The Steel Horse. Charles Austin Fosdick
time to bring their trip to an inglorious close.
"What's going on to-night, any way?" said Arthur, picking up a paper and glancing at the advertisements that appeared under the heading "Amusements!" "Some pianist, with an unpronounceable name, assisted by a celebrated baritone, is to hold forth at the Academy of Music."
"Let's take that in," said Joe; and the matter was settled, for all the boys liked to listen to good music.
Having plenty of time at their disposal Joe and his companions strolled leisurely along, taking note of all that passed in their immediate vicinity, and now and then stopping to look in at a show-window, especially if it chanced to be one in which bicycle goods or hunting and fishing equipments were displayed. That, I believe, is characteristic of people, both old and young, who are not accustomed to the sights of a big city—a sort of distinguishing trait, so to speak. At any rate the interest that Joe and his chums seemed to take in the well-filled windows attracted the attention of a spruce young fellow, who after following them for an entire block, and looking up and down the street as if to make sure that his movements were unobserved, stepped up to the nearest of the boys and tapped him on the shoulder.
"Beg pardon," said he, smilingly, as Arthur Hastings turned and faced him. "You young gentlemen are wheelmen, I take it."
Arthur replied that the stranger had hit center the very first time trying.
"Members of the L. A. W.?"
"No, but we hope to be next year. You see we are not quite eighteen yet. Do you ride?"
"Certainly. Owned a bike ever since I was knee-high to a duck. Wouldn't know how to exist without it. Going anywhere? If you are, perhaps some of us can be of assistance to you."
"You're very kind, and I'm sure we are obliged to you," said Arthur. "We've always found wheelmen ready to tell us anything we wanted to know."
"Best lot of fellows in the world," replied the stranger, with enthusiasm. "And the best of it is, you will find them wherever you you go. A wheel is a passport to the best society in the land. You don't live in the city? I thought not. You are from the country."
"What makes you think that?" inquired Joe.
"Didn't we get it all off?" exclaimed Roy, turning first one side, then the other, and giving his uniform a good looking-over. "I'm sure I used my brush the best I knew how."
"Yes, it is pretty dusty, that's a fact," said the stranger. "I ought to know, for I have been on the road myself to-day. There's nothing about you or your uniforms to attract attention, but I knew you were from the country the minute I put my eyes on you, because you are so careless with your money. Look at that. If it hadn't been for me you would have lost it, beyond a doubt."
So saying he held out his hand and exhibited a well-filled purse; whereupon all the boys instinctively thrust their hands into their pockets.
"If it wasn't so full I should think it was mine. No, it does not belong to me, although it looks enough like my purse to be its twin brother," said Joe, after he had made sure that his modest sum of pocket-money was safe.
"It doesn't belong to me, either," added Roy.
"And I am sure it isn't mine," chimed in Arthur. "Where did you find it?"
"Right down there, close to your feet," replied the stranger, indicating the exact spot. "It must belong to one of you, for I know it wasn't there when I stopped at this window not two minutes ago to look at those bicycle stockings. What shall I do with it? I've got to leave town on the first train."
"Give it to a policeman," suggested Roy. "He'll take care of it and find the owner, too."
" Well, you are a greeny, that's a fact," exclaimed the stranger, in tones that were very different from those he had thus far used in addressing the boys. "Can't you see that the purse is chuck full, and don't you know that the owner will be willing to give something handsome to get it back? There'll be a big reward offered for it in to-morrow's papers, and—"
"I don't know who would be mean enough to demand a reward for restoring lost property," said Roy, with a slight accent of contempt in his voice.
"I fail to see where the meanness comes in. What is there to hinder me from keeping the whole of it? But I was taught to be honest, and if I had time to stop over and take this money to the owner to-morrow, I should thankfully pocket the fifty or hundred dollars that he would be sure to give me, and think none the less of myself for doing it. "Say," added the stranger, sinking his voice to a confidential whisper, "I'll tell you what I'll do with you fellows, seeing you're wheelmen. I'll give the purse into your keeping for twenty-five dollars, and in the morning you can claim the reward. I haven't the least doubt that you will make a hundred dollars by it. Why, just look here," he continued, lifting the catch and exposing to view a big roll of greenbacks. "There's money, I tell you, and the reward you will receive for restoring it will pay all your expenses during a pretty long bicycle tour. I wouldn't think of trusting every one as I am willing to trust you, but seeing that you belong to the fraternity—eh?"
Roy and Arthur were plainly becoming disgusted with their new acquaintance. They opened their lips to utter an indignant refusal of his generous offer; but before they could say a word, Joe Wayring spoke up.
"I'll take you," said he, quietly.
"All right," said the stranger briskly, while Roy and Arthur were struck dumb with amazement. "You are the most sensible man in your party—meaning no offense to your friends, of course."
"Why. Joe," began Roy, as soon as he found his tongue.
But Joe shook his head and waved his open hands up and down in the air, indicating by this pantomime that his mind was made up, and it would be of no use for his friends to argue the matter.
"It's all right," said he, when he had succeeded in silencing them. "If there are a hundred dollars to be made honestly, I don't know why we should turn our backs upon it. We've a long run before us, our expenses will be heavy—"
"That's the idea!" exclaimed the now smiling stranger. "I don't suppose that your fathers are as liberal with you as they might be. I know mine wasn't, and that my supply of pocket-money was mighty slim when I had to depend upon him for it. Where's the cash?"
"Hand over the purse," replied Joe.
"Let me see first that you have twenty-five dollars to give me," was the answer.
"I'm a wheelman," said Joe, severely. "And my machine is a passport to the best society in the land—eh?"
"Of course; of course. But you see—"
"And would I be admitted to the best society in the land if I were untruthful or dishonest?" continued Joe, while his two friends wondered what in the world he meant by addressing the stranger in his own words. "Hand over what you have found, if you want me to make a deal with you. We're from the country, you know, and consequently we are suspicious of every stranger we meet in the city. If you had your passport—I mean your wheel—with you now, why then I shouldn't be afraid of you."
"Haven't I showed you that I am perfectly willing to trust you to return this big wad of greenbacks to the owner? Of course if I had the faintest suspicion that you would not give it to him—"
"I was taught to be honest, the same as you were. Being a wheelman, I have no more intention of taking advantage of you in any way than you have of taking advantage of me."
So saying, Joe thrust his hand into his pocket. Observing this movement, which seemed to be indicative of a desire on the young wheelman's part to have the negotiations brought to a close, the stranger stepped closer to him and slyly passed over the purse.
"Be quick," said he, in a cautious whisper. "Some one might see us."
"What if they do?" replied Joe, speaking in his usual tone of voice. "This is a fair, square and honest transaction, as I understand it. "If it isn't—"
"Of course; of course it is. But don't publish it. Be in a hurry, for a policeman might happen along."