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Mark Mason's Victory, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 19. At Niagara Falls |
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_ CHAPTER XIX. AT NIAGARA FALLS Although Mark was inclined to pity any man deprived of his liberty, he felt pleased to think that Buffington's career was cut short for a time. There was little doubt that he would be imprisoned for a time more or less extended. "How much better it would be for him," thought Mark, "if he had earned his living in some honest way!" Stealing may seem an easy way of obtaining money, but the one who depends on it is likely to be brought up with a round term at last. When Mark went down in the morning the clerk said to him, "So you had a little excitement in your room last night, the watchman tells me." "Yes; I had a visitor, but fortunately he was caught without securing anything. He was about to take my pocketbook when I woke up. I was lucky, for I might have found myself unable to pay my bill here." "We would have given you time. We can tell by your face that you are honest." "Thank you. Has Buffington been taken from his room yet?" "Buffington? I don't know any such name." "That is what he gave me as his name." "He is down on our books as Lawrence Perkins." "He seems to have more than one name." "He may have a dozen. Such gentry usually do. I will send you a couple of policemen and have him taken round to the station-house." Two policemen were summoned and soon made their appearance. They went up-stairs, preceded by the clerk. He opened the door of the adventurer's room and entered. "He isn't here!" he exclaimed in surprise, turning to the two officers. "Not here?" There was no need to ask how Perkins, or Buffington, whichever name he claimed, had escaped. He had made use of the fire-escape and had disappeared. "He seems to have slept here," remarked one of the policeman, pointing to the bed. "Yes." "He must have escaped early this morning." "I wonder I did not think of the fire-escape." "He didn't call at the office and pay his bill, I suppose." "No. He was probably in too great a hurry." "If you will give us a description of him we can warn the public against him." "I didn't notice him particularly. I have to deal with so many that I don't scrutinize any one closely, unless there seems to be especial reason for doing so. This boy," pointing to Mark, "saw him on the car, and can describe him to you." Mark gave what information he could and then went to breakfast. "I hope I shan't meet him again," he reflected. "I am not anxious to keep up the acquaintance." About noon he took a train for Niagara Falls, and didn't leave it till he reached Suspension Bridge. He arrived too late to see the cataract, and proceeded at once to a modest hotel in the village where the price charged was two dollars per day. He might have gone to the International Hotel, and would have been justified in doing so, but he thought it right to be careful of his employer's money. He looked over the book, half expecting to meet the name of Buffington or Perkins, but found neither. "I hope I have seen my last of him," he said to himself. He did not feel obliged to take any extra precautions, but slept peacefully and long. After breakfast he started out to see the Falls. He was resolved to see them thoroughly no matter how much time might be required in the process. "I wish mother were here," he thought. "Some time if I can afford it I will bring her here." This resolve gave him satisfaction, though there seemed little prospect of his soon being in a condition to carry out his wish. Mark had no idea of meeting any one whom he knew. He was but a boy, and his acquaintance was limited. Already, however, it included three persons whom he would have been glad to be assured he would never meet again. One of these was Buffington, the other two were Hamilton Schuyler and Jack Minton, the nephew of old Mrs. Mack, who lived in the same tenement house in New York with his mother. He supposed Jack to be in New York and therefore his surprise may be imagined when he heard a hoarse voice behind him saying, "Well, I'll be blowed, if it isn't the kid! How are you, kid?" Mark did not suppose that he was referred to, but with natural curiosity he turned to observe the speaker. He saw Jack Minton, rough and uncouth as when he last met him, advancing to meet him. "You're about the last bloke as I expected to see here, kid," observed Jack, his face still betraying surprise. "What brought you here?" "Business," answered Mark briefly. "They don't send telegraph boys as far as this, do they?" "Well, not often, but I was sent here, and I came." "What were you sent for?" "That is my employer's business, and I don't feel at liberty to tell." "Oh well, I ain't at all partic'lar to know. But it seems good to meet a friend so far away." "How long have I been his friend?" thought Mark. "I say, kid, we'll celebrate on that. Come in and have a drink." They were passing a saloon, and Minton turned his steps towards it. "No, thank you, Mr. Minton. I am not thirsty." "Oh, hang it! Who cares whether you are thirsty or not? You ain't goin' to turn against a friend, are you?" It was clear that Jack Minton had already satisfied his thirst two or three times, for his face was flushed and his step unsteady. Mark saw that his refusal would make Minton angry, and he accepted his invitation. "What will you have, kid?" asked Jack, staggering to the counter. "A glass of sarsaparilla." "Oh, don't have sarsaparilla? It's only fit for old women and young children. Take whisky." "No; it must be sarsaparilla or nothing." "Just as you say. Barkeeper, give me some whisky straight, and give the kid sarsaparilla if he wants it." The orders were filled. Jack tossed down a glass of fiery whisky, which made his face even redder than before, and then drawing from his pocket a roll of bills, settled for both drinks. Mark was surprised at the abundance of money his companion seemed to have. When they met in New York Jack was very hard up, and had only succeeded in obtaining twenty five-cents from his parsimonious aunt. After drinking the whisky Jack sank into a chair, finding a sitting position more comfortable under the circumstances. "Have you seen your aunt lately, Mr. Minton?" Mark asked. "Who's my aunt?" hiccoughed Jack, "I ain't got no aunt." "I mean Mrs. Mack, the old lady who lives in St. Mark's place." "I don't know anything about--'bout Mrs. Mack," answered Minton with a cunning look. "What sh'd I know of Miss--Mrs. Mack?" "She's your aunt, isn't she?" "She used to be, but she's a bad old woman. I don't want to see her again." "She would be very glad to hear that," thought Mark. "When did you come to Niagara?" "I d'n'ow, do you? Don't ask me any more of your fool questions," answered Jack with uncontrollable irritation. "Did I pay you for the drinks?" he asked, turning to the barkeeper. "Yes, you paid me." "Thought I did--didn't know." As he spoke, Jack Minton's head fell forward on the table, and he closed his eyes. The last potation was too much for him. "You'd better take your friend away," said the barkeeper, eying Jack without much favor. "I don't want him to go to sleep here!" "He's no friend of mine," answered Mark. "Didn't you come in with him? Didn't he treat you?" "Yes, but I only accepted because he looked quarrelsome, and I was afraid he might take offense if I refused." "If I let him stay here I shall charge him extra." "Do as you like! I never saw him but once before, and I don't care to have anything to do with him. I wish you would let me pay for that sarsaparilla I had. I don't want to feel that he treated me." "He has paid, and I can't take pay twice." "Then take the money and return it to him." Mark without waiting to see if his proposal was accepted put a dime on the counter, and left the saloon. He met a newsboy with copies of a morning Buffalo paper. He bought one, and turning to New York news, his eyes fell upon a paragraph which surprised and excited him. _ |
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