The Young Adventurer: or, Tom's Trip Across the Plains

CHAPTER VII.
THE PITTSBURG HOUSE

Tom and his companion entered the hotel. At the left was the clerk's desk. Milton Graham naturally took the lead. He took a pen from the clerk, and entered his name with a flourish. Then he handed the pen to Tom, who followed his example, omitting the flourish, however.

"This young gentleman will room with me," said Graham.

"All right, sir," said the clerk. "Will you go up to your room now?"

"Yes."

The porter was summoned, and handed the key of No. 16. He took the two carpetbags, and led the way up-stairs, for the Pittsburg House had no elevator. Even in the best hotels at that time this modern convenience was not to be found.

The door of No. 16 was opened, revealing a plain room, about twelve feet square, provided, as Tom was glad to see, with two narrow beds.

"Have you got a quarter, Tom?" asked Graham.

Tom drew one from his pocket.

Graham took it and handed it to the porter, who expressed his thanks.

"It's always customary to fee the porter," he said carelessly, in answer to Tom's look of surprise.

"What for?"

"For bringing up the baggage."

"Twenty-five cents for bringing up two small carpetbags! That's pretty high. I'd have brought them up myself, if I had known," said Tom, dissatisfied, for he felt that this fee was hardly in accordance with his resolutions of economy.

"Oh, he expects it. It's his regular perquisite. When you've traveled more you'll understand."

"How much are we to pay for our accommodations?" asked Tom anxiously.

"About two dollars apiece, I reckon."

"That's more than I can afford," said Tom, alarmed.

"Perhaps it is less, as we room together."

"I hope so, for I can't afford to be extravagant."

"Do you call two dollars a day extravagant?" asked Graham, smiling.

"It is for me. My father is poor."

"Oh, it'll be all right. I'll fix it with the clerk. If you are ready, suppose we go down and have some supper."

To this Tom had no objection. He washed his hands and face, and brushed his hair; then he declared himself ready.

Tom was hungry, and did justice to the supper, which he found very good. As they left the table, and reentered the office of the hotel, Milton Graham said, "I am going to make a call on some friends. Sorry to leave you, but we shall meet later in the evening."

"All right," said Tom.

On the whole he did not regret being alone. He began to doubt whether Graham would make a desirable traveling companion. Tom felt the need of economy, and he saw that his companion would make it difficult. If a fee must be paid, it was fair to divide it; but the porter's fee had come out of Tom's pocket.

"Didn't he have a quarter, I wonder?" thought our hero.

It was a small matter, but economy must begin in small matters, or it is not likely to be practised at all.

He took the opportunity to go to the desk and ascertain the sum likely to be charged for his accommodations.

"How long do you stay?" asked the clerk pleasantly.

"Till to-morrow morning. I am going to sail in the River Belle."

"Then we shall charge you a dollar and a half."

This seemed large to Tom, but he made no objection.

"How much would it have been if I had roomed alone?" he asked.

"The same. We make no change in our terms on that account."

"Mr. Graham told me it would be cheaper to room together."

"He is your roommate, isn't he?"

"Yes, sir."

"He is mistaken, so far as our house is concerned. I suppose you have known him for some time."

"No, sir. I met him on the cars yesterday afternoon for the first time."

"Then you don't know anything about him?"

"Oh, yes," answered Tom. "He is the son of a rich merchant in New York."

"Who told you that?"

"He did."

The clerk was a man of middle age. At home he had a son of Tom's age, and this led him to feel a friendly interest in our hero.

"I suppose you have never traveled much," he said.

"No, sir. This is my first journey."

"Are you going far?"

"To California."

"That is a long journey for a boy of your age," said the clerk, looking surprised.

"Yes, sir; but I can't get anything to do at home, and I am going to California to seek my fortune."

"I hope you will be successful," said the clerk, with hearty sympathy. "Will you let me give you a piece of advice?"

"I shall be very glad of it, sir," responded Tom. "I find I am quite inexperienced."

"Then don't trust strangers too readily. It is dangerous."

"Do you refer to Mr. Graham?" asked Tom, startled.

"Yes, I refer to him, or any other chance acquaintance."

"Don't you think he is all right?" asked our hero anxiously.

"I don't think he is the son of a rich merchant in New York."

"Then why should he tell me so?"

Tom was green, and I have no intention of concealing it.

"I can't tell what his designs may be. Did you tell him that you were going to California?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then he will, of course, conclude that you have money. Did you tell him where you keep it?"

"No, sir. I keep it in a belt around my waist."

"You are too ready to tell that, though with me the information is safe. You are to room together. What will be easier, then, for your companion to rob you during the night?"

"I'd better take a room alone," said Tom, now thoroughly alarmed.

"I should advise you to, in most cases, but at present it may be as well to let things remain as they are, as it will save an awkward explanation."

"But I don't want to be robbed."

"We have a safe in the office – there it is – in which we deposit articles of value intrusted to us by our guests. Then we become responsible for them. I advise you to leave your money with us overnight."

"I will," said Tom, relieved. "I shall have to go to my room to remove it."

"Very well. If you have a watch, or any other valuable, it will be well to put those in our charge also."

"No, sir, I have nothing of consequence but the money."

The belt of money was deposited in the safe, and Tom felt relieved. He began to realize for the first time the need of prudence and caution. It had never occurred to him that a nice, gentlemanly-looking man, like Milton Graham, was likely to rob him of his scanty means. Even now he thought there must be some mistake. Still he felt that he had done the right thing in depositing the money with the clerk. The mere thought of losing it, and finding himself high and dry – stranded, so to speak – hundreds of miles from home, made him shudder. On the whole, Tom had learned a valuable, though an unpleasant, lesson. The young are by nature trustful. They are disposed to put confidence in those whom they meet, even for the first time. Unhappily, in a world where there is so much evil as there is in ours, such confidence is not justified. There are too many who make it a business to prey on their fellows, and select in preference the young and inexperienced.

It was only seven o'clock. Tom had a curiosity to see the city of Pittsburg, with whose name he had been familiar. So, after parting with his treasure, he went out for a walk. He did not much care where he went, since all was alike new to him. He ascertained, on inquiry, that Smithfield Street was the principal business thoroughfare. He inquired his way thither, and walked slowly through it, his attention fully occupied by what he saw.

CHAPTER VIII.
GRAHAM IN HIS TRUE COLORS

Tom strayed into a street leading from the main thoroughfare. Presently he came to a brilliantly-lighted liquor saloon. As he paused in front of the door, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, looking up, he met the glance of a well-dressed gentleman, rather portly, whose flushed face and uncertain gait indicated his condition. He leaned rather heavily upon Tom, apparently for support, for he seemed to have been drinking more than was good for him.

"My young friend," he said, "come in and take a drink."

"Thank you, sir, but I would rather not," said Tom, startled.

"It won't hurt you. It don't hurt me."

As he uttered these last words he came near falling. In his effort to save himself he clutched Tom by the arm, and nearly pulled him over. Our hero was anxious to get away.

"Are you sure it don't hurt you?" he could not help saying.

"Do you think I'm drunk?" demanded the other.

"I think you've taken more than is good for you, sir," Tom answered bravely.

"I guess you're right," muttered the gentleman, trying to stand upright. "The drink's gone to my legs. That's strange. Does it ever go to your legs?"

"I never drink, sir."

"You're a most extraor'nary young man," hiccoughed Tom's new acquaintance.

"I must bid you good-night, sir," said our hero, anxious to get away.

"Don't go. I can't get home alone."

"Where do you live, sir?"

"I live in the country."

"Are you staying at a hotel?"

"Yes – Pittsburg House. Know Pittsburg House?"

"Yes, sir. I am staying there myself. Shall I lead you there? You'd better not drink any more."

"Jus' you say, my young frien'. You know best."

It was not a pleasant, or, indeed, an easy task to lead home the inebriate, for he leaned heavily on Tom, and, being a large man, it was as much as our hero could do to get him along. As they were walking along Tom caught sight of his roommate, Milton Graham, just turning into a saloon, in company with two other young men. They were laughing loudly, and seemed in high spirits. Graham did not recognize Tom.

"I hope he won't come home drunk," thought our hero. "It seems to me it is fashionable to drink here."

Tom's experience of city life was very limited. It was not long before he learned that Pittsburg was by no means exceptional in this respect.

He ushered his companion safely into the hotel, and then a servant took charge of him, and led him to his room. Tom sat up a little while longer, reading a paper he found in the office, and then went to bed.

"I suppose Mr. Graham will come home late," he said to himself. "I must leave the door unlocked."

He soon went to sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly awoke after an interval. Opening his eyes he became conscious that Graham had returned. He discovered something more. His roommate, partially undressed, and with his back turned to Tom, was engaged in searching our hero's pockets. This discovery set Tom broad awake at once. He was not frightened, but rather amused when he thought of Graham's disappointment. He did not think it best to speak, but counterfeited sleep.

"I wonder where the boy keeps his money," he heard Graham mutter. "Perhaps it is in his coat pocket. No, there is nothing but a handkerchief. He's more careful than I gave him credit for. Perhaps it is under his pillow."

He laid down the clothes, and approached the bed. Tom, with some effort, kept his eyes firmly closed.

Graham slid his hand lightly under the pillow, but withdrew it with all exclamation of disappointment.

"He must have some money," he muttered. "Ah, I have it! It is in his valise."

He approached Tom's valise, but it was locked. He drew out a bunch of keys, and tried one after the other, but in vain. Our hero feared he might resort to violent means of opening it, and turned in bed. Graham wheeled round quickly.

Tom stretched, and opened his eyes languidly.

"Is that you, Mr. Graham?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Graham nonchalantly, proceeding to undress himself. "Have you been abed long?"

"I don't know," answered Tom. "What time is it?"

"Haven't you got a watch?"

"No, I am not rich enough."

"It is one o'clock. I hadn't seen my friend for a long time, and couldn't get away till late. By the way, have you got a key about you? I can't open my carpetbag."

Tom thought of suggesting the bunch of keys in Graham's pocket, but decided not to.

"My key is in my pants' pocket."

"Suppose you get it," said Graham. "I don't like to feel in another person's pocket. There might be some money there."

This was very scrupulous for one who had already searched all Tom's pockets thoroughly.

Our hero got up, and got the key for his roommate.

"No, it won't fit," said the young man, after a brief trial. "It is too large."

Tom replaced the key in his pocket, confident that Graham would in the course of the night use it to open his valise. This, however, did not trouble him.

"He won't think it worth while to steal my shirts or stockings," he reflected, "and the handkerchiefs are not worth taking."

"It will be rather awkward if I can't find my keys," said Graham craftily. "I keep my money in my valise."

He thought his unsophisticated companion would reveal in turn where he kept his money; but Tom only said, "That is a good place," and, turning over, closed his eyes again.

During the night Tom's valise was opened, as he ascertained in a simple way. In the morning he found that the key was in the right hand-pocket instead of the left, in which he had placed it.

Upon Graham's last failure he began to suspect what Tom had done with his money.

"The boy isn't so green as I thought," he said to himself. "Curse his prudence! I must get the money somehow, for I am precious hard up."

He got up early, when Tom was yet asleep, and went down to the office.

"Good morning," he said to the clerk affably.

"Good morning, sir."

"My young friend and roommate left his money with you last night. Please deliver it to me."

"What is the number of your room?" asked the clerk quietly.

"No. 16. Tom Nelson is my roommate."

"Why doesn't he come for it himself?" inquired the hotel clerk, with a searching glance at Graham.

"He wishes me to buy his steamboat ticket," answered Graham coolly. "He is going down the river in my charge."

"Are you his guardian?"

"Yes," answered Graham, with cool effrontery. "He is the son of an acquaintance of mine, and I naturally feel an interest in the boy."

"He told me he never met you till yesterday."

Graham was rather taken aback, but he recovered himself quickly.

"That's pretty cool in Tom," he returned, shrugging his shoulders. "I understand it, though."

"I am glad you do," said the clerk sarcastically, "for it doesn't look to me at all consistent with what you represent."

"The fact is," said Graham plausibly, "Tom has a feeling of independence, and doesn't like to have it supposed that he is under anybody's protection. That accounts for what he told you. It isn't right, though, to misrepresent. I must give him a scolding. I am in a little of a hurry, so if you will kindly give me the boy's money – "

"It won't do, Mr. Graham," said the clerk, very firmly. "The money was put in our charge by the boy, and it will be delivered only to him."

"You seem to be very suspicious," said Graham loftily. "Hand me my bill, if you please. I will breakfast elsewhere."

The bill was made out, and paid. Five minutes later Milton Graham, with an air of outraged virtue, stalked out of the hotel, quite forgetting the young friend who was under his charge.

When Tom came down-stairs he was told of the attempt to get possession of his money.

"I am much obliged to you for not letting him have it," he said. "He searched my clothes and valise during the night, but I said nothing, for I knew he would find nothing worth taking."

"He is a dangerous companion. If you ever meet him again, I advise you to give him a wide berth."

"I certainly shall follow your advice. If you had not warned me against him he would have stolen my money during the night."

CHAPTER IX.
THE "RIVER BELLE."

As Tom took his place at the breakfast table, he mechanically lifted his eyes and glanced at his neighbors. Directly opposite him sat the gentleman whom he had brought home the evening before. Now he looked sober and respectable. Indeed, he looked as if he might be a person of some prominence. He met Tom's glance, and recognized him.

"I think you are the boy who came home with me last evening," he said.

"Yes, sir," answered Tom, rather embarrassed.

"I am afraid I was not quite myself," continued the stout gentleman.

"Not quite, sir."

"I ought to be ashamed of myself, and I am. I don't often allow myself to be caught in that way. You did me a good service."

"You are quite welcome, sir."

"I had a good deal of money with me, and, if I had drank any more, I should probably have been robbed."

"Why did you run such a risk, sir?" Tom could not help asking.

"Because I was a fool," said the other bluntly. "I have taste for drink, but when I am at home I keep it under control."

"Then you don't live in Pittsburg, sir?"

"No. My home is in one of the river towns in Ohio. I came to Pittsburg to collect money due me for produce, and but for you should probably have carried none of it home."

"I am very glad to be of service to you," said our hero sincerely.

"What are your plans, my young friend? I suppose you are only a visitor in this city."

"I am on my way to California. I expect to sail in the River Belle at nine o'clock."

"Then we shall be fellow passengers, and I shall have a chance to become better acquainted with you. You are young to go to California alone. You are alone – are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

They went down to the boat together, and on the way Tom told his story. He learned that his acquaintance was Mr. Nicholas Waterbury; that he had been a member of the Ohio Legislature, and, as he inferred, was a prominent citizen of the town in which he lived.

"I should be very much ashamed to have them hear at home how I had forgotten myself," said Mr. Waterbury.

"It need not be known," said Tom. "I shall not mention it to any one."

"Thank you," said Mr. Waterbury. "I would rather you did not, as the news might reach my home."

"Where do you live, sir?"

"In Marietta. I shall be glad to have you leave the boat there, and stay a day or two with me."

"Thank you, sir, but I am in a hurry to reach California, on my father's account. I want to send back as soon as possible the money he raised to pay my expenses out."

"That is very commendable; I can enter into your feelings. I should like to show my obligation to you in some way."

"It is not worth thinking about, sir," said Tom modestly.

"Permit me to disagree with you. Why, my young friend, how much money do you think I had with me?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Upward of six hundred dollars."

As Mr. Waterbury uttered these words, a young man, very dark, with narrow black whiskers, passed them. He darted a quick glance at the speaker, and walked rapidly on. Tom noticed him, but not with attention.

"That is a good deal of money, sir," he remarked.

"It would have been a good deal to lose," said Mr. Waterbury, "and I have no doubt I should have lost it if it had not been for you."

"I haven't so much money as you, but I came near losing it last night."

"How was that?" asked Tom's new acquaintance, with curiosity.

Tom explained the attempt of his roommate to rob him.

"It would have been a serious loss to you, my young friend."

"It would have broken up all my plans, and I should have had to work my way home, greatly disappointed."

"You will need to be careful about forming acquaintances. There are exceptions, however. I am a new acquaintance; but I don't think you need fear me."

"No, sir," said Tom, smiling.

"While I have received a great service from you, who are a new acquaintance. But here we are at the steamer."

The River Belle lay at her pier. Tom and his companion went on board. Both secured tickets, and Tom provided himself with a stateroom, for he expected to remain on board till they reached Cincinnati. Freight of various kinds was being busily stowed away below. It was a busy and animated scene, and Tom looked on with interest.

"Have you ever been on a steamboat before?" asked Mr. Waterbury.

"No, sir. I have never traveled any to speak of before leaving home on this journey," replied Tom.

"It will be a pleasant variety for you, then, though the scenery is tame. However, some of the river towns are pretty."

"I am sure I shall like it, sir."

"I wish I were going all the way with you – I mean as far as Cincinnati," said Mr. Waterbury.

"I wish you were, sir."

"I have a great mind to do it," said the gentleman musingly. "I should have to go very soon on business, at any rate, and I can attend to it now just as well as later."

"I shall be very glad if you can make it convenient, sir. We might occupy the same stateroom."

"Are you not afraid that I shall follow the example of your Pittsburg roommate?" asked Mr. Waterbury.

"I have less to lose than you," answered Tom. "Besides, I shall have to have a roommate, as there are two berths."

"Precisely, and I might be safer than some. I have a great mind to keep on. I shall see some one on the pier in Marietta by whom I can send word to my family. By the way, I have a son about your age, and a daughter two years younger."

"Have you, sir?" asked Tom, with interest.

"I should like you to meet them. Perhaps you may some day."

"I hope I may," said Tom politely.

"I am a manufacturer," continued Mr. Waterbury, "and sell my goods chiefly in Pittsburg and Cincinnati. From these places they are forwarded farther east and west."

"I suppose that's a pretty good business, sir?"

"Sometimes; but there are intervals of depression. However, I have no right to complain. I began a poor boy, and now I am moderately rich."

"Were you as poor as I am?" inquired Tom, beginning to feel a personal interest in his companion's career.

"Quite so, I fancy. At the age of sixteen I couldn't call myself the owner of five dollars."

"And you have become rich?" said Tom, feeling very much encouraged.

"Moderately so. I am probably worth fifty thousand dollars, and am just fifty years of age."

"That seems to me very rich," said Tom.

"I should have said the same thing at your age. Our views change as we get older. Still, I regard myself as very well off, and, with prudent management, I need not fear reverses."

"I should think not," said Tom.

"You don't know how easy it is to lose money, my boy. I am not referring to robbery, but to mismanagement."

"Your success encourages me, Mr. Waterbury," said Tom. "I am willing to work hard."

"I think you will succeed. You look like a boy of good habits. Energy, industry, and good habits can accomplish wonders. But I think we are on the point of starting."

Just before the gangplank was drawn in, two persons hastily crossed it.

One was the dark young man who had passed them on the way down to the boat; the other was Milton Graham.

"Mr. Waterbury," said Tom hurriedly, "do you see that man?"

"Yes."

"He is the man that tried to rob me."

"We must be on our guard, then. He may be up to more mischief."