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The Young Adventurer: Tom's Trip Across the Plain, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 8. Graham In His True Colors |
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_ CHAPTER VIII. GRAHAM IN HIS TRUE COLORS Tom strayed into a street leading from the main thoroughfare. Presently he came to a brilliantly-lighted liquor saloon. As he paused in front of the door, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, looking up, he met the glance of a well-dressed gentleman, rather portly, whose flushed face and uncertain gait indicated his condition. He leaned rather heavily upon Tom, apparently for support, for he seemed to have been drinking more than was good for him. "My young friend," he said, "come in and take a drink." "Thank you, sir, but I would rather not," said Tom, startled. "It won't hurt you. It don't hurt me." As he uttered these last words he came near falling. In his effort to save himself he clutched Tom by the arm, and nearly pulled him over. Our hero was anxious to get away. "Are you sure it don't hurt you?" he could not help saying. "Do you think I'm drunk?" demanded the other. "I think you've taken more than is good for you, sir," Tom answered bravely. "I guess you're right," muttered the gentleman, trying to stand upright. "The drink's gone to my legs. That's strange. Does it ever go to your legs?" "I never drink, sir." "You're a most extraor'nary young man," hiccoughed Tom's new acquaintance. "I must bid you good-night, sir," said our hero, anxious to get away. "Don't go. I can't get home alone." "Where do you live, sir?" "I live in the country." "Are you staying at a hotel?" "Yes--Pittsburg House. Know Pittsburg House?" "Yes, sir. I am staying there myself. Shall I lead you there? You'd better not drink any more." "Jus' you say, my young frien'. You know best." It was not a pleasant, or, indeed, an easy task to lead home the inebriate, for he leaned heavily on Tom, and, being a large man, it was as much as our hero could do to get him along. As they were walking along Tom caught sight of his roommate, Milton Graham, just turning into a saloon, in company with two other young men. They were laughing loudly, and seemed in high spirits. Graham did not recognize Tom. "I hope he won't come home drunk," thought our hero. "It seems to me it is fashionable to drink here." Tom's experience of city life was very limited. It was not long before he learned that Pittsburg was by no means exceptional in this respect. He ushered his companion safely into the hotel, and then a servant took charge of him, and led him to his room. Tom sat up a little while longer, reading a paper he found in the office, and then went to bed. "I suppose Mr. Graham will come home late," he said to himself. "I must leave the door unlocked." He soon went to sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenly awoke after an interval. Opening his eyes he became conscious that Graham had returned. He discovered something more. His roommate, partially undressed, and with his back turned to Tom, was engaged in searching our hero's pockets. This discovery set Tom broad awake at once. He was not frightened, but rather amused when he thought of Graham's disappointment. He did not think it best to speak, but counterfeited sleep. "I wonder where the boy keeps his money," he heard Graham mutter. "Perhaps it is in his coat pocket. No, there is nothing but a handkerchief. He's more careful than I gave him credit for. Perhaps it is under his pillow." He laid down the clothes, and approached the bed. Tom, with some effort, kept his eyes firmly closed. Graham slid his hand lightly under the pillow, but withdrew it with all exclamation of disappointment. "He must have some money," he muttered. "Ah, I have it! It is in his valise." He approached Tom's valise, but it was locked. He drew out a bunch of keys, and tried one after the other, but in vain. Our hero feared he might resort to violent means of opening it, and turned in bed. Graham wheeled round quickly. Tom stretched, and opened his eyes languidly. "Is that you, Mr. Graham?" he asked. "Yes," answered Graham nonchalantly, proceeding to undress himself. "Have you been abed long?" "I don't know," answered Tom. "What time is it?" "Haven't you got a watch?" "No, I am not rich enough." "It is one o'clock. I hadn't seen my friend for a long time, and couldn't get away till late. By the way, have you got a key about you? I can't open my carpetbag." Tom thought of suggesting the bunch of keys in Graham's pocket, but decided not to. "My key is in my pants' pocket." "Suppose you get it," said Graham. "I don't like to feel in another person's pocket. There might be some money there." This was very scrupulous for one who had already searched all Tom's pockets thoroughly. Our hero got up, and got the key for his roommate. "No, it won't fit," said the young man, after a brief trial. "It is too large." Tom replaced the key in his pocket, confident that Graham would in the course of the night use it to open his valise. This, however, did not trouble him. "He won't think it worth while to steal my shirts or stockings," he reflected, "and the handkerchiefs are not worth taking." "It will be rather awkward if I can't find my keys," said Graham craftily. "I keep my money in my valise." He thought his unsophisticated companion would reveal in turn where he kept his money; but Tom only said, "That is a good place," and, turning over, closed his eyes again. During the night Tom's valise was opened, as he ascertained in a simple way. In the morning he found that the key was in the right hand-pocket instead of the left, in which he had placed it. Upon Graham's last failure he began to suspect what Tom had done with his money. "The boy isn't so green as I thought," he said to himself. "Curse his prudence! I must get the money somehow, for I am precious hard up." He got up early, when Tom was yet asleep, and went down to the office. "Good morning," he said to the clerk affably. "Good morning, sir." "My young friend and roommate left his money with you last night. Please deliver it to me." "What is the number of your room?" asked the clerk quietly. "No. 16. Tom Nelson is my roommate." "Why doesn't he come for it himself?" inquired the hotel clerk, with a searching glance at Graham. "He wishes me to buy his steamboat ticket," answered Graham coolly. "He is going down the river in my charge." "Are you his guardian?" "Yes," answered Graham, with cool effrontery. "He is the son of an acquaintance of mine, and I naturally feel an interest in the boy." "He told me he never met you till yesterday." Graham was rather taken aback, but he recovered himself quickly. "That's pretty cool in Tom," he returned, shrugging his shoulders. "I understand it, though." "I am glad you do," said the clerk sarcastically, "for it doesn't look to me at all consistent with what you represent." "The fact is," said Graham plausibly, "Tom has a feeling of independence, and doesn't like to have it supposed that he is under anybody's protection. That accounts for what he told you. It isn't right, though, to misrepresent. I must give him a scolding. I am in a little of a hurry, so if you will kindly give me the boy's money----" "It won't do, Mr. Graham," said the clerk, very firmly. "The money was put in our charge by the boy, and it will be delivered only to him." "You seem to be very suspicious," said Graham loftily. "Hand me my bill, if you please. I will breakfast elsewhere." The bill was made out, and paid. Five minutes later Milton Graham, with an air of outraged virtue, stalked out of the hotel, quite forgetting the young friend who was under his charge. When Tom came down-stairs he was told of the attempt to get possession of his money. "I am much obliged to you for not letting him have it," he said. "He searched my clothes and valise during the night, but I said nothing, for I knew he would find nothing worth taking." "He is a dangerous companion. If you ever meet him again, I advise you to give him a wide berth." "I certainly shall follow your advice. If you had not warned me against him he would have stolen my money during the night." _ |
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