Young Auctioneers: or, The Polishing of a Rolling Stone

CHAPTER XVII.

THE STORM

That evening Matt and Andy were kept busy until nearly eleven o’clock selling goods to people that came from the circus. They put up nearly every kind of article on their shelves, and only about half the stock remained unsold when they finally closed and locked the doors.

“That circus was a windfall to us!” exclaimed Andy. “We would not have done half as well had it not been in town.”

“Maybe it would be a good idea to follow up the circus,” suggested Matt. “That seems to draw out the people more than anything else I know of.”

“We will follow the circus as much as we can, Matt. But there is one thing I must do first.”

“And what is that?”

“Take the first train back to New York in the morning and buy more goods. Some of our best sellers are entirely gone.”

“Then go by all means,” returned Matt quickly.

“But can you get along alone?”

“I guess so. If I can’t I’ll lock up till you get back.”

“All right, then. Now let us go over the stock and I’ll make out a list of what’s wanted.”

“Let us figure up what we have made,” returned Matt quickly, for he was anxious to know what the exact amount would be.

“Very well; I would like to know myself.”

On a sheet of paper they had kept a record of every article sold, with the price. Opposite these, Andy, who was more familiar with their cost than Matt, placed the amount of profit on each. Then with his partner leaning over his shoulder, he added the column up.

“Thirty-one dollars and a quarter!” exclaimed Matt, as he surveyed the result of Andy’s calculations. “Did we really make as much as that?”

“We did. Of course we must take out our personal expenses and Billy’s keep. That amounts to four dollars and a quarter nearly.”

“That still leaves twenty-seven dollars for one day’s work. At this rate we’ll get rich fast.”

“We must not expect such luck every day, Matt. Remember, to-day was circus day. We will have rainy days, and days spent in traveling, during which we will not take in anything, while our expenses go on just the same.”

“But it’s a good thing we didn’t have that kind of a start, Andy. We would have been ‘busted’ otherwise.”

“You are right there,” returned Andy.

By seven o’clock on the following morning he was on the way to New York, leaving Matt to open the store alone. This the young auctioneer did, and as trade was very quiet, Matt spent the time in cleaning up such goods as had been handled, and tidying up generally.

Compared with the day before, the street was almost deserted, but during the noon hour, when people were going to and coming from dinner, Matt managed to start up a sale which lasted until nearly two o’clock, and by which he disposed of over three dollars’ worth of goods at a good profit.

It was nearly seven o’clock when Andy returned. He had rushed matters in New York, but had bought several bargains, especially one in imitation cut glassware, which, when it arrived the next day, made a pretty showing in the window.

They remained in Plainfield two days longer, and then loaded their wagon once more and started on the road. They made brief stops at Bound Brook and Somerville, doing fairly well at both places, and then, just ten days after leaving the city, struck Flemington.

At this latter place they again came across Menville’s circus, and as a consequence did a big day’s business. They intended to leave Flemington on the day following, but after talking the matter over decided to remain until the following Monday.

“On Monday morning you can strike across the country for High Bridge alone, if you will,” said Andy. “I can take another trip to New York, and buy more goods and have them shipped direct to that place, or else on to Phillipsburg, which shall be our last stopping place in New Jersey.”

To this Matt agreed, and on Saturday night all was made ready for an early morning start on Monday. Sunday was a quiet day for both, although they attended divine services, and took a long walk among the farms outside of the town proper.

“By creation! but it looks like a storm,” exclaimed Andy, on Monday morning, as he jumped out of bed and aroused Matt.

“Well, if it rains we will have to make the most of it, I suppose,” returned the boy philosophically. “It’s a pity we haven’t any umbrellas to sell!”

“There! I’ll put them on the list at once!” cried Andy, with a laugh. “I declare, Matt, you are getting to be more of a business man every day.”

“If I am it’s because I have such a good partner for a teacher, Andy.”

“Oh, nonsense,” returned the young man, but nevertheless considerably pleased to learn that Matt appreciated his efforts. “You are as bright as any one on the road.”

When they went down to the dining-room of the hotel at which they were stopping it certainly did look like rain. Yet there was a brisk breeze blowing, and several expressed themselves as certain that it would pass around to the north of them.

Less than half an hour later Andy was on his way to the depot to catch a train, and Matt hurried to the stable where Billy and the wagon were.

“I’ll get to High Bridge just as soon as I can,” he said to himself. “I have no desire to be caught in a thunder-storm on a strange country road.”

“You may get a bit wet, but that’s all,” remarked the stable-keeper, as he saw the boy glance at the heavy clouds scurrying across the sky. “That there storm, if it comes, which is doubtful, won’t last half an hour.”

With this reassurance, if such it could be called, Matt saw to it that all was in good condition, and sprang upon the seat. He had made careful inquiries concerning the road, so that he might not go astray – a thing easy to do in most parts of the country – and in a short space of time he was out of the town and on the turnpike.

Had it been a pleasant day the boy would have enjoyed that drive thoroughly, for it was through a most beautiful section of the country. On both sides of the road were broad fields, dotted here and there with patches of woods and bushes. Several brooks were also crossed, and at one of these he stopped for a few minutes to watch a trio of boys fishing.

But then the sky seemed to grow darker suddenly, and somewhat alarmed, Matt whipped up Billy. The wind died out utterly, and the air grew close and sultry.

“That means a heavy thunder-storm and nothing less,” thought Matt. “I wish I was near the journey’s end instead of only about half through with it.”

Presently came a sudden and quite unexpected rush of wind, and a second later a heavy dash of rain, which drove almost into the boy’s face.

Matt at once stopped driving, and adjusted the rubber blanket in front of his seat. This was no easy job, for the wind kept increasing in violence. He had barely completed the work when there came a crash of thunder, and then the rain came down harder than ever.

“I wish I could find some shelter,” he muttered to himself. “I would willingly pay to be allowed to drive into some barn until this was over. I hope none of the stock gets wet.”

Matt tried to peer about him, but he could not see far, owing to the sheets of rain which fell all around.

“We’ll have to stick to the road until something comes in sight, Billy,” he said, addressing the shivering horse. “Get up old boy, and step lively.”

Thus addressed, the animal started on once more. But the rain prevented him going as fast as before. The ground was very heavy, and the road in spots was covered with water which had not time to run off, so heavy was the downpour.

Presently they came to where the road ran through a heavy bit of timber. Here it was almost as dark as night, and the branches of the trees, laden with water, hung down so low that many swept the wagon as the turn-out went by.

“Ugh! I wish we were out of this!” muttered Matt, as he tried in vain to pierce the gloom ahead. “You must find the road, Billy, for I can’t see it – ”

A terrific crash of thunder drowned out the last words. Billy sprang forward in alarm, and away went the wagon over rocks and decaying tree trunks.

“Whoa!” shouted Matt. “Whoa, Billy, whoa! You have left the road, old boy! Whoa!”

But now a blinding flash of lightning lit up the scene, and then came another crash of thunder, even louder than before. Billy reared up, and then came down with a leap. On the instant he was off, like a rocket, over bushes, logs and rocks, dragging the swaying and creaking wagon after him!

CHAPTER XVIII.

A “HOLD-UP.”

For the time being, Matt, on the seat of the heavily-laden wagon, felt certain that the entire turn-out must come to grief, and that very soon. Billy, thoroughly frightened by the thunder and lightning, was straining every nerve to make his way through the woods, despite brush, stones, and fallen trees.

Between the flashes of light the way beneath the trees was almost totally dark. The rain swept this way and that, and Matt, standing up on the foot-rest, was soaked to the skin.

“Whoa, Billy, old boy! Whoa!” he called again. “You are all right!”

But the scared horse paid no attention to his call. His nerves seemed to be strained to their utmost, and on he plunged, dragging the wagon along with bumps and jolts, which more than once threatened to land the young auctioneer out on his head.

Realizing that something must be done quickly if he would save the wagon from becoming a total wreck, Matt resolved upon a bold move. He tied the reins to the dashboard, and then, with a swift jump, cast himself upon Billy’s back.

For the instant the horse, worse frightened than before, tore along over the uneven surface at a greater rate of speed than ever. The wagon struck a rock, and seemed about to lurch over upon its side. But it righted, and seeing this, Matt began to talk to the horse, patting him in the meanwhile upon the neck in an affectionate way.

This show of kindness soon had more effect upon Billy than anything which had previously been done. The animal slackened his speed gradually, and then, as there came a brief lull in the storm, stopped short, almost winded, but still inclined to go on at the first sign of further danger.

As soon as Billy had come to a halt Matt sprang to the ground. A tree the boy had feared they would collide with was close at hand, and to this he tied the horse, making sure that the halter should be well secured; and for the time being, the danger of being wrecked through a runaway was over.

But the trouble was by no means past. The storm still kept on, the lightning being as vivid as ever, and the thunder causing Billy to tug violently at the strap which held him. It was with a shiver that Matt wondered what the consequence would be should that particular tree be struck by lightning.

To prevent Billy doing damage to the wagon by twisting in the shafts or by kicking, Matt unharnessed him and pushed the wagon back a few feet into a somewhat open space. Here the rain came down heavier, but he felt safer than in close proximity to the tree.

Feeling that nothing was to be done until the storm should abate, Matt climbed into the wagon again and protected himself as well as he could with the rubber blanket and the lap-robe. The back shade of the wagon was down, and he was glad to see that so far the stock inside had sustained no damage.

A half-hour dragged along slowly. Several times the storm appeared upon the point of clearing away, but each time the clouds settled down heavier than before, until under the trees it was as black as midnight.

Matt wondered how far he was from the road, and if there were a farmhouse anywhere at hand.

“If I could reach a house of some sort it wouldn’t be so bad,” he murmured to himself. “But being out here alone isn’t any fun, that’s certain.”

At last the clouds seemed to scatter for good. A fresh breeze stirred the trees and bushes, and ere long the rain ceased, although the drops still came down from the heavily-laden branches overhead.

As soon as he felt certain that the sky was brightening to remain so, Matt untied Billy, and harnessed him to the wagon once more.

“Now, Billy, we’ll get back to the road just as fast as we can,” he said to the horse. “And I trust that you will never run away again in that fashion, old boy.”

On all sides arose bushes and rocks, and, although the road might be close at hand, Matt thought it best to return the way they had come. He wished to take no more chances, feeling that it would be the easiest thing in the world to get lost, or to run the turn-out into some hollow or hole from which it would be next to impossible to extricate it.

But to return by the route they had come was itself no easy task. In his terror, Billy had dragged the heavy vehicle over several very uneven places, full of stumps and rocks, and now the animal, still somewhat exhausted, had all he could do to move back over the trail which had been left.

Matt led the horse, and on more than one occasion had to place his shoulder to the rear end of the wagon to help over a particularly bad spot. Thus they moved on, taking half an hour to cover a distance which had previously been traveled in less than half that time.

“Thank goodness, we are out of that at last!” exclaimed Matt, as the road finally appeared in sight. “Now to see if any damage has been done.”

The young auctioneer made a minute examination of every bolt and spring, as well as of the running gear and harness. He was overjoyed to find everything still in good order, despite the rough usage to which it had been put. The wagon body was scratched in a dozen places, but this could be easily remedied.

The rubber blankets were put away, and the lap-robe left fluttering in the rear to dry, and then Matt once more resumed his lonely journey in the direction of High Bridge.

The heavy rain had left the road deep with mud, and through this Billy plodded slowly along, Matt not having the heart to urge him to a greater speed, knowing well that the faithful animal was doing as well as could be reasonably expected of him.

“As soon as we reach High Bridge I must find a good stable for Billy, and change my clothes,” thought Matt. “And something hot to drink won’t go bad, either. Ugh! I am chilled clear to the bone!”

And he gave a shiver that was as genuine as it was uncomfortable.

The road now led downward and around a bend, where was situated another heavy bit of timber. As Matt approached the wood he saw some distance back from the road a shanty built of rough logs and boards, and thatched with weather-beaten shingles and bits of old tin and oil-cloth. There was a rude chimney upon the outside of the rear of this shanty, and from this a thin cloud of smoke was issuing.

“Humph! here is somebody’s home, but a very poor one,” thought Matt. “I shouldn’t wonder but those inside got a pretty good soaking, by the looks of things.”

At first the young auctioneer determined to stop, but upon second thought, he concluded to go on, satisfied that no accommodations worthy of the name could be had there.

“If I can’t strike something better, I’ll keep right on to High Bridge,” was his thought, and he was just about to urge Billy on once more, when the door of the shanty opened and a man came out.

The man was apparently fifty years of age, and rough in looks. His beard was long, as was also his hair, and both seemed to be much in need of shears and brush. His clothing and his face were dirty, and altogether he presented a decidedly ill-favored appearance.

“Hullo, there, stranger!” he called out. “Where bound?”

“Bound for High Bridge,” replied Matt as he drew rein. “How many miles is it?”

“Not many,” was the rather indefinite reply. “Suppose you got cotched in that storm, eh?”

“Yes, I got the full benefit of it.”

“It was a heavy one, no mistake about that. What sort of a turn-out have you got there?”

“An auction goods wagon.”

“Carrying stuff around the country to sell at auction?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Say, maybe you’ve got something you would like to sell me,” and the man, after speaking to some one in the shanty, stepped up closer to the turn-out.

“Perhaps I have, but it’s pretty well packed up,” returned Matt, who was not at all taken by the man’s manner. “We’ll be open at High Bridge this evening, or to-morrow, if nothing happens.”

“We? Got somebody else with you?”

“Not on the wagon, but I have a partner.”

“I see. What line of goods do you carry?”

Matt named over a number of articles. The man’s eyes brightened as he listened.

“Let me have a pair of suspenders,” he said. “I need them worst way. And if you’ve got a good pocket-knife I’ll patronize you so much more. Drive up in the back of the house and tie fast anywhere.”

“Excuse me, but I would prefer getting to High Bridge. I am wet to the skin, and I want to change my clothes.”

“That’s all right, young fellow. We’ve got a fire inside, and you can dry yourself there just as well as not.”

“But my horse – ”

“I’ll take care of the horse. I’ve got a shed a bit back of those bushes. Come on in; what are you afraid of?”

Thus urged, Matt sprang from the wagon seat to the ground. As he did so he noted a look of satisfaction gleam upon the man’s dirty face, and he saw the fellow wave his hand toward the shanty’s one window. He turned swiftly in the direction, and was in time to see two equally repulsive heads dodge aside out of sight.

Only for a second did the young auctioneer hesitate. Then something warned him to beware of danger, and he turned again to the wagon and placed one foot upon the shaft step.

“Hi! what are you going to do?” cried the man, in surprise.

“I guess I won’t stop,” returned the boy. “That storm does not seem to be quite over, and I do not wish to catch a second dose.”

“But you will stop, sonny!” exclaimed the man, with a sudden change of manner. “Hi, Jake! Baldy! Come out here and help me manage this young fellow!” he went on, in a louder tone.

The other men at once rushed from the shanty, and in a trice Matt was surrounded.

CHAPTER XIX.

OUT OF A BAD SCRAPE

It did not take the young auctioneer long to understand the true nature of the situation in which he now found himself. The three men who had surrounded him were nothing more or less than tramps who had undoubtedly sought shelter in the shanty from the storm. That they were thoroughly unscrupulous men went without saying, and it must be confessed that Matt’s heart sank within him as he realized the danger in which he was placed.

“Let go of me!” he said sternly to the first man, who had presumed to catch him by the arm. “Let go, I say!”

“Don’t you do it, Crabs!” put in the tramp called Jake. “Hold tight to him while I tie up the hoss.”

“What do you mean to do?” demanded Matt, as he struggled to free himself, but in vain.

“You’ll learn fast enough, sonny,” returned Crabs, with a wicked grin. “Just keep quiet now, will you?”

“I certainly shall not!” retorted the young auctioneer hotly. “Do you suppose I am going to submit tamely to being robbed?”

“Who said anything about robbin’ you?” demanded the third tramp, he called Baldy, although his head was covered with a shock of hair twice as thick as either of his companions. “You had better act civil-like, sonny, if you want to get off without a licking.”

“You let me go!” went on Matt, paying no attention to the last remark. “Let go, I say – or take the consequences!”

“The consequences?” sneered him called Crabs.

“Yes – there!”

And without further warning, Matt drew back with his clinched fist and gave the tramp a stinging blow between the eyes, which caused the much surprised individual to let go his hold and stagger back to the shanty’s side.

“Ho – what – what do you mean by hitting me?” he howled.

“I told you to let go,” retorted Matt; and free from his tormentor, he essayed to leap to the wagon seat and gain possession of the heavy whip, with which he might keep the tramps at bay.

But hardly had he placed his foot on the rest than Baldy, who was now close at hand, caught him by the ankle and gave a sudden jerk, which brought Matt down on his chest and face, scratching his left cheek in two places, and giving him a severe shaking up.

“Hold the horse, Jake!” cried Baldy. “Hold the horse, and I’ll hold the boy.”

“Let me get at him!” cried Crabs, in a rage. “Just let me get at him, and I’ll teach him to strike me between the eyes!”

As he spoke he rushed past his companion, and was on the point of kicking Matt in the side when Baldy stopped him with a side dig of his ragged elbow.

“Don’t strike him if it ain’t necessary,” he said. “I’ll hold him all right enough. Come, be still now,” he went on to the young auctioneer.

Matt was on his face on the ground and Baldy was sitting on top of him, but, nevertheless, the boy did not intend to give up the struggle.

He squirmed and twisted this way and that until finally free, and then, before the tramp could catch him again, he sprang to his feet and leaped upon the foot-rest of the wagon.

“Stand back there, all of you!” he cried determinedly, and the next instant had the whip and was flourishing it over the heads of those below him.

“See that! he’s got away from you!” cried Crabs to Baldy, in tones of deep disgust. “Now don’t you wish you had let me tend to him?”

“Stick to the horse, Jake!” cried Baldy, ignoring the last remark. “I’ll soon have the young fellow on the ground again.”

“Let go of that horse!” commanded Matt. “Let go, or I’ll lash you right and left!”

The tramp called Jake looked up into the young auctioneer’s face at these words. Evidently he did not like the looks of the set lines about Matt’s mouth, for without delay he obeyed the order, and stepped back. Lie had hardly done so before Matt struck Billy a light blow, and off went the horse at quite a respectable gait, leaving the three would-be plunderers standing staring after the turn-out in wonder and disgust!