring the lost treasure to my father. With the
revolver, containing two bullets, I realized that I was master of the
situation.

Christy shut off the steam, and put on the brake just as we entered a
dense wood. As the speed of the engine slackened, I climbed upon the
roof of the cab, and jumped down upon the wood in the tender. I took
care not to go very near the villain, for, even with the pistol in my
hand, I thought he was fully a match for me.

“Do you mean to shoot me, after all I’ve done for you, Wolf?” said he,
in a whining tone, as the engine stopped.

“I didn’t think you would serve my father such a mean trick as
you did,” I replied. “I will shoot you if you don’t give up that
pocket-book.”

“I didn’t mean to take your father’s money, Wolf. He and I have been
good friends for a great many years, and I wouldn’t hurt him any more
than I would myself.”

“But you did take it.”

“I didn’t mean to keep it. I was only joking. I meant to give it back
to him; but when he flew at me so, he made me mad.”

“What did you run away on the engine for, then?” I demanded, willing,
if possible, to accept his explanation.

“You got me into the scrape, and I hardly knew what I was about. I’m
ruined now, and it won’t do for me to go back.”

“You can go where you please; but give me that pocket-book, Christy, or
we’ll finish the business here,” I continued, raising the pistol again.

“Of course I’ll give it to you,” he answered, handing me the
pocket-book. “But I’m afraid to go back myself.”

I put the treasure into my pocket, and felt that I had won the day.
Christy jumped from the engine, and disappeared in the woods.




CHAPTER VI.

ON THE LOCOMOTIVE.


I was entirely satisfied with myself as I put the pocket-book into
my breast pocket, and carefully buttoned my coat. I felt as though I
had really done “a big thing,” allowing the phrase to mean even more
than boys usually attach to it. How my father would rejoice to see
that money again! How thankful he would be for the success which had
attended my efforts!

The pocket-book was in my possession, and I was too much excited to
look into it. I was somewhat afraid, if I did not keep both eyes open,
that Christy would come out of the woods and undo the work I had
accomplished. I could hear him forcing his way through the underbrush
as he retreated; but I still kept the revolver where I could make use
of it if occasion required. It seemed to me then that my quarrel with
Mr. Waddie had been a fortunate circumstance, since the possession of
the pistol had enabled me to recover the pocket-book. I was rather
thankful to the scion for his agency in the matter, and willing, when
the time of settlement came, to make some concessions, if needful, to
his vanity and pride.

Christy had piled the wood into the fire-box for a hard run, and
the locomotive was hissing and quivering with the pressure of steam
upon it. By the unwritten law of succession, the care of the machine
devolved upon me, and I am willing to confess that I was not displeased
with the task imposed upon me. To run the engine alone, with no one to
volunteer any instructions or limitations to me, was a delightful duty;
and I was so absorbed by the prospect that I gave no further thought to
the pocket-book. It was safe, and that was enough.

I must run the locomotive back to Ucayga; but I was fully equal to the
task. I knew every part of the machine, and had entire confidence in my
own ability. I did not exactly like to run her backwards; but, as there
was no turn-table at hand, I had no choice. Reversing the valves, I
let on the steam very gradually, and the engine moved off according
to my calculations. I gave her more steam, and she began to rush over
the rails at a velocity which startled me, when I considered that the
motions of the machine were under my control.

I had to keep a lookout over the top of the tender, and at the same
time watch the furnace, the gauge-cocks, and the indicator; and of
course I had to observe them much more closely than would have been
necessary for a person of more experience. Having my hands and my
head full, something less than thirty miles an hour was sufficient to
gratify my ambition. I knew nothing about the roads which crossed the
track, and therefore I kept up a constant whistling and ringing of the
bell. It was exciting, I can testify, to any one who never tried to run
a locomotive under similar circumstances. I was doing duty as engineer
and fireman, and I could not think of anything but the business in hand.

It would have been exceedingly awkward and unpleasant to burst the
boiler, or run over a vehicle crossing the track, and I did not wish to
have my first venture on a locomotive damaged by such an accident. I
kept a sharp lookout, both before and behind me. It was a new position
to me, and I enjoyed the novelty of it, in spite of the fear of being
blown up, or smashed by a collision. I kept the whistle sounding, and
as the engine whirled around a bend, after I had been running fifteen
or twenty minutes, I saw some men lifting a hand-car from the track
in great haste. They had heard my warning in season to prevent the
catastrophe I dreaded.

“Stop her!” shouted one of the party, with all his might, as the engine
thundered by him.

A glance at the party assured me that one of them was the engineer of
the train. I shut off the steam, and put on the brake. As it was a down
grade, the engine went about a mile before I could stop her. But, as
soon as I had brought her to a halt, I reversed the valves again, and
went ahead till I came up with the party, who were just putting the
hand-car upon the track again. The engineer and fireman leaped upon
the foot-board. The former was much excited, and I was not a little
surprised to find that he did not even thank me for bringing back his
engine.

“What does all this mean?” he demanded, with an oath. “What did you run
away with the engine for?”

“I did not run away with her; I only brought her back,” I replied,
indignantly.

“Who was the man that stole the money?”

“That was Christy Holgate; he was the man that ran away with the
engine.”

“Who are you?”

“I’m Wolf Penniman. The money was stolen from my father. When I saw
Christy leap into the cab, I jumped upon the cow-catcher.”

“Then you are the boy they were looking for down to the station.”

“I don’t know about that. I had a pistol, and I made Christy stop her,
and give me the pocket-book. He got off then, and ran into the woods. I
ran the engine back again.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t shoot the rascal,” added the engineer, as he
examined into the condition of the locomotive.

“I got the pocket-book again, and that was all I wanted. I didn’t wish
to kill him.”

“Who told you how to run an engine?” asked the engineer, as he started
the locomotive.

“My father is an engineer, and I’ve always been among engines, though I
never ran a locomotive alone before.”

“I suppose you think you can run one now?”

“Yes, sir; I can put her through by daylight,” I replied, using a pet
phrase of mine.

“You have done very well, sonny,” said he, with a smile; and he could
afford to smile, though he growled a great deal at being an hour behind
time by the event of losing his engine.

He asked me a great many questions about Christy and the robbery; and
the conversation was only interrupted by our arrival at the Ucayga
station, where the impatient passengers were waiting to continue their
journey. I jumped off; the engine was shackled to the train again, and
went on its way.

“Halloo, Wolf!” called the captain of the steamer to me. “Where is
Christy?”

“I don’t know, sir. He jumped off the locomotive, and ran away into the
woods.”

A crowd of people gathered around me to hear my story, for the facts of
the robbery had been related by my father. I felt the pocket-book in my
coat, and declined to answer any questions till I had seen my father. I
was told he was on board of the steamer, and I hastened to find him. He
was in the engine-room, where I had left him. He was still deadly pale,
and seemed to have grown ten years older in a single hour.

“Where have you been, Wolf?” asked he, in a voice almost choking with
emotion.

“I have been after Christy.”

“Did you catch him?” he asked, in a sepulchral tone.

“I was on the engine with him. Here is your pocket-book, father.”

He grasped it with convulsive energy, and seemed to grow young again
in a moment. The crowd, most of whom were passengers in the steamer,
gathered in the gangway, by the side of the engine-room, to learn the
facts. In an excited manner I began to tell my story.

“What does he say? Speak louder, boy!” called the men behind me.

Though I did not feel like haranguing a multitude, I raised my voice.

“Good! Good!” shouted the crowd, when I came to the point where I aimed
the revolver at Christy in the cab. “Why didn’t you shoot him?”

“When I drew a bead upon him he stopped the engine, and gave up the
pocket-book,” I continued, with boyish exhilaration.

“Wolf, you have saved me,” gasped my delighted father; “but I am rather
sorry you did not shoot the villain.”

“We are wasting the whole day here,” said the captain of the boat,
nervously. “We have no engineer now. Ralph, will you run us up the
lake?”

“Certainly I will,” replied my father, taking his place at the
machinery.

I sat down in the engine-room with him and answered the questions he
put to me about the affair. He obeyed the signals given him by the
bells, and as soon as the boat was going ahead at full speed, he took a
seat at my side.

“Wolf, I have suffered more to-day than in all the rest of my
lifetime,” said he, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “If I had
lost that money, it would well nigh have killed me. It was a lucky
thing that you took that pistol from Waddie.”

“It happened just right; Christy was afraid of it, and when I got
the muzzle to bear upon him, he came down, like Crockett’s coon,” I
answered, with no little self-complaisance.

“Was he willing to give it up?”

“He couldn’t help himself. If he hadn’t given it up, I should have put
a bullet through him.”

“I’m glad you didn’t have to do that; on the whole, though, I shouldn’t
have cared much if you had shot him,” added my father, putting his
hand upon the pocket-book to assure himself of its present safety. “I
wouldn’t have believed Christy could be guilty of such a mean trick.
But it was my fault, Wolf. You saw how it was done, and it has been a
lesson to me which I shall never forget.”

My father sighed heavily as he thought of the circumstances, and I
fancy he promised himself then never again to touch whiskey.

“Did Christy open the pocket-book?” he asked, after a silence of some
minutes.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see him open it, and I don’t know when he could
have had time to do so,” I replied.

“It don’t look as though it had been touched,” said he, taking the
pocket-book from his pocket, and proceeding to open it.

“I guess it is all right, father,” I added.

“All right!” gasped he. “There is not a single dollar in it!”

My father groaned in bitterness of spirit. I looked into the open
pocket-book. The money had all been taken from it!




CHAPTER VII.

THE VIAL OF WRATH.


I was both amazed and confounded when it was ascertained that the
pocket-book did not contain the money. From the depth of despair
my father and myself had gone up to the pinnacle of hope, when the
treasure was supposed to be found; and now we fell back into a deeper
gulf than that into which we had first fallen. Those with whom money is
plenty cannot understand the greatness of my father’s loss. For years
he had toiled and saved in order to clear the house in which we lived.
He had struggled with, and conquered, the appetite for intoxicating
drinks, in order to accomplish his great purpose.

He had been successful. He had kept away from the drunkard’s bowl, he
had lived prudently, he had carefully husbanded all his resources, and,
at the time my story begins, he felt that the pretty little place
where we lived actually belonged to him. It was always to be the home
of his family, and it was all the more loved and prized because it had
been won by constant toil and careful saving. This was the feeling
of my father, as it was my own, when we started for Ucayga to draw
the money from the bank. We felt like the king and the prince who had
won a great victory, and were to march in triumph into the conquered
possession.

My father was elated by what he had accomplished. The mortgage note for
two thousand dollars would be due the next week, and he had the money
to pay it, with enough to make the coveted improvements. It would have
been better if he had not been elated; for this feeling led him to
believe that, as the battle had been won, there was no longer any need
of the vigilance with which he had guarded himself. He had raised the
cup to his lips, and in a moment, as it were, his brilliant fortune
deserted him; the savings of years were wrenched from his relaxed grasp.

I do not wonder, as I consider how prudent and careful he had been,
that he sank into the depths of despair when he found the money was
really gone. The struggle had been long and severe, the victory sublime
and precious; and now the defeat, in the moment of conquest, was
terrible in the extreme. I trembled for my father while I gazed into
his pale face, and observed the sweep of his torturing emotions, as
they were displayed in his expression.

For my own part, I was intensely mortified at the result of my efforts.
I felt cheap and mean, as I sank down from the height to which I had
lifted myself, and realized that all my grand deeds had been but a
farce. If I had only looked into the pocket-book when Christy returned
it to me, I might have saved this terrible fall. The villain had
probably taken the money from it while he was crouching down by the
fire-box. He had played a trick upon me, and I had been an easy victim.
I was but a boy, while I had felt myself to be a man, and had behaved
like a boy. If I had been smart in one respect, I had been stupid in
another. I blamed myself severely for permitting myself to be duped by
Christy at the moment when he was in my power. I almost wished that I
had shot him; but I am sure now that I should have felt ten times worse
if I had killed him, even if I had obtained the money by doing so.

“I am ruined, Wolf,” groaned my father, as he dropped upon the seat in
the engine-room. “I shall never get the money now.”

“I think you will, father,” I replied, trying to be hopeful rather than
confident.

“No; I shall never see a dollar of it again.”

“Don’t give it up yet, father. Christy has gone off in his every-day
clothes, and left his family at Ucayga. He will come back again, or you
will get some clew to him.”

“I’m afraid not,” said my father, shaking his head.

“But something must be done. Christy isn’t a great way off, and we must
put him through by daylight,” I added.

“What can we do? It isn’t much use to do any thing.”

“Yes, it is. Something can be done, I know.”

“Where are we now, Wolf?” asked my father.

I did not know where we were, for there was no chance to see the shore
from the engine-room. I walked out on the forward deck, and returned
immediately.

“Well, where are we, Wolf?” demanded my father, rather sharply, as he
laid down the glass from which he had just drained another dram taken
from Christy’s queer-shaped bottle.

“We are just off the North Shoe,” I replied, as gloomily as though
another third of my father’s worldly wealth had also taken to itself
wings.

My poor father was drinking whiskey again. In his depression and
despair, the bottle seemed to be his only resource. I have since
learned enough of human nature to understand how it was with him. Men
in the sunlight of prosperity play with the fiend of the cup. Full
of life, full of animal spirits, it is comparatively easy to control
the appetite. But when the hour of despondency comes; when depression
invades the mind; when earthly possessions elude the grasp--then they
flee to the consolations of the cup. It gives an artificial strength,
and men who in prosperity might always have kept sober and temperate,
in adversity are lost in the whirlpool of tippling and inebriation.

Thus it seemed to be with my father. He had begun to drink that day
in the elation of his spirits; he was now resorting to the cup as an
antidote for depression and despair. The dram had its temporary effect;
but, while he was cheered by the fiery draught, I trembled for him.
I feared that this was only the beginning of the end--that he needed
prosperity to save him from himself.

“Off the North Shoe,” said he; but he was not able wholly to conceal
his vexation that I had seen him take the glass from his lips. “We
shall be in Ruoara in half an hour, and I will send a sheriff after the
villain. You say Christy went about ten miles, Wolf?”

“Yes, sir; as nearly as I could guess.”

“We’ll catch him yet,” added my father, confidently. “Have an eye to
the engine, Wolf, while I go and see the captain about it.”

My father left the engine-room, which he would not have done if he had
not supposed me entirely competent to run the machine. I determined
to have an eye to something besides the engine. In my father’s present
state of mind, I feared he would drink till he was helpless. I raised
the lid of the seat and took out the strange bottle. It was about half
full. There was mischief enough left in it to rob my father of all his
senses.

Even as a boy I prided myself on my promptness in action. The present
seemed to be a moment when it was my duty to cast out an evil spirit.
I took the bottle to the gangway, where there was a large scupper-hole
to let the water run off when the decks were washed down. Into this
I emptied the contents of the “vial of wrath.” The fiery liquid ran
through and mingled with the clear waters of the lake. Having no spite
against the bottle, I returned it to the locker in the engine-room,
rather to save my father the trouble of looking for it than because I
had any regard for its preservation.

Presently my father returned with the captain of the steamer, who did
not seem to relish the idea of leaving the engine in charge of a boy of
fifteen. They talked about the lost money, and my father was tolerably
cheerful under the influence of the dram he had taken. The captain said
that Mr. Mortimer, the sheriff, was almost always on the wharf when the
steamer made her landing, and that he would be glad to start instantly
in pursuit of the robber. It was a kind of business which he enjoyed,
and if any one could catch Christy, he could. I was quite satisfied
with this arrangement, and so was my father.

When the boat touched at Ruoara, Mr. Mortimer was on the pier, as the
captain had said he would be. He was more than willing to undertake
the task of pursuing the thief, and the steamer was detained at the
landing long enough for him to procure a warrant for the arrest of
the fugitive. He was to cross the lake to the next port on the other
side, from which he was to proceed, by private conveyance, to the
town nearest to the point where Christy had left the locomotive. Mr.
Mortimer came into the engine-room as the boat started, and we gave him
all the information we possessed in regard to the robber.

“Now, Mortimer, won’t you take something before you go ashore?” said my
father.

“Thank you, I don’t care if I do,” replied the sheriff. “I have had a
cold for two or three days and a little of the ardent won’t hurt me,
though I am not in the habit of taking it very often.”

“It will do you good; it does me good,” added my father, as he raised
the lid of the locker and took out the queer bottle.

The “vial of wrath” was empty. My father looked at me--looked uglier
than I had ever seen him look before. He held it over the glass, and
inverted it. My work had been thoroughly accomplished, and hardly a
drop of the fiery fluid answered the summons to appear. My father
looked at me again. His lips were compressed, and his eyes snapped with
anger.

“All gone--is it?” laughed the sheriff. “Well, no matter; I can get
along without it.”

“We’ll take some at the bar,” said my father, as the bell rang to
“slow” her.

When the boat was fast to the wharf, they went to the bar and drank
together. Somehow, it seemed to me that all my calculations were
failing on that day; but still I hoped to accomplish something by the
deed I had done. Mr. Mortimer went on shore, and my father returned to
the engine-room. I hoped he would be satisfied with the dram he had
taken, and that I should escape the consequences of his anger. The bell
rang, and the boat started again.

“Wolf, did you empty that bottle?” asked my father, sternly.

“Yes, sir, I did,” I replied, gently, but firmly.

“What did you do that for?”

“I thought it was best not to have the liquor here,” I answered, with
no little trepidation.

“Best!” exclaimed he. “Who made you a keeper over me?”

I did not dare to say anything. I held my peace, resolved to endure the
storm in silence, lest some disrespectful word should escape my lips.
My father was very angry, and I feared that, under the influence of the
liquor, he would do violence to me; but he did not.

“Get away from here! Don’t let me see you around me any longer,” said
he, at last, when he found that I was not disposed to explain my
conduct, or to cast any reproaches upon him.

I went to the forward deck, and seated myself on the rail at the bow.




CHAPTER VIII.

THE DUMMY ENGINE.


My father and I had always been on the best of terms. He was very
considerate to me, and used to talk with me a great deal; indeed, he
treated me in such a way that I had very little reason to think I was a
boy. He discussed his plans with me, and often asked my advice, just as
though I had been a man of mature judgment. He was angry with me now,
almost for the first time in my remembrance; certainly he had never
before been so highly exasperated with me. But I consoled myself with
the reflection that he was partially intoxicated, and that, when the
fumes of the whiskey had worked off, he would be as kind and gentle to
me as ever.

Perhaps it was wrong for me to empty the bottle; but, as I can never
know what would have happened if I had not done so, I am content with
simply believing that I did it for the best. He was in charge of the
engine. There were fifty precious lives on the boat. My father had the
reputation of being a very steady and reliable man. If he had been a
little noisy and turbulent at Ucayga, the shock of losing his money
had wrought a sudden and wonderful change in his manner, so that few,
if any, had noticed him. After the steamer started, I alone was aware
of his condition; I alone knew of his resuming his cups; and I alone
knew that, left to himself, he would soon be intoxicated, and incapable
of managing the engine. I could not wish that I had not emptied the
bottle, even while I suffered intensely under the consciousness of his
displeasure.

While I was thinking of the wrath of my father, and of the consequences
which might follow the loss of the money, the steamer approached
Middleport, which was opposite Centreport, where we lived. My attention
was immediately attracted by a singular-looking object on the canal
boat at the wharf. My thoughts were partially diverted for a time
from the painful circumstances of our family affairs, and I gazed with
interest at the strange object. It looked like an immense omnibus, only
it had a smoke-stack passing through the roof at one end. I had never
seen such a thing before, and I did not know what to make of it.

“Ah, the dummy has arrived,” said a Middleport passenger, who had come
forward to look at the carriage.

“The what, sir?” I asked.

“The dummy.”

“What’s a dummy?” I inquired; for, with all my study of steam-engines,
I had never heard of one.

“It’s a railroad car with an engine in one end of it,” replied the
gentleman; and by this time I could make out the form of the thing.
“It is for the Lake Shore Railroad. I suppose you have heard that the
students of the Toppleton Institute are building a railroad on the
shore of the lake.”

“Yes, sir, I have heard of it.”

“This dummy was built to run on a horse railroad in Philadelphia; but
though they call it a dummy, it made so much noise, and frightened so
many horses, they could not use it in the streets. Major Toppleton saw
it, and bought it cheap, for the students, in order to get a little
ahead of the Wimpleton Institute, on the other side of the lake.”

As the boat approached the wharf, I examined the dummy very carefully.
It was a railway carriage, similar to those used on street roads,
having an engine in one end to propel it. It would be a rare plaything
for the Toppletonians, and I envied them the possession of such a
prize. I knew all about the Lake Shore Railroad, and many a pang of
jealousy had it caused the Wimpletonians, on our side of the lake; for
a stupendous rivalry existed between the two Institutes, which were
separated from each other by only a mile of fresh water.

Lake Ucayga is about forty-five miles long. At the foot of it was the
town of the same name, connected with the great centres of travel by
railroad. At the head of the lake was the large town of Hitaca. The
average width of the lake was three miles; but near the middle--or,
to be more accurate, twenty miles from Ucayga, and twenty-five from
Hitaca--a point of land jutted out on the west side, so as to leave a
passage only a mile in width. On this peninsula was located the town of
Middleport, and directly opposite was Centreport.

Below these towns the country was level, while above them it was
hilly, and even mountainous near the head of the lake. Middleport and
Centreport were of very modern origin, so far as their social and
commercial importance was concerned, and their growth and history were
somewhat remarkable. They are located on the verge of the hilly region,
and the scenery around them, without being grand or sublime, is very
beautiful.

Hardly twenty years before my story opens, two gentlemen had come
up to the lake to spend a week in hunting and fishing. They were
fast friends, and each of them had made an immense fortune in the
China trade. The narrow part of the lake--generally called “The
Narrows”--attracted their attention on account of its picturesque
scenery. They were delighted with the spot, and the result was that,
on retiring from business, they fixed their residences here.

One of these gentlemen was Colonel Wimpleton, and the other was Major
Toppleton. They had won their military titles in the same regiment of
militia in their early life, and had clung together like brothers for
many years. They built their elegant mansions on the banks of the lake,
facing each other, and formerly gayly-painted barges were continually
plying between them. Certainly their houses looked like palaces of
enchantment, so elegantly were the grounds laid out, and so picturesque
were the surroundings. In front of each, on the lake, was a wall of
dressed stone, from the quarries in the neighborhood. From these walls,
the grounds, covered with the richest green in summer, sloped gradually
up to the houses. They were adorned with smooth walks and avenues,
shaded with a variety of trees. Indeed, I think nothing more lovely was
ever seen or imagined.

Major Toppleton, on the Middleport side, built a flour mill; the
village began to grow, and soon became a place of considerable
commercial importance. At the same time, Centreport increased in
population and wealth, though not so rapidly as its neighbor on
the other side of the lake. Both the gentlemen had sons; and they
were alive to the importance of giving them a good education. This
consideration induced them to discuss the propriety of establishing
an academy, and both agreed that such an institution was desirable,
especially as there was not one of high standing within fifty miles of
the place. Then the difficult and delicate question of the location of
the proposed academy came up for settlement. Each of them wanted it on
his side of the lake; and on this rock the two friends, who had been
almost brothers for forty years, split; and the warmth of their former
friendship seemed to be the gauge of their present enmity.

The feud waxed fierce and bitter; and henceforth Middleport and
Centreport, which had always been twin sisters, were savage foes. The
major built a lofty edifice and called it the Toppleton Institute. The
colonel, not to be thwarted or outdone, built another on a grander
scale, and called it the Wimpleton Institute. Everything that could
add to the efficiency and the popularity of the two institutions was
liberally supplied; and, as competition is the life of trade, as well
in literary as in commercial affairs, both thrived splendidly. All the
principal cities and towns of the Union were represented among the
students. The patron _millionnaire_ of each, with his principal and
teachers, labored and studied to devise some new schemes which would
add to the popularity of his institution. Military drill, gymnastics,
games, boating, English, French, and German systems were introduced,
and dispensed with as fresher novelties were presented.

The rival academies numbered about a hundred students each, and neither
seemed to obtain any permanent advantage over the other. “Like master
like man;” and, as the major and the colonel quarrelled, the pupils
could hardly help following their illustrious example; so that it was
fortunate a mile of deep water lay between the two.

The rivalry of the _millionnaires_ was not confined to the schools;
it extended to the towns themselves. Colonel Wimpleton built a flour
mill on the Centreport side, and fought boldly and cunningly for
the commercial salvation of his side of the lake. If a bank, an
insurance company, or a sawmill was established in Middleport, another
immediately appeared in Centreport; and the converse of the proposition
was equally true.

In the midst of this rivalry the Toppleton Institute was vivified by a
new idea. The mania for building railroads which pervaded the Northern
States invaded the quiet haunts of learning. Many of the students were
the sons of prominent railroad men, and Major Toppleton hit upon the
magnificent scheme of giving the young gentlemen a railroad education.
A company had been organized; certificates of stocks and bonds--of
which the munificent patron of the institution was the largest
holder--were issued. A president, directors, treasurer, and clerk were
elected; superintendents, track-masters, baggage-masters, conductors,
brakemen, engineers, firemen, switch-tenders, and other officials were
duly appointed. At first the railroad was to be an imaginary concern;
but the wealthy patron was not content to have the business done on
paper only. He purchased sleepers and rails, and the students had
actually built five miles of road on the level border of the lake. The
dummy engine had been bought, and had been sent by railroad to the head
of the lake, and thence to Middleport by a canal boat.

This splendid project of the Toppletonians was viewed with
consternation by the Wimpletonians. I was warmly interested in the
scheme, and watched its progress with the deepest interest. The dummy
was a miracle to me, and I regarded it with the most intense delight.
All the Toppletonians, assisted by a few men, were on the shore, busy
as bees in transferring the machine to the wharf. Planks had been laid
down on which to roll it from the boat, and rigging manned by the
students was attached to it, by which it was to be hauled on shore.

The steamer was to make a landing alongside the canal boat. I stood at
the bow watching the operation of moving the dummy. They had rolled it
two or three feet up the skids; but “too many cooks spoil the broth.”
A rope broke, the machine slipped back, and, canting the boat by its
impetus, the thing rolled off, with a tremendous splash, into the
lake. The steamer backed just in season to avoid smashing it into a
hopeless wreck.

If Centreport had been there it would have rejoiced exceedingly at this
mishap.

[Illustration: THE ACCIDENT TO THE DUMMY.--Page 93.]




CHAPTER IX.

TOPPLETONIANS AND WIMPLETONIANS.


Middleport had a terrible fall in the unfortunate slip of the dummy
engine; and if any Wimpletonians, on the other side of the lake,
witnessed the catastrophe, I am afraid they were ill-natured enough to
“crow” over it; for to have seen the thing hissing up and down on the
opposite shore would have been a sore trial to them. For the present,
at least, it was safe on the bottom of the lake, though, as the water
was only six or eight feet deep, the machine would doubtless be saved
in the end.

Though I belonged to Centreport, and was a graduate of the Wimpleton
Institute, I could not find it in my heart to rejoice at the disaster
which had befallen the Toppletonians. I was too much interested in the
dummy to cherish any ill-will towards the machine or its owners. I
wanted to see it work, and I could not help envying the engineer who
was to enjoy the superlative happiness of running it. Such a position
would have suited me, and I was sorry the railroad idea had not
originated on our side of the lake. I wondered what Colonel Wimpleton
would bring forward to offset this novelty of his rival, not doubting
that he would make a desperate effort to outdo the major.

The accident filled the Toppletonians with dismay. They had been
yelling with excitement and delight while laboring at the skids and
rigging; but now they were aghast and silent. The Ruoara backed away
from the submerged machine, and made her landing at the end of the
pier. The dummy rested upright upon the bottom of the lake, with its
roof well out of the water. I hardly took my eyes off of it while we
were at the wharf, and I only wished the task of putting it on the
track of the Lake Shore Railroad had fallen on me; for I thought I saw
a plan by which it could be easily accomplished.

While the steamer was waiting I stepped upon the wharf, and mingled
with the crowd of dismayed Toppletonians, who were gazing at the
apparent wreck of all their hopes. I was acquainted with a few of them;
but they regarded me with a feeling of jealousy and hatred which I am
happy to state that I did not share with them.

“Our pipe is out,” said Tommy Toppleton, the only son of the major.
“It’s too confounded bad! I meant to have a ride in that car by
to-morrow.”

“It’s not so bad as it might be,” I ventured to remark.

“Who are you?” snapped Tommy, when he recognized me as a Centreporter.

“I belong on the other side, I know; but I was really sorry to see the
thing go overboard,” I added, gently enough to disarm the wrath of the
patron’s son.

“I think the Wimpleton fellows will feel good over this,” continued
Tommy, who, if he had not been crestfallen at the misfortune of his
clan, would have been impudent and overbearing to a plebeian like me.

“I suppose they will feel good; but if I were one of your fellows I
would not let them enjoy it a great while. I would have it out of the
water and get up steam before I slept upon it,” I answered.

“What would you do?” asked Tommy curiously.

“I would get it out of the water in double-quick time, and then put her
through by daylight, even if it took me all night.”

“You are a brick, Wolf; and I am rather sorry you live on the other
side of the lake,” laughed the scion of the Middleport house. “Do you
think you could get her out of the water?”

“I know I could.”

“How would you do it?”

“I haven’t time to explain it now,” I replied, edging towards the
steamer.

“I say, Wolf, people think you know all about an engine, and can run
one as well as a man,” continued Tommy, following me to the boat.

“I ran a locomotive ten miles to-day.”

“Did you, though?”

“I did--all alone.”

“Our fellows don’t want a man for an engineer on the Lake Shore
Railroad; some of them were talking about having you to run the dummy
for us.”

“I am much obliged to them for thinking of me.”

“It’s too bad you live on the other side.”

I thought so too, as the bell of the Ruoara rang, and I stepped on
board of her. To do anything for the enemy on the Middleport side would
be to give mortal offence to Colonel Wimpleton, his hopeful son, and
all the students of the Institute in Centreport; and it was quite out
of the question for me to think of a position on the foot-board of the
dummy. I would have given anything to join the Toppletonians, against
whom I had now no spite, and take part in the operations of the new
railroad; and I regarded it as a very great misfortune that the rivalry
between the two places prevented me from doing so.

The Ruoara left the wharf, and stood across the lake towards
Centreport. As she receded from the shore, I saw Tommy talking to
his father, and pointing to the boat, as though I were the subject
of the conversation. I do not know what either of them said; but the
young gentleman doubtless told the patron of the Toppletonians that
I considered myself able to extricate the dummy from her present
position. I was a very modest young man at the time of which I write;
but years have enabled me, in some measure, to conquer the feeling, and
I may now say that I had a splendid reputation as an engineer, for a
boy. I do not know that I was regarded as exactly a prodigy, but even
men of ability treated me with great kindness and consideration on
account of my proficiency in matters relating to machinery. It seemed
quite possible, therefore, that Major Toppleton did not regard my
suggestion of a plan to extricate the dummy as a mere boyish boast.

Whether he did or did not, I was too much oppressed by my father’s
misfortunes to think of the dummy after it was out of sight. I walked
aft, passing through the gangway, where I could see my unfortunate
parent. He looked stern and forbidding, and, when I paused at the door,
he told me I need not stop there. I did not think he had been drinking
again, and I felt sure that he would not long be angry. It made me
very sad to think that he was offended with me; but, more than this,
I dreaded lest he should fall back into his old habits, and become a
drunkard.

As the steamer approached the Centreport landing, I was startled by
three rousing cheers. On the lawn, which faced the river in front of
the Wimpleton Institute, were assembled all the students. Two or three
of them were looking through field glasses to the opposite shore. They
had just discovered the nature of the disaster to the dummy, and they
expressed their satisfaction in the cheers which I heard. It was mean
and cowardly to rejoice in the misfortunes of others, even if they
were enemies; but as their elders expressed themselves in this manner,
nothing better could be expected of them.

I went ashore when the boat was made fast. I noticed that several
people looked sharply at me, and some of them appeared to make remarks
about me, as I passed through the crowd up the wharf; but so completely
had my thoughts been absorbed by the affairs of my father, that I had
quite forgotten my altercation with Mr. Waddie Wimpleton, and I did
not connect the sharp looks and the suppressed remarks bestowed upon
me with that circumstance. I had the young gentleman’s revolver in
my pocket; but I had ceased to feel its weight or to think of it. I
walked up the wharf, and hastened to the cottage of my father.

“Why, Wolfert! What have you been doing?” exclaimed my mother, as I
entered the kitchen, where she was at work.

“Nothing wrong, I hope, mother,” I replied; and I am sure my long face
and sad demeanor were not without their effect upon her.

“They are telling awful stories about you, Wolfert,” she added.

“Who are?”

“Everybody. What have you been doing?”

“I haven’t done anything, mother.”

“Didn’t you take the powder from the tool-house at the quarry, and
blow up that canal boat?” gasped she, horrified that I should be even
accused of such wickedness.

“No, mother; I did not. Who says I did?”

“Everybody is saying so. We all know that the canal boat was blown up;
and they say you ran away before the people came.”

I told my mother the whole truth in regard to the canal boat, and she
believed me.

“Waddie Wimpleton says you did it, Wolfert,” added she.

“I did not do it, and did not know anything about it till the explosion
took place.”

“They all say you must have done it. Waddie don’t deny that he had a
hand in it; but he says you planned the whole thing, and he gave you
his revolver for doing it.”

“There is not a word of truth in it, mother.”

“The quarrymen saw you and Waddie near the mill wharf, just before
the explosion. It was not till they had told their story that Waddie
acknowledged he had anything to do with it. He says it was done by
pulling a string; and everybody believes that boy hadn’t gumption
enough to blow up the canal boat without blowing himself up with it.
They say the thing was well done, and therefore you must have done it.”

This was flattering to my pride, disagreeable as the consequences
threatened to be. People believed I was guilty because I had the
reputation of being skilful in mechanical contrivances! But I was not
anxious to rob Waddie of any of his honors in this affair.

“I have not done anything wrong, mother; and I am willing to take the
consequences, whatever they are. I wish this was the only thing we had
to fear,” I said, dreading the effect upon her of the intelligence I
had to communicate in regard to my father.

“Why, what else have we to fear?” asked she, with an expression of
alarm. “Where is your father?”

“He has gone up to Hitaca in the steamer.”

“What has he gone up there for?”

“He is in charge of the engine of the Ruoara.”

“Where is Christy Holgate?”

“He has robbed a man of his money, and run away.”

“Christy?”

“Yes, mother; and that isn’t the worst of it, either.”

“Why, what do you mean, Wolfert?”

“Father was the man whom he robbed.”

“Why, Wolfert!” ejaculated my mother, as pale as death.

“It is just as I say, mother; and it isn’t the worst of it, either.”

“Oh, dear! What else has happened?” she demanded, in a hoarse whisper.

“Father has taken to drinking again,” I replied; and, no longer able to
restrain my emotions, I burst into tears.

“Merciful Heaven! That is worse than all the rest!” exclaimed she,
covering her face with her apron, and weeping bitterly with me.




CHAPTER X.

COLONEL WIMPLETON AND SON.


My mother wept as she thought of the past, and dreaded the future.
It would have been comparatively easy to endure the loss of the
twenty-four hundred dollars; but it was intolerable to think of the
misery of again being a drunkard’s wife. All else was as nothing to her
beside this awful prospect. My father had struggled with his besetting
and his besotting sin for five years, and with hardly an exception had
always been the conqueror. During this period he had prospered in his
worldly affairs, and till this day of disaster the future seemed to be
secure to him.

My mother told me I had done right in emptying the bottle, and assured
me that my father would not long cherish his anger. She knew not what
to do in order to turn the tide which had set against us. If the
sheriff succeeded in arresting Christy, and securing the money he had
stolen, the effect upon my father would be good. If the money was lost,
we feared that father would be lost with it.

While we were talking about the sad prospect before us, an imperative
knock was heard at the front door--a summons so loud and stately that
we could hardly fail to identify the person even before we saw his
face. My mother wiped away her bitter tears, and hastened to the door.

“Has your son come home?” demanded Colonel Wimpleton, in his abrupt and
offensive manner, when he spoke to his social inferiors, as he regarded
them.

“Yes, sir, he has,” replied my mother, with fear and trembling before
the magnate of Centreport.

Without further ceremony, or any ceremony,--for he had used none,--he
stalked into the kitchen where I sat. He was followed by his hopeful
scion, who looked quite as magnificent as his stately father.

“So you have come home, you young villain!” said the colonel, fixing a
savage gaze upon me.

“I have come home; but I am not a villain, sir,” I replied, with what
dignity I could command.

“Don’t contradict me. I say you are a villain.”

“Your saying so don’t make it so,” I answered, desperately; for I was
goaded almost to despair by the misfortunes of the day; and though at
any other time I should have been as meek as a nursing dove, I felt
like defending myself from the charges he was about to make.

“Don’t be impudent to me, young man,” scowled he. “You know me, and you
know what I am.”

“I know what you are,” I added, significantly; and I was astonished at
my own boldness.

He looked at me savagely, apparently trying to determine what
construction to put upon my remark. Waddie stood at his side, quite
self-possessed, considering the wicked deed he had done. His presence
reminded me of the revolver I had in my pocket, and I took it out and
presented it to him.

“Here is your revolver, Waddie. I did not intend to keep it, when I
took it,” said I.

“I don’t want it. It is yours now,” replied he, declining to take the
weapon. “I gave it to you for the job you did for me, and I am not
going to back out now.”

“Take it, Waddie,” interposed his father. “Such a trade is not legal or
binding.”

“I’m not going to take it,” replied the hopeful, stoutly. “It was a
fair trade, and it would not be honorable for me to back out.”

“Give it to me, then,” added the colonel.

I gave it to him, and he put it in his pocket, in spite of the protest
of Waddie.

“Now, Wolf, I want you to tell me the truth,” continued Colonel
Wimpleton.

“I will do so, sir.”

“You persuaded my boy to blow up that canal boat?”

“No, sir. I did not.”

“I didn’t say he persuaded me to do it, father,” interrupted the son.

“You wouldn’t have done such a thing as that unless somebody put you
up to it, Waddie,” protested the fond father, who had been obliged to
make the same statement fifty times before, and remained obstinately
incredulous in regard to his son’s capacity to do mischief up to the
present time.

“Yes, I would, father; and I am only sorry the skipper of the canal
boat was not on board when she went up. Didn’t I say he insulted me?
Didn’t I tell you he shook me, kicked me, cuffed me, and then chucked
me on the wharf, as though I had been a dead cat? When a man insults
me, he has to pay for it,” said Waddie, shaking his head to emphasize
his strong declarations.

“Yes; and I shall have to pay for it too,” muttered the colonel, who
felt very much as the man did who had to pay his wife’s fine after he
had prosecuted her for an assault upon himself.

“No matter for that; I am revenged,” added Waddie, coolly. “I only said
that Wolf showed me how to do it, and pulled the string when all was
ready.”

“That’s enough,” replied the father.

I understood the magnate of Centreport well enough to comprehend his
position. He was quite willing to pay a couple of thousand dollars
for the destruction of the canal boat; but he was very loath to have
the Centreporters believe, what was literally the truth, that Waddie
Wimpleton was the worst and most evil-disposed boy in the whole town.
While he did not attempt to discipline and control his vicious heir, he
was exceedingly jealous of the youth’s reputation. He wished to have me
confess that I had had a finger in this pie of mischief. My character
stood high in town, for I had tried to behave like a gentleman on all
occasions. If I shared the blame with the colonel’s hopeful, he was
willing to pay all costs and damages. I really believe, if I could
have assumed the entire odium of the wicked deed, the magnate would
have been willing to pay for the boat, and give me a thousand dollars
besides. In fact, I knew of one instance in which a boy of bad habits
had been indirectly paid for taking upon his own shoulders the blame
that belonged upon Waddie’s.

“I had nothing at all to do with blowing up the canal boat, Colonel
Wimpleton,” I replied. “I knew nothing about it till the explosion took
place.”

“You deny it--do you?” demanded the magnate, sharply.

“I do, sir; I had nothing to do with it.”

“How dare you lie to me? As Waddie was concerned in the affair, I don’t
mind paying for the boat, and I suppose that will be the end of the
scrape; but I know my boy wouldn’t do such a thing without some help.”

“I didn’t help him,” I protested, warmly.

“Didn’t you pull the string?” demanded Waddie, with the most unblushing
effrontery.

“No, I did not.”

“Didn’t you have hold of the string when the boat went up?” persisted
the young villain.

“I did, but”--

“There, father, he owns up to all I ask him to confess,” interposed
Waddie.

“I own up to nothing,” I replied, indignantly. “I say, again, I had
nothing to do with the explosion, and knew nothing about it till the
boat blew up.”

“What do you mean, you young rascal?” stormed the colonel. “One moment
you say you had hold of the string, and the next that you knew nothing
about it.”

“If you wish me to explain the matter, I will do so; if not, I won’t,”
I added, disgusted with the evident intention of the magnate to convict
me, whether guilty or not.

“Will you confess that you had a hand in the mischief?”

“No, I will not.”

“But, you young rascal”--

“I am not a rascal, Colonel Wimpleton. If either of us is a rascal,
you are the one, not I,” I continued, goaded to desperation by his
injustice.

“What!” gasped the great man, confounded at my boldness.

“I say just what I mean. Waddie knows, as well as I do, that I had
nothing to do with blowing up the canal boat, and if he was a decent
fellow he would say so.”

“Don’t be rash, Wolfert,” interposed my mother, alarmed at my temerity.

“I am not afraid of them, mother.”

“Do you mean to say I’m not a decent fellow?” howled Waddie.

“I did say so, and I meant to say so. You know that you lie when you
say I had anything to do with blowing up the boat.”

“Do you tell me I lie?”

“I do; I tell you so with all my might,” I persisted, boldly.

“We’ll see about this,” said Colonel Wimpleton, furiously. “Mrs.
Penniman, your boy is impudent--impudent to me, and to my son.”

“You accuse him of something he didn’t do, and won’t hear what he has
to say,” replied my mother, meekly.

“Accuse him of what he didn’t do! Didn’t he say he had hold of the
string? Wolf had the pistol, too, and that proves the truth of what
Waddie said. How came you by the pistol?” demanded the magnate, turning
fiercely to me.

“I took it away from Waddie when he threatened to shoot me with it, and
after he had fired one ball at me.”

“Do you want to make it out that my boy intended to murder you? Once
more, will you confess to me, or will you have it proved before a
justice?”

“I don’t care where you prove it; but I shall not confess what I didn’t
do.”

“My son speaks the truth, Mrs. Penniman, though he may be a little wild
sometimes.”

“There isn’t a bigger liar in town,” said I, very imprudently.

“Do you hear that, marm?” snapped the colonel. “Didn’t my son confess
that he had a hand in the mischief? Doesn’t that show that he is a
truthful boy? Wolf is violent and abusive. I have done what I could for
your family, Mrs. Penniman.”

“I know you have, Mr. Wimpleton, and we are all very grateful to you,”
replied my trembling mother.

“I should think you were! You permit this young rascal to insult and
abuse me and my son. He calls me a rascal, and my son a liar. Is that
his gratitude?” continued the much-abused great man. “You will hear
from me again, Mrs. Penniman.”

“And you will hear from me again, Wolf Penniman. I don’t allow any
fellow to call me a liar,” added Waddie, bristling up like a bantam
rooster.

“You permit this young cub to insult and abuse me,” persisted the
magnate, as he bolted out of the front door, followed by his hopeful,
who could not help shaking his fist at me as he went out.

“What have you done, Wolf?” exclaimed my mother, when they had gone.

“I have spoken the truth, like a man,” I replied, though I trembled for
the consequences of my bold speech to the great man.

“He will discharge your father; and, now the money is gone, he will
turn us out of house and home,” added my mother, beginning to cry again.

“I can’t help it. I have only told the truth, and I am not going to
cower before that man and that boy any longer.”

I took my cap and left the house.




CHAPTER XI.

BETTER THOUGHTS AND DEEDS.


I left the house more to conceal my own emotions than for any other
reason. I had been imprudent. My father was not only dependent upon
Colonel Wimpleton for the excellent situation he held, which had
enabled him to live well, to give me a good education, and to save
money to buy his place, though there was a mortgage on the little
estate that would expire in a few days; so far as liberality in
financial matters was concerned, no one could find any fault with the
magnate of Centreport.

I was accused of a crime--not merely of a piece of mischief, as the
colonel was pleased to regard it, but of a crime whose penalty was
imprisonment. By merely admitting the truth of the charge, I could
escape all disagreeable consequences, and retain for my father and
myself the favor of the mighty man in whose smile we had prospered and
grown rich. Doubtless, in the worldly sense, I had been very imprudent.
It would have been safer for me not to deny the accusation, and not to
resent the hard names applied to me.

As a matter of policy, I had always permitted Waddie to have his own
way in his dealings with me. If he ordered me to do anything, I did it.
If he called me names, I did not retort upon him. It galled me sorely
to permit the puppy to ride over me in this manner; to be insulted,
kicked, and cuffed at his royal pleasure; but while it was simply a
sacrifice of personal pride, or even of self-respect, it did not so
much matter. When, however, Waddie and his father wished to brand me
as a criminal, and to browbeat me because I would not confess myself
guilty of a deed in which I had no hand, my nature revolted. In my
indignation, I had made use of some expressions which I had better not
have used, and which I should not have used if I had not been suffering
under the weight of that sad day’s trials.

I did not care for myself under the displeasure of the mighty man. My
mother was a timid woman, and the cloud of misfortunes which was rising
over us filled her with dismay. The displeasure of Colonel Wimpleton,
the loss of the money, and above all the fear that my father would
return to his old habits, were terrors enough for one day, and I wept
for her. But what could I do? To confess myself guilty of a crime when
I was innocent was the greatest wrong I could do to her and to myself.
I would not do that, whatever else I did; and there was no other way to
win back the favor of the colonel.

After I had cooled off, I returned to the house, and found my mother
more calm than I expected. She had resumed her work; but she looked
very sad and troubled. My two sisters had gone to the village, and as
yet knew nothing of the misfortunes that were settling down upon our
house.

“Wolfert, I am sorry you were so rash,” said my mother, as I seated
myself in the kitchen.

“I am sorry myself; but I don’t think it would have made any difference
with the colonel if I had been as gentle as a lamb,” I replied.

“Perhaps it would.”

“The colonel wished me to take upon my shoulders the blame, or part of
it, of blowing up the canal boat. Nothing less than that would have
satisfied them. You can’t wonder that I was mad, after what you heard
him say to me. I have eaten dirt before the colonel and his son for
years, and I don’t think we have made anything by it; but whether we
have or not, I won’t be called a villain and a scoundrel, or confess a
thing I didn’t do.”

“Mr. Wimpleton is a very powerful man in Centreport,” added my mother,
shaking her head in deprecation of any rash steps.

“I know he is, mother; and I will do anything I can to please him,
except sell my own soul; and he hasn’t got money enough to buy that.
I’m not going to put my nose into the dirt for him.”

“He may ruin us, Wolfert.”

“What can he do?”

“He can discharge your father.”

“Father can get as much wages in another place as he can here. Perhaps
he will be wanted on the Ruoara, now Christy has run away.”

“But his house is here, and he meant to stay in Centreport. Besides,
Mr. Wimpleton can turn us out of the house if we don’t pay the money,
which will be due in a few days.”

“I hope Mr. Mortimer will catch Christy, and get the money. If he
don’t, there is a man in town who offered thirty-five hundred dollars
for the place; and that is more than it cost, and father won’t lose
anything.”

“You don’t know Mr. Wimpleton, Wolfert. He is a terrible man when he
is offended. If the place were sold at auction, as it would be, he has
influence enough to prevent any one from bidding on it; and your father
might lose every cent he has left in the world.”

“What would you have me do, mother?” I asked, rising from my chair,
considerably excited. “Shall I say that I helped Waddie blow up the
canal boat?”

“No, certainly not, Wolfert, unless you did help him.”

“Do you think I did, mother?”

“No, I can’t think so, after what you have said.”

“I had nothing more to do with it than you had.”

“But you can be a little more gentle with him.”

“And let him browbeat and bully me as much as he pleases? I think,
mother, if I stand up squarely for my own rights, he will respect me
all the more. For my own part, I am about tired of Centreport, for
all the people bow down and toady to Colonel Wimpleton. If he takes
snuff, everybody sneezes. All the fellows treat Waddie as though he
was a prince of the blood. I have been ashamed and disgusted with
myself a hundred times after I have let him bully me and put his foot
on my neck. I have been tempted to thrash him, a dozen times, for his
impudence; and if I didn’t do so, it was not because I didn’t want to.”

“You must try to have a Christian spirit, Wolfert,” said the mother,
mildly.

“I do try to have a Christian spirit, mother. I haven’t anything
against Waddie or his father. If I could do a kindness to either one of
them this minute, I would do it. But I don’t think a fellow must be a
milksop in order to be a Christian. I don’t think the gospel requires
me to be a toady, or even to submit to injustice when I can help
myself. I don’t ask to be revenged, or anything of that sort; I only
desire to keep my head out of the dirt. I am going to try to be a man,
whatever happens to me.”

“If you will only be a Christian, Wolfert, I can ask no more.”

“I will try to be; but do you think yourself, mother, that I ought to
stand still and allow myself to be kicked?”

“You must not provoke your enemies.”

“I will not, if I can help it; but I think it is pretty hard to keep
still when you are called a rascal and a villain. If you think I ought
to confess that I helped blow up the canal boat when I did not, I
will”--

I was going to say I would do it, but the words choked me, and I could
not utter them.

“I don’t wish you to say so, Wolfert.”

“Then I am satisfied; and I will try to be gentle while they abuse me.”

At this moment Waddie Wimpleton bolted into the room, without taking
the trouble to announce himself beforehand.

“My father says you must come up and see him at once,” said the scion
in his usual bullying and offensive tone.

“Where is he?” I asked, as quietly as I could speak, under the
influence of my good mother’s lesson.

“At the house. Where do you suppose he is?” pouted Waddie. “And he
says, if you don’t come, he’ll send a constable after you.”

“What does he want of me?”

“None of your business what he wants. All you’ve got to do is to go.”

“If I conclude to go, I will be there in a few moments,” I added.

“If you conclude to go!” exclaimed Waddie. “Well, that is cool! Do you
mean to say you won’t go?”

“No, I don’t mean to say that.”

“Well, I want to know whether you are going or not,” demanded the scion.

“Shall I go, mother?” I asked, appealing to her.

“I think you had better go, Wolfert.”

“Then I will go.”

“You had better,” continued Waddie, who could not help bullying even
after his point was gained.

The gentlemanly young man left the house, and my mother admonished me
again not to be saucy, and to return good for evil. I hoped I should
be able to do so. If I failed, it would not be for the want of a good
intention. I walked up the road towards the mansion of the great man,
thinking what I should say, and how I could best defend myself from the
charge which was again to be urged against me. The situation looked
very hopeless to me as I jumped over the fence in the grove, through
which there was a path which led to the house of the colonel.

“Here he is,” said Waddie, accompanying the remark with a yell not
unlike an Indian war-whoop.

I halted and turned around. Behind me stood the scion of the great
house of Centreport, with a club in his hand, and attended by half a
dozen of the meanest fellows of the Institute, armed in like manner.
They had been concealed behind the fence; and of course I instantly
concluded that the colonel’s message was a mere trick to decoy me into
the grove.

“Do you wish to see me?” I asked as coolly as I could; and the
circumstances under which we appeared to meet were not favorable to a
frigid demeanor.

“Yes, I want to see you,” replied Waddie, moving up to me, and
flourishing his stick. “You must settle my account before you see my
governor.”

“What do you want of me?” I demanded, as I edged up to a big tree,
which would protect me from an assault in the rear.

“You told my father I was the biggest liar in town,” blustered Waddie.
“I’m going to give you the biggest licking for it you ever had in your
life.”

“Go in, Waddie!” shouted Sam Peppers. “We’ll stand by, and see fair
play.”

“Are you ready to take your licking?” bullied Waddie, who did not seem
to be quite ready to commence the operation.

“No, I am not,” I answered, quietly; and I never spoke truer words in
my life.

“You called me the biggest liar in town--didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Have you anything to say about it?”

“I have,” I replied, still moved by the gentle words of gospel wisdom
which my mother had spoken to me.

“If you have, say it quick.”

“I was angry when I spoke the words, and I am sorry for uttering them.”

“Ha, ha! humph!” yelled the half-dozen ruffians in concert.

“Get down on your knees and beg my pardon, then,” said Waddie.

“No, I will not do that,” I replied, firmly.




CHAPTER XII.

WOLF’S FORTRESS.


Under the influence of the better thoughts which my good mother had
suggested to me, I was willing to do better deeds. I was ready to
apologize; I had done so, but I could not go down upon my knees before
such a fellow as Waddie Wimpleton, or any fellow, for that matter. It
was hard enough for me to say I was sorry; and I had done so for my
mother’s sake, rather than my own.

“I don’t think you are very sorry for what you said,” sneered Waddie.

“I am sorry enough to apologize. I really regret that I made use of any
hard expressions,” I replied.

“Then get down on your knees, and beg my pardon, as I tell you,”
persisted Waddie, flourishing his stick. “If you do, I’ll let you off
on part of the punishment.”

“I apologized because I had done wrong, and not because I was afraid of
the punishment,” I added, still schooling my tongue to gentle speech.

“Humph!” exclaimed the scion; and my remark was based on a philosophy
so subtle that he could not comprehend it.

“Go in! Go in! Give it to him!” shouted the supporting ruffians. “He’s
fooling you, Waddie.”

“If you are not going to do what I tell you, look out for the
consequences,” blustered the young gentleman, who still seemed to have
some doubts in regard to the prudence of his present conduct.

“Waddie Wimpleton,” said I.

“Well, what do you want now?” demanded he, dropping his weapon again.

“If you strike me with that stick, you must look out for consequences.
I shall defend myself as well as I know how.”

Waddie glanced at his companions.

“Hit him! What are you waiting for?” cried his friends; and I have
always observed, in such cases, that it is easier to give advice than
to strike the blow.

Mr. Waddie had placed himself in a position which he could not well
evacuate. He evidently had no heart for the encounter which he foresaw
must take place if he struck me, and perhaps he had not entire
confidence in the character of the support which he was to receive. At
any rate he could not help realizing that the first blows of the battle
were likely to be dealt upon his own head.

“You called me a liar,” said he, working up his courage again by a new
recital of his wrongs.

“I did, and apologized for it,” I replied.

“Go down on your knees, then, and say you are sorry.”

“I will not.”

“Then mind your eye,” continued Waddie, as with a sudden spring he hit
me on the arm, which I had raised to ward off the blow.

I did mind my eye, and I minded his, too; for, before he could bring
up his supports, I leaped upon him. Though he was of my own size and
age, he was only a baby in my hands. I grasped his stick, wrenched and
twisted it a few times, and then threw him over backwards into a pool
of soft mud, which I had chosen to flank my position and save me from
an attack in the rear. He was half buried in the soft compound of black
mud and decayed leaves which filled the hole, and his good clothes
suffered severely from the effects of his disaster.

The moment the conflict commenced the supports moved up; but, before
they could come into action, I had overthrown my assailant, and stood
against the tree with the club in my hand. When Waddie went over
backwards, a new duty seemed to be suggested to his backers; and,
instead of turning on me, they proceeded to help their principal out of
his uncomfortable position. Encouraged and thoroughly waked up by my
victory, I think I could have thrashed the whole party; but I had not
wholly escaped the influence of my mother’s teachings, and was disposed
to act strictly in self-defence.

The quagmire into which Waddie had fallen was near the bank of the
brook which meandered through the grove, and which had been bridged in
several places, as well to add to the convenience of passers-by, as
to increase the picturesque beauty of the place. I deemed it best to
retreat to one of these bridges, which was not more than three feet
wide, and which would enable me to defend myself from an assault to the
best advantage.

“Humph! you cowards!” snarled Waddie, as his companions lifted him
out of the slough, and he spit out the mud and water which filled his
mouth. “Why didn’t you stand by me, as you promised?”

“We expected you to make a better fight than that,” replied one of
them; and it was doubtful to me whether they could assign any good
reason why they had not stood by him.

“I did the best I could, and you did not come near me. I’m in a pretty
pickle,” sputtered Waddie, as he glanced at his soiled garments.

“We’ll give it to him yet,” said one of the party, as he glanced at me
securely posted on the bridge.

“Where is he?” asked Waddie.

I was pointed out to him, and the sight of me inflamed all his zeal
again.

“Come on, fellows; and stand by me this time, I wish I had my revolver
here.”

I was very glad he had not that formidable weapon about him, though
I don’t think he could have hit me if he had fired at me; but he
sometimes struck the mark by accident. Waddie took a club from the hand
of one of his supporters, and rushed towards the bridge. Though he was
not a master of strategy, he could not help seeing that I was well
posted, and he halted suddenly before he reached the brook.

“We must drive him from the bridge, where we can have fair play,” said
Waddie.

I did not just then see how this was to be done; but I was soon able to
perceive his plan. The scion led his forces to a position on the brook
above me, and, taking some stones from the shallow stream, began to
pelt me with a vigor which soon rendered my place untenable. Several of
the missiles hit me, though I was not much hurt by them. Under these
circumstances, I was helpless for defensive purposes, for I had nothing
with which to return the fire. It was useless for me to stand there,
and be peppered with stones. I concluded to retreat in good order, and
brought myself off without any material damage.

[Illustration: WOLF’S FORTRESS.--Page 133.]

The only safe line by which I could retire was in the direction of the
mansion of Colonel Wimpleton. I crossed the brook farther down, and
came to a rustic summer house, on the bank of the stream. It was
built on a high foundation, to afford a prospect of the lake, and the
only admission was through the door, which was reached by a long flight
of steps. I immediately took possession of this structure, assured that
I could defend the door, while its walls would protect me from the
missiles of my assailants.

Waddie led his forces up to my fortress, and surveyed the situation.
They attempted to drive me out with stones; but they fell harmless upon
the building. The besiegers consulted together, and decided to make an
assault on the works. I was entirely willing they should do so, for I
could knock them over with the club as fast as they came up, having
all the advantage of position. Ben Pinkerton volunteered to lead the
forlorn hope, and advanced with considerable boldness to the attack. I
gave him a gentle rap on the head as he appeared at the door, and he
fell back, unable to reach me with his stick, as I stood so much higher
than he.

“Better keep back,” I remonstrated with him. “If there are any broken
heads, they will be yours.”

Dick Bayard then attempted to climb up the railing of the stairs, so
as to be on a level with me; but I knocked his fingers with my stick,
and he desisted. It was plain to them, after this trial, that a direct
assault was not practicable, and they retired to the ground below.
Another consultation followed in the ranks of the enemy; and by this
time Waddie’s friends were quite as much interested in the affair as he
was himself.

“I wish I had my revolver,” said the scion. “Hold on! I will go to the
house and get it; you stay here, and don’t let him come down.”

“Oh, no! We don’t want any pistol,” protested Ben Pinkerton. “You
mustn’t shoot him!”

“Why not? I would shoot him as quick as I would a cat. I wouldn’t kill
him, of course; but I would make him come down, and give us fair play
on the ground,” added Waddie.

Fair play! Seven of them, armed with clubs, against one! That was
Waddie’s idea of fair play.

“No; we don’t want any pistols,” persisted Ben. “Some one might get
hurt, and then we should be in a bad scrape.”

“What are you going to do?” demanded the young gentleman. “Are you
going to let him stay up there and crow over us? I’m wet through, and I
don’t want to stay here all day. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll set
the summer house on fire. That will bring him down.”

This was a brilliant idea of Waddie, and I was afraid he would put it
into operation, for he was reckless enough to do anything.

“That won’t do,” replied the prudent Pinkerton. “We don’t want to get
into any scrape.”

“No; don’t set it on fire,” added Dick Bayard; and so said all of them
but Waddie; for probably they foresaw that they would have to bear all
the blame of the deed.

“I don’t want to stay here all day,” fretted Waddie.

“Put it through by daylight!” I ventured to suggest, as I sat on the
upper step, listening to the interview.

“He is laughing at us,” said the scion, angrily.

“Let him laugh; he is safe,” replied Ben. “I’ll tell you what we can
do.”

“Well, what?” asked Waddie, as he cast a discontented glance at me.

“Let us camp out here to-night,” continued Ben.

“Camp out!” repeated several of the party, not fully comprehending the
idea of the fertile Pinkerton’s brilliant mind.

“Starve him out, I mean,” explained Ben. “We will stay here and keep
him a close prisoner till he is willing to come down and take his
licking like a man.”

Stupid as this plan seemed to me, it was promptly adopted. But the
enemy retired out of hearing to complete the arrangement, though they
were near enough to fall upon me if I attempted to escape. I did not
consider myself a match for the whole of them on the ground, and I had
expected to be terribly mauled, as I should have been if my wits had
not served me well.

Presently I saw Waddie leave the party, and walk towards his father’s
house. I concluded that he had gone to change his clothes, for his
plight was as disagreeable as it could be. His companions took position
near the foot of the steps, with the clubs in their hands, ready
to receive me if I attempted to evacuate my fortress. I was quite
comfortable, and rather curious to know what they intended to do.

I waited an hour for the return of Waddie, during which time I studied
the structure in which I was a prisoner, and its surroundings, in order
to prepare myself for action when it should be necessary. It was plain
to me that the scion was taking more time than was needed to change his
clothes. I thought something had happened at the house; and in this
impression I was soon confirmed by the appearance of Colonel Wimpleton,
attended by two men.




CHAPTER XIII.

CAPTAIN SYNDERS.


There were not many men in Centreport who were not either the toadies
or the employees of Colonel Wimpleton. He was an absolute monarch in
the place, and his will was law, to all intents and purposes, though of
course he did not operate with all as he did with me. Ordinarily, and
especially when not opposed, he was a very gentlemanly man, affable to
his equals,--if he had any equals in town,--and condescending to his
inferiors.

I was not quite willing to believe that Waddie had called upon his
father for aid. It was more probable that the scion’s dirty plight
had attracted the attention of his parents, and called forth an
explanation. But it was all the same to me, since Colonel Wimpleton
was coming with efficient aid to capture and reduce me to proper
subjection. It was no common enemy with whom I was called upon to
contend, but the mighty man of Centreport, whose will none dared to
oppose.

As the party approached, I saw that one of the men was Captain Synders,
the ex-skipper of a canal boat, who had been promoted to the honors and
dignities of a constable. I was somewhat appalled when I considered
his official position, for he was armed with authority, and it would
be hardly safe for me to offer any resistance to him. The coming of
Colonel Wimpleton nipped in the bud the scheme of the bullies to camp
out around me, and I was rather glad to have the case settled without
any unnecessary delay.

The summer house, which was a poor imitation of an Indian pagoda,
mounted on piles, had a door, with a window in each of its octagonal
faces. On the other side of the brook was a large tree, whose branches
partially shaded the building. During my study of the situation, I had
arranged a plan by which my escape could be effected at a favorable
moment. I could pass out at one of the windows, and climb to the roof
of the pagoda, from which the overhanging branches of the trees would
afford me the means of reaching the ground. The only difficulty in my
way was, that my besiegers would be able to reach the foot of the tree
before I could, and thus cut off my retreat. But the summer house was
located near the lake, and the brook at this point was wide and deep,
so that it could not be crossed except on the bridge, which was several
rods distant. My line of retreat would be available only when the
besiegers were off their guard, or were not in a situation to pursue
instantly.

When Colonel Wimpleton appeared, Waddie’s six brave companions retired
from the ground, fearful, perhaps, of getting into a scrape. I saw
them move off a short distance, and halt to observe the proceedings.
The great man and his associates devoted their whole attention to me,
and did not heed the students. They came directly to the foot of the
stairs, while I sat at the head of them. I had made a movement to
retire when the valiant six retreated; but I saw that the attempt would
only throw me into the hands of the reënforcements.

“Come down, you villain!” called Colonel Wimpleton, as he halted at the
foot of the stairs.

To this summons to surrender I made no reply.

“What do you mean by knocking my son over into the mud?” he added,
angrily.

“He began it upon me, sir,” I replied. “He brought up half a dozen
fellows to lick me, and struck me with a club.”

“He served you right. I told you to come down.”

“I know you did, sir.”

“Are you coming down?”

“Not just yet.”

“Go up and bring him down, Synders,” said the colonel to the officer.

“I’ll bring him down,” replied the zealous constable.

But he did not.

I sprang to my feet, leaped out upon the trimmings of the pagoda, and
vaulted to the roof almost in the twinkling of an eye--at any rate,
before Captain Synders reached the inside of the summer house. The
constable looked out of the window at my elevated position. He was
too clumsy to follow me, and I felt that I was perfectly safe. From
the roof I saw that the branches of the tree were more favorable to
my descent than I had supposed, and I found that I could climb into
another tree on the same side of the brook as the pagoda. I jumped
into the branches of this tree, and began to move down. I found that
my gymnastic practice at the Institute, where I had excelled in this
department, was of great service to me, and I was quite sure that no
man could follow me.

Perching myself on a branch, I paused to examine the situation again.
Captain Synders sent the man who had come with him, and who was one
of the gardeners, to the foot of the tree to intercept my retreat. I
did not purpose to go down that way, but intended, at the right time,
to return to the roof of the pagoda, and descend on the other side of
the brook. My movement in this direction was only a feint. The colonel
expected, doubtless, that I would drop down into the arms of the
gardener, and that the chase would be immediately ended; but, seated
on the branch, I kept still, and said nothing.

“Are you going down, you scoundrel?” roared the colonel, when he found
the plan did not work.

“No, sir, not yet.”

“You are on my grounds, and I will have you arrested as a trespasser,”
foamed the colonel.

“You sent for me, sir, and I came at your request.”

“Who sent for you?”

“You did, sir; ask Waddie; he was your messenger.”

“I didn’t send for you.”

“Waddie came to my house, and said you wanted to see me.”

“I want to see you now, at any rate.”

“Here I am, sir.”

“You shall be punished for knocking my son over into the mud.”

“I would like to talk this matter over coolly, Colonel Wimpleton,” I
continued, taking an easy position in the tree, “I apologized to Waddie
for calling him a liar, and I am sorry I was saucy to you.”

“Humph! Come down from that tree, then. If you make a clean breast of
it, I will let you off easy.”

“I don’t think I’m to blame for anything except being saucy,” I
replied; and I did not think I was much to blame for that, after he had
called me a villain and a scoundrel, and other hard names; still it was
returning evil for evil.

“Did he apologize to you, Waddie?” asked the colonel, turning to his
hopeful.

“He said he was sorry, and I told him to get down on his knees and beg
my pardon,” replied Waddie.

“And he would not do it?” asked the indignant father, evidently
regarding it as exceedingly unreasonable in me to refuse to undergo
this trifling humiliation.

“No, he wouldn’t.”

“Very well,” replied the great man. “We shall see whether he will or
not.”

I was willing to see.

“Wolf Penniman, you are a bad boy!” exclaimed the colonel with
emphasis.

I did not dispute him.

“You have insulted me and my son.”

“I am willing to be forgiven, sir,” I answered, after a vain effort to
keep down the spirit which was rising in me. “I have apologized for
being saucy; what more can I do?”

“You must do what my son told you to do, and then confess that you
helped blow up the canal boat,” replied he, more calmly than he had yet
spoken.

“I can’t do anything more, then. I know nothing about the blow-up, and
I won’t go down on my knees to anybody in this world.”

“You are an obstinate villain, and I’ll bring you to your senses before
I have done with you. Where is your father?”

“Gone to Hitaca.”

“Will you come down now, or shall I have you brought down?”

“I’ll be brought down, if it’s all the same to you, sir,” I replied,
folding my arms, and looking as impudent as I spoke.

I felt that I had given my mother’s good advice a fair trial. I had
gained nothing by apologizing, though I was not sorry I had done so.
The more I humiliated myself, the more I must; and, without meaning to
be saucy, I determined to stand up squarely for my own rights and my
own dignity.

“I’ll bring him down, if you say so, father,” volunteered the Wimpleton
junior.

“How?”

“We can drive him out of the tree, as we did off the bridge.”

“Exactly so!” exclaimed Captain Synders. “That’s a good idea. Since
neither words nor grass will do, we’ll try what virtue’s in a stone or
two.”

The besiegers went down the stairs, and Waddie called up his forces,
ready to renew the assault. By the time they reached the ground, I had
descended to the roof of the pagoda, where the party could not see
me, and where the thick branches of the trees protected me from their
missiles. They soon found they were not getting ahead any, and by the
advice of Synders they changed their position. With the exception
of the colonel, who was too dignified to throw stones, men and boys
renewed the assault, and poured a shower of stones upon me. Some of
them hit me, and the roof became too warm for me. I dropped down into
the summer house for safety. Finding the coast clear,--for the colonel
had been forced to retire from the foot of the stairs to avoid the
stones,--I rushed down the steps, and ran with all my might towards
home. The besiegers had been careless, and I was only too happy to take
advantage of their mistake.

I ran as fast as I could over the bridge, following the path by which
I had come. I was closely pursued; but I distanced all my enemies. It
would be useless for me to go home; for the constable was a man of
authority, and I supposed he had been sent for to arrest me, though on
what charge I could not conjecture, for Wimpleton senior would not dare
to prosecute me in a matter wherein Wimpleton junior would be likely
to suffer more than myself. I wished to spare my mother the pain and
anxiety of another controversy in the house; and for that reason, as
well as because home was not a safe place for me, I made my way to the
mill wharf, where I had an old skiff.

I reached this boat without accident, but out of breath with the hard
run I had had. Jumping in, I pushed off, and pulled away from the
shore. For the present I was safe, for there was no boat in which I
could be pursued, nearer than the mansion of Colonel Wimpleton. The
constable and his companions did not come down to the wharf after they
saw me push off, but returned in the direction of the grove. I rowed
out upon the lake, where I could see any boat which might put off
after me. I went half way across the lake, and then concluded that my
assailants had chosen to wait for my return.

I did not exactly like to return then; it would only be putting my head
into the lion’s mouth; and I pulled for Middleport. A sail-boat was
near me, in which were several boys, one of whom presently hailed me.

“Is that you, Wolf?” called the speaker, in whom I recognized Tommy
Toppleton.

I informed him that it was I.

“I was going over after you,” he added. “Jump aboard--will you?”

I did so, and was glad to find myself among friends, though they were
Toppletonians.

“We want you to get that engine out of the water,” continued Tommy.

I saw the tow-boat at the wharf, with steam up, and I promised to do
the job before night--in fact, to put it through by daylight.




CHAPTER XIV.

RAISING THE DUMMY.


“Haven’t you any one in Middleport that can raise that engine?” I
asked, with a pleasant smile, after I had taken a seat in Tommy
Toppleton’s beautiful sail-boat, with my old skiff in tow.

“Of course we have,” replied the Toppleton junior; “but I’m afraid it
will take a week for them to do it. They are talking about rigging a
derrick on the wharf.”

“You don’t need any derrick, or anything of that sort,” I added,
confidently; and I was quite satisfied that with the aid of the
tow-boat I could make good my promise.

“Do you think you can really raise the thing?” asked Tommy, anxiously.

“I know I can.”

“Can you do it right up quick?”

“It may take an hour or so. Can I have your father’s tow-boat?”

“Certainly you can; but my father don’t know I came over after you,”
added the scion of the house of Toppleton.

“I don’t want to do anything without your father’s knowledge and
consent.”

“He won’t find any fault with anything except that you are a
Centreporter.”

“I am no more a Centreporter than I am a Middleporter now,” I replied.
“I have had a row with the powers that be on our side.”

“A row! Good!” exclaimed Tommy, his face brightening up at this
intelligence. “What was it?”

I explained what it was, telling the whole history of the blowing up of
the canal-boat, with the collateral incidents relating to the affair.

“That’s just like Wimpleton,” said Tommy. “We don’t behave in that way
on our side of the lake.”

I hoped they did not; but it was a fact patent to the people, that
Mr. Tommy, though by no means as bad a boy as Waddie, was a spoiled
child. He was overbearing, domineering, and inclined to get into bad
scrapes. Though he was willing to be my friend, and to treat me with
the greatest consideration at the present time, it was only because he
had an axe to grind; and I had not much confidence in the professions
he made to me.

“I wish you would come and live on our side,” added Tommy. “We want
just such a fellow as you are over here.”

“Perhaps I may have to live over here,” I replied. “I suppose Waddie
will not let me rest in peace after what has happened; and I never will
go down on my knees to him or any other person.”

“Don’t you do it, Wolf,” said Tommy, warmly. “If you want a dozen or
twenty of our fellows to go over and whip out the crowd that set upon
you, we will do it--won’t we, fellows?”

“I’ll bet we will,” replied the half dozen particular cronies of Tommy
who were in the boat with him.

“I don’t wish to do anything of that kind. I bear Waddie no ill will;
and if he will only let me alone, I shall never have any trouble with
him.”

“You are too easy with him. If you only licked him once, he would
respect you for it.”

I could not help thinking what the consequences would be if any
plebeian Middleporter took it into his head to “lick” Tommy Toppleton;
and it was about the same on one side of the lake as the other. It
was not prudent to thrash so much pride, conceit, and wealth, as were
embodied in the person of either of the heirs of the great houses.
The sons of poor men had to stand back, and take off their hats to
the scion of either family. Fathers’ situations and mothers’ social
positions depended much upon the deference paid by their children to
the representatives of the nabobs.

“Where shall I land you, Wolf?” asked Tommy, as the sail-boat
approached the wharf, near which the dummy reposed, ignominiously, on
the bottom of the lake.

“Put me on board of the tow-boat, if you please. And you must get the
captain to do what I tell him,” I replied.

“I’ll do that. He shall obey your orders just as though you were the
owner of the steamer.”

We ran up to the tow-boat, which was about to start on a trip up the
lake with a fleet of canal boats that had gathered together. I knew
that she had on board all the rigging I needed for my bold experiment,
including some very long tow-lines. Tommy ran up to the boat, and he
and I leaped upon her deck, for I had assured him I needed no help from
the boys, or any one else.

“Captain Underwood, we want to use your boat for a while,” said Tommy,
as briskly as though he had himself been the owner of the craft.

“Does your father say so?” asked the captain, with some hesitation, and
with the utmost deference.

“No matter whether he does or not; I will be responsible. Now go ahead,
Wolf. You can put her through by daylight.”

The captain consented to take part in the enterprise, when informed
that I was the “young engineer,”--as I had the honor to be called,--and
that I had a plan to put the dummy on shore.

“Shall I explain the plan to you, Captain Underwood?” I asked.

“No, you needn’t, Wolf, unless you wish to do so,” interposed Tommy,
impatiently.

“If you will tell me what to do, I will obey orders,” answered the
captain. “In fact, I don’t care to know anything about it; and then I
shall be responsible for nothing.”

“All right, captain. You shall not be responsible, and if I fail no
harm will be done. Have you a stout iron hook?”

“Yes; here is one on the end of this tow-line,” he replied, pointing to
a coil of large rope.

“That’s just what I want,” said I, throwing off my coat. “Now run up to
the north side of the dummy.”

Before the steamer reached the spot I had thrown off all my clothes.
Jumping into my skiff with Tommy, who was proud and happy to have a
finger in the pie, we took the tow-line on board, and pulled to the
end of the dummy, to which I made fast. I had ascertained from my
companion that there was a shackle eye in each end of the engine, by
which another car could be attached to it; and my present purpose was
to fasten the hook into this eye.

The water of Lake Ucayga is as clear as crystal, and I had no trouble
in finding the eye, which was no more than four feet below the surface
of the lake. I dropped down into the engine-room, standing up to my
neck in water, and Tommy lowered down the iron hook. I then stooped
down, disappeared from the view of the world above me for a moment, and
attached the hook to the eye.

“All right, Tommy,” said I, when I had cleared the water from my mouth.

“Bully for you, Wolf; but I don’t see how you are going to put the
thing on shore,” replied he.

“I’m going to do it; if I don’t I never will go on shore again myself,”
I added, as I sprang upon the roof of the dummy again.

“I should hate to fail, for the fellows are a-gathering on the wharf to
see the fun.”

“There’s no such word as fail,” I answered, leaping into the boat. “Now
pull for the tow-boat, and let me put on my rags again.”

I jumped upon deck, and in a few moments had my clothes on. I glanced
at the wharf, and saw that quite a number of students and grown-up
people had gathered there, as the intelligence spread that something
was going on.

“What next, Wolf?” asked Captain Underwood, bestowing upon me a smile
which seemed to indicate an utter want of confidence in my operations.

“Go ahead, captain,” I replied, seizing the tow-line, and making it
fast at the bits provided for the purpose.

I knew what the bottom of the lake was at the Middleport wharf, for I
had been down there more than once. It was composed of hard gravel, and
almost as smooth as the surface of the lake in a calm day. I knew that
the flanges of the car wheels would cut into the ground and make it go
hard and they would run as well there as on a hard road.

“Go ahead!” said Captain Underwood to the engineer.

“Steady, captain! Work her up gradually,” I added.

The wheels turned slowly at first, so as not to part the tow-line, or
needlessly wrench the sunken car; but in a few moments she had full
steam on. It was an anxious moment to me, and the gathering crowd on
shore watched the movement in silence.

“She starts!” exclaimed Tommy, highly excited. “She’s coming!”

“Of course she’s coming; I knew she would,” I replied, struggling to
keep down the emotions which agitated me.

“Hurrah!” yelled Tommy, as the dummy began to follow us, as though she
were a part of the steamer.

“Starboard your helm, Captain Underwood,” I called.

“Starboard it is,” replied the captain, when he had given the order to
the wheelman.

“Keep as well in shore as your draught will let you,” I continued.

“I can’t run the boat up on the shore, Wolf,” said the captain.

“I don’t want you to do so. The dummy travels very well on the bottom.”

“Yes; but we can’t drag it out of the water without running upon shore
with the boat.”

“I think we can, captain. At any rate, don’t let the boat get aground,”
I replied.

The steamer continued on her course till she came abreast of a large
tree growing on the shore, between which and the lake the rails were
laid down.

“Stop her!” I shouted; and my order was promptly obeyed.

The dummy was now in about six feet of water, and not more than a
hundred feet from the tree. It was headed in a diagonal towards the
railroad.

“Now, Captain Underwood, have you a heavy snatch-block?” I asked as the
boat stopped.

“I have--one used with that tow-line,” replied the obliging captain,
to whom the request indicated the nature of further operations; and I
ought to add, in justice to him, that the look of incredulity which had
played upon his face was all gone.

I took the snatch-block, with the ropes to make it fast, and the end of
the tow-line, into the skiff, and, attended by Tommy, pulled ashore. My
companion, in spite of the fact that he usually wore kid gloves, made
himself exceedingly serviceable. I rigged the snatch-block to the tree,
and passed the tow-line over the sheaf, carrying the end back to the
steamer in the boat, where I made it fast to the stern bits.

“Go ahead, captain!” I called.

Working her up to her speed slowly and carefully, the steamer ploughed
and strained for a few moments, then went ahead. The rope strained, but
it did not part, and the dummy walked up out of the water as though she
had been a sea-horse emerging from his native element.

The crowd which had followed the steamer cheered lustily, and my
promise was redeemed.




CHAPTER XV.

GETTING UP STEAM.


The enthusiastic cheering which followed the passage of the dummy
from the water to the land was grateful to me, and I enjoyed it to a
degree which I cannot express. I felt just as though the Centreporters
had cast me out, and the Middleporters had taken me up. I was quite
confident that there were many persons in Middleport who could have
raised the dummy; but no one seemed to have thought of my plan. Perhaps
few of them knew the bottom of the lake as well as I did, for diving
was one of my accomplishments; and I had oftener gone into the water on
the Middleport side than on the other, because the beach was better.

“By gracious, Wolf! you have done it!” exclaimed Tommy Toppleton, as I
directed the captain to stop the steamer; and his mouth and his eyes
were opened as wide as if an earthquake had rent the lake beneath us.

“Of course I have done it; I expected to do it,” I replied, as
indifferently as I could, for, however big one may feel, he does not
always like to show it.

“You have done it handsomely, too,” added Captain Underwood; and praise
from Sir What’s-his-name was praise indeed.

“I hope the Wimpleton fellows saw that,” said Tommy, puffing out his
cheeks, and looking as grand as an alderman. “It would take them down a
peg if they did.”

“I expect to catch it for helping you out,” I added, as I thought of
the wrath of Colonel Wimpleton, when he should hear that I had been
playing into the hands of the Toppletonians.

“Don’t you be afraid of the whole boodle of them,” replied Tommy,
shaking his head, as though he thought the other side would make a
great mistake if it attempted to punish me for what I had done.

“We’ll talk about that some other time,” I answered, turning my
attention to business again.

“We haven’t quite done the work yet. We must put the dummy on the
track.”

“Can I help you any more?” asked the captain, with a deference which
amazed me.

“You may give us one more pull, if you are not in a hurry. I’m going on
shore now, and I will make a signal to start and to stop her, with my
handkerchief,” said I, jumping into the skiff with Tommy.

The dummy stood within a couple of rods of the track, which was
in readiness as far as Spangleport, five miles down the lake. We
landed, and marched in triumph through the crowd of men and boys on
the shore, though I ought to say that Tommy did the triumphal part
of the programme, and looked as grand as though he had himself been
the engineer of the movement. Scores of the students offered their
services, and as I was on the point of sending some of them for a few
planks on which to roll the dummy to the track, a platform car, which
had constituted the entire rolling stock of the Lake Shore Railroad,
rumbled up to the spot, in charge of a portion of the students,
attended by Major Toppleton himself. The car was loaded with planks
and rigging, which the Middleport magnate had foreseen we should want.

“We’ve got her out, father!” shouted Tommy, when he saw the major.

“I see you have,” replied the great man, with a cheerful smile.

“But we haven’t quite finished the job yet,” added the young gentleman,
bustling about as though the completion of the work rested heavily on
his shoulders. “What next, Wolf?” said he, turning to me, and speaking
in a lower tone.

“We must lay down some planks to roll it on the track with,” I replied.

“Bring up the planks, fellows!” cried Tommy; and the students rushed to
obey his commands.

“This is Wolf--is it?” said Major Toppleton, bestowing a patronizing
glance at me.

“Yes, father; this is Wolf, and he puts things through by daylight,
I can tell you. He and I have managed this thing ourselves,” replied
Tommy, swelling with importance.

“I’m glad to see you, Wolf. They say you have a taste for machinery.”

“Yes, sir; I’m very fond of machinery.”

“And you live on the other side?”

“Yes, sir; my father is the engineer in Colonel Wimpleton’s steam mill.”

“Humph!” ejaculated the major. “But you have done well, for I was just
offering a man two hundred dollars to raise the dummy. He said it would
take him three days to rig his derrick, and bring down his capstans
from Ucayga. I was talking with him when you hooked on and dragged the
thing away. You are a smart boy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You shall not lose anything by the job, if you do belong on the other
side,” said the major, magnanimously.

“O, I don’t ask anything, sir. I only did it for fun.”

“Well, it’s good fun, at any rate,” laughed the great man. “The boys
will think you are a little god.”

“I suppose I shouldn’t have dared to meddle with it if I had not fallen
out with Colonel Wimpleton and his son.”

“Ah, indeed?” queried the major, opening his eyes, as a gleam of
satisfaction passed over his face. “We will talk that matter over when
your job is finished.”

By this time the students, who would have insulted me if I had come
among them at any other time, had brought up the planks from the car,
and I proceeded to lay a track for the dummy wheels. I placed two lines
of wide ones as far as the iron rails, sweeping them in curves, so as
to turn the engine as it neared the track. On them I laid narrower
planks for the wheels to run upon, gauging them with a stick measured
to the width of the flanges of the wheels. When all was ready for a
start, I gave the signal with my handkerchief. The steamer paddled and
splashed, the rope strained, and the dummy started again. I directed
the students to steady the planks so that they should not slip, and in
a couple of minutes, more or less, we had the machine on the temporary
track I had rigged. I waved my handkerchief again, and the boat stopped.

“That will do, Tommy,” said I. “Tell your fellows to cast off the
snatch-block, and let the captain haul in his tow-line. We shall not
want it any more.”

“But the dummy is not on the track yet,” replied Tommy, fearful that
some delay might occur.

“We can move it on the planks easily enough without the steamer; and
she pulls so hard I am afraid she will overdo the matter. Send a couple
of your fellows off in my skiff with the snatch-block and ropes.”

The scion of the Toppleton house liked to be “the biggest toad in
the puddle,” and he gave off his orders with great gusto to the
students, not always in as gentlemanly terms as I could have wished,
but with effect. He was promptly obeyed, without dispute. I suggested
to him that the cushions and other movable articles in the passenger
compartment of the dummy should be removed, and placed in the sun to
dry. Tommy went at the students as though the idea was his own, and
made all hands “stand around” for a moment. I was very willing to
flatter his vanity by letting him do the ordering.

There was a brake in the engine-room, and another on the platform in
the rear of the car. Tommy, at my request, placed a student at each of
them. I then rigged a long rope at the forward end of the dummy, which
was manned by a crowd of boys, while the men who were standing by took
hold at the sides and end of the car.

“Now start her, Tommy,” said I in a low tone, so as to permit him to
enjoy the pleasing illusion that he was running the machine.

“Now, all together--ahead with her!” shouted Tommy, flourishing his
arms like the director of an orchestra.

“Steady, Tommy.”

“Steady!” yelled my mouthpiece.

The dummy moved slowly forward, till the drive-wheels came to the iron
track.

“Put on the brakes! Stop her!” shouted Tommy, as I gave him the word.

The passage of the wheels from the planks down to the iron track
involved some difficulty; but, by the aid of rocks and a couple of iron
bars, the transit was effected, and the dummy was safely deposited on
the rails in just an hour after the work began.

“Three cheers for the Lake Shore Railroad!” shouted one of the
students, in the violence of his enthusiasm, when the job was completed.

They were given with a will.

“Three more for Wolf Penniman,” added another student; and I was duly
complimented, for which I took off my cap and bowed my acknowledgments.

“Don’t forget Tommy,” I whispered to one of the fellows.

“Three rousing cheers for Tommy Toppleton,” called the student to whom
I had given the hint.

Perhaps some of them thought that Mr. Tommy had not done anything
to entitle him to the consideration; but the cheers were given, and
supplemented with a “tiger.”

“Fellow-students, I thank you for this compliment, and for this
evidence of your good will,” said Tommy, taking off his hat. “I have
done the best I could to help along the Lake Shore Railroad, and as
the president of the company, I am much obliged to you for this token
of encouragement. When our rolling stock was buried beneath the wave,
it was my duty to do something; and I’ve done it. I’m glad you are
satisfied with the result.”

Then Tommy was the president of the Lake Shore Railroad Company! I did
not know this before; his zeal was fully explained, and I was all the
more pleased that I had permitted him to exercise the lion’s share of
the authority.

“Three cheers for Major Toppleton,” squeaked a little fellow, who
thought the magnificent patron of the enterprise had been neglected.

The great man bowed and smiled, as great men always do when they are
cheered; but he did not take up any of our valuable time by making a
speech.

“Tommy, we want some oil and some packing,” I suggested to the
president of the road, after I had examined the machinery of the dummy.

“Do you think you can start her up to-night, Wolf?” asked Tommy,
anxiously, after he had despatched half a dozen of his satellites for
the required articles.

“Certainly we can; you shall ride over to Spangleport, and back to
Middleport in her,” I replied. “Now let some of your fellows bring up
water to fill the boiler and the tank, and we will get up steam in the
course of an hour or so.”

The boys returned from the steam mill with packing and oil; and,
while others were bringing wood and water, I rubbed up and oiled the
machinery. Brooms, mops, and cloths were obtained, and, under Tommy’s
direction, the passenger portion of the car was cleaned and wiped. The
engine had been well oiled before it was sent up from Philadelphia, and
I had nothing to do but wipe off the water and lubricate the running
parts. I kindled a fire in the furnace, and, when the smoke began to
pour out of the smoke-stack, the students yelled for joy.




CHAPTER XVI.

THE FIRST TRIP OF THE DUMMY.


I was in my element--in charge of a steam-engine. Though I had never
seen a dummy before this one, I comprehended the machinery at a glance.
I hardly heard the tumultuous yells of the Toppletonians as they
manifested their joy, so absorbed was I in the study of the machine,
and in the anticipation of what wonderful things it would do. Such an
excited crowd as that which surrounded me I had never seen, and I was
obliged to close the door of the engine-room to keep them out. I opened
it with due deference when Mr. Tommy Toppleton, the president of the
Lake Shore Railroad, made a demand for admission, but I remorselessly
excluded the board of directors and the superintendent, to their great
mortification, no doubt; but I did not know them just then.

Tommy and his father were busily engaged in a conversation which seemed
to relate to me, when I rang the bell to indicate that the engine was
ready for a start. This announcement was greeted with the usual volley
of cheers, and the young gentlemen began to pile into the passenger
apartment to a degree which perilled the powers of the car. There were
at least a hundred of them, and it was impossible to accommodate the
whole. The major directed his son to divide them into two companies;
and, though all of them manifested a childish impatience to have the
first ride, they submitted to the arrangement. Fifty of them filled the
car, and Major Toppleton and Tommy honored me with their company in the
engine-room.

“All aboard!” shouted the president.

“I think they need no such invitation,” I added, laughing.

“We must do things up in shape, you know. We are all ready now, Wolf,”
replied Tommy, highly excited.

“I don’t know anything about the road on which I am to run, Mr.
President,” I suggested, as a preparation for any accident which might
happen.

“The road is all right, you may depend upon that,” answered Tommy.

“Of course, if the rails happen to be spread, or anything of that sort,
we shall be thrown off the track.”

“I sent a man over it with a gauge, yesterday, and he reported it to
be in perfect condition,” interposed the major. “It would be very
unfortunate to have any accident happen, and I have taken every
precaution to guard against one.”

“I think we had better run very slowly the first time,” I replied.

“You can’t be too careful, young man.”

“Let her drive, Wolf!” said Tommy, impatiently.

I let off the brake, and opened the valve. The steam hissed in the most
natural and encouraging manner, and the dummy began to move, amid the
shouts of those on board and those on the ground. The road was very
level and straight, and the car moved as easily as a boat in the water,
though the engine made a disagreeable puffing and twanging noise in its
action.

[Illustration: THE FIRST TRIP OF THE DUMMY.--Page 175.]

“Here we go!” roared Tommy, at the top of his lungs, swinging his
cap to the boys who stood at the sides, looking in at the door. “This
is bully!”

“Exceedingly bully!” laughed his father.

“I should like to run through some of the Wimpleton fellows about this
time,” added the president. “They would find out that our side of the
lake is wide awake.”

I did not care to present myself to the Wimpletonians just at that
moment. If I had, I should have been mobbed as a traitor to my own
side; though, after the treatment which Centreport, in the persons of
its magnate and its magnate’s son, had bestowed upon me, my conscience
did not reproach me for infidelity. I had actually been driven out of
the place, and the colonel had no right to expect anything different
from me.

The dummy went along very smoothly, and worked so well that I ventured
to “let her out” a little more. The outsiders, in their excitement, had
followed us so far; but, as I let on the steam, we ran away from them,
the outsiders giving a rousing cheer as we distanced them. The ground
on which the road was laid was nearly a dead level, though in some
places a shelf on the side hill on the border of the lake had been dug
out. Between Spangleport and the other terminus, two bridges had been
built over a couple of brooks, and the expense of constructing the road
was little more than the cost of sleepers and rails.

In about half an hour we reached Spangleport, which consisted of a
wharf, a store, and about a dozen houses, on the lake shore, though
there was quite a large village a mile distant. The occupants of
the dozen houses turned out in a body, as the dummy went hissing
and sizzling on its way. The students yelled and cheered, and the
Spangleporters manifested their enthusiasm in a proper manner. It was a
great occasion for Spangleport, and both natives and visitors made the
most of it during the few moments we remained.

As there was no turn-table, we were obliged to run to Middleport
backwards; but one of the conductors was placed on the forward platform
to keep a lookout, and as he could ring a bell in the engine-room by
pulling the strap, the car could be stopped in an instant. But there
were no road crossings or obstructions of any kind to bother us, and
we went ahead at a high rate of speed, rushing through the crowd of
students we had left where the dummy was raised, and stopping only when
we reached Middleport.

The whole village turned out to greet the dummy when she appeared; but
we left our freight, and immediately returned to take up the waiting
party, who were impatiently anticipating their first ride on the
machine. I was beginning to grow tired of yelling and cheering; for
I was not disposed to be very demonstrative myself, and I hoped the
novelty would soon wear off, so that we could move without seeming like
a horde of wild Indians. Probably I did not enjoy the stirring events
of the day as much as I should if I had no trouble on the other side
of the lake; for, in spite of the excitement of running the dummy,
I could not help thinking, occasionally, of my poor mother, who was
wondering what had become of me. I dreaded to hear from my father, for
I was afraid that he had renewed his drinking after I left the boat. It
seemed to me just as though our happy family had been broken in pieces
by the events of that day; and I could not shake off a certain degree
of sadness that hung over me.

I stopped the engine when we came to the party of students who were
waiting for us, and they piled in like a flock of sheep. Tommy shouted,
“All aboard!” after he was positively sure that every fellow was in the
car; and we went off again in the midst of a din of cheers and yells
that would have beggared Bedlam.

“Let her slide now--can’t you, Wolf?” said Tommy. “Make her spin!”

“I don’t like to run her too fast, till she gets a little used to it,”
I replied.

“Are you afraid of her?”

“No; but it’s all a new thing, and we must be careful, as your father
said.”

“Father isn’t here, now,” answered Tommy; for the young gentleman had
insisted that the machine should be run by the boys alone on this trip.

“I don’t want to smash you up, Mr. President; but I will obey orders.”

“All right; let her slide.”

I let her go as fast as I thought it was safe for her to go; but I did
not regard Tommy as a very safe president. By this time I felt quite
at home on the engine; but I should have enjoyed it more if I had been
alone, for I did not like the interference of my companion. I foresaw
that, under his direction, many risks must be run, and that it would be
difficult always to keep on the right side of him. He was good-natured
now, but I knew very well that such was not his invariable habit. Like
Waddie Wimpleton, he was disposed to be tyrannical and overbearing. He
liked his own way and it was not very pleasant to think of being his
dependent.

We ran up to Spangleport; and, after a vast amount of cheering and
yelling by the boys, and a reasonable display of enthusiasm on the
part of the inhabitants, we started for the return. Tommy wanted to go
faster; and I was very much afraid I should have a quarrel with him
before night. Running backwards, I could not see anything ahead of the
dummy, and I had not entire confidence in the lookout on the forward
platform. Fortunately we had not a large supply of fuel on board, and
this afforded me a sufficient excuse for not getting up too much steam.

We ran into Middleport, where the rest of the students, and hundreds of
men, women, and children were waiting to see more of the dummy. By this
time it was well dried off, and all the varnished parts had been rubbed
by the boys till it looked as good as new. A house had already been
built for the engine, near the Institute. It was provided with a water
cistern, from which the tanks in the engine could be filled, and with
other conveniences for taking care of it.

When the people had examined the car to their satisfaction, I ran it
into the engine-house, put out the fire, and placed the machinery in
proper order for use the next day. My work for that occasion was done,
and I felt that I had “put her through by daylight.”

“Now, Wolf, father wants to see you at the house,” said Tommy, when I
had finished my task on the engine.

“What does he want of me?” I asked, curiously.

“Oh, he wants to see you,” answered the young gentleman; and he deemed
this a sufficient reason why I should do as I was asked.

I followed Tommy to the great mansion, and was ushered into the
library, where the major was reading the newspapers which had just come
by the mail.

“Well, Wolf, I’m glad to see you,” said the magnate of Middleport,
laying aside his paper. “You have done more than a man’s work to-day,
and I want to pay you for it. Will a hundred dollars satisfy you for
your afternoon’s job?”

“Yes, sir, and more too; I don’t ask anything for what I have done,” I
replied.

“Don’t be too modest, my boy,” added the major, placing a roll of bank
bills in my hand.

“I am very much obliged to you, sir. I didn’t ask or expect anything.
I only came over here because I had to leave Centreport, and I did the
work for the fun of it.”

“Doubtless it was good fun; but you have done us a good turn, and
I have not overpaid you. Now tell me about your difficulty with
Wimpleton.”

I told him the story about the events of the day. I think it quite
likely the major thought he was encouraging a rebel; but he did not
express any dissatisfaction with my conduct. On the contrary he praised
my spirit, and declared that Middleport would be glad to take me up,
if Centreport wished to cast me out. He then offered me a dollar a
day to run the dummy; but I told him I could not accept it till I had
consulted my father and mother, and it was arranged that I should see
him the next day.

I then went to the shore, took my skiff, and rowed across the lake,
feeling like a rich man.




CHAPTER XVII.

MOTHER’S ADVICE.


For the first time in my life I had some fears in regard to meeting my
father. I dreaded the terrible infirmity which was beginning to develop
itself anew in him. Under ordinary circumstances I should have been
glad to see him; and with a hundred dollars in my pocket--the first
money I had ever earned by my knowledge and skill--I should have been
delighted to tell him the history of the day. I should have been sure
of a proud and sympathetic listener in him as I detailed the means I
had used to raise the dummy.

I feared two things--first, that he would be intoxicated; and second,
that he would remember against me the deed I had done with the
strange-looking bottle in the forenoon. In relation to the latter, I
had come to see that the destruction of the whiskey was not the only
or the greater cause of offence. By emptying the bottle, I had censured
him, virtually, and made myself a judge of his condition and conduct.
My father was a plucky man, in spite of his position as an employee of
Colonel Wimpleton, and, right or wrong, would not suffer any one to be
a censor upon his actions.

I feared that his anger would not go down with the sun; and I had an
utter horror of any quarrel in the family. Besides, I had a great
admiration of my father. I considered him one of the best and one of
the most skilful men of his craft on the lake. I could not endure the
thought of any coldness on his part or the feeling that I had suffered
in his estimation. I knew he had been proud of me as a scholar, and
especially proud of the reputation I had earned as a young engineer.
My readers, therefore, will not be surprised when I say that my bosom
bounded with emotion as I thought of meeting him after the occurrences
of the day. If he was only sober, and in his right mind, all would be
well with me.

I had heard in Middleport that the Ruoara, on her down trip, had
obtained an engineer at Hitaca; therefore I supposed my father had gone
home. The storekeeper on the wharf had seen him; but I did not dare to
ask whether he was intoxicated. Never before, I repeat, had I gone to
my father’s house with any doubts or misgivings. It was quite dark when
I reached the mill wharf, and secured my skiff at its moorings. When
I started from Middleport with a hundred dollars in my pocket, I felt
like a rich man. During my silent pull across the lake I thought of our
family trouble, and when I landed at Centreport I felt as though I had
lost a hundred dollars, and that I was even poorer than usual.

With stealthy step I crept through the garden, fearful that I might
encounter my father intoxicated. There was a light in the kitchen, and
I stood on tiptoe, so that I could look in at the window. My father was
not there. The supper table was waiting in the middle of the room, and
my good mother sat at one corner of it, sewing, while my two sisters
were reading near her. I opened the back door and went in, but not
without the fear that I should be told my father was helpless in his
bed.

“Why, Wolfert, where have you been?” asked my mother, rising as I
entered. “I needn’t ask you, for I have heard all about it.”

“About what?”

“You have been over to Middleport, at work for the Toppleton boys.”

“I know it.”

“Why did you do it?”

“Why shouldn’t I do it, mother?” I inquired, not a little astonished to
find that she was inflamed by the rivalry between the two houses.

“Why shouldn’t you do it! Because it will make trouble, Wolfert.
When the boat brought over the news that you had raised the dummy,
or whatever they call the thing, and that you were running it on the
railroad over there, the people howled just as though you had set the
town on fire. The Wimpleton boys say they will mob you, tar and feather
you, and I don’t know what not,” said my poor mother, who appeared to
be really suffering under this manifestation of popular indignation.

“It seems just as though I am bound to put my foot in it, whether I
will or not. Do folks tell the rest of the story?” I inquired.

“The rest of what story?” asked my mother, opening her eyes.

“Do they say that I was hunted out of town like a wild beast?” I
demanded, indignantly.

“Why, no; they didn’t say anything of that kind. The girls came home
just before dark, and said everybody was talking about you; that you
had turned traitor.”

“Perhaps I have, mother; but I don’t care a fig for this three-cent
quarrel between the two sides of the lake. I hope you won’t turn
against me, mother,” I added, choking up with emotion, so that I could
not speak.

“Turn against you! Why, no, Wolfert, I shall never turn against you.
Who ever heard of such a thing?”

“You seem to blame me for what I have done,” I replied, wiping away a
truant tear, and struggling hard for utterance.

“I only said what you have done will make trouble. You know Colonel
Wimpleton will not like it; and he will punish us all for your acts.”

“I couldn’t help it, mother. I was driven away.”

“What do you mean by being driven away?”

It occurred to me that my mother knew nothing of what had happened
since Waddie had called to deliver the fictitious message from his
father; and I told her the whole story.

“If I know my father, he would kick me if I should get down on my knees
to Waddie Wimpleton. Be that as it may, I won’t do it,” I added.

“I don’t want you to do it. If it has come to that, I think we had all
better go to the poorhouse at once,” said my mother, with more spirit
than I remembered to have seen her exhibit before; and I felt then that
she was on my side.

“We won’t go to the poorhouse,” I replied, taking the hundred dollars
from my wallet. “I made that to-day.”

My mother opened her eyes again, as she was in the habit of doing when
astonished. Then she counted the money, and for an instant a smile
overspread her pleasant face. To me it was the pleasantest face in all
the world, and I had never before seen it saddened for so long a time
as it had been that day.

“A hundred dollars!” exclaimed she, looking at me.

“Yes, mother; that is what Major Toppleton gave me for getting the
dummy out of the water, and putting it on the track. It was a good job.”

“The major is liberal; and I only wish he and the colonel would be
friends again.”

“I wish they would; but whether they are or not, I’m not going to fight
the battle of either one of them. Now, mother, I want to make a clean
breast of it. What you said to me after the colonel went away wasn’t
lost upon me. I was sorry I called Waddie a liar to his face, though
all the world knows that he is one; and I was really sorry that I had
said anything saucy to the colonel. When Waddie said he was going to
lick me, I apologized to him; and I did to the colonel when I saw him.
I think I did it handsomely, considering that they were going to lick
me.”

“I’m glad you did, Wolfert.”

“It was like pulling out half a dozen of my teeth to do it, but I did
it; and I was sincere in doing it, too. I won’t go down on my knees to
any one, and I won’t confess a crime of which I’m not guilty;” and
in my zeal I struck the table a blow with my fist which made all the
dishes dance upon it.

“Do right, Wolfert, and pray to God for strength. He will help you, and
all will be well in the end. Have you seen anything of your father?”

“I haven’t seen him; but he came over on the Ruoara from the other
side. I supposed he was at home,” I replied.

“I haven’t seen anything of him since he went out this morning,” she
added, looking very anxious.

I ate my supper, still discussing the exciting topic of the day. I
felt better; for, if my mother was on my side, I could afford to have
almost everybody else against me; and she was a Christian woman, who
would rather have buried me than had me do any great wrong. Whatever
my readers, old and young, may think of me, I feel bound to say that
I had tried to do right. I had been goaded into the use of impudent
speech by the intolerable tyranny of the magnate of Centreport; but
I had apologized for it, and had been willing to make any reasonable
reparation. My mother had taught me, as a child, to go down on my
knees before God, but never to man.

I kissed my sisters, who were younger than I, and they went to bed
about eight o’clock. My mother and I could now talk about the condition
of my father, which neither of us was willing to do before them. We
wondered what had become of him; but I was pretty sure that he was
somewhere in Centreport. It was a new experience in our family to be
waiting at night for him, for he always spent his evenings at home.

I told my mother of the offer which Major Toppleton had made me to run
the dummy. For a boy of my age, and at a distance from the great city,
the proposition was a liberal one, for my father only had sixty dollars
a month. It is true I was to do a man’s work for half wages; but no boy
in that region could make half the money offered to me at that time.

“I don’t see how you can take up with the offer,” said my mother.
“Colonel Wimpleton would not have anything to do with us if we did
anything to help along the people on the other side.”

“I don’t know that I can accept it, but it is a great pity I cannot,”
I replied, moodily; for I should have been glad to run the dummy for
nothing if the major was not willing to pay me.

“It is a pity; but only think how mad the colonel would be if you
should go!”

“I don’t know that he could be any madder than he is now. I am sick and
disgusted with this stupid quarrel!”

“I’m sure he would discharge your father if he should let you go over
to Middleport to work for the major. Those two men hate each other like
evil spirits,” replied my mother.

“Of course I don’t want father to lose his situation; and if it comes
to that, I suppose I must decline the offer.”

“I think you must, Wolfert.”

“I will, mother,” I added, sorely aggrieved at the alternative. “I will
not do anything to make a quarrel, though I think it is about time I
should be earning something.”

“Perhaps there will be a chance for you on this side; for I am sure the
colonel will do something to get even with the major on that railroad.
He will get up another railroad, a balloon, a flying machine, or
something or other.”

“He can’t build any railroad on this side,” I replied. “The country
is so rough that it would cost him all he is worth. But if he did, he
wouldn’t give me anything to do upon it.”

“Perhaps he”--

My mother’s remark was interrupted by a noise in the garden; and,
fearful that my poor father had come home in a helpless condition, I
went out to ascertain the cause of it. It was not my father; but I
heard sounds which indicated that several persons were running away
from the house. I ran to the fence, and saw three boys hastening up
the road towards the Institute. If I was not much mistaken, Waddie
Wimpleton was one of them; and I concluded that he was still intent
upon punishing me for calling him a liar.

As I was about to go into the house, I discovered another form in the
darkness, walking down the road. I knew the step. It was my father. I
was very thankful that he was able to walk, though I noticed that his
step was a little unsteady.




CHAPTER XVIII.

WADDIE’S MISTAKE.


I hastened into the house, and told my mother that father was coming.
She bestowed upon me a glance so full of anxiety that I comprehended
the question she desired to ask, and I added that he walked tolerably
well.

“Was it he that made the noise we heard?” she inquired.

“No; some of the students have been around here, and I think I saw
Waddie,” I replied.

“What do they want?”

“I don’t know; but I suppose they wish to see me.”

“Do be careful, Wolfert.”

“I’m not afraid of them, mother. I think I can take care of myself in
the face of the whole crowd.”

My father came in at the back door, interrupting the conversation. His
step was unsteady and his movements uncertain. He stayed a long time
in the entry putting away his hat, but at last he entered the kitchen.
He made desperate struggles to conceal his condition; but he failed to
do so. I could see my poor mother’s bosom bounding with emotion as the
days of evil came back to her from the past. There was a tear in her
eye; but she spoke not a word of reproach. My father walked across the
room to his accustomed chair, and dropped heavily into it.

“Wolf!” said he in a tone which was intended to be sharp, but which was
very thick from the effects of the liquor.

“I am here, father,” I replied, as little able to control my feelings
as my mother.

“You have been a bad boy!” he added, fiercely. “You have disgraced your
father!”

I thought not, but I did not deem it advisable to say so, or to utter a
word that would irritate him.

“I used to think you were a smart boy; but now I think you are a fool,”
he continued, with an oath, which I had never before heard him use.
“With a pistol in your hand you let Christy carry off all my money.
I wouldn’t say anything about that, but you came home, insulted and
abused Colonel Wimp’ton and his son. You hadn’t done your worst yet;
so you went over to Middleport, and turned traitor to the friends that
feed and clothe you. I know all about it!”

It was no use to talk about these things while he was in his present
condition, and I held my peace.

“I’ve seen Colonel Wimp’ton, and he ztold me all about it,” my father
went on, rapping the table violently with his fist. “I won’t have my
boy behave zo. I’ll lick him first.”

“Why, father, Wolfert has not done anything bad,” interposed my mother.

“I zsay he has!” replied my father furiously. “He’n Waddie blowed up
the canal boat. Then Wolf denied it, and insulted his best friends.
Then he went off and run that dummy.”

“Don’t say anything, mother,” said I to her, in a low tone.

“What’s that?” demanded my father, suspiciously. “What did you say,
Wolf? Do you mean to insult me, as you did Colonel Wimp’ton?”

But I will not follow this unpleasant scene any further in detail. It
was evident that my father had seen the magnate of Centreport, and that
the great man had won him over. He was stormy, violent, and suspicious.
He was angry with me, and then with my mother for speaking a word in my
defence. Finally he wept like a child, declaring that his family had
turned against him; and, overwhelmed by this maudlin grief, he went
upstairs and threw himself upon my bed. I think he intended to occupy
the spare chamber on the other side of the entry, for he was so angry
with my mother and me that he was intent upon getting away from us.

We decided that it would be best to let him alone. He lay sobbing on
the bed for a time, and then dropped asleep. My mother went in, and,
having assured herself that he was in a comfortable position, took
away the lamp. She and I sat up till midnight, talking over the bitter
prospect before us. In his cups my father was another man. My mother
told me with tears in her eyes, that he had abused her when he used to
drink before. In his intoxication he seemed to hate the family he loved
so well when he was sober.

At midnight he was still sleeping off the effects of his debauch, and
we retired, hoping for better things in the morning. I was so tired
that I went to sleep very soon. I occupied the spare chamber on the
second floor, while my mother’s room was downstairs. I do not know how
long I had slept, but I was awakened by a violent noise in the opposite
side of the house, which seemed to come from the apartment where my
father was. I was startled, and immediately leaped out of bed, lighted
a lamp, and hastily put on my clothes. Hearing my father’s voice in
excited tones, I rushed to the room with the lamp in my hand. I feared
that the liquor he had drunk had in some manner affected his brain, and
induced a delirium.

I opened the door. I saw my father standing over the prostrate form of
Waddie Wimpleton. The window was wide open, and I heard voices outside,
as of other boys effecting a hasty retreat. Waddie lay still upon the
floor, and his face was covered with blood.

“What is the matter, father?” I asked, terrified at the strange sight
which I beheld.

“Don’t you see what the matter is?” replied my father; but he seemed to
be very much confused.

“What has happened?”

“I hardly know,” answered he, gazing at the form of Waddie.

My father had slept several hours, and he appeared to be quite sober.

“This is Waddie Wimpleton,” said I, bending over the fallen youth.

“I see it is. I felt a hand upon me, and I started up from the bed.
Some one caught hold of me, and I struck right and left, till I
heard some one fall,” answered my father, rubbing his eyes, as if to
stimulate his bewildered senses. “I thought it was some one who had
come to rob me, and I couldn’t help believing it was Christy Holgate.”

“What in the world is the matter?” cried my mother, who now came into
the room, pale and trembling with terror.

I explained, as far as I could, the circumstances of the affair. My
father said nothing, but went to the window and looked out.

“There is a ladder under the window,” said he.

“But Waddie is not a robber,” added my mother, kneeling on the floor at
his side. “His face is cut, and he seems to be stunned.”

My father and I lifted him up, and placed him on the bed. My mother
went to work upon him, sending me down to assure my sisters that no
harm could come to them. I brought up some water and the camphor
bottle. On my return my father seemed to be quite like himself, and was
assisting in the restoration of the injured boy.

“He isn’t badly hurt, I think,” said my mother. “One of his front teeth
is knocked in, and the blood on his face comes from a mere scratch.
What in the world was he doing here?”

“I understand it now,” I replied. “Waddie and the other fellows were
after me. I saw them around the house about eight o’clock.”

“What do they want of you?” asked my father, whose head had been filled
with the other side of the story.

“They were going to punish me, I suppose, for what I said to Waddie and
his father, though I apologized to both of them for it.”

“What is to be done with this boy?” interposed my mother, anxiously, as
Waddie opened his eyes, and looked wildly around the room. “I think the
doctor had better see him.”

I went for the doctor, and came back with him, for he had just returned
from a night visit to a distant patient, and his horse was harnessed
at the door. When we arrived, Waddie was sitting up in the kitchen.
The physician examined his head, and declared that he had sustained
no injury that he could perceive. My father, who had been alarmed for
the consequences of the blow he had struck, breathed easier after this
announcement.

“I’m going home,” said Waddie, rising from the chair, after the doctor
had finished his examination. “I’ll bet you haven’t theen the latht of
thith thcrape. I thall”--

The scion put his hand up to his mouth, and wondered why he could not
speak without lisping. He had fully recovered his senses, under the
vigorous treatment of my mother, and with them came back the evil
spirit which controlled him.

“What were you doing in my house, Waddie?” asked my father.

“What wath I doing? I wath going to give Wolf fitth for being a traitor
and calling me a liar. And I’ll do it yet, if it coths me my life!”
replied Waddie, vigorously, as he held one hand on his mouth.

“I didn’t think you’d break into a man’s house in the night,” added my
father.

“Wolf ith going to work on the other thide, and that’th the only time
we could catch him. What did you hit me for?” demanded the scion,
rubbing his sore head with his hand.

“I did not know it was you, Waddie,” answered my father, meekly. “You
came into my room in the dark, when I was asleep.”

“It wathn’t your room. It wath Wolf’th room. What were you doing in
there?”

“It’s my own house, and I have a right to occupy any room I please,”
said my father, with more spirit than before.

“You were boothy latht night and didn’t know what you were about.”

My father’s brow contracted, and his lips were compressed. To be told
that he was intoxicated galled him sorely. Waddie declared that he had
struck him on purpose, and that he should suffer for it. The doctor
then took him into his chaise, and conveyed him to his home. My father
was not satisfied with the situation. He went to the pump, and drank a
large mug of water. He walked up and down the kitchen in silence for a
moment, and then said he must see Colonel Wimpleton at once. He went,
and by going through the grove he could reach the house as soon as the
doctor.

I did not see him again that night, and he did not come out of his room
till eight o’clock the next morning. I was very anxious to know how he
would regard me, after the hard words he had spoken the night before. I
was also curious to learn what had passed at Colonel Wimpleton’s during
his visit. Our relations with the magnate were certainly very singular
and perplexing. As nearly as I could judge, my father stood exactly
in my own position in regard to him. Neither of us had intended to
insult or injure the great man or his son, but both had incurred his
displeasure; for it would be impossible for the colonel to forgive the
unwitting blow my father had struck.

“Wolf,” said my father, after he had eaten his breakfast, “your mother
tells me you have an offer on the other side.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may accept it, and go to work to-day, if you wish.”

“I should be very glad to do so,” I replied. “Did you have any trouble
with Colonel Wimpleton?”

“I did. He discharged me, and ordered me out of his house,” he
answered, gloomily.

Of one thing I was sure--my father was not angry with me.




CHAPTER XIX.

RICH MEN’S QUARRELS.


My father was himself again. He was clothed in his right mind once
more. He even appeared to have forgotten that I had emptied the
bottle the day before, and treated me as kindly as though nothing had
occurred to mar the unity which had always subsisted between us. My
mother seemed to be quite happy, too; and, while I was at work in the
garden, she told me she had talked till daylight with him, after his
return from Colonel Wimpleton’s. He had bitterly bewailed his error,
and solemnly promised not to taste another drop of liquor. He was
conscious that he had lost his twenty-four hundred dollars by getting
intoxicated, and he had very little hope of ever seeing it again.

More than this, my mother had explained my conduct to him, and he
was satisfied with it. The night visit of Waddie, and the colonel’s
unreasonable harshness to him, had probably done more to convince him
than any words of my mother. He had lost his situation, and had been
treated with gross injustice, for the great man would not accept his
explanation of the blow he had given his son.

“Wolf,” said my father, after he had granted me permission to accept
Major Toppleton’s offer, “I am afraid we shall soon be in trouble all
round.”

“I hope not.”

“If I had the money to pay off the mortgage on the house, I should not
care so much. As it is, I may lose even the thousand dollars I have
paid on it. The colonel will foreclose on me at once, and people here
will not dare to bid when it is put up at auction, if he tells them not
to do so.”

“I heard you say you had an offer of thirty-five hundred dollars for
the place.”

“So I had; Bingham offered that for it.”

“I would go to him, and take the offer at once.”

“What, sell the place?”

“Yes; you can pay off the mortgage, and then have fifteen hundred
left.”

“That’s a good idea,” replied my father. “But I don’t know that Bingham
will give thirty-five hundred now.”

“I would try him, at any rate. I think we had better move out of
Centreport.”

“Perhaps it would be as well, after what has happened,” said he, in
deep thought. “I will see what can be done.”

My father hastened to the village to see Bingham, and soon after I
pulled across the lake to report for duty to Major Toppleton. I was
shown into his elegant library; but I found the magnate of Middleport
in violent wrath.

“I have called, sir, to say that I will accept the offer you were so
kind as to make to me yesterday,” I began, with the utmost deference.

“Very well, boy, I am a man of honor, which cannot be said of every
man who lives on the other side of the lake,”--by which, of course, he
meant Colonel Wimpleton,--“and I will keep my agreement; but if the
business were to be done over again, I wouldn’t have anything to do
with a person from Centreport.”

“I’m sorry you think so hard of us, sir,” I ventured to reply. “I
will do the very best I can for you; and I hope we shall not live in
Centreport much longer.”

“Well, I don’t know that I need to blame you for what Wimpleton does.
He is a mean man, and his soul is smaller than a mosquito’s. This
morning the old rascal sent his agent over here to offer the engineer
of my flour mills twenty dollars a month more than he is getting now.
The villain was paid up to last night, and left without giving me any
notice, and my mills are all stopped.”

Major Toppleton walked the library in a violent rage, and I waited for
further developments before I dared to speak.

“He hired my engineer away from me, I’m told, because I employed you,”
added the magnate, pausing before me.

“I’m very sorry I made any trouble,” I answered, diffidently.

“You didn’t make it. I only wonder how Wimpleton was my friend for so
many years. He omits no opportunity to stab me when he gets a chance.
I suppose he is gloating over it now because no smoke rises from my
mills.”

“Do you want an engineer, sir?” I had the audacity to ask at this
opportune moment.

“Of course I do. Wimpleton sent over for mine solely to vex me, and I
would give a thousand dollars to be even with him this moment.”

“I can run the engine of your mills,” I replied.

“You?”

“Yes, sir; I have run the Centreport mills for a week at a time.”

“But I want you on the dummy.”

“I will bring you an engineer, then, in an hour. What wages will you
give, sir?”

“I will give the same that Wimpleton pays the man he stole from
me--eighty dollars a month, and engage him for a year.”

“I will have him here in one hour, sir.”

“But who is he?”

“My father, sir.”

“Oh, ho!”

“Colonel Wimpleton discharged him before daylight this morning.”

“Then I am to take a man whom Wimpleton has discharged, and pay him
twenty dollars more than he was having before.”

“He discharged my father in order to punish him,” I replied; and then I
told him the sequel to the story I had related the day before.

“Very good! Excellent! I will help Wimpleton punish your father by
giving him eighty dollars a month, which is twenty dollars more than
any engineer ought to have. Go for him at once.”

I never pulled across the lake so quickly before as I did then. I found
my father at home; he had just returned from his visit to Bingham.

“Back so soon, Wolf?” said he; and he looked quite sad.

“Yes, sir. Did you see Bingham?”

“I did; but it’s too late. He has heard of the quarrel, and won’t buy
the house at any price. It will go hard with me, I’m afraid.”

“Never mind, father. It will come out right in the end, I know.”

“What did you come back for?”

“Major Toppleton wants you, and will engage you for a year, at eighty
dollars a month,” I replied, with proper enthusiasm.

“Eighty dollars!”

I explained what Colonel Wimpleton had done, and what Major Toppleton
wished to do.

“He wants you right off, this minute,” I added.

“I’m all ready.”

“When rich men quarrel, poor men ought to profit by it, if they can do
so honestly,” I suggested.

“The colonel will be the maddest man this side of the north pole, when
he hears of my good fortune,” said my father.

“I dare say he will, for it appears that he has only discharged you to
open the way to a much better position.”

“Exactly so!” exclaimed my father, delighted with the situation. “If
rich men will be fools, we cannot help it, as you say, Wolf.”

My father took the bundle of old clothes he had just brought from the
mill; and we went down to the wharf, where we embarked in the skiff for
the other side of the lake.

“If you could only sell the place, father, we might move over to
Middleport at once,” said I, pulling with all my might at the oars.

“I don’t think I can do it. By this time everybody knows that the
colonel has quarrelled with me, and no one will run the risk of
offending him by buying it,” replied my father. “I hope Mortimer will
catch Christy, and get back part of my money, if not the whole of it.”

We landed in Middleport, and hastened to the mansion of the major. He
was ever so much better humored than when I had called upon him before.
He had evidently considered the nature of the victory he had won over
his powerful rival, for he had certainly cheated the colonel out of his
revenge upon my father, and practically nullified his punishment. He
appeared to be duly comforted.

“I am glad to see you, Mr. Penniman,” said he, graciously, as my father
bowed low to him.

“I am very grateful to you for your kind offer, sir, and I accept it
thankfully,” replied my father.

“I wish to see the smoke rising from the chimney of the mill at once,”
added the major, briskly. “I want Wimpleton to understand that he can’t
shut me up. Go to the mill, and get up steam as fast as you can;
and the more smoke you make, the better, for that will be my sign of
triumph.”

“I’ll fire up at once,” replied my father, leaving the room, and
hastening to his work.

Young and inexperienced as I was, I could not help feeling sad at this
exhibition of malignity on the part of the rich man of Middleport.
The colonel had taken the opportunity afforded by the dismissal of my
father to strike his rival in a tender place. It was mean; but such
was the character of the dealings between them, when they had any. The
major rubbed his hands with delight, and paced the library under the
exhilaration of the moment. It was a pity that these men, with such
vast means of doing good within their grasp, should quarrel with each
other, and debase and demoralize a whole neighborhood by their actions.

“Well, Mr. Penniman, I suppose you are ready to go to work,” said the
major, pausing before me after a time.

Mr. Penniman! I felt an inch taller to have a handle applied to my name
by such a magnificent man.

“Yes, sir; I am waiting for orders.”

“I suppose you think that dummy isn’t much of an engine,” he added,
with a very pleasant smile upon his face.

“I think it works very well, sir.”

“I dare say you do; but I want to say, a thing like that is not the
height of our ambition,” he continued, rubbing his hands under the
influence of some undeveloped idea.

“I’m sure I shouldn’t wish for anything better than the dummy.”

“It answers very well to begin with; but I have a regular locomotive
and two cars in process of building, and I shall have them on the track
this fall.”

“Is it a big locomotive?” I asked, curiously.

“No, it’s a small one; and it will be the prettiest plaything you ever
saw. I’m determined that the Toppleton Institute shall be the most
popular one in the country.”

“I suppose Colonel Wimpleton will do something to offset this movement
on your part,” I suggested.

“What can he do?” asked the major, anxiously. “Have you heard of
anything?”

“No, sir. I only know they feel very bad about the Lake Shore Railroad
over there.”

“They will feel worse before we get through with it,” replied the
magnate, shaking his head. “What can they do? They can’t build a
railroad, the country is so rough. We can keep ahead of them now. But
I want that dummy in motion. You must run it every half hour for the
rest of the day between Middleport and Spangleport. Carry everybody who
wishes to ride. I want the Centreport people to see it, and to know
that we are alive on this side.”

“Will the students be with me?” I inquired.

“This afternoon, when they are dismissed from the school-room, they
will be. I will send you a conductor. Let me see; Higgins is too sick
to study, and just sick enough to play. He shall run with you. Now keep
her going, as though you meant business.”

“I will, sir; I will put her through by daylight,” I replied, as I left
the library.




CHAPTER XX.

THE BEAUTIFUL PASSENGER.


I found the dummy just as I had left it on the preceding day. I kindled
a fire in the furnace, rubbed down the machinery, filled up the water
tank, and took on a supply of coal, which was the kind of fuel intended
to be used under the boiler. I assure my sympathetic reader that I
felt a real pleasure in the discharge of these duties, and in the
consciousness that I was actually the master of the machine. Though my
taste was rather inclined towards the engine of a steamer, I was more
than satisfied with my present position, and deemed myself the luckiest
dog in the world.

Higgins, the invalid student, who was to officiate as conductor, stood
by and watched all my movements with the most intense interest. He
looked like a clever fellow, and I proceeded to make friends with him
in due form, by declaring that I was sorry he was sick.

“I’m not sorry,” said he with a grin. “I’m rather glad I’m sick. In
fact, I’m not very sick.”

“Well, I thought you were; the major said so; at least he said you were
too sick to study, and just sick enough to play.”

“Did he say that?”

“He did.”

“Well, he knows a thing or two,” laughed Higgins. “My mother thinks it
makes my head ache to study; and in fact it does when the lessons are
hard.”

“I dare say. Are they hard to-day?” I asked.

“Not so very hard; but, to tell the truth, I thought there was to be
some fun going on here and I wanted to be on hand. My mother wrote
to the principal that she did not wish me to study very hard, for
something ailed my head.”

“I’m afraid the jar of the dummy will hurt your head,” I suggested.

“Oh, no, it won’t,” protested the candid Higgins. “It feels better now
than it did this morning; in fact, it always feels better after school
begins.”

“But I’m really afraid it will injure you to ride on the dummy, with
all the excitement of the highly responsible position of conductor,”
I added, gravely. “I think I had better mention the matter to Major
Toppleton when I see him.”

“Oh, no; don’t do that,” pleaded Higgins, plaintively. “Between you and
me and the smoke-stack of the dummy, I am as well as you are.”

“Precisely so; and I think the major understands your malady, if the
principal does not.”

“Don’t say a word this time, and I won’t ‘soger’ any more.”

“It’s none of my business, Higgins, but you are sawing off your own
nose, and playing the trick upon yourself. I would be a man and face
the music like one, if I were you.”

“I will face the music if you won’t say anything.”

“All ready, Mr. Conductor!” I shouted, when I had steam enough.

“All aboard!” yelled Higgins, rather glad to change the subject when he
found that I did not appreciate his deception.

I ran the dummy out of the house, and stopped her near the head of the
steamboat wharf. The car was still so great a novelty that many people
gathered around to examine it. The cushions were now well dried, and
though the cloth had suffered somewhat from the effects of the bath, it
looked very nice inside of her.

“Have you a watch, Higgins?” I asked of the gentlemanly conductor.

“Yes,” replied he, producing a small gold one.

“We will leave Middleport on the hour, and Spangleport on the half
hour,” I added. “I wish I had a watch.”

“Why don’t you have one?”

“I’m not a rich man’s son, and I can’t afford to have such playthings.
But I suppose I must get one, if I run on this dummy.”

“I’ll lend you mine for to-day, Wolf.”

“Thank you. I want to time the running, so as to know where we are,” I
answered, taking the watch, and attaching the chain to my vest. “It is
nearly twelve o’clock, and we will start soon.”

“All aboard for Spangleport!” screamed Higgins, as though the
announcement was intended for the people on the other side of the lake.

“Folks will understand that nothing ails your lungs, Higgins, whatever
is the matter with your head,” I added, gently, to the zealous
conductor. “I wouldn’t yell so. Boys always make fools of themselves by
hallooing when there isn’t the least need of it.”

Higgins, in a milder tone, invited the ladies and gentlemen who were
inspecting the car to step in and make the excursion to Spangleport,
promising that they should return in just fifty minutes. Quite a number
of them accepted the invitation; and I was about to start, when I saw
a very beautiful young lady hastening towards us. She was elegantly
dressed, and her movements were as graceful as those of a fawn. The
“gentlemanly conductor” rang the bell for the engine to start, and the
young lady, hearing it, made a motion with her sunshade for us to wait
for her. I was too happy to find she was to be a passenger in the car
to start without her, in spite of my laudable ambition to be “on time.”

The moment Higgins saw her, he jumped off the platform, took off his
cap, bowed and scraped like a French dancing-master, and helped her
up the steps. There was a glass window in the partition between the
engine-room and the passenger compartment, for which at that moment I
felt extremely grateful to the builder, for it enabled me to obtain an
occasional glance at the beautiful young lady. I beg leave to say that
this unwonted enthusiasm on my part was as surprising to myself as it
will be to my readers, for I had hardly ever looked at any person of
the feminine persuasion before, except my mother and sisters. I had
certainly never seen any lady who attracted me so strongly, or for whom
I felt so great an admiration. She was not more than fifteen or sixteen
years of age; but she wore a long dress, and had a mature bearing.

Higgins conducted her to a seat, and she took possession of it as
gracefully as though she had been schooled in the polite art for a
whole lifetime. I could not help gazing at her, and I envied Higgins
the rapture of being permitted to speak to her. She looked around, and
bowed to several persons in the car, with the sweetest smile that ever
lighted up a young lady’s face. I was wholly absorbed in gazing at her,
and actually forgot that I was the young engineer of the Lake Shore
Railroad, till the sharp snap of the bell brought me to my senses, and
assured me that Higgins was not so fascinated as I was.

I was a minute behind time, and I let on the steam to make it up. I was
obliged to turn my back on the beautiful being in the car, and look out
for “breakers ahead” through the door and windows in the end of the
engine-room; but I had the pleasing satisfaction of thinking that in
running backwards from Spangleport I should face the other way.

What a fool I was! Of course I was. A young man always has a time to
be a fool, just as he has to take the measles, though he seldom has it
so young as I did. I did not know who the young lady was, and I did
not crave any other privilege than that of simply looking at her, just
as I should at a pretty picture. If she had fallen overboard, I should
certainly have jumped in after her. If she had been in the claws of a
lion, I should certainly have smitten the lion. If she had been in the
upper story of a house on fire, I should certainly have run the risk
of being singed for her sake. But she did not fall overboard, or into
the claws of a lion, and she was not in a burning house; and, provoking
as it was, I could not do anything for her, except turn my back to
her,--and I was not sure that this was not the most agreeable service I
could render her,--and run the dummy at its highest speed.

I could not help seeing the beautiful young lady even through the
back of my head; and I am sorry to say that I forgot to look at my
watch, when we passed Ruggles’s barn and the Grass Brook bridge,
as I had intended; and at a quarter past twelve the dummy sizzled
into Spangleport, shivering like an over-driven horse. I had the
self-possession, however, to stop her when she got there; but I have
since wondered that, under the circumstances, I did not run her into
the lake, or over the hill to Grass Springs. I had made the distance in
just fourteen minutes.

The passengers got out of the car, and for a time I lost sight of
the elegant young lady. Higgins came round to me, and declared that
we had made a “bully trip.” I was entirely of his opinion; but I was
not willing to confess that a certain absentmindedness had induced
me to run the machine so as to gain five minutes, and make up one.
The conductor left me, and I fancied that he had gone to find the
interesting person who had fascinated me, and with whom he seemed to be
acquainted.

“Will you allow me to get in there and see the machinery?” said a
silvery voice, while I was rubbing up the works.

I turned, and my face felt as though all the steam in the boiler had
been discharged upon it when I discovered that the speaker was no other
than the bewitching being who was uppermost in my thoughts.

“Certainly,” I replied, leaping to the ground, and endeavoring to
imitate the polite gyrations of the gentlemanly conductor.

“Thank you, Mr. Wolf,” added she, with the sweetest of smiles.

Mr. Wolf! Involuntarily my head went up, and I felt prouder of the
handle to my name then when the mighty major himself had applied it.

“I’m afraid you will find the engine-room a very dirty and greasy
place,” I had the courage to suggest, flustered as I was by having the
beautiful girl speak to me--actually speak to me!

“Oh, never mind! I have on my old clothes.”

If these were her old clothes, I wondered what her best were.

“I suppose you don’t know me, Mr. Wolf; but I have heard a great deal
about the young engineer, and I assure you I am delighted to see you,”
she added, with a kind of roguish look, which made me feel just as
though I was “going up.” “I am Grace Toppleton.”

The daughter of the major! I had heard what a pretty, gentle, amiable
girl she was, and I was positively sure that the reports did not belie
her.

“I have often heard of you, though I never had the pleasure of seeing
you before,” I replied, as gallantly as my flustered state of mind
would permit.

Still imitating the gentlemanly conductor, I took her gloved hand, and
attempted to help her up the high step of the engine-room. I felt, at
this particular moment, just as though I was in the seventh heaven. As
the elegant young lady was about to step up, a rude grasp was laid on
my shoulder; so rude that Miss Grace lost her foothold on the step, and
was thrown back upon the ground.

Turning round, I discovered that my rough assailant was Captain
Synders, the constable of Centreport. He was attended by Colonel
Wimpleton and the skipper of the canal boat which had been blown up. To
my astonishment, Miss Grace leaped upon the dummy without my help, and
I was held back by the savage grasp of the officer. My blissful dream
had suddenly been disturbed, and I was mad. The envious Centreporters
had chosen the moment of my greatest joy to pounce upon me.

[Illustration: THE VISITORS FROM CENTREPORT.--Page 226.]




CHAPTER XXI.

SOME TALK WITH COLONEL WIMPLETON.


I was very intent upon explaining to Miss Grace Toppleton the mysteries
of the dummy engine, and I was not pleased to have the agreeable
interview broken off. I was vexed, annoyed, and disconcerted. The
beautiful young lady looked at me, and I thought I could see the
indications of sympathy upon her face.

“If you will excuse me a moment, Miss Toppleton, I will show you the
engine,” I said to her, with all the politeness of which my nature was
capable.

“I guess not,” added Captain Synders, with a coarse grin, as though he
had evil intentions in regard to me.

“If you will let me, Mr. Wolf, I want to ride back in the engine-room,
and see the machinery work,” replied she, in her silvery tones.

“I guess not,” repeated Captain Synders; and I turned my attention from
her to him.

I could not conceive why Colonel Wimpleton and his odious associate had
chosen to come down upon me at Spangleport, rather than Middleport,
unless it was because their appearance would make less excitement.
The boat in which they had come lay at the wharf, and they must have
started long before the dummy left Middleport. Possibly they expected
to interrupt the trips of the engine, and have it left five miles from
its headquarters without an engineer.

Colonel Wimpleton had with him Captain Synders, the constable. It had
not yet occurred to me that I should actually be arrested, and held
to answer for the destruction of the honest skipper’s canal boat,
though the appearance of the officer had suggested the idea to me.
They could not arrest me without including Waddie in the warrant, for
he had confessed his agency in the mischief. I did not know of any way
by which I could be punished without involving the scion of the great
house on the other side.

“What do you wish with me?” I asked, in a very ill-natured tone; for
I beg to remind the reader that I am human, and that Miss Toppleton
occupied the engine-room of the car.

Captain Synders glanced at the colonel, as though he expected him to do
the talking, and that distinguished gentleman looked down upon me with
unutterable severity. The honest skipper did not appear to have much
sympathy with his companions, and looked very pleasant for a man who
had experienced so heavy a loss as that of his canal boat.

“Wolf!” said the colonel, in stern and lofty accents.

“Sir!” I replied, with a dignity becoming the engineer of the Lake
Shore Railroad.

“We have been looking for you,” he added, glancing at the constable, as
if to direct my attention to him.

“You have been lucky enough to find me, sir. I wish to say, sir, that
the car starts for Middleport at half-past twelve, and therefore I have
only ten minutes to spare,” I replied, consulting Higgins’s gold watch,
the appearance of which, I think, produced a sensation in the minds of
my visitors.

“Humph! I think you will wait my pleasure.”

“That will depend somewhat upon the length of time your pleasure
demands my presence. Will you please to tell me what you want of me?”

“Where is your father, Wolf?”

“At Middleport, sir.”

“What is he doing there?”

“He is at work, sir.”

Colonel Wimpleton looked as though he wanted to swear; for I am sorry
to say this influential man sometimes indulged in the wicked habit of
using profane language. It did not seem quite proper that the menial,
whom he had discharged as a punishment, should find work so soon.

“What is he doing?” demanded the magnate of Centreport, biting his lips
to conceal his vexation.

“You were so kind as to make an opening for him, sir, by hiring away
Major Toppleton’s engineer, and my father has taken his place, at the
same wages--eighty dollars a month--as you pay your new engineer.”

The great man stamped his foot with rage, and uttered an expression
with which I cannot soil my paper. As wicked, tyrannical, overbearing
men often do, he had overreached himself in his anxiety to strike my
father. If it was unchristian for me to rejoice in his discomfiture, I
could not help it, and I did so most heartily.

“I have been to see him about your conduct,” continued the colonel,
when his wrath would let him speak again. “I want to know what he is
going to do about paying his share of the loss of the canal boat which
you and Waddie blew up?”

“I can speak for him, sir, if that is all you want. He is not going to
pay the first cent of it,” I replied.

“Here is the captain of the boat, and he wants to know what you are
going to do about it,” added the colonel, trying to enjoy the confusion
which he thought I ought to feel in view of such a demand.

“Yes, I want to know who is going to pay for the mischief,” said the
honest skipper; but as he already knew, he did not put much heart into
the words, and actually chuckled as he uttered them.

“Captain,” I continued, turning to the master of the canal boat, “I say
to you, as I have said to others, that I had nothing whatever to do
with blowing up your boat, and I did not know anything about it till
the explosion took place. That is all I have to say.”

“I don’t know anything about it,” replied the skipper.

“I do,” interposed the colonel. “He has confessed that he had hold of
the string when the boat blew up.”

I took the trouble to explain to the honest skipper that Waddie had
asked me to pull in his kite line; that I had picked it up, but,
fearing some trick, had done nothing with it; and that Waddie had
pulled the string himself.

“All aboard for Middleport!” shouted Higgins, as moderately this time
as a gentlemanly conductor should speak.

“My time is nearly up, sir,” I added to the colonel. “If you have any
further business with me, please to state it as quickly as possible.”

“You must go over to Centreport with me, and arrange this business,”
replied the magnate, gruffly.

“No, sir; I cannot do that.”

“Then Captain Synders must arrest you.”

“Very well, sir; let him do so. I am willing to go to jail and stand
trial on the blowing up. Have you made a complaint against me?” I asked
of the honest skipper.

He was too candid to tell a lie, and he made me no answer.

“Have you a warrant for my arrest?” I demanded of Captain Synders.

“I can take you without a warrant,” growled the constable.

“Do so, then. If you wish to arrest me, I will submit.”

My friends may think I was putting a very bold face upon the matter,
but I candidly admit that I should have been glad to have the charge
against me investigated; though I was very certain no steps would be
taken in that direction. It is possible Colonel Wimpleton believed that
I had been concerned with his hopeful in the blowing up of the canal
boat; yet the guilt of his son was settled, and, if convicted, some
stupid judge might sentence us both to the penitentiary, for the case
would have to go to the shire town of the county, out of the reach of
the great man’s influence, for trial.

My father had told me that, at the interview with the colonel in the
night, the latter had threatened him with prosecution for abusing his
son; but when my father suggested that Waddie had broken into his house
in the night time, it was plain enough that the young gentleman was
liable to a turn in the state prison. Waddie’s crimes and mistakes
continually stood in the way of his taking his revenge. I considered
myself fully protected in the same manner.

“Captain Synders, if you are going to arrest me, please to do it at
once,” I added, as the lady passengers began to get into the car, and
some of the gentlemen came up to the spot where I stood.

“What’s the row?” asked Higgins.

“These gentlemen from the other side talk of taking me up for the
mischief to that canal boat. If they do so, Higgins, I want you to go
to my father, and tell him about it. If I mistake not, Waddie Wimpleton
will be arrested before night for breaking into our house.”

“I’ll do it!” exclaimed the enthusiastic conductor.

“Arrest Waddie!” ejaculated the colonel, gnashing his teeth with rage.

It was mortifying to the great man to find that he had come to the end
of his rope; that even his power to annoy and persecute his inferiors
had a limit.

“All aboard!” repeated Higgins.

“If you are going to arrest me, Captain Synders, now is your time,” I
added.

The people who had gathered around us began to laugh and enjoy the
scene, and, being mostly Middleporters, they had no particular sympathy
for the colonel.

“Wolf, we shall meet again,” said the great man, sullenly, as he turned
upon his heel, and, followed by his companions, walked rapidly down to
the wharf, where his boat lay.

Even while I knew his power, and felt that he could annoy our family,
and perhaps ruin us, I was quite ready to meet him again. Waddie’s
indiscretions stood between me and his wrath for the present, but his
time might come. I leaped into the engine-room of the dummy, where Miss
Toppleton had stood listening to our conversation.

“Mr. Wolf, I think you are real smart,” said she, with a sweet smile of
approbation.

“I thank you, Miss Toppleton, for your good opinion. Colonel Wimpleton
is very hard upon me just now.”

“I heard father tell about it. I think that Colonel Wimpleton is a real
wicked man; and I only wonder that he and father were good friends for
so many years.”

“I am all ready to start now,” I added. “I wish I had better
accommodations for you.”

“Oh, this is very nice!” exclaimed she.

I opened the valve, and let on the steam.

“What did you do then?” she asked, pointing to the handle of the valve.

“I let on the steam;” and then I gave her a full description of the
engine, which was hardly finished when we came in sight of Middleport.

I found it a delightful task to expatiate on my favorite theme to such
a beautiful and interested listener, and I pointed out the cylinder
wherein the piston worked, the connecting rod which moved the crank,
and showed her how the valves which admitted the steam to the cylinder
were worked. I flattered myself, after the lesson I had given her, that
she was almost competent to run the dummy herself.

“I think it is real nice to ride in here, and see the machinery move,”
said she.

“So do I; and I enjoy it very much; more just now, I fear, than I ever
shall again.”

“Why so?” she asked, innocently.

I was not quite bold enough to explain the principal reason, and so I
replied that it was a new thing to me.

“I hope you will let me ride with you again, some time,” she added.

“With the greatest pleasure,” I replied. “Whenever you please.”

We ran into Middleport, and Miss Toppleton thanked me very prettily
for my kindness in showing her about the engine; and I really wished I
had it to do over again. By this time the students were turned out of
school, and all of them gathered around the dummy, anxious to begin the
afternoon’s fun. I had brought over my dinner, and I ate it before the
next trip. At one o’clock I was ready to start for Spangleport again.




CHAPTER XXII.

THE CONSTRUCTION TRAIN.


I have been so busy with the history of our family affairs, and the
incidents which sent me over to Middleport, that I have not had much
to say about the Lake Shore Railroad; but before I have done with the
subject, I shall fully describe the road, and explain the operations
of the company. Only a small portion of the line had yet been built,
and the dummy was but a temporary substitute for more complete rolling
stock. Major Toppleton intended to have a charter for the road, to be
obtained at the next session of the legislature, and to continue it to
Ucayga. Although it was at the present time a mere plaything for the
students, it was designed to be a useful institution, and to build up
Middleport immensely in the end.

Just as I was about to start on the one o’clock trip, Major Toppleton
presented himself. The car was filled with students, though a number of
ladies and gentlemen had come down to the station to have a ride in the
dummy. The major immediately ordered the boys to evacuate the premises,
which they did with some grumblings, amounting almost to rebellion. The
persons waiting were invited to get in, and I started for Spangleport
with a less noisy crowd than I had anticipated. As we went off, I heard
the major call the students together, and I concluded that he had some
definite plan to carry out.

On my return, I found the boys had loaded up the two platform cars with
rails and sleepers, and they were attached to the dummy as soon as she
arrived. Several mechanics were standing by, and it was evident that a
piece of work was to be done that day, instead of play.

“Now, Wolf, we will run a construction train on this trip,” said Major
Toppleton, as he took his place at my side on the dummy, and directed
the students and the mechanics to load themselves into the passenger
apartment and on the cars.

“I think we need a little more construction at Spangleport, sir,” I
suggested.

“Why, what’s the matter?”

“I don’t like to run backwards, sir, on the down trips.”

“But a turn-table will cost too much for the short time we shall make
Spangleport a terminus. We will build one at Grass Springs, for that
will be as far as we shall run the road this season.”

“We need not build a turn-table, sir,” I added. “We can turn the dummy
on switches.”

“How is that?” inquired the major.

“It will take three switches to turn her. First run a track round a
curve to the right, until it comes to a right angle with the main line.
Then run another track on the reverse curve till it strikes the main
line again, a few rods from the point where the first track leaves it.”

“I don’t understand it.”

“I will explain it when we stop, sir. It will not take long to lay it
down, and when it is no longer wanted it can be taken up, and put down
in another place.”

At Spangleport, where we stopped, I made a diagram on a piece of
paper, to illustrate my plan; and here is a copy of my drawing. The
perpendicular lines are the main track. The dummy was to be switched
off at the lowest part of the diagram, and run on the curve till it had
passed a switch on the right. Then it was to be switched on the upper
curve, and run back till it passed the switch on the main line, which
being shifted, the car having been turned entirely round, it runs back
on the perpendicular lines between the curves.

[Illustration]

Major Toppleton was satisfied with the scheme, directed that the
switches should be brought up, and the work was commenced at once by
the mechanics. All the boys but two were employed in laying down more
track; but I am sorry to say they grumbled fiercely, for they wanted to
have some fun with the dummy. Higgins was still to serve as conductor,
and the other student who had been excepted from hard labor was one of
the regularly appointed engineers of the road. His name was Faxon. He
had some taste for mechanics, and had distinguished himself in school
by making a fine diagram of the steam-engine on the blackboard. He was
to run with me on the dummy, and learn to manage the engine. I was
directed to post him up, as well as I could, and to permit him to take
an active part in running the machine.

I was not particularly pleased with the idea of an apprentice in the
engine-room with me, for if the fellow had any “gumption” he would soon
be able to take my place, and I might be discharged whenever it was
convenient. But a second thought assured me that my fears were mean and
unworthy; that I could never succeed in making myself useful by keeping
others in ignorance. The students were sent to the Institute to learn,
and the railroad was a part of their means of instruction. I had no
right to be selfish.

We ran down to the wharf in Spangleport, for the road was built half
a mile beyond the village, when Higgins shouted, “All aboard for
Middleport!” We had quite a crowd of Spangleporters as passengers,
and we ran our trips regularly till five o’clock, to the great
gratification of the people of both places, when the gentlemanly
conductor declined to receive any more who expected to return, as the
half-past five car up would be a construction train. Mr. Higgins talked
very glibly and professionally by this time, and imitated all the
gentlemanly conductors he had ever seen.

Faxon was a very good fellow, though he cherished a bitter antipathy
against the Wimpletonians, and everything connected with them. He
was an ardent admirer of Major Toppleton, and particularly of Major
Toppleton’s eldest daughter, for which I did not like him any the less,
strange as it may appear after the developments of the last chapter.

“I’ll tell you what it is, Wolf,” said he, as we were running up the
last trip, “this thing won’t go down with the fellows.”

“What?”

“All the fellows are mad because they had to work this afternoon.”

“I thought they considered it fun to build the road.”

“They did before the dummy came; but now they want the fun of the
thing. They are all rich men’s sons, and they won’t stand it to work
like Irish laborers. I hope there won’t be any row.”

“Of course Major Toppleton knows what he is about.”

“The students don’t growl before him. They do it to the teachers, who
dare not say their souls are their own.”

“But the major told me the boys enjoyed the fun, and insisted upon
building the road themselves when he wanted to employ laborers for the
purpose.”

“That’s played out. I heard some of the fellows say they would not work
another day.”

“Some one ought to tell the major about this. He don’t want them to
work if they don’t like it,” I suggested.

“It was fine fun when we first began to dig, and lay rails, but we have
all got about enough of it.”

“I will speak to the major about it.”

“Don’t say anything to-day,” interposed Faxon. “The students are vexed
because they were not allowed to have a good time this afternoon; but
the major is going to have a great picnic at Sandy Shore next week, and
he is in a hurry to have the road built to that point--two miles beyond
Spangleport.”

“There is only one mile more to build, and if the fellows stick to it
they will get it done.”

“But they say they won’t work another day,” replied Faxon.

Middleport was not paradise any more than Centreport. Boys were just as
foolish and just as willing to get into a scrape, on one side as the
other. The Toppletonians had insisted upon doing the work of building
the road, and then purposed to rebel because they were required to do
it. I had heard of the grand picnic which was to take place on the
occasion of the birthday of Miss Grace Toppleton. The grove by the
Sandy Shore could be reached most conveniently by the railroad, and the
major’s anxiety to have the rails laid to that point had induced him to
drive the work, instead of giving the students a chance to have a good
time with the dummy, as they had desired to do while it was a new thing.

We ran into the engine-house, and some of the boys forced their
way into my quarters, in spite of my protest. I saw a couple of
them studying the machinery with deep interest. They asked me some
questions; and supposing they were only gratifying a reasonable
curiosity, I gave them all the information they needed, telling them
just how to manage the engine.

“Pooh! I can do that as well as anybody,” said Briscoe, as he jumped
down.

“Of course you can,” replied one of his companions.

“Don’t you think I could run her, Wolf?” asked Briscoe. “I am one of
the engineers of the road, and I ought to know how.”

“Probably you could after you had had some experience.”

They went away, and I wondered what they were thinking about. It did
not much matter, however, for I was satisfied that the major would not
permit them to run the engine till they had become thoroughly competent
to do so. I put out the fires in the dummy, cleaned the machinery, and
left her in readiness for use the next morning. I then went to the
mills; and, as my father had finished his day’s work, we walked down to
the wharf where my skiff lay. On the way I told him about my interview
with Colonel Wimpleton, and we both enjoyed the great man’s confusion
when he learned in what manner he had punished my father.

“He will not arrest you, Wolf; you may depend upon that,” said my
father. “As the case now stands, we have the weather-gauge on him,
except in the matter of the mortgage. I am afraid I shall lose all I
have in the house. Mortimer has got back, but he hasn’t seen or heard
of Christy.”

“He may turn up yet.”

“He may, but I don’t depend much upon it. I have tried a little here in
Middleport to raise the money to pay off the mortgage; but people here
will not lend anything on real estate on the other side of the lake.”

“Perhaps Major Toppleton will help you out,” I suggested.

“I don’t like to say anything to him about it. He has done well by me,
and I won’t ride a free horse to death; besides, I don’t want to be in
the power of either one of these rich men. I have had trouble enough on
the other side.”

I pulled across the lake, and we went into the house. My mother looked
anxiously at my father as he entered, and then at me. I smiled, and
she understood me. Father had not drunk a drop, and she was happy. We
never relished our supper any better than we did that night, and I went
to bed early, not a little surprised that we heard nothing, during the
evening, of Colonel Wimpleton and his son.

The dummy was to make her first trip at eight o’clock, and I left the
house at half-past six, with my father, to cross the lake. When we
reached the wharf, I was utterly confounded to see the dummy streaking
it at the rate of twenty miles an hour along the opposite shore of the
lake. Something was wrong, for there was no one on the other side who
knew how to run the machine, unless it was Faxon, and I was afraid the
discontented Toppletonians were in mischief. We embarked in the skiff,
and I pulled over as quickly as I had done the day before.




CHAPTER XXIII.

OFF THE TRACK.


The appearance of the dummy, going at full speed, filled me with
anxiety. I was sure that something was wrong, for I knew that Major
Toppleton was not stirring at that hour in the morning, and that he
could not have given any one permission to take out the car without
telling me of it. I hastened up to the engine-house; but it was empty,
and added nothing to my meagre stock of ideas on the vexed subject. The
dummy was gone, and that was all I knew about it.

The Institute buildings were only a short distance from the
engine-house, and I next went there in search of information. The
students were engaged, in large numbers, in their sports. Indeed, there
were so many of them present that the suspicion I had entertained
that some of the boys had gone on a lark in the dummy seemed to be
disarmed. Still, a dozen or twenty of them would not be missed in the
crowd, and it was possible that this number were in mischief, though I
thought, if it were so, they had chosen a singular time of day for it.

The students were rung up in the morning at six o’clock; but, by
a merciful provision of the governors of the Institute, the first
hour was devoted to play, so that those who were behind time cheated
themselves out of just so much sport. I was informed that only a few
neglected to get up when the bell rang; and I commend this humane and
cunning arrangement to other institutions troubled by the matutinal
tardiness of students. The morning is favorable to bold schemes and
active movements; and the more I thought of the matter, the more
anxious I became to know whose places would be vacant at the breakfast
table, at seven o’clock, when the bell rang for the morning meal.

I inquired for Faxon, and soon found him making a “home run” in a game
of base ball. Before I had time to address him the breakfast bell
rang; and with a most surprising unanimity, all games were instantly
suspended--a fact which ought to convince humanitarian educators that
breakfast, dinner, and supper should immediately follow play, if boys
are to be taught habits of promptness. The students rushed towards
“Grub Hall,” as the dining-room was called; but, though Faxon had a
good appetite, I succeeded, with some difficulty, in intercepting his
headlong flight.

“What’s the row, Wolf?” demanded he, glancing at the open door through
which the boys were filing to the breakfast table, and possibly fearing
that the delay would involve an inferior piece of beefsteak.

“Are any of the fellows missing?” I asked.

“Not that I know of; but we can tell at the table,” replied he. “What’s
up?”

“The dummy is gone,” I answered, mysteriously.

“Gone! Gone where?”

“I don’t know. I saw her streaking it down the road as if she had been
shot off.”

“Don’t say a word about it; but hold on here till I get my grub, and
see who is missing,” said he, rushing into the building.

I did not understand what Faxon purposed to do; but I was willing to
comply with the arrangement, in compassion for his stomach, if for
no other reason. I had feared that my associate on the engine was
concerned in the conspiracy to abstract the dummy, for I did not think
any one else would be able to manage it. I was glad to find he had not
engaged in the lark, and I wondered all the more who had the audacity
to play with the machine. I walked over to a point on the Institute
grounds which commanded a view of the Lake Shore for some distance; but
I could see nothing of the dummy. Presently, Faxon, who had satisfied
the cravings of his hunger in a remarkably short time, came out of the
building.

“Briscoe and half a dozen other fellows are missing,” said he.

“Briscoe!” I exclaimed; for he was the fellow who had invaded my
quarters the night before, and declared he could handle the engine.

“He’s a first-rate fellow, in the main, and I hope he isn’t getting
into any scrape,” added Faxon, anxiously.

“I’m afraid he is. He is the fellow who has run away with the dummy.”

“Don’t say a word. I have permission to be out an hour, and we will see
where they are. What can we do?”

“We can take one of the platform cars, and go after them.”

“Come along; but don’t say anything.”

We went to the engine-house, and lifted one of the platform cars on the
track. The Lake Shore Railroad, as I had found by running the dummy,
had a slight descent from Middleport to Spangleport. We pushed the car,
running behind it, till we had worked it up to a high rate of speed,
and then leaped upon the platform. The impetus thus given to it kept it
going for a mile, when the motive power was applied again, as before.
In this manner we ran three miles, without making very hard work of it,
and came in sight of the dummy.

“There she is!” exclaimed Faxon. “The fellows did not go a great way in
her.”

“No! but they went as far as they could,” I replied, as soon as I had
examined the situation of the car, which was not in motion when we
discovered it.

“How do you know?”

“She’s off the track.”

“That’s too bad!”

For my own part I was rather glad the enterprise of the runaways had
been nipped in the bud, for I had a professional contempt for those who
attempt to run an engine when they know nothing about one. I only hoped
the dummy and the boys were not injured. As we approached nearer to the
scene of the disaster, we saw the conspirators hard at work trying to
get the dummy on the track.

“What are you about, you spoonies!” shouted Faxon, as we stopped the
car close to the unfortunate dummy.

“We are trying to get the thing on the track,” replied Briscoe, as
coolly as though he had done nothing wrong.

“How came she out here?” demanded Faxon.

“Oh, well, we were having a little fun with her.”

“You were missed at breakfast, and you will catch fits for this.”

“I suppose we shall; but we can’t help it now.”

“What did you meddle with her for, you spoonies, when you didn’t know
anything about her?” continued Faxon, indignantly.

“I know all about her, as well as you do, Faxon. You needn’t put on
airs because you helped run the thing,” retorted Briscoe.

“I should think you did know all about her; and that’s the reason why
you ran her off the track. You don’t know so much as you think you do.”

“That may be, but I know more than you think I do.”

“What did you run her off for?”

“I suppose it is considered rather necessary to have rails for this
thing to run on,” replied Briscoe. “If you will look ahead of her, you
will see that the track is torn up for a quarter of a mile, and the
rails carried off.”

“Is that so?” added Faxon, walking out ahead of the dummy.

“That’s so, as you may see for yourself,” said Briscoe, following us
along the track.

“Who did it? That’s the next question,” asked Faxon, vexed, as we all
were, at the discovery.

“I don’t know; we didn’t,” answered Briscoe. “If the track hadn’t been
pulled up, we should have returned at breakfast time. What’s to be
done?”

“You must get back as quick as you can,” replied the benevolent Faxon.
“I won’t blow on you. Take that car, and make time for the Institute.”

“You’re a good fellow, Faxon,” added Briscoe, with a smile.

“If I am, don’t you play this game again.”

“I won’t, again.”

“How did it work?” I inquired, wishing to hear the experience of the
runaways.

“First rate. I had no trouble with it. She started when I pulled the
thing, and we made time on her coming down, you had better believe.”

“I should think you did. I saw you putting her through by daylight.”

“Edwards saw the track was gone, and told me of it. I shut off steam,
and put on the brakes; but I couldn’t fetch up soon enough to keep from
running off.”

“All I have to say is, that you are lucky to come out of it with a
whole skin,” I added, solemnly. “But hurry back as fast as you can, or
you will be in hot water.”

“I’m in hot water now, and I may as well be scalded with a quart as a
pint. I am willing to stay and help you put her on the track.”

“Don’t do it, Briscoe,” interposed Faxon. “You are one of the
directors, and if the major finds out you meddled with the dummy, he
will have you turned out of office. Rush back to the Institute, and
don’t let on.”

The runaways were willing to adopt this advice. There were half a dozen
of them, and as they could make easy work of pushing the car back, they
soon disappeared behind the trees.

“You won’t let on--will you, Wolf?” said Faxon, in a coaxing tone, as
soon as we were alone.

“I won’t volunteer to tell any stories out of school; but I shall not
tell any lies about it.”

“Don’t be squeamish. Briscoe is a good fellow, and one of the
directors. The major would break him if he heard of this thing.”

“Between you and me, I think he ought to be broken. Suppose they had
burst the boiler, and been wiped out themselves?”

“That’s all very pretty; but they didn’t burst the boiler, and were not
wiped out.”

“I’m at work for Major Toppleton. If he asks me any questions, I shall
tell him the truth.”

“Oh, come now!”

“But I don’t think he is likely to ask me any questions. There will be
a breeze when he finds out the track has been torn up, and there will
be fog enough with it to cover up those fellows.”

“Be a good fellow, Wolf, and don’t say a word.”

“I will not if I can help it. I don’t think anybody will know anything
about this scrape. Those who saw the dummy come out will suppose I was
on her. But here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” I added, glancing at the
dummy, and then at the road minus the rails.

“Can we put the thing on the track again?”

“I think we can--we can try it, at least. We want some of those rails
for levers.”

“Where are they?” asked the puzzled Faxon. “Did some one steal them for
old iron?”

“No; they are not far off,” I replied, leading the way down to the Lake
Shore.

We walked along the beach, till I discovered footsteps in the sand.

“Here is where they landed,” I added, pointing to the prints, and also
to some deep lines gored in the sand by a couple of boats, which had
been hauled up on the beach.

“Who landed? I don’t understand it.”

“I do; an enemy has done this. The Wimpletonians have been over here
during the night and torn up your track.”

“If they did, it will be a sorry day for them,” said Faxon, grating his
teeth and shaking his head.

“These footprints were made by dandy boots, and all the party were
boys. It’s as plain as the nose on Colonel Wimpleton’s face;” and the
great man of Centreport was troubled with a long proboscis.

“They’ll catch it for this.”

We walked along till we came to Grass Brook, and there we found the
rails thrown into the deep water at the mouth of it. The end of one of
them lay within my reach, and I pulled it out. Using this as a lever,
we pried up the wheels of the dummy, and, after an hour of severe
exertion, we succeeded in putting the car upon the track.




CHAPTER XXIV.

THE GRAND PICNIC.


It is not necessary for me to quote any of the big words which Major
Toppleton used when I told him the Wimpletonians had been over and torn
up a quarter of a mile of the track of the Lake Shore Railroad. I did
not deem it best, as he asked no questions, to augment his wrath by
telling him the dummy had been off the track. He was more impatient, if
possible, to have the road completed than the boys were. He procured
the services of a score of mechanics and laborers, and we hastened with
them to the dismantled portion of the road. The rails were fished up
from the deep water, and before twelve o’clock the track was in as good
order as ever.

If the students of the Wimpleton Institute looked over the lake, and
enjoyed the mischief they had done,--as of course they did,--their
satisfaction was of short duration. Before they were turned out to
play in the afternoon, the dummy was running her regular trips to
Spangleport. I have no doubt the rascals who did the mischief felt
cheap and crestfallen when they saw the car going on its way as though
nothing had happened; and I had no more doubt that they would consider
their work ill done, and attempt to do it over again. They were not
allowed to go out nights; but I am afraid the authorities of the
Institute did not punish them very severely when they broke through the
rules in order to do mischief to the establishment on the other side.
It was only following the example of the magnate of Centreport and many
of their elders; and “like master, like man.”

When the torn-up track was relaid, the twenty men were conveyed beyond
Spangleport to build the road. Frogs and switches had been procured,
the turning apparatus was finished, and I had the pleasure of running
both ways in ship-shape style. By laying a few rods of track, and
putting down a couple of switches near the engine-house, we were
enabled to turn at the Middleport end. We always switched off to run
into the engine-house, and we had to back in, from a point _above_
the house. On the new track we ran out to a point _below_, and came
upon the main line headed towards Spangleport. I take the more pride
in describing these movements, because they were of my own invention,
though I have since learned that similar plans had been used before.

Towards night on the second day of my railroad experience, Major
Toppleton was a passenger in the engine-room. He was in high spirits
to think the mischief done by the Wimpletonians had been so speedily
repaired; but he was afraid the daring act would be repeated, as I was
quite satisfied it would. I knew my late comrades on the Centreport
side well enough to understand that they would never let the Lake Shore
Railroad enjoy peace and prosperity until they were provided with an
equivalent. I was confident that Colonel Wimpleton was racking his
brains even then for a scheme which would produce an equal excitement
among the students of his Institute.

“You know those villains over there better than I do, Wolf,” said the
major confidentially to me; and I was amazed to hear him own that I
knew anything better than he did. “Don’t you think they will attempt to
tear up the track again?”

“Yes, sir, I do think so,” I replied.

“The rascals! It mortifies me to have them get ahead of me in this
manner. If I could only catch them, I would cure them of night
wandering very quick. It is of no use for me to complain to the
colonel, or to the principal of the Wimpleton Institute. They would
enjoy my chagrin.”

“It is easy enough to prevent them from doing any more mischief,” I
added.

“How?” he asked, eagerly.

“By setting a watch.”

“Yes; and while we are watching in one place they will tear up the
rails in another.”

“There are two ways to do it. Your tow-boat can ply up and down the
shore, or we can run the dummy all night.”

“Do you think you can stand it to run the dummy all night, Wolf?”
laughed he.

“My father and I could for a few nights.”

The tow-boat had gone up the lake with a fleet of canal boats, and the
other plan was the only alternative. I saw my father at six o’clock.
He was ready to serve on the watch, but he was not willing to leave my
mother alone with my sisters at home all night, fearful that some of
the chivalrous Wimpletonians might undertake to annoy her. But Faxon
volunteered to serve with me, and was pleased with the idea. We lighted
up the reflecting lamp over the door of the engine, and, though it was
dark, we put her “through by daylight,” in a figurative sense.

We talked till we were sleepy, and then by turns each of us took a nap,
lying upon the cushions of the passenger compartment. It was a good
bed, and we enjoyed the novelty of the situation. Faxon by this time
understood the machinery very well, and I was not afraid to trust him.
We did not run on regular hours, and lay still more than half the time,
after Faxon had run the car as much as he desired. We kept an eye on
the lake for boats, of which the Wimpletonians had a whole squadron.

Only once during the night was there anything like an alarm. We saw
half a dozen boats come down through the Narrows about eleven o’clock,
but we soon lost sight of them under the shadow of the opposite shore.
We saw nothing more of them, and I concluded that the dummy, with
her bright light on the shore, had prevented another attack upon the
railroad. After this all was quiet, and there was nothing to get up an
excitement upon.

The next day I was rather sleepy at times, and so was Faxon. At eight
o’clock the major appeared, and I told him we had probably prevented
another raid upon the road, for we had seen a fleet of boats pass
through the Narrows.

“All right, Wolf; I am glad we balked the scoundrels,” answered the
major; and almost anything seemed to be a victory to the great man of
Middleport.

“I suppose they will try again some other time,” I added.

“We will see that they don’t succeed. Now we must push along the road
as fast as we can. I don’t like to disappoint the boys, but I can’t
wait for them to build the rest of it.”

I could not help smiling.

“What is it, Wolf?” he asked, smiling with me; and great men’s smiles
are sunshine to the heart.

“I don’t think they will cry if you don’t let them do any more.”

“Don’t you? Why, they begged me to let them do the work with their own
hands, and I have gratified them thus far.”

I soon convinced him that the boys were not anxious to do any more
digging, or to lay any more rails; that hard work was “played out” with
them. The magnate was delighted to hear it; and there was no grumbling
because the students were not called upon to use the shovels and the
hammers. I ran the dummy out with the men, after that, every morning at
seven o’clock, and the road progressed rapidly towards Grass Springs.

At noon we heard astounding news from Centreport. All the boats
belonging to the Wimpleton Institute--not less than a dozen of
them--had mysteriously disappeared. No one knew what had happened
to them, and no one had heard anything in the night to indicate what
had become of them. Major Toppleton inquired very particularly about
the fleet of boats Faxon and I had seen; but our information did not
elucidate the mystery. I observed that my fellow-engineer winked at me
very significantly, as though he knew more than he chose to tell.

“What did you wink for, Faxon?” I asked, when we started on our trip,
and were alone.

“You are blind as the major,” laughed he.

“What do you mean?”

“About forty of the Toppletonians found a way to get out of the
Institute last night. You won’t say a word about this--will you?”

“You had better not tell me, Faxon.”

“But I will tell you, for I don’t think the major or the principal will
say anything if the whole thing is blown. You know where the quarries
are, above Centreport, on that side.”

“Of course I do.”

“The Wimpleton boats, loaded with rocks, and the plugs taken out, lie
at the bottom of the lake, in twenty feet of water, off the quarries.
We are even with those fellows now for tearing up our track.”

“That’s too bad!” I exclaimed.

“Too bad! It wasn’t too bad to tear up our track--was it?” replied he,
indignantly.

“Two wrongs don’t make a right,” I replied, sagely.

“But one evil sometimes corrects another--‘_similia similibus
curantur_,’ as our little-pill doctor used to say. The loss of their
boats will prevent the Wimps from coming over here again in the night
to cut up our road.”

I was a boy, like the rest of them; but I did not exactly enjoy this
“tit for tat” business. My mother had always taught me to exercise a
Christian spirit, and this “paying back” was a diabolical spirit. I
would not tell of these things, nor suffer my readers to gloat over
them, if any are disposed to do so--were it not to show how these two
great men, and all the little men who hung upon the skirts of their
coats, were finally reconciled to each other; and how, out of war and
vengeance, came “peace and good will to men.”

Before Miss Grace Toppleton’s birthday arrived the road was finished
to Sandy Beach, and the grand picnic took place. The two platform cars
had seats built upon them, and were attached to the dummy. I conveyed
about a hundred a trip until the middle of the day, when all Middleport
appeared to have been transported to the grove. The affair was very
elaborate in all its details. Tents, pavilions, booths, and swings had
been erected, and the Ucayga Cornet Band was on the ground.

When I came in on the twelve o’clock trip, my father presented himself
at the door of the engine-room, his face wreathed in smiles. My mother
and sisters were present, for we were now regarded as Middleporters.

“I will take care of this thing for a short time, Wolf, and you may go
and see the fun,” said my father.

“I don’t care about going now.”

“Oh, you must go; the people want to see you.”

Thus urged I entered the grove, and found myself before a speaker’s
stand, on which Major Toppleton was holding forth to the people.

“Come here, Wolf!” called he. “I want to see you.”

A couple of the students seized me by the arms, and, dragging me
forward, actually forced me up the steps upon the speaker’s stand. I
blushed, was bewildered and confused.

“Three cheers for Wolf!” shouted Faxon; and they were given.

“Come forward, Wolf. The people want to see you,” added the major,
dragging me to the front of the stage.

I blushed, and tried to escape; and then the great man jumped down, and
left me alone on the platform. I took off my cap, and bowed.

“Mr. Wolf.”

I turned. Miss Grace Toppleton was on the stage with me. I looked at
her with wonder.

“Mr. Wolf,” she continued, “the students of the Toppleton Institute,
grateful to you for your labors on the Lake Shore Railroad, wish to
present you this gold watch; and I assure you it affords me very great
pleasure to be the bearer of this token to you.”

She handed me the watch, and I took it, with a red face and a trembling
hand.

[Illustration: THE GIFT OF THE TOPPLETONIANS.--Page 274.]




CHAPTER XXV.

WOLF’S SPEECH.


I was never so “taken aback” in my life as when I heard the silvery
voice of Miss Grace Toppleton, and saw the magnificent gift in her
hand. At any time I should have looked at her with interest; but just
then it seemed to me that the sun had ceased to shine, and all the
light which flowed down upon the brilliant scene around me came from
her beautiful face. I wished there was a hole in the platform beneath
me, through which I might sink out of sight; but then, I am sure,
if I had gone down into the gloom of the space beneath me, I should
instantly have wished myself back again; for I was the hero of the
occasion, and the soft eyes of Miss Grace were fixed upon me.

As I listened to the silvery tones of the fair orator, I became
conscious that I was presenting a very awkward appearance. My hands
seemed to be as big as the feet of an elephant, and altogether too
large to go into my pockets. I did not know what to do with them, or
where to put them. I felt like a great clumsy booby. But when the
thought flashed upon me that Miss Grace was looking at me, and that she
must consider me a boorish cub, I felt the necessity of doing something
to redeem myself. When I was fully conscious that she was observing me,
I quite forgot that anybody else was engaged in a similar occupation.
I straightened up, stiffened the quaking muscles in my frame, and
permitted my cumbrous hands to fall at my side, just as the professor
of elocution in the Wimpleton Institute had instructed me to do when I
spoke “in public on the stage.”

If the change of attitude produced no effect upon others, it did in
me, for I knew then that I looked like a civilized boy, and bore
myself with the dignity becoming the young engineer of the Lake Shore
Railroad. Miss Grace handed me the watch, and I took it with my best
bow. She finished her “neat little speech,” and, as her silvery tones
ceased, I was painfully conscious that something was expected of me.
It was a hard case. Clinging to the cow-catcher of a locomotive going
at thirty miles an hour was nothing to it. Again I longed for a hole
in the platform through which I might disappear from the public gaze.
But there was no hole in the platform, and no chance to escape. The
audience were heartily applauding the presentation speech of Miss
Grace; and I think the major was prouder of her then than he had ever
before been in his life.

While this demonstration was in progress, I tried to gather up my
thoughts for the mighty effort I was to make. A labored apology, with
something about being in a “tight place,” flashed upon my mind as a
suitable preface to my speech; but I almost as quickly decided not
to make any apology; for, since no one could suspect me of being a
speech-maker, I was not likely to fall below their expectations as an
orator. Before I had concluded what I should say, or try to say, the
applause ceased for an instant, and then the Toppletonians began to
shout, “Speech! Speech!”

If I could run an engine, there was no good reason why I should not
make a speech. I had something to say, and all I had to do was to say
it. Really it seemed to be the simplest thing in the world, and I
determined to “go in,” however I might come out of it. In a word, I was
resolved to put it “through by daylight.”

“Miss Grace Toppleton,” I began, and the uttering of the whole name
seemed to afford me a grateful respite of some fraction of a second
in which to gather up the next idea. “I am very much obliged to the
students of the Toppleton Institute for this beautiful gift. A gold
watch is something I never expected to have. I didn’t think of anything
of this kind when I came in here, and for that reason I was very much
surprised. I shall always keep this watch, and, whenever I look at its
face, it will remind me of the generous fellows who gave it to me. I
shall”--

I was interrupted by a burst of rapturous applause from the students;
and while I was waiting for it to subside, I was satisfied that I was
doing very well.

“I shall endeavor, with the help of this watch, always to be on time;
and I hope I shall be able to do my duty to the officers and to the
liberal patron of the Lake Shore Railroad. Miss Toppleton, I am very
grateful to all the good fellows who have given me this splendid watch;
and though I don’t believe in wearing two faces, I shall never look at
the face of this watch without thinking of another face--the face of
the one who so prettily presented it.”

“Good! Good!” shouted the students; and another round of applause
encouraged me in my arduous task.

“I shall always prize this watch,” I continued, glancing at the
beautiful time-keeper, “for the sake of those who gave it to me; and I
am sure I shall give it a double value because of the fair hands from
which it passed into my own. With ten thousand thanks for the beautiful
gift, I shall try to perform my duty better than ever before; and
whatever work is given me to do, I shall put it through by daylight.”

I made my best bow again, and retired from the stage amid a storm of
applause. As Miss Grace followed me, I helped her down the steps. The
pleasant, arch smile she bestowed upon me made me feel that I had not
said anything which she disliked.

“Mr. Wolf, you are quite a speech-maker,” said she.

“I don’t know; I never did any such thing before,” I replied, blushing
like a little girl.

“You did it real well, Mr. Wolf; and when they don’t want you to run
the engine, you must go to Congress.”

“If I had only known what was going on, I should have got ready for it,
and shouldn’t have felt quite so sheepish.”

“That would have spoiled the whole. You did splendidly. Now let me
fasten the chain to your vest, and see how you look with the watch on.”

She took the watch from my hand, adjusted the chain in a button-hole
of my vest with her own fair hands, and I could hardly resist the
temptation to do or say something intensely ridiculous; but I did
resist it, and only thanked her as coolly as I could for the service.
Major Toppleton came up and congratulated me on my speech. I think they
did not expect me to be able to say anything, and perhaps some of the
students would have enjoyed the scene quite as much if I had broken
down completely. But I am confident that all the compliments I received
were based upon the very meagre expectations of my intelligent audience.

The students used me very handsomely, and for the time did not put on
any airs. They treated me as an equal, and even Tommy Toppleton was
as gracious as though I had been the scion of a great house like his
own. Miss Grace walked with me to the refreshment tables, and while the
band, whose leader seemed to be an awful satirist, wickedly played,
“Hail to the Chief,” I partook of chicken salad, cake, and ice-cream,
being actually waited upon by the fair oratorical divinity who had
presented me the watch. I was afraid she would scold me for saying that
I should think of her face whenever I looked at the face of the watch;
but she did not, and I suppose she regarded the daring expression as a
piece of “buncombe” tolerated by the license of such an occasion.

I spent an hour in the most agreeable manner in the Sandy Beach Grove;
indeed, the whole scene is still a bright spot in my memory. But I was
obliged to return to the dummy, for after all I was only a poor boy, an
employee of the magnate of Toppleton. I was out of place at the feast
and the revel; but I was very grateful to the students, and to all the
people, especially Miss Grace Toppleton, who had treated me with such
“distinguished consideration.” I resumed my place on the engine, and
as there were a great many people to convey back to Middleport, I made
quick trips, and literally succeeded in putting them all “through by
daylight.”

After I had put up the dummy for the night, I went over to Centreport
with my father, mother, and sisters in the major’s sail-boat, which
he placed at my disposal for the purpose. I had never seen my parents
so happy before. If they were proud of me, I could afford to forgive
them for it. We had almost forgotten that the cloud of misfortune had
ever lowered above us. My father had not tasted a drop of liquor since
the fatal day on which he had lost his money, and this was enough to
make us all happy, without any of the other pleasant events which had
gladdened our hearts. God had been very merciful to us, and had turned
the wrath of man into blessings for us, and I am sure we were all
grateful to him for his goodness.

Nothing definite had been heard from Christy Holgate, but it was
believed that he had gone to the South. A close watch was kept upon his
family in Ucayga; for it was supposed that he would send for them, and
it was hoped that their movements would enable the officer in charge
of the case to ascertain his present residence. My father despaired
of ever hearing from the runaway or the money, and all agreed that it
would be but a poor satisfaction to have the wretch sent to the state
prison for even a short term.

We walked from the mill wharf up to the house after I had securely
moored the sail-boat. We were still talking over the pleasant events of
the day, and for the third time I had showed my watch to my sisters,
who were prouder of it than I was. As we approached the house, I saw
Captain Synders sitting on the fence, and apparently waiting for the
return of my father or myself. I could not believe that he had any
business with me, for Colonel Wimpleton had paid the honest skipper for
the destruction of his boat, and nothing had been said for a week about
arresting me for taking part in the mischief.

“I’m waiting for you, Mr. Penniman,” said Synders, as we went up to the
gate.

“I hope you haven’t had to wait long,” replied my father, gently.

“Long enough,” added the constable, gruffly.

“What can I do for you?” inquired my father, rather anxiously, I
thought, though his face wore a good-natured smile.

“Nothing for me, but you can do something for Colonel Wimpleton.”

“What can I do for him?”

“Pay the note of two thousand dollars which was due at noon to-day,”
continued Synders, maliciously.

“Colonel Wimpleton knows very well that my money was stolen from me,
and that I cannot pay him,” replied my father.

“It’s nothing to him that your money was stolen. You must pay the note.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Well, we know you didn’t do it, and this afternoon the colonel
foreclosed the mortgage. I’m here to give you notice of it, and to warn
you out of the house.”

“Does he mean to turn me out to-night?” asked my father.

“I shall give you legal notice to quit, before witnesses.”

“I will pay rent for the house,” suggested my father.

“That won’t do,” answered Synders, shaking his head. “The house must
be sold after legal notice has been given; and in my opinion it won’t
bring a dollar over the mortgage, under the hammer.”

“Well, I can’t help myself,” added my father, gloomily.

“You made a bad mistake when you turned upon the colonel,” sneered the
officer.

“I didn’t turn upon him; but we will not talk about that.”

My father was very much depressed at the thought of losing the thousand
dollars which he had invested in his house. All he had saved was to be
swept away from him. The constable procured his witnesses, served his
legal notices, and went away chuckling over the misery he left behind
him. Doubtless he exaggerated the confusion and dismay of my father
when he reported his doings to his employer, and the great man gloated
proportionally over the wreck he was making.




CHAPTER XXVI.

THE AUCTION SALE.


My father was very unhappy, and my mother was afraid he would again
resort to the cup for solace in his misfortune. I do not know what
she said to him; but he treated her very tenderly, and never was a
woman more devoted than she was during this threatening misfortune. My
father was again a poor man. All that he had of worldly goods was to be
stripped from him to satisfy the malice of his hard creditor. He was
too proud to apply to Major Toppleton for assistance, believing that he
would have nothing to do with property on the other side of the lake.

I continued to run the dummy, and was so happy as to keep on the right
side of the major, his son, and the students. Before the expiration
of the legal notice, my father hired a small house in Middleport,
and we moved into it. It was only a hovel, compared with the neat and
comfortable dwelling we had occupied in Centreport, and the change was
depressing to all the members of the family. My father’s place was
advertised to be sold, and as the day--which looked like a fatal one to
us--drew near, we were all very sad and nervous. Nothing had yet been
heard of Christy; and the case was a plain one. The thousand dollars
saved from the earnings of the debtor was to be sacrificed. No man in
Centreport, however much he wanted the house, would dare to bid upon it.

My father desired to attend the sale, perhaps hopeful that his presence
might induce some friend of other days to bid a little more for the
place. My mother did not wish to have him attend the auction; but as he
insisted, she desired that I should go with him. I had no wish to be
present at the humiliating spectacle, or to endure the sneers and the
jeers of the Centreporters; but I decided to go, for my presence might
be some restraint upon my father, if his misfortunes tempted him to
drink again. I applied to Major Toppleton for leave of absence for my
father and myself on the day of the sale. My father had engaged a man
to take his place, and Faxon could now run the dummy.

“What’s going on over there?” asked the major, after he had consented
to the absence of both of us.

“My father’s place is to be sold at auction. Colonel Wimpleton has
foreclosed the mortgage,” I replied.

“How much has your father paid on the house?”

“He paid a thousand dollars down; and the mortgage is for two thousand.
He would have paid the note when it was due, but his money was stolen
from him.”

“I remember about that,” added the major, musing. “Will the place
bring enough at auction to enable your father to get back the thousand
dollars he paid?”

“No, sir; we don’t expect it will bring anything over the mortgage.
Colonel Wimpleton means to punish my father by ruining him, and none of
the Centreport people will dare to bid on the place.”

He asked me several questions more, and I told him as well as I could
how the matter stood. I was hoping most earnestly that he would
offer to advance the money to pay off the mortgage; but just as my
expectations reached the highest pitch, a gentleman interrupted the
conversation, and the major went off with him in a few moments, having
apparently forgotten all about the subject. My hopes were dashed down.
I conveyed all the students out to Sandy Beach in the dummy that
afternoon, and brought them back; but I was so absorbed in our family
affairs that I hardly knew what I was doing.

At one o’clock the next day, I went over to Centreport with father to
attend the sale. He was very nervous, and I was hardly less so. At the
appointed time, a large collection of people gathered around the house.
A red flag was flying on the fence, and all the company seemed as
jovial as if they were assembled for a picnic, rather than to complete
the ruin of my poor father. Hardly any one spoke to us; but I saw
many who appeared to be talking about us, and enjoying the misery we
experienced at the prospect of seeing our beloved home pass into other
hands.

Colonel Wimpleton was there, and so was Waddie. Both of them seemed to
be very happy, and both of them stared at us as though we had no right
to set foot on the sacred soil of Centreport. Others imitated their
illustrious example, and we were made as uncomfortable as possible. In
our hearing, and evidently for our benefit, a couple of men discussed
their proposed bids, one declaring that he would go as high as fifteen
dollars, while the other would not be willing to take the place at so
high a figure. Finally, the colonel, after passing us a dozen times,
halted before my father.

“I suppose you have come over to bid on the place, Ralph,” said he.

“No, sir; I have nothing to back my bid with,” replied my father,
meekly.

“You had better bid; I don’t think it will bring more than fifteen or
twenty dollars over the mortgage,” chuckled the magnate.

“It ought to bring fifteen hundred,” added my father. “I was offered
that for it once.”

“You should have taken it. Real estate is very much depressed in the
market.”

“I should think it was; and I’m afraid Centreport is going down,”
answered my father, with a faint smile.

“Going down!” exclaimed the great man, stung by the reflection. “Any
other piece of property in Centreport would sell a hundred per cent.
higher than this.”

“I suppose so!” ejaculated my poor father, fully understanding the
reason why his place was to be sacrificed.

The auctioneer, who had mounted the steps of the front door,
interrupted the conversation. He stated that he was about to sell all
the right, title, and interest which Ralph Penniman had in the estate
at twelve o’clock on a certain day, described the mortgage, and called
for a bid.

“Twenty-five cents,” said a colored man in the crowd.

The audience gave way to a hearty burst of laughter at the richness of
the bid.

“Thirty cents,” added Colonel Wimpleton, as soon as the noise had
subsided.

The auctioneer dwelt on it for a moment, and then the colored man
advanced to thirty-one cents. By this time it was clear to us that
these proceedings were a farce, intended to torment my father. I
had never endured agonies more keen than those which followed these
ridiculous bids, as I became conscious that my father was the butt of
the company’s derision. The colonel, more liberal than the negro, went
up to thirty-five cents; whereupon the latter advanced another cent,
amid the laughter and jeers of the assembly. Thus it continued for
some time, the colored man, who had doubtless been engaged to play his
part, going up one cent and the great man four. Others occasionally
bid a cent or a half-cent more; and half an hour was consumed in windy
eloquence by the auctioneer, and in cent and half-cent bids, before the
offer reached a dollar.

“One dollar and five cents,” said Colonel Wimpleton, at this point.

“One dollar and six cents,” promptly responded the negro.

“One dollar and six cents is bid for this very desirable estate,” added
the auctioneer. “Consider, gentlemen, the value of this property, and
the circumstances under which it is sold. Every dollar you bid goes
into the pocket of the honest and hard-working mortgagor.”

“One dollar and ten cents,” said the colonel, as if moved by this
appeal.

“Dollar ’leven,” added the negro.

“Consider, gentlemen, the situation of the unfortunate man whose
interest in this property I am selling.”

“Dollar fifteen,” said the colonel.

“Dollar fifteen and a half,” persisted the negro, amid roars of
laughter.

“One thousand dollars,” said some one in the rear of the crowd, in a
loud, clear tone.

If the explosion of the honest skipper’s canal boat, which had been
the indirect cause of the present gathering, had taken place in the
midst of the crowd, it could not have produced greater amazement and
consternation than the liberal bid of the gentleman on the outskirts of
the assemblage. It was a bombshell of the first magnitude which burst
upon the hilarious people of Centreport, met, as it seemed to me, for
the sole purpose of sacrificing my poor father. I recognized the voice
of the bidder.

It was Major Toppleton.

I had not seen him before. I did not know he was present. I afterwards
learned that he arrived only a moment before he made the bid, and only
had time to perceive the nature of the farce which was transpiring
before he turned it into a tragedy.

“Dollar fifteen and a half,” repeated the auctioneer, so startled that
he chose not to take the astounding bid of the magnate of Middleport.

“I bid one thousand dollars,” shouted Major Toppleton, angrily, as he
forced his way through the crowd to the foot of the steps where the
auctioneer stood.

“One thousand dollars is bid,” said the auctioneer, reluctantly.

I looked at Colonel Wimpleton, who stood near me. His face was red, and
his portly frame quaked with angry emotions. My father’s property in
the house was saved. We looked at each other, and smiled our gratitude.

“Toppleton must not have the property,” said Colonel Wimpleton to his
lawyer, who stood next to him, while his teeth actually grated with
the savage ire which shook his frame. “He will put a nuisance under my
very nose. Eleven hundred,” gasped the great man of Centreport, with
frantic energy; and he was so furious at the interference of the major
that I do not think he knew what he was about.

“Twelve hundred,” added Major Toppleton, quietly, now that this bid had
been taken.

“Thirteen,” hoarsely called the colonel.

“Fourteen.”

“Fifteen.”

The crowd stood with their mouths wide open, waiting the issue with
breathless eagerness. The auctioneer repeated the bids as he would have
pronounced the successive sentences of his own death warrant. Colonel
Wimpleton had by this time forgotten all about my father, and was
intent only on preventing his great enemy from buying the estate.

“Sixteen,” said the major, who, seeing the torture he was inflicting
upon his malignant rival, was in excellent humor.

“Seventeen,” promptly responded Colonel Wimpleton.

“Eighteen.”

“Nineteen,” gasped the colonel.

“Two thousand.”

“Twenty-one hundred,” roared the colonel, desperately.

“Twenty-two,” laughed the major.

The colonel was listening to the remonstrance of his lawyer, and the
auctioneer was permitted to dwell on the last bid for a moment.

“Twenty-three!” shouted the colonel.

“Twenty-three hundred dollars--twenty-three, twenty-three,
twenty-three,” chipped the auctioneer, with professional formality,
when the major did not instantly follow the last bid. “Going at
twenty-three hundred! Are you all done?”

“Knock it off!” growled the colonel, savagely, but in a low tone.

“Going at twenty-three hundred--one--two--three--and gone, to Colonel
Wimpleton, at twenty-three hundred,” added the auctioneer, as he
brought down his hammer for the last time.

“Pretty well sold, after all,” said the major to me, as he rubbed his
hands.

“Yes, sir; thanks to you, it is very well sold,” I replied, running
over with joy at the unexpected termination of the farce.

Colonel Wimpleton swore like a pirate. He was the maddest man on the
western continent.

“Colonel, if you are dissatisfied with your bargain, I shall be happy
to take the property at my last bid,” said the major as he walked out
into the road.

I will not repeat what the great man of Centreport said in reply, for
it was not fit to be set down on clean, white paper. My father and I
crossed the lake, and went home with the good news to my mother, who
was anxiously waiting to hear the result. Whatever joy she experienced
at the good fortune of my father, she was too good a woman to exult
over the quarrels of the two great men.

“I think Colonel Wimpleton will not try to punish me any more,” said my
father. “He pays eight hundred dollars more than I was offered for the
place. If he is satisfied, I am.”

The next day the twenty-three hundred dollars, less the expenses of the
sale, was paid over to my father. He had already cast longing eyes
upon a beautiful estate on the outskirts of the town of Middleport,
having ten acres of land, with a fine orchard; but the owner would not
sell it for less than five thousand dollars. The fruit upon the place
would more than pay the interest of the money; and, as soon as he had
received the proceeds of the sale, he bought the estate, paying two
thousand down, and giving a mortgage for three thousand. We moved in
immediately. The house was even better than that we had occupied in
Centreport, and I assure the reader, in concluding my story, that we
were as happy as any family need be left at the end of a last chapter.

Of the Lake Shore Railroad I have much more to say, in other stories
which will follow. The road was soon completed to Grass Springs,
thirteen miles from Middleport, and I ran the dummy to that point
during the autumn. In due time we had a regular locomotive and cars,
and ran to Ucayga, where we connected with a great line of railway
between the east and the west. We had a great deal of trouble with the
Wimpletonians, and the Centreporters generally, of which something
will be said in my next story--“LIGHTNING EXPRESS, OR THE RIVAL
ACADEMIES.”

The Toppletonians continued to treat me very kindly, and I did my best
for them. Our family troubles appeared to be all ended. My father
was as steady as he had ever been, and though we heard nothing from
Christy, we were on the high road to prosperity. Miss Grace Toppleton
was frequently a passenger in the dummy, and I must add that she was
always very kind and considerate to me. I am sure her smile encouraged
me to be good and true, and to be faithful in the discharge of my duty;
or, in other words, to put it THROUGH BY DAYLIGHT.




THE NORWOOD SERIES

[Illustration]

Newly arranged Standard Collection of History, Biography, Heroism, and
Adventure

 Fifty favorites in new series   New uniform cover design
   Attractive dies  Fine cloth binding   Illustrated
   Price per volume $1

This series can truly be said to cover the world in its scope, as
it chronicles heroic and daring exploits in all climes, told by an
exceptionally strong list of authors. In addition we have included
the full line of George Makepeace Towle’s famous “Heroes of History”
and the ever popular Headley biographies. It is just the library to
entertain and inform a live boy, and while composed of books that
arouse eager interest is wholly free from cheap sensationalism.

  1. =Andersen, Hans Christian=--The Sand Hills of Jutland
  2. =Armstrong, F. C.=--The Young Middy
  3. =Barrows, Rev. William=--Twelve Nights in a Hunter’s Camp
  4. =Ballantyne, R. M.=--The Life Boat
  5. =Brehat, Alfred de=--The French Robinson Crusoe
  6. =Cozzens, Samuel W.=--The Young Silver Seekers
  7. =Clarke, Mary Cowden=--Yarns of an Old Mariner
  8. =De Mille, Prof. James=--Among the Brigands
  9.     The Lily and the Cross
 10.     The Winged Lion or Stories of Venice
 11. =Farrar Capt. Charles A. J.=--Down the West Branch or
           Camps and Tramps around Katahdin
 12.     Eastward Ho! or Adventures at Rangeley Lakes
 13.     Up the North Branch   A Summer’s Outing
 14.     Wild Woods Life or A Trip to Parmachenee
 15. =Frost, John, LL.D.=--Wild Scenes of a Hunter’s Life
 16. =Hall, Capt. Charles W.=--Twice Taken   A Tale of
           Louisburg
 17. =Harley, Dr.=---The Young Crusoe or Adventures of a Shipwrecked
           Boy
 18. =Headley, P. C.=--Facing the Enemy   The Life of Gen Wm.
           Tecumseh Sherman
 19.     Fight It Out on This Line The Life and Deeds of Gen U. S. Grant
 20.     Fighting Phil The Life of Gen. Philip Henry Sheridan
 21.     Old Salamander The Life of Admiral David G. Farragut
 22.     Old Stars The Life of Gen. Ormsby M. Mitchell
 23.     The Miner Boy and His Monitor The Career of John Ericsson,
           Engineer
 24. =Kingston, W. H. K.=--Anthony Waymouth
 25.     Ernest Bracebridge or School Boy Days
 26.     The Adventures of Dick Onslow among the Redskins
 27.     The Cruise of the Frolic
 28. =Lee, Mrs. R.=--The African Crusoes
 29.     The Australian Wanderers
 30. =McCabe, James D., Jr=--Planting the Wilderness
 31. =Macy, William H.=--The Whales We Caught and How We Did It
 32. =Morecamp, Arthur=--Live Boys or Charlie and Nasho in Texas
 33.     Live Boys in the Black Hills or the Young Texas Gold Hunters
 34. =Pearson. Dr. C. H.=--The Cabin on the Prairie
 35.     The Young Pioneers of the Northwest
 36. =Rowcroft, Charles=--The Australian Crusoes
 37. =St. John, Percy B.=--The Arctic Crusoe Adventures on the
           Sea of Ice
 38. =Towle, George Makepeace=--Drake the Sea King of Devon
 39.     Magellan or The First Voyage around the World
 40.     Marco Polo His Travels and Adventures
 41.     Pizzaro His Adventures and Conquests
 42.     Raleigh His Voyages and Adventures
 43.     Vasco da Gama His Voyages and Adventures
 44.     The Heroes and Martyrs of Invention
 45. =Verne, Jules=--A Winter in the Ice
 46.     Around the World in Eighty Days
 47.     The Wreck of the Chancellor
 48. =Wraxhall, Sir Lascelles=--Golden Hair   A Tale of the
           Pilgrim Fathers
 49.     The Prairie Crusoe or Adventures in the Far West
 50.     Willis the Pilot A Sequel to the Swiss Family Robinson


LEE and SHEPARD Publishers Boston




Transcriber’s Note


 • Italic text denoted by _underscores_.
 • Bold text denoted by =equal signs=.
 • Small capitals converted to ALL CAPS.
 • Punctuation and other obvious typographic inconsistencies and
     inaccuracies were silently corrected.
 • Archaic and variable spelling has been preserved.
 • Variations in hyphenation and compound words have been preserved.
 • New original cover art included with this eBook is granted to the
     public domain.


Corrections

 • pp. 43, 45, 47, 58, 198: _had drank_ to _had drunk_
 • p. 43: _seach_ to _search_
 • p. 77: _ably_ to _able_
 • p. 226 illustration: _FOR_ to _FROM_
 • p. 249: _had not drank_ to _had not drunk_
 • p. 276: _forget_ to _forgot_