Alger Horatio Jr.
Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune
CHAPTER XXXIII.
A FRIEND FROM OREGON
"Go over and speak to him," suggested Chester.
"Come with me, then."
The two boys crossed the street and intercepted the man from Portland. He was of medium height, with dark hair, and had a brisk, Western way with him.
"Don't you remember me, Mr. Wilson?" said Edward.
"What! Edward Granger?" ejaculated the Oregonian. "Well, I am glad to see you. Didn't know what had become of you. Are you living here?"
"Yes, sir. Let me introduce my friend, Chester Rand."
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Rand," said Wilson, heartily. "So you are a friend of Edward's."
"Indeed he is, an excellent friend!" exclaimed young Granger. "Have you—seen my mother lately?"
"Come over to my hotel and I'll answer all your questions. I'm stopping at the Continental, on the next block."
"All right! Will you come, Chester?"
"Yes; I shall be glad to."
They were soon sitting in the office of the Continental Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and Twentieth Street.
"Now I'll answer your questions," said Nathaniel Wilson. "Yes, I saw your mother the day before I set out."
"And is she well?" asked Edward, anxiously.
"She was looking somewhat careworn. She probably misses you."
"She never writes to me," said Edward, bitterly.
"It may be because she doesn't know your address. Then your stepfather keeps her prejudiced against you."
"I suppose there is no change in him?"
"No; except that he is drinking harder than ever. His business is against him, though he would drink even if he didn't keep a saloon."
"Does he treat my mother well?"
"I think he does. I have never heard anything to the contrary. You see, he wouldn't dare to do otherwise, as your mother has the property, and he wants to keep in with her in order to get a share."
"I have been afraid that she would give a part to him."
"Thus far I am confident she hasn't done it. She is Scotch, isn't she?"
"Yes; her name was Downie, and she was born in Glasgow, but came to this country at an early age."
"The Scotch are careful and conservative."
"She probably gives most of her income to Trimble—indeed, he collects her rents—but the principal she keeps in her own hands. Once I heard your stepfather complaining bitterly of this. 'My wife,' he said, 'treats me very badly. She's rolling in wealth, and I am a poor man, obliged to work early and late for a poor living.'"
"He pays nothing toward the support of the house," said Edward, indignantly. "Mother pays all bills, and gives him money for himself besides."
"I don't see how she could have married such a man!"
"Nor I. He seems coarse, and is half the time under the influence of drink."
"I wonder whether he has induced your mother to make a will in his favor," said Wilson, thoughtfully. "If he did, I think her life would be in danger."
Edward turned pale at this suggestion.
"I don't care so much for the property," he said, "but I can't bear to think of my mother's life as being in danger."
"Probably your mother's caution will serve her a good turn here also," said Wilson. "It isn't best to borrow trouble. I will keep watch, and if I see or hear of anything alarming I will write you. But now tell me about yourself. Are you at work?"
"Not just at present," replied Edward, embarrassed.
"But I think I can get him another place in a day or two," said Chester, quickly.
"If you need a little money, call on me," added the warm-hearted Westerner. "You know you used to call me your uncle Nathaniel."
"I wouldn't like to borrow," said Edward, shyly.
"When was your birthday?"
"A month ago."
"Then I must give you a birthday present You can't object to that," and Mr. Wilson took a ten-dollar gold piece from his pocket and pressed it upon Edward.
"Thank you very much. I can't decline a birthday gift."
"That's what I thought. I am an old friend, and have a right to remember you. Was Mr. Rand in the same office with you?"
"No; Chester is an artist."
"An artist! A boy like him!" ejaculated the Oregonian in surprise.
Chester smiled.
"I am getting older every day," he said.
"That's what's the matter with me," rejoined Mr. Wilson. "You haven't any gray hair yet, while I have plenty."
"Not quite yet," smiled Chester.
"What kind of an artist are you?"
"I make drawings for an illustrated weekly. It is a comic paper."
"And perhaps you put your friends in occasionally?"
"Not friends exactly, but sometimes I sketch a face I meet in the street."
"You may use me whenever you want a representative of the wild and woolly West."
"Thank you, Mr. Wilson."
"But in that case you must send me a copy of the paper."
"I won't forget it."
"How long are you staying in New York, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.
"I go away to-morrow. You must spend the evening with me."
"I should like to do so. It seems good to see an old friend."
"By and by we will go to Delmonico's and have an ice cream. I suppose you have been there?"
"No; office boys don't often patronize Delmonico. They are more likely to go to Beefsteak John's."
"I never heard that name. Is it a fashionable place?"
"Yes, with those of small pocketbooks. It is a perfectly respectable place, but people living on Fifth Avenue prefer the Brunswick or Delmonico's."
Edward brightened up so much owing to the presence of a friend from his distant home that Chester could hardly believe that it was the same boy whom he had found but a short time before in the depths of despondency.
About nine o'clock they adjourned to Delmonico's and ordered ices and cake.
"This seems a tiptop place," said the Oregonian, looking about him. "We haven't got anything equal to it in Portland, but we may have sometime. The Western people are progressive. We don't want to be at the tail end of the procession. Mr. Rand, you ought to come out and see something of the West, particularly of the Pacific coast. You may not feel an interest in it at present, but–"
"I have more interest in it than you imagine, Mr. Wilson. I have some property at Tacoma."
"You don't mean it! What kind of property?"
"I own five lots there."
"Then you are in luck. Lots in Tacoma are rising every day."
"But it wouldn't be well to sell at present, would it?"
"No; the railroad has only recently been completed, and the growth of Tacoma has only just begun."
"I hope to go West some day."
"When you do you must call on me. Perhaps you will come, too, Edward?"
Edward Granger shook his head.
"It won't be worth while for me to go back while Mr. Trimble is alive. He seems to have such an influence over my mother that it would not be pleasant for me to go there and have a cold reception from her."
"I will call on her and mention your name. Then I can see how the land lays. How she can prefer such a man as Abner Trimble to her own son I can't understand."
About ten o'clock the two boys left Mr. Wilson, who had been going about all day and showed signs of fatigue.
"Shan't I see you again, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.
"No; I must take an early start in the morning. You had better let me lend you a little money."
"No, thank you, sir. Your generous gift will help me till I get a place."
So the farewells were said, and the boys walked home.
"Now," said Edward, "I must try to get a place. This money will last me two weeks, and in that time I ought to secure something."
He went from place to place, answering advertisements the next day, but met with no luck. He was feeling rather depressed when Chester came into his room.
"I have found a place for you," he said, brightly.
"You don't mean it! Where is it?" asked young Granger.
"At the office of The Phœnix. You will be in the mailing department. The salary is small—only seven dollars a week—but–"
"I shall feel rich. It is two dollars more than I received at my last place. When am I to go to work?"
"To-morrow. The mailing clerk has got a better place, and that makes an opening for you."
"And I owe this good fortune to you," said Edward, gratefully. "How can I repay you?"
"By being my friend!"
"That I shall be—for life!" replied Edward, fervently.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
AFTER A YEAR
A year passed. Chester remained in the service of The Phœnix, which had become an established success. His artistic work was so satisfactory that his salary had been raised from twenty-five to thirty dollars per week. Yet he had not increased his personal expenses, and now had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in different savings banks.
He had concealed the extent of his prosperity from his mother, meaning in time to surprise her agreeably.
About this period he received a letter from Wyncombe. It was from his mother. It ran thus:
"Dear Chester: I am sorry to write you bad news. Miss Jane Dolby has decided to visit a sister in Chicago and remain a year. Of course this cuts off the liberal income I have received from her, and which has been adequate to meet my expenses. I may be able to earn something by sewing, but it will be only a little. I shall, therefore, have to accept the offer you made me sometime since to send me a weekly sum. I am sorry to be a burden to you, but it will only be for a year. At the end of that time Miss Dolby promises to come back and resume boarding with me.
"I think we have reason to feel grateful for your continued success in New York. Silas Tripp called a few evenings since. He has had a great deal of trouble with boys. He says he has not had anyone to suit him since you left. He asked me if I thought you would come back for four dollars a week. This he seemed to consider a very liberal offer, and it was—for him. I didn't give him any encouragement, as I presume you prefer art to the grocery business.
"You need not begin to send me money, at once, as I have been able to save a little from Miss Dolby's board.
"Your affectionate mother,
"Sarah Rand."
Chester answered at once:
"Dear Mother: Don't feel any anxiety about your loss of income through Miss Dolby's departure, and don't try to earn any money by sewing. My income is larger than you suppose, and I will send you weekly as much as you have been accustomed to receive from your boarder. Should it be more than you need, you can lay aside any surplus for future use.
"Tell Mr. Tripp I prefer New York to Wyncombe as a place of business, and I am obliged to decline his generous offer. I cannot help thinking sometimes how fortunate it was that he declined over a year since to increase my pay, as in that case I might still have been working for him instead of establishing a reputation as an artist here. Last week I received a larger offer from another publication, but as the publishers of The Phœnix have always treated me well, I didn't think that I would be justified in making a change. I mean in a week or two to come home to pass Sunday. I shall feel delighted to see my friends in Wyncombe, and most of all, my mother.
"Your loving son, Chester."
Mrs. Rand protested against Chester sending her eight dollars a week, but he insisted upon it, advising her to lay aside what she did not need.
One evening about this time Edward Granger, who still occupied the small apartment adjoining, came into Chester's room, looking agitated.
"What is the matter?" asked Chester. "Have you had bad news?"
"Yes; I have had a letter from Mr. Wilson, of Portland, whom you recollect we met about a year ago."
"I remember him."
"I will read you his letter. You will see that I have reason to feel anxious."
The letter ran as follows:
"Dear Edward: I promised to send you any news I might pick up about your mother and her premising husband. Trimble is indulging in liquor more than ever, and I don't see how he can stand it unless he has a castiron constitution. From what I hear he has never given up trying to get your mother's property into his hands. She has held out pretty firm, but she may yield yet. I hear that he is circulating reports that you are dead. In that case he thinks she may be induced to make a will leaving her property to Mr. Trimble; having, as I believe, no near relatives, so that he would seem to be the natural heir.
"I may be doing Trimble an injustice, but I think if such a will were made she wouldn't live long. Your stepfather is in great straits for money, it seems, and he might be tempted to do something desperate. As far as I can hear, Abner Trimble's plan is this: He took a pal of his around to the house who had been in New York recently, and the latter gave a circumstantial account of your dying with typhoid fever. Evidently your mother believed it, for she seemed quite broken down and has aged considerably since the news. No doubt her husband will seize this opportunity to induce her to make a will in his favor. Here lies the danger; and I think I ought to warn you of it, for your presence here is needed to defeat your stepfather's wicked plans. Come out at once, if you can.
"Your friend,
"Nathaniel Wilson."
"What do you think of that, Chester?" asked Edward, in a troubled voice.
"I think it very important. Your mother's life and your interests both are in peril."
"And the worst of it is that I am helpless," said Edward, sadly. "I ought to go out there, but you know how small my salary is. It has required the utmost economy to live, and I haven't as much as five dollars saved up. How can I make such a long and costly journey?"
"I see the difficulty, Edward, but I need time to think it over. To-morrow afternoon come in and I may have some advice to give you."
"I know that you will advise me for the best, Chester."
"There is a good deal in age and experience," said Chester, smiling.
When Edward left the room Chester took from his pocket a letter received the day previous, and postmarked Tacoma. It was to this effect:
"Mr. Chester Rand.
"Dear Sir: We learn that you own five lots on Main Street, numbered from 201 to 205. We have inquiries as to three of those lots as a location for a new hotel, which it is proposed to erect at an early date. We are, therefore, led to ask whether you are disposed to sell, and, if so, on what terms. We should be glad to have a personal interview with you, but if it is impracticable or inconvenient for you to come on to Tacoma we will undertake, as your agents, to carry on the negotiations.
"Yours respectfully,
"Dean & Downie,
"Real Estate Agents."
"Why shouldn't I go to Tacoma?" thought Chester. "I can probably sell the lots to better advantage than any agents, and should be entirely unable to fix upon a suitable price unless I am on the ground. In case I go on, I can take Edward with me, and trust to him to repay the money advanced at some future time."
The more Chester thought of this plan the more favorable it struck him.
He went the next day to the office of The Phœnix, and after delivering his sketches, said: "I should like leave of absence for two months. Can you spare me?"
"Does your health require it, Mr. Rand?" asked the editor.
"No," answered Chester, "but I own a little property in Tacoma, and there are parties out there who wish to buy. It is important that I should go out there to attend to the matter."
The editor arched his brows in astonishment.
"What!" he said. "An artist, and own real estate? This is truly surprising."
"I didn't earn it by my art," replied Chester, smiling. "It was a bequest."
"That accounts for it. I suppose, under the circumstances, we must let you go; but why need you give up your work? Probably ideas and suggestions may come to you while you are traveling. These you can send to us by mail."
"But I can't do enough to earn the salary you pay me."
"Then we will pay according to the amount you do."
"That will be satisfactory."
"Do you need an advance for the expenses of your journey?"
"No; I have some money laid by."
"Another surprise! When do you want to start?"
"As soon as possible. I will not come to the office again."
"Then good luck and a pleasant journey."
When Edward Granger came into his room later in the day, Chester said: "Day after to-morrow we start for Oregon. Ask your employers to hold your place for you, and get ready at once."
"But the money, Chester?" gasped Edward.
"I will advance it to you, and you shall repay me when you can."
CHAPTER XXXV.
PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY
No sooner had Chester decided upon his Western journey than he telegraphed to Dean & Downe, of Tacoma:
"I will call upon you within two weeks."
Mrs. Rand was much surprised when Chester, coming home unexpectedly, announced his intentions.
"Do you want me to take you with me, mother?" asked Chester, with a smile.
"I am afraid I could not help you much. But you are not used to traveling. You may take the wrong cars."
Again Chester smiled.
"I have spent over a year in the city, mother," he said. "I have got along pretty well in the last twelve months, haven't I?"
"Yes; but suppose you were to fall sick, with no one to look after you?"
"I didn't tell you that I am going to have company. Edward Granger, who was born in Oregon, and is three years older than myself, will go with me."
"Then I shall feel easier. He knows the way, and can look after you."
Chester was secretly of opinion that he was more competent to look after Edward, but did not say so. He saw that his mother was easier in mind, and this relieved him.
Before he started from New York he called to see Mr. Fairchild. On Fourteenth Street he fell in with Felix Gordon.
"How are you getting along, Felix?" he asked.
"Pretty well. Mr. Fairchild has raised me to six dollars a week."
"I am glad of it. That shows he is satisfied with you."
"I try to please him. I began to think that is the best policy. That is why you have succeeded so well."
"Do you ever hear from Mr. Mullins?"
"No; but I know where he is."
"Where? Of course you know that I have no wish to injure him."
"He is somewhere in Oregon, or perhaps in Washington Territory."
Washington had not at that time been advanced to the dignity of a State.
"That is curious."
"Why is it curious?"
"Because I am going to start for Oregon and Washington to-night."
"You don't mean it! What are you going for?"
"On business," answered Chester, not caring to make a confidant of Felix."
"Won't it cost a good deal of money?"
"Yes; but I expect to get paid for going."
"What a lucky fellow you are!" said Felix, not without a trace of envy. "I wish I could go. I like to travel, but I have never had a chance."
Mr. Fairchild was equally surprised when told of Chester's plans.
"Are you going as an artist?" he asked.
"No; as a real estate man," answered Chester. "I own a few lots in Tacoma, and have a chance of selling a part of them."
Then he went into particulars.
"I congratulate you. I have only one piece of advice to offer. Make careful inquiries as to the value of property. Then ask a fair price, not one that is exorbitant. That might drive the hotel people to seeking another site for their house."
"Thank you, Mr. Fairchild; I will remember your advice."
"The journey is an expensive one. If you need two or three hundred dollars I will loan it to you cheerfully."
"Thank you very much, but I have more money saved up than I shall require."
"I see you are careful and provident. Well, Chester, I wish you every success."
"I am sure of that, Mr. Fairchild. By the way, I hear that your old bookkeeper is in Oregon or Washington."
"Who told you?"
"Felix. Have you any message for him if I happen to meet him?"
"Say that I have no intention of prosecuting him. If he is ever able I shall be glad to have him return the money he took from me. As to punishment, I am sure he has been punished enough by his enforced flight and sense of wrongdoing."
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A GREAT SURPRISE
From New York to Tacoma is a long journey. Over three thousand miles must be traversed by rail, but the trip is far from tiresome. Chester and his companion thoroughly enjoyed it. All was new and strange, and the broad spaces through which they passed were full of interest.
They stopped at Niagara Falls, but only for a few hours, and spent a day in Chicago. Then they were whirled onward to St. Paul and Minneapolis, and later on over the broad plains of North Dakota and through the mountains of Montana.
"I never thought the country was so large before," said Chester to Edward. "You have been over the ground once before."
"Yes; but part of it was during the night, It is pleasant to see it once more. Many of the places have grown considerably, though it is only two years since I came from Portland."
Chester made some agreeable acquaintances. An unsociable traveler misses many of the profitable results of his journey, besides finding time hang heavily on his hands.
Just after leaving Bismarck, in North Dakota, Chester's attention was called to an old man, whose white hair and wrinkled face indicated that he had passed the age of seventy years.
The conductor came through the car, collecting tickets. The old man searched for his, and an expression of dismay overspread his face.
"I can't find my ticket," he said.
"That is unfortunate. Where did you come from?"
"From Buffalo."
"When did you last see your ticket?"
"I stopped over one night in Bismarck, and had to share my room with a young man, for the hotel was crowded. I think he must have picked my pocket of the ticket."
"Did you know the ticket was missing when you boarded the train?"
"No, sir. I did not think to look."
"Your case is unfortunate. How far are you going?"
"To Tacoma. I have a son there."
"I am afraid you will have to pay the fare from here. I have no discretion in the matter, and cannot allow you to ride without a ticket."
"Don't you believe my ticket was stolen?" asked the old man, in a state of nervous agitation.
"Yes, I believe it. I don't think a man of your age would deceive me. But I cannot let you travel without paying for another."
"I haven't money enough," said the old man, piteously. "If you will wait till I reach Tacoma my son will give me money to pay you."
"I am not allowed to do that. I think you will have to get out at the next station."
The old man was much agitated.
"It is very hard," he sighed. "I—I don't know what to do."
Chester had listened to this conversation with great sympathy for the unfortunate traveler, on account of his age and apparent helplessness.
"How much is the fare to Tacoma from this point?" he asked.
"In the neighborhood of fifty dollars," answered the conductor.
"Will your son be able to pay this?" asked Chester.
"Oh, yes," answered the old man. "William has been doin' well. He is going to build a large hotel in Tacoma—he and another man."
"Then," said Chester, "I will advance you what money you need. You can give me a memorandum, so that I can collect it from your son."
"Heaven bless you, young man!" said the old man, fervently. "You are indeed a friend to me who am but a stranger. I am sure you will prosper."
"Thank you."
"What a fellow you are, Chester!" said Edward. "You will make yourself poor helping others."
"I shall sleep better for having aided the old man," answered Chester.
The rest of the journey was uneventful. The two boys went at once to Tacoma, as Chester felt that the gentlemen who were negotiating for his lots were probably in a hurry to arrange for the building of the hotel. After establishing themselves at a hotel and eating dinner, they went at once to the office of Dean & Downie, the real estate agents from whom Chester had received a letter.
Here a surprise awaited him.
Standing at a desk in the rear of the office was a figure that looked familiar. The man turned as the door opened to admit Chester, and the latter recognized to his great astonishment his old enemy—David Mullins!
