The Erie Train Boy. Horatio Alger Jr.
the sergeant. "He could not take it from your hand?"
"It was in my pocket. I found him with his hand in my pocket," answered Morris, glibly.
"By gracious!" ejaculated Joshua, his eyes distended with amazement, "I never heard a fellow lie so slick before, in all my life."
"Silence!" said the sergeant. "Mr. Hale, will you appear to-morrow morning at Jefferson Market, and testify against this man?"
"Yes, sir."
"Officer, have you ever arrested this man before?" went on the sergeant.
"I'm not quite sure, sir. You see he's in disguise now. I think he'swan of the gang."
Things began to look bad for poor Joshua, who was in a fair way to be railroaded to the penitentiary, as no doubt more than one innocent man has been before now, through an unfortunate complication.
"I wish I had some friend to speak up for me," he said, almost sobbing.
"This is awful!"
"So you have!" said an unexpected voice.
Joshua turned, and to his inexpressible relief saw Fred standing on the threshold.
"It's the train boy!" he exclaimed joyfully.
Fred had set out to call upon Joshua that evening, and had chanced to see him going into the station house with the confidence man. He had followed to find out what it meant.
There was one who was not so well pleased to see him. Ferdinand Morris turned pale, and tried to make his escape.
"Excuse me," he said. "I am faint, and must get out into the air."
But Fred stood in his way.
"Not so fast, Mr. Ferdinand Morris," he said. "What trick are you up to now?"
"Do you know this man, Fred?" asked the sergeant, who had known the train boy for three years, for he lived only one block away on the same street.
"Yes, sir, he stole the wallet of this young man on my train on the Erie less than a week since."
"But he said the prisoner stole his ring."
"He left the ring in Mr. Bascom's pocket, when he was feeling for the wallet."
"This is a great mistake," said Morris, hurriedly. "I never saw this train boy before, and haven't traveled on the Erie road for a year."
"This man is telling a falsehood," said Fred.
"Will you swear that he was on your train and robbed this countryman?" asked the sergeant.
"Yes, sir."
"Is there any officer who recognizes him?" the sergeant inquired, looking round the room.
"I do," answered a stout policeman, who just then entered the station house. "I arrested him six months since, but he managed to slip away."
"The prisoner is discharged," said the sergeant. "Hold the complainant instead."
To his great joy Joshua was set free, and Mr. Morris, alias Hale, was collared by a policeman, though he made a desperate struggle to escape.
"I'll get even with you, boy!" said Morris savagely, addressing Fred.
"Come along, Mr. Bascom," said Fred. "I presume you don't care to stay here any longer."
"Not if I know it," said Joshua, fervently. "If I live till to-morrow morning, I'll start back to Barton. I've seen all I want to of York. I won't feel safe till I get home, in sight of the old meetin' house. I wouldn't have dad know I'd been arrested for a load of pumpkins."
CHAPTER IX.
A LONG TRIP
Fred appeared at the depot the next morning the superintendent said to him, "I shall have to change your train to-day. You will wait for the nine o'clock train for Suspension Bridge."
"When shall I get there?"
The superintendent, referring to his schedule of trains, answered, "At 11.44 to-night. The boy who usually goes on this train is sick."
"When shall I return?"
"Let me see, it is Saturday. If you would like to stay over a day and see Niagara Falls, you can do so, and start on your return Monday morning at 8.35. How do you like the arrangement?"
"Very much. I was only thinking how I could get word to my mother. She will feel anxious if I am not back at the usual time."
"You might send her a note by a telegraph messenger."
At this moment Fred espied a boy of his acquaintance in the street outside.
"Here, Charlie Schaeffer," he called, "do you want to earn a quarter?"
"Yes," answered the boy quickly. "What do you want me to do?"
"Take a note to my mother."
"It'll cost me almost a quarter for expenses."
"I will pay that besides."
"All right! Give me the letter."
Fred scribbled these few lines:
DEAR MOTHER,
I am sent to Suspension Bridge and shall not probably be back till late Monday evening, or perhaps Tuesday morning. Don't worry.
FRED.
Charlie Schaeffer, a stout German boy, who was temporarily out of work, was glad of the chance of earning a quarter for himself, and started at once on his errand. Fred, quite elated at the prospect of seeing Niagara Falls, prepared for his trip. He had to carry a larger supply of stock on account of the length of the journey, and was instructed to lay in a fresh supply at Buffalo for the home trip.
He was about to enter the car at ten minutes of nine when Joshua Bascom appeared on the platform with a well-worn carpet-bag in his hand.
"Are you going back, Mr. Bascom?" asked the train boy.
"Yes," answered Joshua. "I don't want to go to no more station houses. I shan't rest easy til I'm back in Barton. You hain't seen any policeman lookin' for me, have you?"
"No; you haven't done anything wrong, have you?"
"Not as I know of, but them cops is very meddlesome. I thought that pickpocket might have set 'em on my track."
"You are safe here. This is New Jersey, and a New York policeman can't arrest you here."
"That's good," said Joshua with an air of relief. "Where are you going to-day?"
"I'm going all the way with you."
"You ain't goin' as far as Barton?"
"Yes, I am, and farther too. I'm going to Niagara."
"You don't say? And you don't have to pay a cent either?"
"No, I get paid for going."
"I wish I was goin' to Niagara with you. By hokey, wouldn't the folks stare if I was to come home and tell 'em I'd seen the Falls!"
"Can't you go?"
"No, I've spent all the money I can afford. I must wait till next year."
"Did you spend all of your money, Mr. Bascom?"
"No," chuckled Joshua. "I've only spent the fifteen dollars I got for that ring, and shall carry home the ten dollars."
"You are an able financier, Mr. Bascom. You've made your expenses, and can afford to go again. You must tell your father how you got the best of a pickpocket."
"So I will. I guess he'll think I'm smarter than he reckoned for."
At about half-past four in the afternoon, Fred was called upon to bid his country friend good-by. Looking from the door of the car, he saw Joshua climb into a hay wagon driven by an elderly man whose appearance led him to conclude that he was the "dad" to whom Joshua had frequently referred.
The sun sank, the darkness came on, but still the train sped swiftly over its iron pathway. The passengers settled back in their seats, some fell asleep, and the hum of conversation ceased. Fred too gave up his trips through