CHAPTER VIII
THE SIDE-DOOR PULLMAN
JACK fancied that the conductor, when he took up his ticket, looked suspiciously at him, but probably this was only the result of his imagination. At any rate, the runaway was glad when the train stopped at Rudford, and he could get out.
It was early morning, and rather cool, in spite of the fact that it was the last of June.
“A cup of coffee and some rolls for mine,” thought Jack, as he saw a small refreshment stand in the station.
The food tasted good to him, and he decided it was wiser to spend a little of his money for it than to draw on the supply of cold victuals in his pocket.
“No telling when I’ll need them,” he thought, “and I want to be in good shape to look for work.” Then another thought came to him. He could not very well go about looking for a job carrying his suit case. Besides, it would look suspicious, in case there was any alarm here for him. He saw a notice at the refreshment stand to the effect that valises and small parcels would be checked at the rate of ten cents a day.
“That will suit me,” decided Jack, and he handed over his large valise, receiving for it a paper check. “Now I can travel about better,” he added.
Jack’s one idea now was to get a place to work. He did not intend to stay permanently in Rudford, but he wanted to earn enough money to take him to some larger place, and that he needed money was very evident, when he looked over his cash and found he had less than a dollar. The railroad ticket had taken the most of his small capital.
Now, whether Jack was not exactly the sort of boy the merchants needed, or whether there was already a plentiful supply of lads already in town, or whether there were more boys than there were jobs, Jack did not stop to figure out. The fact was, however, that he tramped about all that morning, asking in a score or more of places for work, without getting it.
“Well, it isn’t going to be as easy as I though it was,” he said to himself. “Tramping about makes me hungry. I’ve got to eat. I’d better tackle the stuff I brought from the professor’s house. The longer I keep that, the staler it’ll get, until I won’t be able to eat it after a while. There’s enough for dinner and supper, and for breakfast. We’ll see what turns up to-morrow.”
He found a secluded spot, where he dined frugally on the bread and meat, and the piece of pie. He washed it down with some cool water from a street fountain. But, oh how he wished he could have an ice cream soda!
Signs advertising the various flavors of that drink seemed to stare at him from every drug store and confectionery shop window, and, as it was warm from the sun, Jack longed for the cool beverage.
“But I can’t afford it,” he decided. “Five cents will get me a cup of coffee in the morning, and I’ll need that more than I need a soda now.”
In the afternoon he resumed his search for work, but with no success. Once, as he was passing a printing shop, he saw displayed that magical sign: “Boy Wanted.”
“I see you want a boy,” he remarked, as he went in. “I’d like to get the job.”
“Can you kick a press?” asked the man, evidently favorably impressed by Jack’s appearance.
“Kick a press? Why should I kick a press?”
“Oh, it’s easy to see you don’t know anything about the printing business,” remarked the proprietor, with a smile. “I need a boy to kick a press, run one with his feet, I mean, and set up simple jobs; but it wouldn’t pay me to hire one who doesn’t understand the work.”
“I could learn,” said Jack.
“No, I haven’t any time to teach you, and you’d spoil more work than you’d be worth. Sorry,” and he turned back to his desk.
“I can’t kick a press,” thought Jack, as he went out, “but I can kick a football. Only there’s no chance on the gridiron these days. Wonder if I could get a job in some theatre?”
This plan seemed good to him, as he remembered how he had been applauded that amateur night, but he was doomed to disappointment, for, on inquiring of a man, he learned there were no theatres open in Rudford.
“Well, that’s the end of that,” mused our hero. “I’ll try a few more places for a job, though it’s most closing time. I wonder where I’ll sleep to-night? Running away isn’t as nice and easy as I thought it was.”
His search for work was unavailing. He walked along the street, feeling quite blue and lonesome, when something happened that caused a great change in his plans. This was the sight of a small type-written notice tacked on a bulletin board outside of a red brick building. The building, Jack decided, as soon as he had looked at it, was a police station.
The notice which so startled him was one offering a reward for his capture. Before he realized the danger of it, Jack had come to a halt, and was reading the statement.
A reward of fifty dollars was offered by Professor Klopper for the arrest of the runaway, who was charged with the theft of a valuable gold cup. Jack was not very accurately described, for the professor was not aware how his ward was dressed, since Jack had taken several suits with him. Police and others, however, were advised to be on the lookout for a boy with a dress-suit case.
“I wish I didn’t have it,” thought Jack. “But there’s no help for it now. That’s the only thing they’ll recognize me by. But I’d better be getting out of here.”
He hurried past the police station, and, just as he came opposite the entrance, an officer rushed out. He collided with the boy, and, to save them both from falling, grabbed the lad.
“I’m caught,” thought Jack desperately. But it was merely an accident.
“I beg your pardon,” spoke the officer, as he released Jack. “I’m hurrying to stop a fight down the street. Word about it has just been telephoned in. I didn’t see you.”
“No, and you won’t again, if I can prevent it,” thought Jack, as he hastened on, glad that the excitement over the collision had caused the officer to pass on without taking a good look at him.
“I’ve got to get out of town as quickly as possible,” thought the startled lad. “This place isn’t safe for me. I wonder where I’d better go? I must get my suit case, and then see where I can get a ticket for.”
He went back to the depot, presented his check, and received his case. As he reached his hand in his pocket to get the ten cents, he was startled to find but a single coin there. It was a dime. He paid it to the man at the refreshment booth, and then, walking to one side, began a hurried search for the rest of his cash. It was gone!
“Some one either picked my pocket, or else it was jarred out when that policeman ran into me,” he said. “Lucky there was this ten cents left. Now I am up against it.”
What was he to do? With no money, how could he get out of the town where, doubtless, every officer was on the watch for him, anxious to earn the reward? It was a serious problem.
“I mustn’t hang around here,” thought Jack. “They’ll probably be watching the railroad stations. I’ve got to walk about and think a bit.”
He hardly noticed where he turned his steps, but he was brought out of his unpleasant day-dream by hearing some one address him.
“What’s de matter, cully?” a voice asked. “You look sort of cheesy.”
Jack saw that the speaker was a tramp, but rather a good-natured looking one, and not quite so dirty and disreputable as the average. The boy also noticed, for the first time, that he was passing along a street which bordered the railroad freight yard, and that there were long strings of cars on a track adjoining the sidewalk.
“Down on yer luck?” asked the man.
Jack nodded.
“What’s de matter?” went on the tramp. “Runaway, an’ sorry fer it?”
“I’m not a bit sorry,” answered Jack, as he thought of the mean professor. “But I want to get out of town, and I’ve lost all my money.”
“Oh, dat’s easy,” remarked the tramp, though whether he referred to losing the money or getting out of town, Jack was not quite sure.
“If you want t’ make a git-away, I kin fix youse up,” went on the ragged man.
“How?” asked Jack, becoming interested.
“I’ll show youse how t’ git inter a side-door Pullman, an’ youse kin ride as fur as youse wants.”
“A side-door Pullman?”
“Sure. Freight car, wid de side door; ain’t youse wise to dem yet? Dat’s a swell way of travelin’ when youse ain’t got de chink. Come on, I’ll put youse next t’ one. Dere’s a freight bein’ made up, an’ dere’s a lot of empties in it. Be youse particular which way youse goes?”
“No,” replied Jack.
“Dat’s good. I am. I want t’ go west, but dere’s a train bound fer de east goin’ t’ pull out t’-night. I’ll help youse git inter one of de side-door Pullmans on dat. Come on.”
Jack followed the man, who, after a cautious look around, to make sure that there were no police or trainmen watching, led the way into the freight yard. He stopped before an empty box car, with an open door.
“In youse go,” he said cheerfully, helping Jack to climb up. “Dere’s yer baggage,” he added. “Now youse is all right, cully. Git off whenever youse feels like it. Yer ticket’s good anywhere,” and, sliding the door almost shut, he walked away, leaving Jack in the car.