Cattle-Ranch to College Page 14

  CHAPTER XII.

  A CHANGE OF SCENE.

  For a time John could do nothing but hang on like grim death. He washalf unconscious; the noise was so great, the dust so thick, and themotion so altogether terrifying that he was nearly stupefied. After awhile, however, he noticed that the dreadful racket did not increase,that the clicking of the wheels over the rail joints had become regular,and that all the sounds had a sort of humming rhythm. His nerves quieteddown somewhat, and he realized that he was still alive. His grasp on thebraking rods overhead relaxed slightly, and he began to look aroundhim--as much as the dust would allow. The train was moving at goodspeed. The ties below seemed first to rush at the boy threateningly, andthen in a twinkling disappeared behind; the telegraph poles along thetrack had the same menacing attitude and seemed bent on his destruction;objects further off went by more leisurely. It looked as if the wholeearth, and everything on it, was trying to run away from the standingtrain.

  John soon found that it made him dizzy to watch the earth slip away fromunder him, so he turned his eyes to his surroundings. The wheels movedso swiftly that they would have seemed to be standing still were it notfor the side motion, alternately checked by the flanges; a spot of mudon the rapidly turning axle looked like a white ring. Though this modeof travelling was dangerous, dirty, and unpleasant in many ways, Johndecided, in the recollection of his fatigue the day before, it was atleast better than walking.

  In half an hour the wheels thudded heavily over a switch joint, thespeed of the train slackened, and the cylinder of the air brake underthe centre of the car groaned a warning. John remembered hisinstructions and bent low to avoid the big iron lever. He watched itswing slowly toward him--nearer, nearer; the rod attached to ittightened until its vibrations sung in his ear. The train slowed up andthen stopped with a jolt. "Phew! that was close," he murmured tohimself. He did not dare to get out of his cramped position for fear hewould be run over. His eyes, nose, and mouth were filled with dust, hisback ached from his stooping posture, and the smell of grease and foulair escaping from the released brake was overpowering.

  "Come out, kid, it's all right." It was Jimmy who spoke. John crawledout, glad of a change. A short stop was made at the station, duringwhich the boy and the tramp lay in hiding in a ditch.

  The engine tooted, and they rushed up the embankment, but before eitherman or boy could reach his perch the train had begun to move. Johnmanaged by following Jimmy's directions to scramble under and on to hisbrake-beam seat, but by the time he was safely stowed away the car wasgoing at a good speed. The boy feared greatly for his friend's safety.Jimmy, however, seemed entirely unconcerned; he ran alongside and caughtone of the side rods that run under every freight car and look like thetruss of a bridge; putting his foot on the end of the brake beam, heswung himself under and was soon sitting in state opposite John, buthalf a car's length from him. This was in reality a very difficult feat,though it seems simple. If, in jumping from the ground to the bar, hisfoot should slip, it might easily get caught in the revolving wheels, orit would be easy for him to lose his hold when swinging under--suredeath would follow in either case. John only breathed comfortably whenhe saw his companion seated in comparative safety on the other brakinggear.

  Before Helena was reached several such stops were made and John learnedto swing himself under to his perilous perch, when the car was inmotion, with comparative ease.

  It was a long and most tiresome trip for the boy. Although he gotaccustomed to this mode of travelling before long, the dirt and smells,the constrained position, and the necessity for caution and concealmentwere all very disagreeable to him. He was overjoyed when he heard onebrakeman call to another: "Well, Dick, you'll see your old woman inthree hours now."

  The train came to a halt before entering the railroad yards of Helena,and Jimmy (who seemed to consider it his duty to look after John) wasalongside in a minute. "We'll leave here, kid," he said. "There'sp'lecemen in Helena, so I hear, and they nab a man climbing from under acar."

  A collection of wooden houses huddled round the station and "yard" wasall they saw at first, and John at least was disappointed, for he hadheard much of the magnificence of the place. He learned soon that thiswas but the extreme suburb and that the town itself was some two milesaway.

  Jimmy was for separating there and then, each to forage for food on hisown hook, but John, mindful of his many kindnesses, insisted that theyshould share the meal which he procured. The supply of ham and eggs andsteak that they put away testified not so much to the excellence of thefare as to the keenness of their appetites.

  This important business finished, they inquired about the town itselfand learned that it was reached by a trolley car. Here was a brand-newexperience right away. John had heard of electric cars, but had neverseen one, and he thought it a wonderful machine; but even more wonderfulwas the fact that for a ride of two miles a fare of only five cents wascharged. He wished that he had a hundred eyes and almost as many ears,so that he might take in all the strange sights that greeted him atevery turn. Jimmy, with transcontinental experience, explained manythings in language interlarded with strange hobo slang. When the yellowtrolley car finally reached the town, the boy opened his eyes inwonder--here was the real city.

  The companions walked along the busy street, which to John's amazementwas paved with stone blocks, the sidewalks being covered with bricks andflags. As he saw the crowds of people he thought there must be some sortof a celebration going on. In front of a saloon a number of men weregathered, and among them Jimmy recognized some friends. John, however,was not content to stand and listen to long discussions as to the bestroutes to travel, the most likely places where "hand-outs" might be had,and all the rest of the talk that tramps indulge in; so he started offon his own hook on a tour of discovery. "Don't get lost, kid," Jimmyshouted, as the boy went off.

  All his life he had been accustomed to almost unlimited space, to nearlyperfect quiet, except the noise of the elements, the voices of wildthings and of the few human beings. All at once he was thrown into themidst of a bustling Western city, packed solid with business buildingsand dwellings, the surface of the earth shod with iron and stone, thevery sky stained with smoke, and the air filled with the roar oftraffic, the whistle of locomotives, the clang of the electric-carbells, and the shouts of street hucksters. He was almost stupefied withwonder. Then natural boyish curiosity took possession of him, and hebegan to notice things separately and in detail. He walked along witheyes, ears, and mouth wide open; his head turning constantly as somestrange object caught his gaze. The frequent big "saloon" sign did notsurprise him, nor did the "Licensed Gambling House" placard cause himto wonder; he knew them of yore, they were all a matter of course to aWestern boy. But when he came to a building six or seven stories high hestopped short in the human tide, like a spile in a rushing stream, andstood with mouth agape in amazement. The plate-glass windows and the gaydisplay behind them, the brilliant signs and elaborate decorationsdelighted him.

  He was walking along slowly, when he caught sight of the most wonderful"outfit" he had ever seen, and stood still in his tracks to take it in.It was a closed carriage with a fine big pair of horses whose trappingswere decorated in bright silver. His fresh young eyes took these detailsin at once, but what caused him to stare was the big man on the box.Perfectly motionless, a stony stare on his smoothly shaven face, Johnwondered if he was made of wood. His whip, held at just the proper anglein heavy tan gloves, white trousers painfully tight, high top boots, andgreen coat shining with brass buttons, the whole get-up topped by a big,shining silk hat. For several minutes he watched him, but not a sign oflife did he betray. Then a woman, richly dressed, came out of a nearbystore and entered the carriage, saying as she did so, "Drive home,James." The dummy made a motion with his hand toward his hat, flickedthe whip over the horses' flanks, and the carriage moved off.

  John's awesome gaze gave way to a laugh: "Why, he isn't an Englishlord," he said to himself, "he's only a teamster," and he laughed
again.

  A boy with a package stopped to look at him. "Whatcher laughin' at?"said he.

  "Didn't you see that outfit?" said the other, between chuckles.

  "Mean the kerrige?" John nodded. "That's Fleischman's rig. Never seenone before?"

  "I've seen 'em in pictures, but I never thought they were true," andJohn laughed again. "I suppose people _do_ go down to dinner at sixo'clock as I've read they do," he said at last, a puzzle that had longbaffled him clearing away.

  "Sure. Whatjer think they did, go up to dinner?" returned the other boyscornfully.

  "Why, I didn't see how they could go down 'less they ate in a cellar,"said John in explanation. "Who ever heard of people eating dinner atnight, anyway?"

  From this talk and the big white felt hat that he wore, the boy with theparcel gathered that the other was a stranger to the town and town ways.He felt quite superior and determined to make the most of it. "Come ondown the street with me," he said, and John followed, elbowing his wayamong the people as he saw the other boy do. They went along together,Charley Braton (John soon learned his name) pointing out the principalbuildings, grandiloquently. Charley, who was an errand boy in adry-goods store, reached his destination and invited his new-foundfriend to come up, so both stepped into the hallway and then through aniron doorway into a sort of cage, where several other people werealready standing. John wondered what it was all about, and was justframing a question when a man slammed the gate and grasped a wire ropethat ran through floor and ceiling of the cage. Of a sudden the floorbegan to rise, not smoothly, but with a jerk that drove the boy's heelsinto the floor. John's breath caught and he clutched Charley's arm."Seven," called out the latter, and the car stopped with a jar.

  "Elevator?" inquired John.

  "Yep. 'Fraid?" questioned the other with a grin.

  "Nah. Little bit surprised though; never rode on one before."

  "Lots of people get scared, though," said Charley, and began a longaccount of how an old ranchman and Indian fighter lost his nervecompletely during his first elevator ride, and finally pulled his pistolon the elevator man to make him "stop the thing."

  Charley's errand done, they entered the elevator again, which descendedso suddenly that John felt as if the bottom had dropped out of hisstomach. Both stairs and elevators were new to our country boy, and heconcluded that he did not care for either, but he was far too proud toshow any trepidation before his new acquaintance.

  The boys separated, Charley returning to the store and John to the groupof tramps at the saloon. It was not an attractive circle round the beerkeg that the boy joined, and even he realized that they were more dirtyand shiftless than any men he had known. But one at least of them hadbeen kind to him, and he was grateful.

  "Well, kid, wha'd'ye see?" shouted Jimmy as he drew near.

  John told the story with gusto of all the wonders he had seen, andespecially his view of the "carriage teamster."

  "That's nothin'," said one man. "You see them on every corner inN'York." Immediately there arose an animated discussion as to thepossessions of this or that millionaire, and there was not one of thetramps who did not know some one in the household of a plutocrat. Thetalk grew apace, and each narrator put forth all his available knowledgeof the traits and habits of millionaires. All referred familiarly toindividuals of seven-figure fame as "Tom" or "Joe" or "George."

  John and Jimmy meanwhile withdrew unnoticed, and the latter evidentlyhad some definite destination in view, for he started off at a briskpace along the street, commanding the boy to come on. John did sowithout question, and soon they reached an office building, which Jimmyentered. They finally stopped before a door bearing the sign "DoctorHamilton," and at this the tramp knocked. A boy opened the door andushered in the two rough-looking specimens. "Doctor in?" asked Jimmy,hat in hand. The doctor, a mild old gentleman, approached, and John'sprotector spoke up: "Doctor, beg yer pardin for comin' in, but this herekid has a pretty bad hand," and he held up the boy's swollen member."There ain't nobody to look after it and it needs a good washin' atleast."

  "Let me see it," and the doctor unwound the dirty rags, handling thewounded hand ever so tenderly. It was treatment to which the boy wasentirely unaccustomed, and he did not know just what to make of it.Jimmy warned the physician that neither had any money, but neverthelesshe proceeded to attend to the sore hand, washing it first, then dressingit and bandaging the whole in clean white linen. John was ordered tocome next day. And so, with a kindly smile on his benevolent face, hebade them good day.

  The grateful patient tried hard to thank the doctor and harder to thankJimmy, but he did not succeed very well with either.

  "Now, kid, you've got to sleep in a bed till that hand heals up," saidthe latter, when John tried to voice his gratitude. "I've got a stablefull of hay that I'm goin' to sleep in; but you hunt up a lodgin' houseand save your money all you can."

  John followed the advice at once and found a place where he could sleepin a bed for twenty-five cents a night.

  A week passed, Jimmy had taken to the road again, and the boy was leftalone for the first time in a great town. He had been lonely before, butit was as nothing compared to the feeling that now possessed him. To besurrounded with people, all of whom were strangers, seemed to him moredepressing than to be absolutely alone with rugged nature.

  By this time John's hand had nearly healed, but his money had aboutgiven out, and he was looking for work. It wasn't hard for a man inthose booming days to find work, but the boy was in the awkward stage ofgrowth when he was too small for a man's work and too big for aboy's--though he had a full-grown appetite and clothes to pay for.

  He hunted diligently for a job; day after day he tramped the streets insearch of one; he looked into thousands of faces for one he knew. Heasked continually for work, and at last, after a particularly tryingday, heard of a restaurant where a dish-washer was wanted. He went thereat once, but was told that the boss would not be there till evening;later he called again and was told that it was still too early. Therestaurant was set back of a saloon, which also bore the legend,"Licensed Gambling House." Instead of going away to return again, Johndetermined to wait. He loitered around the bar-room, sick at heart. Itwas not a pleasant place to wait in; it had no attractions for the boy,accustomed as he was to open-air life. Several tables were scatteredabout, and at these sat the gamblers, their faces stony andexpressionless, perfectly calm, no matter how luck turned--the result oflong and severe discipline. It seemed as if "the boss" would nevercome, and John was about to give up when he chanced to look at a tablein a far corner and saw, he thought, a familiar face. He was allalertness in an instant, and went over to make sure. Yes, it was TomMalloy, John's instructor in "the noble art of self-defence." How gladhe was to see him! Yet he must not interrupt, for Tom was playing cardsfor a considerable stake. He must wait and watch his chance to speak.Tom won steadily, and soon the boy became so absorbed in the game thathe forgot all about the dish-washing; a friend was involved, so he "tooksides" at once. One by one Malloy's opponents dropped out, remarkingthat it was "Malloy's night," till he alone remained at the table.Raking the chips into his hat he went over to the bar to turn them intothe money they represented; John followed, and when the currency wasbeing counted out he approached:

  "Hello, Tom," he said.

  "Why, hello, kid," answered the man carelessly.

  "Don't you know me?" said John, rather hurt at this reception. "I'm JohnWorth; you worked for my father down in Dakota."

  "The deuce you say! You little John Worth? Not so little, either," saidTom in a breath. "Where'd yer come from? What you doin' round agamblin' house? It's no place for you."

  John remembered his mission and explained.

  "Job? Well, I'm just the man to get you one," said Tom cordially. Hewent back to the restaurant door and called a waiter to him. "TellAlbert I want to see him," he ordered. Albert, the restaurant keeper,soon appeared. "I hear you want a man," Malloy began. "Here's a boywho's as good as any man and an old
friend of mine; if you've got a goodjob, give it to him."

  Malloy was a leading character among the gamblers of the town; he wonfreely and spent freely, and was therefore to be propitiated. Albertgraciously admitted that he had a job and that John might have it; heeven went so far as to say that "sure he would make a place for a friendof Mr. Malloy's." So it was arranged that the boy was to begin work thenext day.

  The two passed out together, and Tom noticed the condition of the boy'sclothes; they were dusty, torn in many places, and generallydisreputable-looking.

  "Those all the clothes you have?"

  John nodded.

  "Well, I'll see if I can't get you fixed up to-morrow."

  True to his word, John's friend in need took him to a clothing storeand saw to it that he was supplied with a complete outfit.

  John was togged out as he had never been before in all his life; helooked at himself in the glass, feeling awkward and clumsy and wishinghis face wasn't so big and red under the small derby hat. He couldn'tget used to that hat, so he slyly rolled up his big, old felt one andtucked it under his arm when they left the store. Before Malloy partedfrom him he made him promise that he would call on him if he had anytrouble or did not get along well with Albert.

  John began work at once. He yanked off his new coat, rolled up his shirtsleeves, and started in washing dishes as if his life depended on it. Itwas a way he had when anything had to be accomplished.

  For several months the boy stuck to his job, working steadily and well.The town, or at least the meaner part of it, became very familiar tohim. Schools, churches, concerts, and society events abounded, but theymight have been in another planet so far as John was concerned. Thesaloon, the "Licensed Gambling House," the cheap theatre, and the backstreets were his haunts. The rough teamsters, miners, and gamblers werehis associates. Tom Malloy was his hero; the man's generosity and kindlyspirit won the boy's heart, but the former kept a strict watch over himfor all that, and it is doubtful if John could have got into very badhabits if he had desired. The boy soon learned to know all thecelebrities of the under-world in which he lived: Peter Aston, or PokerPete, "handy with his gun"; Charley, or Snoozer, Johnson, also known as"Gain," who played a "close, hard game"; Tom Malloy, with the widespreadreputation of being a man "hard to lick."

  THE MEN BROKE UP INTO LITTLE GROUPS. (_Page 276._)]

  The class John associated with was a restless lot, seldom staying longin one place, and soon the same spirit infected him. He longed for theopen air and open country; the interminable walls of the city oppressedhim. It was with great interest therefore that he listened to a chanceacquaintance who told of a new job on railroad construction he hadsecured. John asked several questions and learned that many men wereneeded, and that there might be a chance for him.

  "Where's the contractor?" he asked suddenly, his mind made up. "I'mgoin' to ask him for a job."

  "I met him half an hour ago at the 'Bucket of Blood,'" answered his newfriend. "I'll go along with you; perhaps we'll find him there."

  They soon reached the saloon with the sanguinary name, and luckily foundthe contractor. John stated his errand and stood while the man lookedhim over. "Perhaps you might work in the cook house," he said at length."You're too light to drive a scraper."

  "Yes, I could do that, but I don't want to. I want out-of-door work.Have you got a horse-wrangler yet?"

  As luck would have it, the job John wanted was not given out, and, aftertelling of his experience, he was appointed night horse-wrangler.

  To get a saddle and riding outfit was the next thing necessary, and thisTom Malloy lent him from the store of such things he had won at cards.

  John found that to part from the man who had befriended him in his needwas the only really trying thing in connection with leaving Helena.Squalid as were most of his associations with the place, he was reallysorry to go away from Tom Malloy. The thought of being once more in thesaddle, however, delighted him, and it was with a preponderance of joyrather than sorrow, therefore, that he clambered early one morning intothe rough wagon that was to convey his party to the scene of operationsand saw the city disappear in the distance.

  Soon he would be astride of a horse, out in the open. No walls toencompass him, no roofs to shut out the sky--what a glorious andinspiring thought it was!