The Campers Out: or, The Right Path and the Wrong

CHAPTER III – A STARTLING OCCURRENCE

Mr. Wagstaff, on receiving word at the Town Hall from the janitor who brought the message of the terrified servant to him, forgot, in his excitement, to tell his wife of the fearful news, and rushed out-of-doors without a word.

Mrs. Wagstaff knew it must be something awful that had called him away in that style, and she lost no time in following, while the children scrambled after them at varying distances.

The husband entered the door through which several of the neighbors had timidly passed, only a few paces ahead of his wife, who was upstairs almost as soon as he.

“Oh! my dear Tommy,” she wailed, as she caught sight of the silent figure fastened at the foot of the bed; “have they killed you?”

The sight was enough to startle any parent. The father had just jerked the handkerchief loose and flung it to the floor, and the lad’s head was drooping over on one shoulder, his eyes half-closed, and his tongue protruding. The parent caught up a pitcher of water and dashed it in his face, while the mother frantically strove to unfasten the cruel thongs at the wrists and ankles.

The unexpected shock of the water startled Tommy into gasping and opening his eyes, but his look was dazed and aimless. His father whipped out his pocket-knife and quickly cut the thongs. The released boy would have fallen had not both parents seized and laid him on the bed, where he moaned as if suffering greatly.

“Send for the doctor at once,” said the mother.

“And call in the police,” added the father; “a dastardly outrage has been committed; it may prove murder.”

By this time the room was filled with horrified and sympathizing neighbors. The solicitude of the parents for their child caused them to pay no heed to the visitors until the father, seeing a friend at his elbow, begged him to clear the house of intruders, and to admit no one except the physician or an officer of the law.

It took but a few minutes to comply with this request, and the parents were left to give undivided attention to their suffering child, who continued to moan and roll his eyes as if he were at his last gasp.

The father was anxious, silent, and watchful; the mother demonstrative and weeping. She rubbed her boy’s hands, chafed his limbs, gazing lovingly the meanwhile in his face, and begging him to speak to her. Maggie, the servant, had regained her senses, now that she was sure she was alive and the precious heir had not been killed. She took upon herself to fasten the doors and keep out intruders, finding time to make a search up-stairs, which needed to be extended only a few minutes to learn that an extensive robbery had been committed.

“Of course,” remarked Mr. Wagstaff, when the amount of his loss, as well as that of his wife, was reported to him, “I knew what had been done the moment I saw my poor boy.”

“Don’t tell me,” said the mother, waving the servant away, “I don’t care if they have taken everything in the house, so long as my darling Tommy lives.”

Her heart was kept in a state of torture by the alarming symptoms of her heir. At times he seemed about to revive, a look of intelligence coming into his eyes, but, after several gasping efforts to speak, he sank back on his pillow and gave it up as a failure.

By and by, in the midst of the trying scene, the physician arrived and took charge of the patient. He was a wise old gentleman of wide experience, and his cheerful words did much to awaken hope in the parents, who hung on his words and watched his manner.

It required but a few minutes for him to make known that their child was not seriously hurt. During his examination he gleaned the particulars of the outrage, and succeeded in getting Tommy into a sitting posture. Then he expressed the belief that if the boy’s senses did not come to him very soon he would have to bore a hole through his crown with a large auger.

This astounding declaration was meant for the benefit of Tommy alone, a sly wink at the parents preventing them from taking alarm. It was noteworthy that the boy began to pick up at once, and in the course of a few minutes was entirely himself.

When the chief of police arrived the urchin was able to talk with something of his usual facility, and imparted to his awed listeners his account of the daring outrage and crime.

He said he did not feel very well after his folks left for the concert, and he went up-stairs to lie down on his parents’ bed. He thought it strange that the gas was lit, though it was turned down, but he supposed it had been done by Maggie.

Just as he lay down he fancied he heard a man moving softly about the room. He rose from the bed and was about to call out, when he became sure that there were two persons near him. Before he could give the alarm he was seized and told that if he made any noise he would be instantly killed.

Still the brave boy tried to shout, when he was gagged, bound, and tied to the bed-post, where he remained while the robbery went on around him.

The doctor having pronounced Tommy out of danger, his parents became more composed, and listened quietly to the questioning of the chief of police, who was one of the shrewdest members of his profession.

He listened gravely until the questions of the others were finished, when he asked Tommy to describe the appearance of the criminals so far as he could. The lad did so quite glibly. Both of the intruders were masked, wore soft, slouch hats, long dark coats buttoned to their chins, had gruff voices, and one of them took a dreadful-looking revolver from his side pocket, and seemed to be on the point of discharging several of the chambers at the captive.

Chief Hungerford asked the latter about the shots that had broken the glass down-stairs, and given the servant such a fright. At first Tommy declared he did not hear them, but upon being questioned further, recalled that he did hear something of the kind just after he was bound.

“Is this the handkerchief with which he was gagged?” asked the officer, picking up the article from the floor.

“Yes, that’s it,” replied the father, who had snatched it from the head of his son the instant he reached the room.

The chief continued talking without looking further at the linen, but when the attention of the couple was diverted he slipped it into his pocket. Then he asked liberty to make an examination of the house. Permission was cheerfully accorded, and he spent a half-hour in going through the lower story in his own peculiar but thorough manner.

At the end of that period he came back to the room where the parents, brothers, and sisters were coddling poor Tommy, who was muffled up in a rocking-chair, sipping lemonade, sucking oranges, and nibbling the choicest candy. Now and then he would start convulsively and beg them to take away those bad men, and not let them hurt him. Then, when he was reassured by the kind words of the loving ones around him, he complained of his throat, and found it helpful to swallow more lemonade and take an additional suck or two at one of the oranges pressed upon him.

Chief Hungerford stood in the door of the room, hat in hand, and looked fixedly at the lad for a minute or two before speaking. Even then it was only in answer to the question of Mr. Wagstaff.

“What have you found?”

“Nothing special, sir; there have been so many people in the house tramping back and forth, that they have destroyed what clews we might have discovered. Then, too, the job was so easy that there was no need of leaving any traces.”

“How was that?”

“Why the doors were unlocked, so that they had only to open and enter without forcing a window or fastening anywhere. After they got inside they found you were kind enough to leave keys wherever they were needed, and consequently no violence was required up-stairs.”

“But why did they fire those shots through the window down-stairs?”

“That was to frighten away the servant.”

“It seems a strange proceeding when the reports were sure to be heard and bring people here, while the servant herself was certain to raise the alarm. They might have bound and scared her into quiescence.”

The chief of police had thought of all this before, and looked upon it as one of the peculiar features of the business; but he smiled, and said, in his off-hand fashion:

“It may strike us both as a little odd, but the best proof of the wisdom of what the scamps did is the fact that they got off with the plunder and have not left the first clew behind. Well, good-evening all; I will report as soon as I pick up anything worth telling.”

And courteously saluting the family he descended the stairs and passed out of the door. Before doing so he questioned the servant on what seemed unimportant points. Finally he entered the street and was obliged to answer the innumerable questions that were asked him at every turn. He had found it necessary to station a couple of his men on the premises to keep away the curious people, who persisted in crowding forward through the grounds and even into the house itself.

The rumors on the streets did not astonish him, even though they were to the effect that Tommy (everybody called him “Tommy” since his mishap) had been strangled to death, his last breath leaving him just as he was caught in his mother’s arms, and that Maggie the servant had been attacked and badly wounded, but escaped by leaping from the second story window and running to the Town Hall, where the family were attending a concert.

When the chief entered his private room he drew the handkerchief from his pocket, spread it out on his desk under a strong gaslight and carefully examined it.

He had little hope of finding anything worth knowing, but he was too wise to neglect the least step. He carefully went over the somewhat soiled piece of linen and smiled to himself when he observed that a name was written in the corner in indelible ink.

“Burglars aint apt to carry handkerchiefs around even with their initials written on them, but one of these gentry has been kind enough to give us his whole name. It is written so legibly, too, that I can read it without my glasses. Ah, ‘William Waylett!’ there it is as plain as print.

“It strikes me,” continued the chief, following the train of thought, “that I’ve heard that name before. Jim Waylett was my classmate in college, and he has three daughters and one boy. The name of the youngster is William, generally called Billy. That chap is the owner of this handkerchief as sure as a gun.”

By this time, as the reader will perceive, the sagacious officer was not only on the right trail, but advancing rapidly to the correct conclusion. He had not heard all of Tommy Wagstaff’s story before he began to grow suspicious. His experience enabled him to detect more than one inconsistency despite the skill of the tremendous falsifier who built up the structure.

Investigation and further questioning confirmed this suspicion until, when he left the house, all doubt was gone. He knew that no man had visited the Wagstaff home that night or taken any part in the indignities to which Master Tommy was subjected.

But it was equally clear that the young rogue had had partners in his shameless trick, and the chief meant to learn who they were.

He was confident that he could find them out from Tommy himself, whom he could handle in such a way as to force a confession, but while the parents, especially the mother, were in such a state of excitement, they would be indignant at the first hint of the boy’s trickery, and would defeat what advantage he might gain if left alone with him.

“They will come to it in the course of a few days,” reflected the officer, who had seen similar scenes before, “and it won’t do any harm to wait until then. I will get a chance at the boy before long, and, if I don’t force it out of him, then I’ll resign my office and take to the woods.”

The chief was desirous also of sparing the feelings of the parents of the boy, whom he liked. They would feel much worse if compelled to admit the truth after first refusing to listen to his suggestion. Then, too, he had another boy to work upon. Billy Waylett must know something of the affair. At any rate, he could tell how it was his handkerchief came to be used to gag one of his playmates, and that little piece of information was likely to give him just the clew that was needed.

“I’ll wait until things get cool,” concluded the chief, who happened to have other matters pressing upon his attention just then.

Accordingly he gave his whole energies to the business which took him out of Ashton for a part of two days. When he returned it was with the resolve to take hold of the matter in earnest, but to his dismay, when he came to make inquiry, he was told that Tommy Wagstaff, Jimmy McGovern, and Billy Waylett had disappeared.

CHAPTER IV – THE RUNAWAYS

That fate which had seemed to favor the three audacious youngsters did not desert them when the critical point in their enterprise arrived.

The chief of police was wise in restraining any hint of what was in his mind to the parents of Tommy Wagstaff. It would have been repelled with wrath and made them enemies – all the more bitter, perhaps, when it should appear that the wise officer was right.

The youngster, having suffered so cruelly, received every compensation his friends could give him. His father reproved himself for making him stay home from the concert. Had he taken him with him, the outrage never could have occurred.

The mother heaped favors upon her darling Tommy, who might have luxuriated for weeks on the general sympathy felt for him. He was visited by several newspaper reporters, who took down the thrilling account from his own lips. The chief trouble in these cases was the wide variance in the versions given by the lad. In some instances he insisted there were three burglars, in others only two, while to one young man in spectacles, he solemnly averred that there were seven by actual count, and that they were all armed with tomahawks and scalping knives. These wild statements were attributed to the lad’s nervousness instead of to the real cause.

But on the next afternoon, or rather evening, Tommy did not make his appearance at supper. The mother was greatly frightened and believed the robbers had returned to revenge themselves upon her darling for telling the truth about them.

Before the evening was late, Mr. Wagstaff learned that Tommy, accompanied by Billy Waylett and Jimmy McGovern, had been seen hurrying in the direction of the railway station. Inquiry there revealed the fact all three had bought tickets for New York.

About this time a dim suspicion took shape in the mind of Mr. Wagstaff. He gave no hint to his wife, but he telegraphed the authorities in the metropolis to look out for three boys, and to arrest them at once and communicate with their parents, Messrs. Waylett and McGovern having joined in the request.

New York was so near Ashton that the runaways arrived there more than an hour before the telegram was sent, otherwise they would have been returned to their homes the same evening.

Their fathers next held a conference, and on the following day applied to the chief of police for counsel. That gentleman listened grimly to them, and then quietly said that the robbery of Mr. Wagstaff’s home had been planned and carried out by the three lads without help from any one else. They were shocked, but when he showed Billy Waylett’s handkerchief, which had been used to check the utterance of Tommy, and pointed out the numerous tell-tale slips made by the boys, especially the shooting through the windows, they were convinced, and became eager to capture them at the earliest possible moment, each parent declaring that the instant his son was brought within reach, he would give him a trouncing that he would remember to his dying day.

It was arranged that Chief Hungerford should undertake to hunt them up, and he readily agreed to do so, for the gentlemen were warm friends of his, for whom he was ready to make any reasonable sacrifice.

And now that a pursuer is on the trail of the runaways, let us see how they got along.

The indulgence shown Tommy by his parents gave him just the opportunity he wanted. He was able to hold several meetings with his intended partners, without any one suspecting what was going on, and the arrangements were made for starting for New York on the afternoon following the supposed robbery.

In one respect, the lads showed a wisdom beyond their years. Knowing that prompt search would be made for them, and that they were likely to be looked upon with suspicion, they decided to leave the stolen jewelry where it had been placed beneath the old stump. If worse came to worse, they could return and draw upon it, but if they should try to sell the valuables in New York, they would be arrested on suspicion.

So they wisely left the jewelry behind, and took with them only a single gold watch, which Tommy wore, since it was the property of his father. They found that they had fully a hundred dollars in money, which, as nearly as they could learn, would carry them most of the distance they wished to go, when such bright chaps would have no trouble in hitting upon the means for raising the wind.

Since they expected to meet Snakeroot Sam, it was intended to send him back to Ashton, to sell the plunder for them, inasmuch as he could readily do it without danger, and was so honest that he would turn over every penny of the proceeds to them.

Reaching New York ahead of the telegram, they were too wise to linger around the large station at Forty-second Street. More than likely, all three of their irate fathers would be there in the course of an hour or two, and it was, therefore, no place for them.

Since it was growing dark, they decided to put up at some obscure hotel, under assumed names, and make an early start for the West. The wisdom shown by the lads was astonishing – the oldest of whom had not seen fourteen years. They had talked and discussed the venture for months, and stored their minds with all the information obtainable. Consequently, when they sauntered out on the street, and, after some inquiries, reached Broadway, they attracted no special attention. They were well dressed, and the additional revolvers which they speedily bought were carried out of sight, so that there was no noticeable difference between them and the hundreds of other boys who may be met on any day in the great metropolis of our country.

Billy Waylett, being the youngest, needed some coaching, but he was tractable, and the lads were fortunate enough to escape the sharks that are always waiting in the large cities for just such prey as they would have proved.

The only thing that worried Tommy Wagstaff was the fact that he did not know how to find Snakeroot Sam. That worthy had been told of the intended start for the West, but, of course, the leader could not give him the precise date of their departure. It was known, however, that he spent a good deal of his time in New York city, and the leader of the party instructed his companions to keep a sharp lookout for him. They did so, but though they pointed out several persons who answered his description, none of them proved to be the individual they were so anxious to meet, and who, doubtless, would have blessed his lucky stars could he have met them.

Tommy Wagstaff was satisfied that the crisis in their enterprise would come when they reached the ferry to buy their railway tickets. Officers would be on the watch for them, and if the three should present themselves at the office and pay their fare to Chicago or some other Western point, they were quite sure to be stopped and compelled to give an account of themselves.

Accordingly, he arranged the matter with the shrewdness he had shown from the first. They separated at the foot of Cortlandt Street and made their way into the railway office, as though they were strangers to each other. Billy had enough money to buy a ticket to New Brunswick, and Jimmy to procure one to Trenton, while Tommy, who had taken charge of the entire funds, paid his fare to Philadelphia. Then they passed through the narrow gateway upon the ferryboat.

The three were alarmed by the sight of a blue-coated policeman, standing at the broad entrance to the ferry, and who scrutinized them sharply as they joined the swarm hurrying upon the boat. The officer followed Billy with his eyes, and seemed on the point of starting after him. The youngster’s heart was in his throat, and he wished that something would blow up and scatter everybody so far apart that no policeman could see him.

So guarded were the boys they did not speak to each other while crossing the ferry, indulging in only an occasional sly glance, as they stepped off the boat and passed up the slip.

Here they were startled again, for the big policeman near the passageway to the trains, after one keen look at Billy, asked him where he was going.

“To New Brunswick,” was the slightly tremulous reply.

“Let me see your ticket,” was the gruff command.

Billy fished out the pasteboard and showed it to the terrible fellow, who was not yet satisfied.

“What are you doing in New York?”

“I aint in New York; I am in Jersey City.”

The officer smiled at the manner in which he had tripped, and asked:

“Where are the other two boys that came with you?”

Billy came nigh breaking down. He saw Tommy and Jimmy watching him from a little way, and his naturally quick wit came to his relief.

“What two boys are you talking ’bout? Don’t you see there’s nobody with me, and if you keep me much longer, I’ll miss the train, and father will be mad, ’cause he expects me to be home as soon as I can get there.”

The urchin made as if to move forward, and the officer, satisfied he was not the one for whom he was looking, allowed him to pass on.

After entering the car, Tommy Wagstaff saw no risk in their companionship. Since the train was not crowded, he and Billy sat together, while Jimmy McGovern placed himself on the seat in front, where no one shared it with him.

There was a bustle and novelty about this business which kept the boys in such a constant state of excitement that they had felt nothing as yet like homesickness. In fact, they were eager to get forward, and though there was much to see that was new and strange, they would have been glad could the cars have traveled with double the speed.

“The way I figure it out,” said the leader, feeling now that he could talk freely, since they were well under way, “is that we shall reach Philadelphia before noon. Jiminy! but that is traveling fast; shall we get off there and stay over till to-morrow?”

“What would we do that for?” demanded young McGovern.

“There’s so much to see that I didn’t know but what you would like to stop and look around.”

“Not much,” replied Jimmy, with a disgusted shake of his head; “we can’t get out West soon enough to suit me; I feel hungry for Injins and grizzly bears: how is it with you, Billy?”

“That’s me, clear through; you know we’ve got to get a Winchester apiece, and then we’ll be ready to begin popping over Injins; that’ll be more fun than anything else in the world, and what do I care for all the cities and strange things that’s between us and the West?”

Tommy laughed, for he was pleased.

“That’s just the way I feel, but I didn’t know whether you two was right up to the handle yet; I’m glad you are; it proves that we are bound to win, like real brave American boys.”

All three smiled approvingly on each other, and, glancing out of the window, wished the cars would run at the rate of two miles a minute, for the rest of the distance.

The conductor came through, punched the tickets, and took up Billy’s, because it entitled him to ride only to New Brunswick. He intended to slip off there and buy one to Philadelphia, while Jimmy would do the same at Trenton. If the Quaker City were reached without mishap, they would conclude that all danger of being stopped was over, and from that point would travel openly and without fear.

The little party chatted and discussed their plans, sometimes speaking so loud in their ardor that the gentleman sitting just across the aisle overhead their words and looked curiously at them more than once, over the top of his paper.

Just before reaching the long trestle-work which spans the Raritan, Billy said:

“We must be pretty near New Brunswick, Tom, and I guess you had better give me enough money to buy a ticket: how much will it be?”

“I don’t know; I s’pose two or three dollars; you ought to travel on half fare, but it aint worth bothering about; we’ll gather in all the funds we want in Chicago.”

“It strikes me,” remarked McGovern, “that we might as well divide up the money, so that if any one loses his share, we won’t be in a bad fix.”

“I guess that would be a good plan,” replied Tommy, who reached in his trousers pocket for the roll of bills which he had placed there.

He started and turned pale the next moment, and hurriedly ran his hand in his other pocket. Then he sprang to his feet and frantically searched the pockets of his coat and vest.

“What’s the matter?” asked Jimmy, with a sinking of the heart.

“The money is gone!” was the alarming answer.

“No; that can’t be!” faintly exclaimed Billy; “it must be somewhere about you.”

“I put the roll in that, pocket,” replied Tommy, who kept up his search, through all the receptacles, again and again. Then he stooped down, and hunted under the seats with a nervous distress which was fully shared by his companions.

Finally he straightened up and said, despairingly:

“My pocket has been picked, and we haven’t a dollar among us.”

He spoke the truth.