Home > Authors Index > Burt L. Standish > Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block > This page
Frank Merriwell's Son; or, A Chip Off the Old Block, a fiction by Burt L. Standish |
||
Chapter 18. A Man Of The People |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER XVIII. A MAN OF THE PEOPLE Carker was almost smothered in the powerful arms of the delighted Irish youth. To the crowd, however, it seemed that a violent assault had been made on the orator. In that crowd were many who sympathized with the socialistic speaker or were pronounced socialists themselves. These persons grew excited immediately, and a dozen of them sought to push forward to Carker's assistance. They reached for Mulloy and Gallup with savage hands or sought to smite the two young men with clenched fists. "Great hemlock!" exclaimed Ephraim, as he thrust aside the outstretched hands or warded off blows. "What in thutteration's the matter with this bunch of lunatics!" "Down with them--down with the aristocrats!" snarled the angry crowd. "Whoop! Hooroo!" shouted Barney Mulloy, releasing Carker. "Is it a schrap thot do be on our hands, Oi dunno? Begorra, it's so long since Oi've been consarned in a real fight that me blood tingles with pleasure at the thought av it." By this time Carker recognized the sun-tanned young man who had interrupted his speech. As quickly as possible he flung himself in front of the excited crowd, threw up his hands, and shouted: "Stand back! stand back! They're my friends!" "Gott in Himmel!" gurgled a German. "Did not they you attackt? Dit ve not see them py our eyes as they didid it?" "I tell you they're my friends," persisted Carker. "They hit-a you! They grab-a you!" shouted an Italian. "They stop-a you from making the speech!" "It's all right," persisted the young socialist. "I had finished my speech. I tell you to keep back! Stand off! The man who touches them is not friendly toward me. He's not friendly toward socialism." "Vale," said the German, "uf you put it to us up dot vay, it vill a settlement make." Then he turned and faced the crowd, pushing many of them back with his pudgy hands as he shouted: "Stood avay nearer off! Don't push up so far close! Dit you not hear our prother say they vas his friendts alretty?" The excitement of the crowd rapidly subsided. Carker spoke to them calmly, explaining that the two young men who had brought his speech to such a sudden termination were his bosom comrades of old times, even thought they might not be thoroughbred socialists. "Where the dickens did you two boys come from?" he finally demanded, as he once more turned toward Ephraim and Barney, grasping their hands. "Oh, it's good to see you again, fellows!" "Begorra, to see yez is a soight for sore eyes and to hear yez is music to deaf ears!" chuckled Barney Mulloy. "You're the same old rabid champeen av the downtrodden masses. You're still pratin' away about the coming of the great earthquake." "That's right, by gum!" grinned Gallup. "But, say, why didn't yeou warn the people of Frisco before they gut shook up?" "When I speak of the great coming earthquake," said Carker, "you know I'm talking figuratively. But you haven't answered my question. Where did you chaps come from?" "Right up from old Mexico," replied Ephraim. "We've been down there, me and Barney, a-helpin' put through the new Central Sonora Railroad. The old road's finished, and we're takin' a vacation now, with a big bank account to our credit and plenty of the long green in our pants pockets." "Tainted money! tainted money!" exclaimed Greg dramatically. "You've been laboring for a heartless corporation. These great railroad companies have made their wealth by robbing the downtrodden masses." "Ye don't say!" grinned Barney. "The money we have made may be tainted, but the only taint I've discovered about it is 'tain't enough." "Oh, you're still frivolous and thoughtless, both of you," asserted Greg, with a shake of his bushy head. "You can't seem to realize the fact that in these degenerate days there are no longer opportunities for men to rise from the lower ranks to positions of competence, independence, and power. The great corporations and trusts are killing competition and holding the masses down. A boy born in the lower walks no longer has a chance to get out of that strata of existence." "It's rot ye still talk, me fri'nd," declared Barney. "Oi think th' chances are as good as they iver were, and a lot betther, av anything." "If yeou're right," put in Ephraim, "'tain't the great corporations and trusts alone that are to blame. It's the labor organizations that say every workingman, no matter whether he's capable of great things or is just an ordinary dub, shall take a sartain scale of wages. That kills ambition and keeps young fellers of ability and genius from risin'. Yes, siree, it sartinly does." "Oh, your mind is too narrow to grasp all the phases of this great question," asserted the young socialist, with a sweep of his hand. "I wish you'd prove to me that young men still have a chance to rise in these days. Show me an example." "Me bhoy, ye moight take a look at Barney Mulloy," suggested the smiling Irishman. "It's something loike tin thousand clane dollars he's made in th' last year. Thot he's done in Mexico." "And when yeou git through lookin' at him," suggested Gallup, "yeou might cast an eye round in my direction. Me and Barney have been partners, and, by jinks! I've cleaned up ten thousand, too." For a moment Carker seemed a bit staggered, but he quickly recovered. "What's ten thousand in these days? What's that but a drop in the bucket when your big magnates accumulate millions upon millions?" "Well, me bhoy," laughed Barney, with a comical twist of his mug, "tin thousand will do for a nist egg. Wid thot for a nist egg, we ought to hatch out enough to kape us from becomin' objects of charity in our ould age." "A man is foolish to waste his time in argument with such chaps as you," said Greg, with a shrug of his shoulders. "Are you on this train?" When they replied that they were, he explained that he was there to take the same train. Within the station he secured his battered old suit case, which he had left there. "Have yeou a seat?" asked Gallup. "Why, I expect to get a seat on the regular passenger coach," answered Carker. "You kin git a seat in our car, I guess," said Ephraim. "Not more'n half the seats was taken." At the steps of the parlor car Greg halted. "Are you riding in this car?" he asked. "Shure," nodded Barney. "Then I'm sorry," said the young socialist. "I can't ride with you." In a breath both Mulloy and Gallup demanded to know why. "Parlor coaches are made for aristocrats," explained Greg. "I'm one of the masses. I'm democratic. I ride with common people in the common coaches." "Begorra, ye'll roide in this car av we have to kidnap yez!" shouted Mulloy. "Av you're too close-fisted to buy a sate yersilf, Oi'll pay for it!" This touched Carker's pride. "You hurt me by such words, Barney," he protested. "Close-fisted! My boy, do you know I've given away nearly all my ready money in the last six months to the needy and suffering? I've seen big, fat-stomached, overfed men lolling in their parlor-car seats while weak invalids, wretched and faint from the strain of trouble, have sat in the common cars. Do you think I could be selfish enough to spend my money for my own comfort and luxury, knowing that such poor people might be suffering on this train?" "Yer heart's all roight, Greg, ould bhoy," explained Barney; "but ye'll foind thot yer pocketbook isn't big enough to alleviate all th' suffering thot ye'll discover in the world. Come on, Ephraim, we'll put him on this car or l'ave him dead on the platform." They seized Carker and forced him up the steps. In a moment he ceased to resist and permitted them to push him into the car. "All right, boys," he muttered regretfully, "as it's you, and we haven't seen each other for so long, I'll put aside my scruples and travel in a parlor car to-day." They found Teresa and Juanita chatting in Spanish, quite unaware of what had taken place on the station platform. Carker was introduced to Mrs. Gallup and her young friend. He removed his hat, flung back his mane of hair, and bowed before them with the grace of a true gentleman. "Mrs. Gallup," he murmured, "it's the pleasure of my life to meet the wife of my old friend and comrade. And to meet Mrs. Gallup's friend, Senyorita Garcia, is scarcely a smaller pleasure." "How beauteeful he do talk!" murmured Juanita. There was a strange flash in her dark eyes as she surveyed the young socialist. With his long hair, his pale classical face, his sad poetic eyes, he was indeed a handsome fellow of a type seldom seen. The fact that his clothes were unconventional in their cut and that he wore a negligee shirt with a soft wide collar detracted not a whit from his striking appearance. The train soon pulled out, and when the conductor came through a seat was secured for Carker, who restrained Mulloy with an air of dignity when Barney attempted to pay the bill. "I'm not quite busted myself," asserted Greg, with a faint smile, at the same time producing a roll of bills. The conductor was paid and passed on. Then they settled down for a sociable chat. _ |
||