Tirnrpflnr 
 
 111 Sit
 
 l/J \
 
 A TIGHT SQUEEZE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A GENTLEMAN, 
 
 WHO, ON A WAGER OF TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS, 
 
 UNDERTOOK TO GO FROM NEW YORK TO 
 
 NEW ORLEANS IN THREE WEEKS, 
 
 WITHOUT MONEY, 
 
 AS A PROFESSIONAL TRAMP. 
 
 BY "STAATS." 
 
 BOSTON : 
 LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 CHARLES T. DILUNGHAM 
 l8 79 .
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 1879, 
 BY GEORGE M. BAKER. 
 
 All Rights Reserved. 
 
 Stereotyped by C. C. Morse & Son, 
 Haverhill, Mass.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE WAGER .... 9 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 THE START 23 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE 29 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 OUR HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY .... 36 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 OUR HERO EATS THE BREAD OP CHARITY . . 49 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYK . . 5T 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 THE PULLMAN Box CAR . 67
 
 O CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 A BLOCK IN THE WAY 77 
 
 CHAPTER IX, 
 A GLIMPSE OF DEATH 84 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 THE MARCH TO FORT DUQUESNE . .' .91 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 A MYSTERY . . . ... . . .97 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE GREAT TRAMP RENDEZVOUS . . . .105 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 INTRODUCES THE EVANGELIST 112 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT 120 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 THE HOTEL DE LOG 127 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HORSE 135
 
 CONTENTS. 7 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 LlCKSKILLET HAS A SENSATION .... 144 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 JUDGE LYNCH HOLDS COURT 152 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE 163 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 OUR HERO REACHES ST. Louis . . . . IT 2 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 A SHAVE WHICH HAS A RESULT . . . .181 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 OFF FOR NEW ORLEANS 188 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 A NIGHT ON DECK 192 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK 200 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 OUR HERO TAKES A S^vlM 210
 
 8 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 THE CASTAWAYS 220 
 
 CHAPTEE XXVII. 
 CRUSOE LIFE . 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 DEATH SHAKES HANDS WITH THE CASTAWAYS . 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE CRUISE OP THE " ROARER " . . 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BEN LOSES HOPE AND TURNS NAVIGATOR . . 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 I 
 NEW ORLEANS, 10 A. M., OCT. 2o . . . . 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 THE LITTLE PABTNER 268 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 IN AT THE DEATH 276 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 CONCLUSION .... 281
 
 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE "WAGEB. 
 
 " \ \ 7ASSON, what is a tramp?" 
 VV "Dunno." 
 
 " Cleveland, what is a tramp ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Wasson, accommodate me, if you please, by in- 
 troducing the extremity of your boot to Mr. Cleve- 
 land." 
 
 " Ouch ! "What in thunder are you kicking me 
 for, Wasson ? " 
 
 " I'm not kicking you ; extremes meet, my boy, 
 and there was a natural repulsion. Hough wants to 
 know what a tramp is ! " 
 
 " How do I know ! Ah ! here comes Smythe ; he 
 will tell you." 
 
 " Ah, Smythe, my boy, just in time ! Wasson don't 
 know any thing, and Cleveland won't tell what he 
 does know ; what's a tramp ? " There now that's 
 a good fellow don't open your mouth so ; you'll in- 
 jure your neck, just tell me all you know about 
 them." 
 
 (9)
 
 10 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " What's a which ? Tramp ! " 
 
 " Don't be a poll parrot, Smythe. Tell me what 
 they are. You've been to college and learned to row, 
 and box, and play base ball, and ought to know nearly 
 every thing. Here I am continually reading about 
 them. Every paper you pick up is full of them. 
 Tramp, tramp, TKAMP, from one end of the paper to 
 the other. There is not a chicken purloined off a 
 roost ; a man killed ; a house fired ; a train ditched ; 
 virtue outraged, vice embellished, or deviltry of any 
 kind perpetrated, but this omnipresent scape-goat of 
 the nineteenth century appears to be at the bottom 
 of it all. Now I want to know what a tramp is." 
 
 "I am sorry that I cannot enlighten you, Hough, 
 but " 
 
 "But," exclaimed Wasson, interrupting Smythe, 
 " if I am not very much mistaken, here comes a gen- 
 tleman who can ! " And as the lawn gate swung to 
 its place, with a clang of the latch, there appeared 
 walking up the gravelled walk, a being, whose every 
 square inch of superficial surface indicated a bona fide, 
 unadulterated specimen of the genus vagabond. 
 
 A frock coat, guiltless of buttons, (save the two 
 in the rear, where they were of no earthly use) 
 with half a frock gone, and the remainder of the gar- 
 ment mottled like unto the celebrated garment that 
 got Joseph in a hole, was fastened at the neck with a 
 glittering horse-shoe nail. A pair of pants, fantasti- 
 cally fringed with ragged ends about their extremities, 
 higher up bore the brands of many a camp-fire. Their 
 original color had long since struck to the over-power- 
 ing allied forces of wind and weather, mud and grease.
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE WAGER. 11 
 
 In a landscape they might have looked a subdjed 
 maroon, etched with lampblack. Below the fantastic 
 fringe work appeared a pair of feet encased in a boot 
 and a shoe. The shoe had evidently seen better days, 
 and seemed to shrink with humiliated pride from the 
 forced companionship of the boot, which was a ple- 
 beian of the Stogie family. The shoe was long, nar- 
 row and pointed. The boot was coarse, thick and 
 stubby. The toe of the boot had an air-hole in it, 
 extending clean across the upper. The shoe was in- 
 tact, and had a brass buckle the size of a door plate, 
 which give it an air of fallen greatness. But the boot 
 was in proud possession of a heel, while the shoe had 
 none, equalizing matters. In glaring contrast to this 
 tatterdemalion attire, the hat, that completed the 
 picture, was a new straw affair, and looked like a 
 bright, fresh, shingle roof, clapped on a very dilapi- 
 dated, old building. The face beneath the hat was 
 round and plump, very dirty, quite keen, frescoed 
 with tobacco juice and embossed with a short, stumpy 
 beard. As the figure drew nigh the group on the 
 lawn, boot, shoe, pants, coat and face seemed to blend 
 into an animated object, while the bran new hat 
 kept calling out, like a side-show man on a fair ground, 
 " Here we are ! Now you have us ! An epitome of 
 Hard Times ! A parody on financial acumen ! A 
 caricature on the fat of the land ! What aint rags is 
 dirt, and what aint dirt is bugs ! We're the remnant 
 of other days ! We're the breaking-up-of-a-hard-win- 
 ter ! We're a pariah, a scavenger, an outcast I 
 That's what we are, and we want you to know it. 
 Here's your prodigal for you I Kill your fatted calf
 
 12 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 of kitchen fag-ends and serve up the banquet on the 
 back door step. Bring out the purple and fine linen 
 of your ragbags. Here's your prodigal, and he's 
 come back hungry ! " 
 
 But though the hat said this, as plain as a hat could, 
 the figure Jbeneath the hat spoke quite differently. 
 Having, with a faltering step and a pronounced limp 
 in the shoe foot, approached the four gentlemen who 
 were enjoying their after dinner cigars on the lawn, 
 the figure with a keen, swift glance took an inventory 
 of each person before him, and then pulling off the 
 new hat to the great joy of a lot of hair that ap- 
 peared relieved from the constraints of good society 
 it said, in a mumbling voice : 
 
 " Gentlemen, this is the saddest moment of my 
 life. I am no professional beggar, but the victim of 
 misfortunes, and reduced from comfort to my present 
 state of want by calamities over which I had no con- 
 trol. If you could give me some assistance it would 
 be a great blessing to me, and a noble act for you ; 
 for I have not had a bite to eat for four days, and my 
 clothes would drop off of me with starvation if they 
 were not falling off from raggedness." 
 
 " Four days ! " exclaimed all. 
 
 " Four days," solemnly reasserted the figure. 
 
 " And you still live ! " said Hough. 
 
 " I still live," returned the figure, as solemnly as 
 before, but with a shrewd, covert little glance at 
 Hough accompanying the answer. 
 
 Wasson noticed the glance, and laughed. Cleve- 
 land looked up and the prodigal greeted him with a 
 benignant smile. Smythe withdrew his hands from
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE WAGER. 13 
 
 their repose in his pockets, and, with open mouth, 
 gazed first at the patrician shoe, then at the plebeian 
 boot, then at the subdued, maroon colored, landscape 
 pants, then at the skirtless coat, and at last fastened 
 his attention on the fascination of the brilliant, gal- 
 vanized-iron, horse-shoe nail. 
 
 " Are are you a TRAMP ? " 
 
 " No, Sir ! " emphatically and indignantly replied 
 the prodigal. 
 
 " Then we're lost ! " exclaimed all four, and Hough 
 continued, " Had you been a tramp I'd have given 
 you a dollar." 
 
 The prodigal looked surprised a trifle suspicious. 
 For the first time in his life he found his vagabondage 
 quoted at a premium. 
 
 " Gentlemen," he said, " pardon me if my native 
 modesty prompted me to deny the truth. I will con- 
 fess that, having spent my substance in assisting the 
 miseries of others, I am, through the fault of my own 
 generosity and moral rectitude, at last brought to that 
 sad phase of mortal existence comprehended by the 
 name " tramp." I am a tramp and I do not say it 
 boastingly ; Heaven forbid ! " And with a smile 
 of ineffable sweetness, in which dirt and " native 
 modesty " were harmoniously blended, the prodigal 
 meekly folded his hands and rolled his eyes sky- 
 wards. 
 
 u Found, at last ! " exclaimed all. 
 
 The incidents of this chapter occurred one sunny 
 August afternoon, on the lawn in front of Smythe's 
 summer cottage on Long Island Sound, not far from 
 the lovely little village of Greenwich.
 
 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Smythe's cottage was a pretty little piece of car- 
 penter work in the Swiss chatelet style so delight- 
 fully expensive and romantic. 
 
 Algernon Smythe was the son of his father. A 
 clear understanding of this matter is necessary inas- 
 much as the ancestral Smythes bore the name of 
 Smith, and the one immediately preceding Algernon 
 had his Smith " decorated with the prefix Josiah. 
 Josiah Smith drifted away from the cobble stones of 
 Connecticut where the Smith family had long been 
 at warfare with the rocks about the possession of a 
 few acres of sterile, sorrel-trodden, ground, at an 
 early age, and found his way to New York city. 
 With him came the customary solitary shilling". But 
 this Smith shilling was an inflationist. It swelled it- 
 elf into houses and lots, and stocks and bonds, and 
 shaved notes and fore-closed mortgages, and fifty per 
 cent, premiums on seven per cent loans, and kept it- 
 self so busily employed that when Josiah Smith re- 
 tired from active life and took up a permanent resi- 
 dence in Greenwood, his only son and heir found 
 himself sole master of a million of money. This was 
 too much wealth to be comfortably worn by the name 
 of Smith. Why, Algernon could remember when he 
 was a little fellow, sanding sugar and dusting spices 
 in his father's store, familiar little boys, who were 
 manoeuvring for raisins, used to affectionately call 
 him " SmifTy ! " 
 
 As a consequence when Algernon returned from 
 Paris (Pahree he called it) he no longer intruded the 
 private " i " into the public eye, but put a " y " in 
 place of it. Then, that his name might be parted in
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE WAGER. 15 
 
 the middle, to match his hair, he tapered off the 
 "i"-less creation with an "e"; adopted a coat of 
 arms ; selected a motto ; wanted to know if Connec- 
 ticut was not somewhere in Massachusetts " you 
 know " ; always said brava ! at the opera ; and bought 
 him a yacht ! 
 
 Of the other guests at the cottage ; Mr. Hough 
 was the relative appendage of a City Savings Bank. 
 He drew $3,500 per annum from the bank and sev- 
 eral thousand from other sources. Mr. Wasson was 
 generally supposed to be an artist. He was always 
 going to have a picture finished for the next exhibi- 
 tion. " A thing that Church or Bierstadt might be 
 proud of." Meanwhile a doting father, who, in a dis- 
 tant Massachusetts town, had first made shoes on his 
 own knees, but now made them on the knees of some 
 five hundred of his fellow men, kindly furnished him 
 with a liberal means of subsistence until his profes- 
 sion was established on a paying basis. 
 
 Benjamin Cleveland was a young fellow, but little 
 more than twenty-three. His mother had belonged 
 to an old Boston family. 
 
 When Ben was ten years old his widowed mother 
 died leaving him to the tender care of his uncle, with 
 a legacy of twenty thousand dollars. By means of 
 this inheritance he had obtained liberal educational 
 advantages, attaining his majority shortly after 
 graduating (without any honors) at Yale. (Boston- 
 ians take honors at Harvard.) After leaving college 
 he diligently applied himself to the problem of life. 
 He had determined upon making his mark in the 
 world. Nearly all young men do so determine. Tho
 
 16 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 "mark" up to the opening of this narrative was 
 neither a very prominent or promising one. On his 
 twenty-first birth-day his uncle, who neither under- 
 stood or sympathized with him, in fact rather dis- 
 liked him, paid into Ben's hands $15,450, the re- 
 mainder of the legacy left by his mother, and bade 
 him " God speed " ; a fashion some people have of 
 shifting on to God's shoulders responsibilities that be- 
 long on their own. For a couple of years Ben en- 
 joyed himself looking around among his fellow men, 
 and at the age of twenty-three had $10,400 left to his 
 bank account. He was fond of good living, fond of 
 adventure, fond of sport, fond of being his own mas- 
 ter, fond of a congenial laziness, and fond of every 
 thing pertaining to good health save hum-drum work, 
 and money making by the " plod " process. He could 
 lie on his back and build castles in the air all day 
 long. But it is doubtful if he would have undertaken 
 the exertion of going twenty rods to get one of the 
 foundation stones to commence one of his castles with. 
 He was something of a dreamer. Not much of a 
 doer. He ignored the past; enjoyed the present; 
 neglected the future. 
 
 Several moments elapsed in silence, while the lawn 
 party surveyed the rara-avis before them. The prod- 
 igal was the first to speak. Extending his hand to- 
 ward Hough, he suggestively remarked, " Where are 
 you, boss ? " 
 
 " Here is your dollar," replied Hough, presenting 
 him one ; " you have earned it, my friend, by your 
 truthfulness. Now, my friend, tell me what a tramp 
 is?"
 
 THE PP k ODIGAL AND THE WAGER. 17 
 
 " Why, a tramp's a tramp," replied the prodigal. 
 
 " Concise, if not lucid," remarked Wasson. 
 
 44 Yes, but what are they, who are they, where are 
 they, what do they do and where do they go ? " per- 
 sisted Hough. 
 
 The prodigal quietly picked a gravel stone out of 
 the gaping toe of the boot, and answered, <4 They're 
 tramps; that's what they are. Dead-brokes; bums; 
 beats ; codjers ; hand-out solicitors ; cross-tie sailors ; 
 free-lunch fiends ; centennial rangers ; square-meal 
 crusaders ! They're everywhere, they do every thing, 
 and go all over. They're the great American travel- 
 lers of the nineteenth century. Explorers. Pro- 
 gressionists. Agrarians. I'm one of 'em myself, I 
 am! I'm just from New Orleans, and going to Bos- 
 ton," and the prodigal stopped to request a donation 
 of tobacco. 
 
 44 But where do they live ? " asked Wasson. 
 
 4; Great Blazes ! They live where they eat ! What 
 a question ! " And the prodigal completely annihi- 
 lated poor Wasson by rolling his eyes upon him in su- 
 preme astonishment. 
 
 44 Yes, but what do they eat ? You know they must 
 eat, or they would not live ; " and Srnythe felt that 
 he had cornered him. 
 
 44 True for you sir. Well they eat mostly at differ- 
 ent places. When in New York some of them like 
 to stop at the Astor, and others again prefer rooming 
 in the lumber piles and taking their meals at Delmon- 
 ico's. The Fifth Avenue is good enough for me 
 though ; " and he smiled upon Smythe,aud Algernon 
 opened his eyes and mouth to their fullest extent.
 
 18 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Don't you ever work? Do you never care to earn 
 money at labor? " asked Wasson. 
 
 " Work ! Labor ! Me ! I'm not used to it, but I 
 don't stand back from it on that account. No sir. I 
 love to work. Do you know of any body that wants 
 a hand to help cut ice, or can strawberries, or take as- 
 tronomical observations ? If you do, tell me, for I'm 
 their man. Work ! I adore it ! " and his face ex- 
 pressed his adoration. 
 
 " How long did it take you to come from New Or- 
 leans?" asked Hough. 
 
 The prodigal studied a moment, and then replied, 
 " I left New Orleans on the 20th of last month. I 
 made St. Louis in eight days and it's taken me two 
 weeks and a trifle more to come from St. Louis here." 
 
 " Why, that is over one hundred miles a day ! 
 You're a fast walker," said Hough. 
 
 " Walk ! Who said any thing about walking ? Not 
 much. I walked when I felt like it, and I rode when 
 I felt like it." 
 
 " You had money, then ? " asked Wasson. 
 
 "Money ! " exclaimed he of the maroon pants, dis- 
 dainfully. " Money ! Nary red. What did I want 
 of money. Any fool can travel with money. I beat 
 my way I " and a look of conscious pride illumined his 
 face. 
 
 " Came from New Orleans here in three weeks, 
 without any money ! " And the magnitude of the 
 undertaking so overwhelmed Mr. S my the that he 
 viewed the tramp as a second Humboldt. 
 
 " Step around to the kitchen and tell them to give 
 you something to eat."
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE WAGER. 
 
 " No, I'm obliged to you, stranger. I just had two 
 squares and three hand-outs, and I couldn't eat an- 
 other morsel. I'm sorry, but such is the fact," re- 
 plied the prodigal to the utter neglect of his assertion 
 that for four days he had not tasted food. 
 
 When Wasson reminded him of it, he coolly re- 
 marked that it was true enough, and arose from his 
 having a terrible toothache that prevented his tasting 
 any thing. 
 
 " I must tear myself from you, gentlemen," he con- 
 tinued. " Time is precious, and although I enjoy 
 your society, I must not neglect business. I'm much 
 obliged for the dollar, mister. I'll spend it usefully 
 and judiciously. Ta, ta! " and with a free and easy 
 wave of his hand, the tramp turned and walked 
 jauntily down the gravelled walk without the slight- 
 est sign of the limp he entered with. 
 
 After his departure Hough broke out in a boisterous 
 fit of hilarity. 
 
 " That's a tramp / " he exclaimed. " We have seen 
 the elephant, now, gentlemen, what do you think of 
 
 him?" 
 
 " What a supreme amount of chic! " said Smythe, 
 whom, it will be remembered, had been to Paris. 
 
 " Grand ! Glorious ! It's a fortune to him ! " re- 
 plied Hough, feigning to be lost in admiration. And 
 Cleveland said, meditatively, 
 
 " Three thousand miles in three weeks without a 
 cent ! By Jove ! " 
 
 But Wasson rejoined that he did not believe a word 
 
 of it. 
 
 " It can't be done," said Smythe, positively. " No 
 man could do it. I couldn't do it myself ! "
 
 20 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 "Yes it can be done," cried Cleveland, " whether 
 you could do it or not. I could do it." 
 
 " You ! " 
 
 " Yes, me ! " 
 
 " I'd be willing to give you three months, and wa- 
 ger that then you could not. You'd starve to death 
 in three days, and commence telegraphing us to come 
 and bring you home before you crossed New Jersey," 
 said Smythe, contemptuously deriding the idea of 
 Cleveland's undertaking the feat. 
 
 " Don't be too sure about that, Smythe," retorted 
 Cleveland, warming up. " What man has done, man 
 can do. If that fellow came from New Orleans here 
 in a little over three weeks without a cent, I can go 
 from here to New Orleans in the same time on a like 
 amount of money. I'll wager ten thousand dollars I 
 can do it ! " And Mr. Benjamin Cleveland arose to 
 his feet and nodded his head in an aggressive manner, 
 though he had not the remotest idea }ris challenge 
 would be accepted, and only made the boast to sup- 
 port his assertion. Great then was his surprise 
 and a surprise not imtinctured with consternation, 
 when Smythe quickly replied, " I take the bet. 
 Hough, Wasson, you heard Ben. It's a bargain. 
 When will you start, Cleveland?" 
 
 But Ben courageously backed Lis assertion by 
 quickly replying, 
 
 " To-morrow ! " 
 
 " Pshaw ! Cleveland, don't make a fool of your- 
 self," spoke up Wasson. " Even if that fellow did 
 really do as he says he did, remember, he is a profes- 
 sional tramp, and you would be but a novice, at best. 
 You will lose your money, sure."
 
 THE PRODIGAL AND THE WAGER. 21 
 
 " I'm not urgent about the matter, only I do not 
 like a man to be so positive about a thing he knows 
 nothing of. You can draw the wager if } r ou wish, 
 Ben," said S my the. 
 
 The manner in which he said it, however, nettled 
 Ben, and though he had made his wager thoughtlessly, 
 and without a consideration of the humiliations, pri- 
 vations, and. hardships embraced in the proposed feat, 
 he refused to retract. 
 
 " No, Smythe. . I don't take water. The bet is 
 made. Let it stand." 
 
 There was a peculiar stubbornness in Ben's nature 
 that compelled him after having made a boast to carry 
 it out. Besides, the proposition was attractive from 
 its startling novelty. It was an excitement his na- 
 ture craved. In. the quick communion of his mind 
 the following thoughts resolved themselves into argu- 
 mentative forces. " I'm a worthless, shiftless, good- 
 for-nothing fellow anywa}-. I'm not rich enough to 
 support the life I would like to lead, and I know noth- 
 ing about ' mone3 r -making.' I need a good, practical 
 knowledge of the world more than any thing else in 
 it. A good shaking up. How to obtain it I don't 
 know. There are undoubtedly thousands of channels 
 open, but they are hidden from me. I have $10,400. 
 If I lose my wager, I am young and the world is be- 
 fore me. If I win, I'll have enough to take me to 
 Europe and see the sights for a couple of years. At 
 all events, there are none interested save myself. I 
 am alone in the world ; none dependent on me, I'm 
 dependent on none. Responsible to no one for my 
 acts, ncne to console a misfortune nor to share a 
 triumph. I'll go ! "
 
 22 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 And go lie did. 
 
 By the terms of the wager, duly drawn up that 
 evening, Cleveland was to start from the City Hall, 
 in New York City, at six o'clock in the afternoon of 
 the 10th of September, without money or any thing 
 of value on his person. In this condition he was to 
 make his way to St. Louis and from there to New Or- 
 leans, at which last named city he was to arrive, (and 
 make known his arrival by a telegram from the St. 
 Charles Hotel,) at, or before ten o'clock, A. M., City 
 Hall time, October the 2d, making the tramp in 
 twenty -one days from New York, with four hours 
 grace on the 2d of October, thrown in at the sugges- 
 tion of Hough, It was further stipulated that at no 
 time while performing the feat, should he appeal for 
 aid to friends, or use the influences of relatives or 
 name, either by reference or application, to assist him. 
 To recapitulate : Benjamin Cleveland was to make 
 his way from New York to New Orleans, via St. 
 Louis, in three weeks, as a penniless, professional 
 TRAMP ! "
 
 THE START. 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE START. 
 
 ON the 10th of September, the four friends had a 
 final meeting at a sumptuous little dinner, 
 given at the Fourteenth Street Delmonico's, by 
 Smythe. At three o'clock in the afternoon the party 
 broke up, with one last toast to the success of our 
 friend's undertaking. 
 
 As the hands of the City Hall clock pointed the 
 hour of six that evening, Smythe, Hough, and Was- 
 son, with a number of friends who had been informed 
 of the wager, shook hands with Ben on the steps of 
 the City Hall and bade him bon voyage. A min- 
 ute after, when the hives of the great metropolis were 
 turning loose their human bees, and the streets were 
 swarming with released humanity, homeward bound, 
 Benjamin Cleveland walked down Couftlandt Street, 
 with his hands in his empty pockets feeling as he 
 never felt before in all his life A TRAMP ! * * 
 
 Reader were you ever "broke "? Do you remem- 
 ber ever to have found yourself without money and 
 without the possibility of getting it ? If so, you will 
 not surely have to tax your memory to recall the cir-
 
 24 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 cumstance. The feeling of utter helplessness you 
 then experienced will be indelibly stamped on your 
 mind fresh and green for a life time. You were in 
 the world, yet not of it. You were a part and parcel 
 of humanity, yet held nothing in common with it. 
 Your mind wandered from subject to subject, and from 
 proposition to proposition, in a dazed, uncontrolled 
 manner that left your physical nature without a guide. 
 How empty every thing seemed. All you met ap- 
 peared to look right into your pockets and discover 
 the horrible truth. The commonest mortal with a 
 home and an occupation became a prince of peace and 
 plenty in your eyes. And then the ever occurring, 
 never answered, eternally harassing question that was 
 constantly forcing itself upon you in a thousand 
 shapes, " What shall I do ? " You truly felt how 
 small, petty and insignificant a thing man is without 
 money. A nonentity ; a cipher ; a NOTHING ! A 
 shadow of existence an effigy of immortality. 
 Then the desperate thoughts that came ploughing 
 along, tumbling over one another, and frantically ap- 
 pealing to you, for the action you did not possess. 
 Was it not horrible ! The dark deeds that pictured 
 themselves to you. The wild promptings to some des- 
 perate act. How you hated your fellow man. lie, 
 was not your fellow man! He was a being belonging 
 to altogether a different sphere than yours. There 
 was no fellowship about it. You were an Ishmaelite, 
 and there was a savage satisfaction in feeling that all 
 the world had its hand raised against you, and yours 
 against all the world. Indeed, to tell the truth, you 
 were not far from desperate deeds. The step from
 
 THE START. 25 
 
 poverty to crime is a short one, if poverty, itself, be 
 not a crime. A man without money feels an owner- 
 ship in every one else's property. An ownership 
 where Might becomes the agent of Possession. You 
 felt it. And perhaps it was more a lack of opportun- 
 ity than inclination that kept you from becoming a 
 criminal. Then do you remember the vows you made, 
 " if you could only once get out of this fix! " The 
 vices you intended to shun ; the economy you would 
 practice ; the practical and substantial sympathy you 
 would have for all forlorn mortals in your present pre- 
 dicament? The virtues of industry, perseverance 
 and prudence you would religiously follow? 
 Bah! 
 
 " When the devil was sick, the devil a saint would be. 
 When the devil got well, the devil a saint was he." 
 
 But perchance you have been " broke " more than 
 once. Several limes it may be. Vices, carelessness 
 and a peculiar faculty for getting rid of money have 
 reduced you to the predicament frequently. It has 
 become normal. Do you dread it ? No. It has lost 
 its horrors. You have discovered that a man who 
 starves in this country commits suicide. You have 
 also learned how to let your self respect have a half- 
 holiday. Rags have become familiar to you and wear 
 easily. You have learned to ask that you may re- 
 ceive. To knock at the door that the purse of the 
 party within may be opened unto you. And, withal, 
 there is a sort of freedom in the situation that is 
 agreeable. The conventionalities of society have no 
 claim upon you. You are beholden to no one, and 
 no one to you. As free as the winds to come and
 
 26 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 go, work or play, sing or howl in fact, to do as yon 
 please I Stocks up or stocks down it is all the 
 same. Banks may go into liquidation, and insurance 
 companies only insure a loss. What do you care ? 
 The president may go to Canada and the cashier to 
 Europe, and all available funds go along with them. 
 Bah ! Let the galled jade wince, your withers are 
 unwrung. They have none of your money. The woes 
 of others are your diversion. The Silver Bill a foot- 
 ball in the Senate ; Congressman Western Windy's 
 anti-tariff resolution ; the monthly statement of the 
 National debt; the four per cent, loan; you pass 
 them by with supreme contempt. If the country 
 were placed on its financial head tomorrow, kicking 
 its heels amid the clouds of bankruptcy, it would be 
 a matter of the most delightful indifference to you. 
 The pinnacle of your hopes, aspirations and desirey 
 may be realized in that ecstatic moment, when, filled 
 to the chin at the hospitable hands of some charitable 
 housewife, you recline at ease on the sunny side of a 
 plank and contemplate life through the hazy, somno- 
 lent contentment of a full stomach, without a care to 
 oppress you ! 
 
 Fortunately, or unfortunately, (as the case may be 
 considered by the reader) Benjamin Cleveland illus- 
 trated neither of these phases of impecuuiosity as he 
 walked down Courtlandt Street. 
 
 True, he was moneyless, and for the first time in 
 his life. But his was a voluntary exile into poverty, 
 and he had the stimulus of an object. There was 
 something to be attained ; something to strive for ; 
 an object in life.
 
 THE START. 27 
 
 And a life without an object is death in masquer- 
 ade. 
 
 One magical name was constantly in his mind. The 
 name of the goal : New Orleans. 
 
 What his sensations were as he walked toward the 
 Jersey City Ferry would be hard to analyze. He felt 
 somewhat sheepish and shame-faced. Every one pas- 
 sing seemed to take a personal interest- in him, and 
 say, " Ah, we know you. We know what you are 
 doing. We know you have no money. You are a 
 tramp ! " He could have sworn that such were their 
 thoughts. To be sure it was all imagination. They 
 were all doing exactly as he was thinking of them- 
 selves. The world rarely pays any attention to you 
 unless you tread on its toes. Plunge your finger into 
 the ocean withdraw it look for the hole I The 
 ocean is the world the hole yourself. Ben felt 
 queer. The central figure of his thoughts was New 
 Orleans. But the steps between New York and New- 
 Orleans were many, and he was but taking the initial 
 one. 
 
 While dreaming of the future he suddenly came 
 plump up against the present in the shape of the 
 Jersey City Ferry toll house. Forgetting for the mo- 
 ment the empty character of his exchequer, he en- 
 tered the gate and thrust his hand in his pocket for 
 the requisite toll. 
 
 The pocket was empty ! 
 
 Blushing at his forgetfulness, and stammering out 
 something to the toll collector about having left all 
 his change at home, Ben retreated from the gate and 
 into the street again.
 
 28 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 It was his first check. The first gate on his road. 
 And to tell the truth he felt lost. Here was only two 
 cents standing between himself and $20,000 ! Ri- 
 diculous ! Nevertheless a very substantial fact. 
 
 For half an hour he loafed up and down the piers 
 of the North River, wondering what he should do. 
 Once it suggested itself to him to go back to his 
 friends and acknowledge the attempt a failure. But 
 he thrust the thought aside as cowardly. Go he would, 
 though he had to swim to the opposite shore, or go up 
 to Albany and walk around the river 1 

 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 29 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 
 
 WHILE Ben reflected upon the majesty and 
 power of two cents, seated on a check post, 
 he was approached by a seedy individual, who had 
 been hovering in this vicinity eyeing him stealthily, 
 for some time. 
 
 " Mister," said the stranger, " would you be kind 
 enough to help a man a little. I'm broke, and I'm 
 sick. I have a wife and four children in Philadelphia. 
 I'm a shoemaker by trade, and if I could once get 
 back home, I'd get work ; and, on my word and honor 
 I'll send you any money you let me have." 
 
 Ben thought of his own utter financial emptiness 
 and smiled. The man thought he doubted his integ- 
 rity, and hastily promised : 
 
 " I'll do it, so help me ! I had all my money stolen 
 from me by a man that I befriended, who said he had 
 
 place to stop. I've been trying for work for two 
 
 eks and a starving to death a doing of it. I'll " 
 
 " Hold on," interrupted Ben, " I am sorry for you 
 but I have not a single cent myself." 
 
 The man looked incredulous.
 
 30 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " It is a fact," continued Cleveland. " I want to 
 go to New Orleans, and here I am stopped for want 
 of two cents with which to cross this ferry." 
 
 " What, you broke with all them good clothes on ! " 
 exclaimed the shoemaker in astonishment. 
 
 Ben thought he was dressed very shabbily, having 
 donned the oldest and coarsest suit he owned, but in 
 the eyes of the dilapidated shoemaker he was, un- 
 doubtedly, arrayed like unto a lily of the field. He 
 answered however: 
 
 " I tell you the actual truth, my friend. I have 
 not one cent myself." 
 
 " Have you had any thing to eat ? Are you hun- 
 gry? " asked the shoemaker, thrusting his hand into 
 a breast pocket and producing a package of cold vict- 
 uals wrapped up in a dirty piece of old newspaper. 
 
 Ben looked surprised at this generosity on the part 
 of one who a moment before had confessed himself as 
 starving to death, but refrained from expressing his 
 thoughts as he declined the proffered food. 
 
 "You've got along well for chuck, then, "remarked 
 the shoemaker, returning the package to his pocket. 
 
 Ben had a dim comprehension that " chuck " re- 
 ferred to food, and replied that he was not hungry, 
 adding the information that he was only recently be- 
 come " broke " and that it was the first time in his 
 life such a predicament had overtaken him ; where- 
 upon the shoemaker looked at him with commisera^ 
 tion. Indeed he appeared so to sympathize with Berr 
 that that young gentleman was touched, and said: 
 
 " I'm very sorry I have not something to give you, 
 for I know how a man in your position must feel, hav
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 31 
 
 ing a wife and four children at a distance and no 
 money to leach them with." But this was not re- 
 ceived graciously by the knight of St. Crispin, who 
 looked at Ben suspiciously and gruffly said : 
 
 " What are }*ou giving us ; lumps ? " 
 
 Ben was at a loss for the meaning of " lumps " but 
 answered pleasantly : 
 
 " 1 was speaking of your family ; your wife and 
 four children in Philadelphia." This was said so hon- 
 estly that the man's face cleared up in a moment, and 
 he broke into a coarse laugh. 
 
 " Philadelphia be blowed! This town's too fat to 
 leave. Big free lunches. Five cent hang ups. Best 
 town to codge in you ever struck ! Give you a reg'lar 
 sit down here. Philadelphia you only get a back door 
 hand out. Down there they allus think you're after 
 the spoons arid cutlery. Don't care a durn what you 
 are after here. All of 'em after sumthin' themselves. 
 All politicians here. Tell 'em you belongs to the 
 Ward. Find out what ward you're in first. Give 
 you big squares. Sometimes wealth and clo'es. 
 Give you a copper cent in Philadelphia, and make 3^011 
 go before a justice of the peace and swear you won't 
 spend it for drink. Here, don't care a cuss what you 
 spend it for. Philadelphia the lady of the house 
 comes down to see you and ask questions. Here, the 
 servant girl's boss ! If she's Irish, say you're a Fe- 
 nian. If she's Dutch, tell her you've got a saiier- 
 Waut wife. If she's a nigger, just tell her you're 
 hungry. Go striking in Philadelphia and they'll hand 
 you over to the police. Strike a man here and he's 
 white I Give him a stiff on some good trade. B ut
 
 32 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 look out you don't get caught up. I struck a man 
 this raorniu' and give him that I was a blacksmith. 
 Thunder ! What you suppose ! He took me about 
 six blocks, up to where he lived over his own shop, 
 and give me a big sit down. Then he took me down 
 to the shop and told me he'd give me work for the next 
 three months, and wanted me to go right to business ! 
 I pulled off my coat and let on that I'd struck oil at 
 last, an' then, of a sudden, told him I'd a keyster 
 down at a hang up with a leather apron in it, an' I'd 
 have to go after it. He wanted to lend me an apron, 
 but I told him I was so used to this one that I could 
 not work without it nohow. 
 
 "You see you must be careful who you, strike. 
 But I s'pects you're a fresh one. Now take my ad- 
 vice: unless there's big inducements taking you to 
 New Orleans, don't you leave this town. You're well 
 dressed, an' you look well. Why, with those togs on, 
 and that light over-Benny you can beat the restaur- 
 ants and lunches for the next twelve months ! Tramp- 
 ing aint what it used to be. It's overdone. There's 
 too many working at the business. There's no money 
 in it. You stay here." 
 
 Though Ben did not more than half understand 
 what the whilom shoemaker had been saying, he nev- 
 ertheless realized that he was conversing with a pro- 
 fessional parasite, one of those social excrescences, 
 so many of which are to be found in all large city 
 He thanked him, however, for the kind interest 
 took in his welfare, but reiterated his determination 
 to go to New Orleans. 
 
 " Then go by boat. Beat your way on a steamer. 
 
 he
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 33 
 
 Stow away, and when they're off once they can't land 
 you except they run into Havana." 
 
 " But I want to go to St. Louis first," said Ben. 
 
 " St. Louis is a good town. You hear me I The 
 soup season aint commenced yet. But they set boss 
 free lunches ! " And the professional rolled his eyes 
 as he mentioned the delights of the Future Great 
 City. 
 
 . " I'm much obliged to you for the information, I'm 
 sure," replied Ben. " But what troubles me just at 
 present is to cross this ferry." 
 
 " To cross the ferry ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Poh ! That's the easiest thing in the world. Go 
 give 'em a racket. Go to the wagon gate, I would. 
 The box man's too busy to attend to you. Tell the 
 man there you just had your pocket picked and must 
 get over in time to catch the Elizabeth train. Tell 
 him you'll pay him when you come back in the morn- 
 ing. Your clothes will carry you through." And the 
 shoemaker smiled on Ben's wardrobe approvingly. 
 
 " Thanks for your advice ; but to be frank, I had 
 rather not tell what is not so." 
 
 The eyes of the professional opened to their widest 
 extent. 
 
 " Gosh ! Where'd you say you were a going ? 
 New Orleans ! Well, mebbe you'll get there 
 
 ebbe not. See here, was that a stiff you was givin' 
 
 e?" 
 
 Ben replied that he did not fully comprehend what 
 a "stiff" might be, but he assured his interlocutor 
 that he was sincere relative to a due regard for the- 
 truth.
 
 34 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 The shoemaker "was evidently puzzled. He could 
 not understand the moral that could prevent a man 
 from attaining a convenience within the reach of a 
 lie. But his astonishment was tinctured with a re- 
 spect for a virtue he could not comprehend. 
 
 " It's all right, I s'pose," he remarked, " but it's too 
 funny for me. You're the first man I ever met that 
 wouldn't tell whatever suited him to get along easy. 
 Why, look a here ; you go up and tell that gate 
 keeper you're bust, and want to go over. He'll laugh 
 at you. Look on you with contempt. Go tell him 
 you live in Newark, and have just had your pocket 
 picked. He'll respect you, and treat you civilly, 
 whether he believes you or Hot; ten to one he'll let 
 you over. Lemme tell you somethin' as may be use- 
 ful to you on your way. There's no premiums for 
 truth, but there's an everlasting lot of chromos goes 
 with good lies. Now if it's agin your conscience to 
 gin the gate keeper .a racket, the only other way I 
 know for you to get over is to go up the street a piece 
 and jump a wagon. Gin the driver a good talk, and 
 get him to take you. So long, my friend. I wish 
 you luck. The band's about to play over in the Bow- 
 ery, an' jf I aint on hand in time, some unprincipled 
 vagabond will have my dress-circle seat with a lamp- 
 post back. So. long!" And shaking Ben by the 
 hand, the shoemaker turned and disappeared up a 
 neighboring thoroughfare. 
 
 Ignoring the professional's moral advice, our friendW 
 proceeded a short distance from the ferry, and meet- 
 ing a jovial, round-faced Hibernian, driving a dray, 
 told his desire to go over, and the impecunious posi-
 
 PROFESSIONAL ADVICE. 35 
 
 tion in which he was placed. The driver kindly gave 
 him a lift, and the gate was safely passed. On the 
 ferry, Ben answered the driver's numerous inquiries 
 as explicitly as he thought proper, and quite an ac- 
 quaintance was struck between them. When the 
 bout had deposited them on the Jersey City side he 
 dismounted, and after thanking the driver was about 
 proceeding on his way, when the latter thrust out a 
 dirty, toil soiled hand, and forced a quarter of a dollar 
 on him. " It aint much, but it'll help yez get a mouth- 
 ful to eat," and without waiting either protestations 
 or thanks, the man put whip to his team and drove off.
 
 36 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 OTJB HEKO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 
 
 WELL, it is charity," said Ben to himself, 
 " but it is acceptable for all that." He 
 then strolled up the gaslit street, for it had been 
 dark for some little time and repeatedly asked him- 
 self what would be the next move in the campaign he 
 had undertaken. 
 
 The "prodigal" had spoken of riding ; how was it 
 to be done ? Should he enter a train, take a seat and 
 wait until the conductor put him off ? He knew that 
 that manner of proceeding would gain him but a short 
 ride. Perhaps he might tell the conductor a pathetic 
 tale that would so work upon that individual's gener- 
 osity that he would allow him to continue on the 
 train. Alas, he knew the craft too well to attempt so 
 futile an undertaking. Not that conductors are a 
 hard-hearted class of persons, but their orders are 
 strict, and permitting a free ride would subject them 
 to a peremptory discharge. In fact Ben was lost. 
 At a distance the simple matter of going from place 
 to place looked easy enough of accomplishment, but 
 now that he was brought face to face with the prob-
 
 OUR HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 37 
 
 lem its solution became a difficult (indeed he was 
 about thinking an impossible) task. What to do or 
 where to go he knew not. For a time he gazed list- 
 lessly into the shop windows, and mechanically strolled 
 along. If he could only meet a tramp, he thought, 
 he would ask him how to proceed ; and he kept a 
 sharp lookout for one of the fraternity, but none pre- 
 sented themselves. It soon grew late, and the streets 
 lonely. The pedestrians became fewer and fewer, and 
 the shops, one by one, put up their shutters. Ben 
 thought he had never felt so lonesome in all his life ; 
 and he was right. There is no situation in life more 
 lonely, than to be alone in a great city at night fall. 
 In the Avoods a man has Nature to listen to and com- 
 mune with. On the prairies there are the stars and 
 the night breeze for companions. But in a metropo- 
 lis, a stranger among our fellow men, such a wretched, 
 helpless feeling comes over the traveller that his lone- 
 liness seats itself, not only on his mind, but on his 
 heart. This feeling was creeping with a dull, heavy 
 tread upon Ben, and he had already commenced to 
 anxiously question himself where lie should pass the 
 night that was now surrounding him, when his atten- 
 tion was suddenly aroused by a youthful voice, in a 
 dark side street, close by, crying out : 
 
 " Let me alone ! Let me alone, I say ! " and then 
 a gentle female voice entreating : 
 
 " Do not strike the boy, Arthur. Do not beat him. 
 He did not mean to ; I am sure he did not ! " 
 
 "I'll teach you to pick a pocket, you 3 r oung scoun- 
 drel ! " exclaimed an angry man ; and there followed 
 a blow, and a cry of pain.
 
 38 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 By this time Ben, who had accelerated his step, 
 reached the scene of disturbance, and discovered by 
 the dim light that crept from a street lamp, half a 
 block away, a large man grasping a boy by the arm, 
 and holding an uplifted cane, that a young lady was 
 striving to prevent again descending upon the captive. 
 The face of the latter being concealed by an old slouch 
 hat jammed clown over his eyes. 
 
 In Ben's nature was a strong love of justice. He 
 had ever been a champion of the weak, and an injury 
 inflicted by a strong arm on one incapable of resist- 
 ance was an outrage on his own sensitiveness, that 
 had involved him in many a rough-and-tumble while 
 a boy at school and college. As the man shook off 
 his fair companion's hand and the cane was about 
 descending again on the shrinking person of the boy, 
 he interposed his arm and caught the blow upon it. 
 
 " Don't strike the boy, sir. Please do not hit him. 
 Even if he has done wrong a beating will not improve 
 him." As he thus expostulated with the man he be- 
 came conscious of a pair of great, glorious, grey eyes, 
 that fairly glowed in the dark, looking gratefully 
 upon him from out the folds of a snowy nubia, and 
 a very melodious voice seconding his own entreaties, 
 with : 
 
 " I'm sure you are mistaken, Arthur. This gentle- 
 man is right. Pray do not strike the boy again." 
 
 But Ben's observations reached no farther, for the 
 man gave him a stinging blow across the face with the 
 cane, exclaiming fiercely : 
 
 " Confound your impudence, who asked you to in- 
 terfere ! " The next moment the man lay at length
 
 OUR HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 39 
 
 in the gutter, having been sent there by a powerful 
 and well directed blow with which, in the heat of the 
 moment, Ben had resented the indignity received by 
 him. 
 
 The next instant he repented such an act in the 
 presence of a lady and turned to apologize, when a 
 warning voice cried, " Look out ! He is armed ! " 
 and lie saw that his opponent had regained his feet 
 and was drawing a weapon from his pocket. What 
 the result might have been, had the man been allowed 
 to use his revolver, is not difficult to surmise. A shot 
 at such close quarters would probably have suddenly 
 terminated Ben's tramp, had not the boy who gave 
 the warning struck the man on the head' with a stone 
 before he had an opportunity to use the weapon he 
 was uncovering. The blow was a severe one, and 
 felled him senseless to the pavement. 
 
 " Come, come ! " cried the boy, " Let us get away 
 from here ! " 
 
 But Ben would not leave his fallen enemy without 
 ascertaining the extent of his injuries, and he imme- 
 diately offered his assistance to the young lady, who 
 now stood beside her senseless escort, wringing her 
 hands, and vainly imploring him to arise. He had 
 been only stunned, however, and as Ben stooped over 
 him showed signs of returning consciousness. At- 
 tempting to rise to his feet, he found himself still too 
 dazed from the effects of the blow, and would have 
 fallen had not Cleveland supported him. 
 
 " I am very sorry this should have occurred, Miss, 
 but really this gentleman is alone responsible for it," 
 said Ben apologetically.
 
 40 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Yes," she replied graciously. " No doubt you are 
 right, sir. I do not think the boy intended any wrong, 
 but but Arthur was ill tempered on account of 
 other matters, and allowed his anger to vent itself 
 on the first object it came across." 
 
 And Ben thought he noticed, that, though nervous 
 from the excitement, she did not appear to evince 
 much, sympathy for her companion. The latter soon 
 recovered his senses sufficiently to keep his feet, and 
 supporting himself by the young lady's arm prepared 
 to leave. As he was moving off he turned upon Ben 
 and said, with a malevolent scowl : " I will remember 
 you, sir." 
 
 " I trust, miss, you will pardon me for my rude- 
 ness," said our hero, addressing the young lady and 
 ignoring her companion. " I am very sorry for what 
 has occurred. Here is his pistol. I hope the next 
 time he draws it, it will be in defence of a more 
 manly action than striking one too small to defend 
 himself." And he handed the revolver 'to the young 
 ladj^, who received it with a simple " thank you, sir." 
 Ben lifted his hat courteously, and the fair one re- 
 turned a smile and an inclination of her head ; and 
 the three separated. 
 
 Our friend stood watching the retreating figures of 
 the lady and her escort, until they were lost in the 
 darkness, and then, instead of resuming his walk, he 
 leaned against a neighboring wall, while his thoughts 
 continued to follow the owner of the great, glorious, 
 gray eyes in the nubia. 
 
 Unconscious of his surroundings, his mind basked 
 in the light of the bewildering glances, and his ears
 
 OUR HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 41 
 
 danced to the music of the voice tl/at had pro- 
 ceeded from out the folds of the snowy nubia. Ben 
 had a large circle of young lady acquaintances, and, 
 being a fellow of culture and good looks, was a favor- 
 ite with the fair sex. Among them might have been 
 numbered many attractive and polished misses, some 
 of whom had treated our hero more than cordially. 
 But for all he retained the same simple feeling of 
 friendship, and, nothing deeper. There was a la- 
 tent feeling in the young man's composition that had 
 never been touched until that evening. A wonderful 
 change had now come over him. He felt that she of 
 the nubia was a fragment (and a pretty large one) of 
 his own existence. And it is singular, yet true, should 
 he never again have set eyes upon her, there would 
 have remained for life a tender memory in his heart 
 that nothing could have displaced. 
 
 There is many a heart, going about this world to- 
 day, with just such an uncompleted vision, locked up 
 as a sacred secret within. 
 
 "Pshaw!" he said to himself, "we probably will 
 never meet again." At the same time there was a 
 small voice, aiding and abetting a sanguine hope, 
 which kept saying : " Yes you will, Ben. Depend 
 upon it, you will, my boy ! " 
 
 Happening to look up from his musings, he discov- 
 ered the cause of the recent encounter standing a few 
 feet away, attentively observing him. The lad, find- 
 ing his presence noticed, approached closer and said 
 in a singularly soft, pleasant voice : 
 
 " I thank you ever so much. I chanced to run 
 against that man in the dark, and he called me a
 
 42 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 4 
 
 thief. I called him a liar. Then he struck me. I'm 
 no thief!" 
 
 " Do you. know the man ? " asked Ben. 
 
 There was considerable hesitancy in the boy's man- 
 ner as he answered : " No no I don't know him. 
 But I will, if I see him again, and I won't forget that 
 he struck me, either." 
 
 " I wish you knew him," said Ben. 
 
 " Why? " asked the other in surprise. 
 
 Ben blushed all to himself in the dark, but, reason- 
 ing that it was " only a boy," boldly answered : 
 
 " I should like to know whom his lady companion 
 is." 
 
 "Oh ! Is that it! " and the way he said it sounded 
 singular to Ben. " Well, I suppose you live here and 
 will have a chance to find out." 
 
 " No, I do not live here. I live in New York." 
 
 " Going home tonight ?" inquired the lad. 
 
 " No," laughed Ben. " I'm going to St. Louis before* 
 I go home again." 
 
 " To St. Louis ! I declare ! There is where I'm 
 going nryself." 
 
 " Perhaps we may travel together," suggested Ben, 
 laughing. 
 
 " No fear of that," replied the other. " I guess my 
 way of travelling wouldn't suit you. I go in a J*ull- 
 man Palace box car," and the boy laughed merrily. 
 
 " A what car ? " 
 
 " A Pullman Palace Box ! " returned the boy. 
 " I'm going to beat my way." 
 
 At last, thought Ben, I see a way out of the 
 woods !
 
 OUR HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 43 
 
 " Arc you indeed ! That is identically the way T 
 am going to travel. Do you think you can get to St. 
 Louis?" 
 
 " Get there ! " exclaimed the patron of the palace 
 box disdainfully. " Get there ! Well, I should say, 
 I have just made it from Boston here, and I made 
 it from Montreal to Boston. I know all the ropes, 
 now ; sure as you live, I do. And are you broke 
 too ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Cleveland ; " and that is not the 
 worst of it. I never was broke before, and, to tell 
 the truth, I'm a novice at beating my way, and do not 
 know just how to do it." 
 
 " Why, so far as that goes, beating one's way is 
 like any other kind of work. It is work. To be sure 
 it's not quite so pleasant as paying your way, and 3-011 
 have to put up with a good bit, but if you have the 
 nerve you may rest assured that you will get to your 
 destination all right. As we are going the same way, 
 suppose we go together ? " 
 
 " Agreed ! " said Ben, glad to have fallen in with 
 some one posted in the vagabond life he was about en- 
 tering upon. 
 
 " Then we're pards. Here's my hand on it ! " and 
 Ben grasped a warm, soft hand in his and the com- 
 pact was duly signed and sealed. 
 
 " Now, partner," said the boy, " as you say you are 
 new to the business, let me have the direction of af- 
 fairs until you get your hand in. We will have to 
 stay here for tonight, because the yards and tracks are 
 watched so close that it is next to impossible to jump a 
 train going out of here. But to-morrow we will foot
 
 44 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 it clown to Elizabeth, and make some side track below 
 that town, and jump a train in the evening. To-mor- 
 row night, by this time, we can make Philadelphia. 
 That will be a good time to jump some coal flats and 
 get out on the Central road." 
 
 "You speak as though you had been over the 
 route," said Ben in admiration of the practical man- 
 ner in which his new acquaintance handled the sub- 
 ject. He felt a great relief in having found a companion 
 who could tell him something about travelling in the 
 new style, not at that time being aware of the fact 
 that had he followed the railroad he could have picked 
 up a score of free riders going in any direction his 
 fancy may have desired. 
 
 The boy, however, denied havii.g ever been over 
 the road before. 
 
 " No, no," he said, " when you are on a tramp you 
 learn to post yourself on these matters. It's easy 
 done ; see here! Here's the public arid employee's 
 time-tables of all the roads that come into New York 
 City." And he showed Ben a pocket-full of railroad 
 time-tables. " With these you can keep posted just 
 how the trains run, where there are good jumping 
 places, tanks, switches, and so on. All the bums 
 carry them. They are their war maps. At the next 
 convention the tramps ought to vote a set of thanks 
 to the railroad companies for printing these things for 
 them. But now let's go to bed. Have you any 
 wealth ? " 
 
 " I have just twenty-five cents," replied Ben 
 acknowledging the quarter given him by the team- 
 ster. 

 
 'OUK HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 45 
 
 " Good enough. Keep your money for tobacco. 
 Are you hungry ? " 
 
 " No." 
 
 " All right then. We will get some breakfast be- 
 fore we start in the morning. Now let us go to bed. 
 I've got the boss hangup. It's a shed in a lumber- 
 yard. There's lots of nice clean boards in it. You 
 must go quiet, or the watchman will see us getting in, 
 though, after you get in the shed he never comes 
 by that way. Come on." 
 
 Ben followed the boy to a lumber-yard, and having 
 scaled a padlocked gate, they were about to make for 
 the shed, which was dimly discernible in the distance, 
 when the quick ear of the lad detected footsteps. 
 Quietly he led Ben into a recess, made by projecting 
 piles of lumber, and then the two crouched down, 
 awaiting the appearance of the person approaching. 
 That individual shortly came up in the shape of a 
 man and a veiy ragged one as seen through the 
 starlight. Behind him limped a comrade carrying a 
 small bundle. They were outside of the fence, and 
 halted when they arrived at the gate. 
 
 " Let's get in here, Billy," said the foremost in a 
 low voice. 
 
 " Oh, thunder, Peters ! My foot's too sore to climb 
 that there fence, and if a dog got after us on the other 
 side, I'd be gone up. Let's go to the Station-house 
 and have a good night's rest." 
 
 " I tell you I aint agoing to the police station, like 
 a slouch," replied he addressed as Peters. 
 
 " Oh, you're so durned high toned ! " muttered 
 * Billy.' '" There's as good men goes to the station as
 
 46 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 you be, and if you get over into that yard somebody 
 may .catch, you and hand you over, and then you'd go 
 up for a vag for sixty days, mebbe. I wish we'd a 
 camped out in the country and not come in town to- 
 night." 
 
 " We had to come in to get some snipes. You said 
 you was a dying for a smoke. Come now, and shin 
 over." And ' Peters ' commenced scaling the gate, 
 when Ben's companion called out : 
 
 " Get away from this yard, you scoundrels, or I'll 
 give you over ! " 
 
 A sudden fall from the gate, was followed by a 
 hasty shuffling of feet, and the boy said to Ben : 
 
 " All right, now. We have got rid of them. This 
 is my hangup, for I discovered it, and I don't want 
 any more lodgers. Come on." 
 
 When they were safely stowed away on the plank? 
 under the shed, Ben asked : 
 
 " Were those tramps ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied the other ; " peach-plucks, I s'pose. 
 The country's full of them." 
 
 " What are ' peach-plucks' ?" 
 
 " Fellows that tramp up and down Delaware and 
 Jersey during the peach season. They get work at 
 from fifty cents to a dollar a day, picking peaches. 
 Sleep out on the ground and live on corn-dodgers and 
 sow-belly. It's a star time with the bums, and I sup- 
 pose there's five thousand or more of them ramble 
 through the peach country. You see work aint 
 heavy and they can have all the peaches to eat they 
 want." 
 
 " But I should think that even at those small wages
 
 OUR HERO MEETS HIS DESTINY. 47 
 
 they might earn enough to keep them until they found 
 better employment," said Ben. 
 
 " They're not after employment ; they're out for an 
 airing, and only work two or three days at a time. 
 After the peaches play out, lots of 'em strike off 
 through the country for the Wisconsin hop yards, where 
 men and women pick in the fields together, and dance 
 all night. It is the life they like. Money's no ob- 
 ject. Let us go to sleep so that we can get up early." 
 And he lay down at full length on the boards as 
 though they were a bed of down. Ben followed his 
 example ; but the strangeness of his new position kept 
 him long awake, thinking thoughts that had never 
 before visited his mind. Once he gave his companion 
 a gentle push, and asked : 
 
 " Boy, what is your name ? " 
 
 " Tommy." 
 
 " Tommy, what are ' snipes ' ? " 
 
 " Cigar butts ! " and Tommy laughed a sleepy little 
 laugh, and was soon thereafter snoring. 
 
 Then came the sweet angel Sleep, and wrapped his 
 arms around city and woodland, palace and hovel, po- 
 lice station and lumber pile, and took his weary de- 
 votees off on a tour through dreamland. 
 
 About two o'clock in the morning, Ben awoke shiv- 
 ering with cold. The damp night air, warm enough 
 in the early evening, had chilled and aroused him. 
 II is restlessness startled Tommy who enquired what 
 the matter was. 
 
 " Ah, you were not tired enough to sleep sound." 
 And then Tommy showed him how to make a blanket 
 of hi.s cout and vest, by covering up his head with the
 
 48 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 coat and rolling the other up on the breezy side of 
 him, and in a few moments Ben felt himself quite 
 warm, and again dozed off. 
 
 That trick of making a blanket out of his coat and 
 covering up his head so as to retain all the heat of 
 respiration was a valuable one that he often thereafter 
 made use of.
 
 OUB HEBO EATS THE BREAD OF CHARITY. 49 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 OUB HEBO EATS THE BBEAD OF CHABITY. 
 
 BRIGHT and early, on the following morning, our 
 two tramps deserted the lumber yard, and 
 having found a pump, both performed their morning 
 ablutions ; Ben feeling a trifle stiff in tne neighbor- 
 hood of the spots where his bed rubbed him the heav- 
 iest. But relying on Tommy's assertion that he would 
 soon view a clean plank as a positive luxury, he made 
 no complaints. 
 
 " And now for breakfast ! " said Tom. " Then we 
 will start." 
 
 Never before had this matter of breakfast appeared 
 of such magnitude to Ben. It was as natural for him 
 to eat breakfast of a morning as to exist. It is so 
 with thousands of good people. And yet there are 
 many persons in the world who are ofttimes compelled 
 to look upon a matutinal meal as an unattainable lux- 
 ury, and respect it accordingly. 
 
 Tommy's cheerful invitation was somewhat reas- 
 suring, however. The two walked on in silence un- 
 til they were well out in the suburbs of the city, when 
 the boy turning to Ben, said :
 
 50 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " This will do. Now you are hungry, I'll war- 
 rant." 
 
 He did not deny the soft impeachment. Indeed 
 his well regulated interior had clamored loudly the 
 previous evening at the enforced fast imposed upon 
 it, and was now sternly calling upon its provider to 
 do his duty, and his whole duty, like a man. 
 
 " Listen to me," instructed Tommy. " You are 
 young at cadjing and I will have to give you some 
 points." 
 
 Ben not only gave an attentive ear but he took a 
 good look at his companion in the broad daylight. 
 The boy might have been fourteen or fifteen years of 
 age ; a round, plump little fellow, with a merry face, 
 and sparkling, hazel eyes shaded by long, black lashes. 
 There was something girlish in his cheek, it was so 
 round, and smooth, and rosy, without the slightest 
 sign of those capillary advantages that manhood's 
 prime was to decorate it with. An 'ungovernable 
 mass of curly black hair straggled from under a well 
 worn slouch hat that had bronzed beneath sun and 
 storm, and become limp and shapeless in its career of 
 pillow and basket. "When Tommy spoke his voice 
 had a clear, silvery ring, quite pleasant to the ear ; 
 and when he laughed he showed a dazzling set of 
 teeth. Such was Ben's new companion. He looked 
 as though he might be a good boy who would do many 
 a bad trick. 
 
 "Listen," he said. " We must get breakfast right 
 off. You take that side of the street, and 111 take 
 this. Go to the back doors and tell them any sort of 
 a tale that comes handy ; only don't forget to say,
 
 OUR HERO EATS THE BREAD OF CHARITY. 51 
 
 every time, that this is the first time you have ever 
 had to ask for such a thing in your life, and that you 
 scorn to accept it as a charity, but want to earn what 
 you eat, and you would like to saw wood enough for 
 your breakfast. But before you knock be sure you 
 look around and see that they use coal. We have no 
 tim^ to fool away manufacturing firewood. Now go 
 on, and we will meet down at the corner of the next 
 block ; the one that gets there first, to wait for the 
 other." 
 
 Of all forlorn mortals, Benjamin Cleveland felt at 
 that moment the most folorn. He could have charged 
 a battery, where there was no chance of coming back 
 alive, cheerfully. Ha could have ventured any des- 
 perate deed that required mere physical courage ; but 
 to go into a house and beg for something to eat, lie 
 could not ! His heart jumped to his throat with all 
 the nervous energy that attends physical fear in men 
 differently constituted from our hero. Gate after 
 gate was passed, he persuading and promising himself 
 that the next one should surely be entered. Once he 
 did stop with his hand on a latch, but chancing to look 
 up at the house he saw a little boy eyeing him from 
 an upper window, and retreated completely van- 
 quished. It required all his stubborness and constant 
 thoughts of New Orleans to prevent his giving up 
 the projected " tramp " there and then, and acknowl- 
 edging himself a failure. What was $20,000 to such 
 humiliation ! 
 
 But another course of reasoning came to his aid : 
 " You call it pride, Ben ; but are mistaken. It's lack 
 of nerve, my boy," said this new logician. u There
 
 52 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 is as much nerve required in facing humiliations as 
 there is in facing a batteYy. More, sometimes. Phys- 
 ically brave men are plentiful. It is mental bravery 
 that is lacking in you and thousands of others. To 
 be sure it is low. It is humiliating. It is fagging. 
 You will be a beggar. But you have an object to at- 
 tain, and it can only be attained the one way. It is 
 either do it, or surrender ! " 
 
 This sophistry at last wrought so upon him that 
 closing his eyes upon all surroundings, he made a 
 blind dash "at a gate, and without allowing himself 
 time to think hurried around to the mansion's back 
 door, at which he was actually knocking before he 
 fully understood himself, and without once remember- 
 ing Tommy's injunction to be careful and satisfy him- 
 self that there was no obnoxious woodpile in the vi- 
 cinity. 
 
 A man answered his knock, and all his courage im- 
 mediately oozed out. If it had only 'been a woman, 
 he thought, it would have been different. -But how 
 could he ask a man for something to eat ! He could 
 not, and he did not, but stammering out some irrele- 
 vant inquiry about an imaginary Mr. Brown, he blushed 
 and looked decidedly sheepish. The man, eyeing 
 him suspiciously, replied that no Mr. Brown lived 
 there, or in that neighborhood, and shut the door in 
 his face. 
 
 Poor Ben made his way to the sidewalk feeling 
 smaller than ever in his life. Truly if the $20,000 is 
 to be earned at this price it will be dear enough ; and 
 he had not the heart to make another back door ap- 
 peal, but walked to the appointed rendezvous, and 
 there awaited Tommy.
 
 OTJK HERO EATS THE BHEAD OF CHAKITY. 53 
 
 That young gentleman shortly appeared, smacking 
 his lips, and looking as well fed and contented as pos- 
 sible. 
 
 " I had a splendid breakfast ! Mutton chops, hot 
 waffles, fried potatoes, scrambled eggs, coffee, oh 
 my eye, such coffee ! Three cups of it ! Oh! " and 
 Tommy, his vocabulary unable to furnish him with 
 adjectives to do full justice to the merits of the coffee, 
 rolled his eyes instead, little knowing the misery his 
 bill of fare was giving poor empty stomached Ben. 
 
 "What did you have, partner?" 
 
 Ben very truthfully remarked that he had had a 
 light breakfast, indeed not much of anything to speak 
 of. 
 
 " Then why don't you go into another house and 
 keep agoing until you're full ? " asked Tommy. " Go 
 back where I was and tell them I sent you. There's 
 lots left." 
 
 But this proposition was viewed unfavorably by 
 Mr. Cleveland, who remarked that he was not very 
 hungry, (which was false) and that he would purchase 
 a nickel's worth of crackers, which would fill him to 
 repletion. 
 
 " Do as you please," replied his companion, but I 
 advise you not to spend your money foolishly. You 
 can get all the chuck you want, by asking for it, and 
 can save your money for newspapers and tobacco 
 and (reflectively) hair grease." 
 
 Ben persisted in the extravagance of a nickel's 
 worth of crackers, however, and when he had eaten 
 them, felt much better. He also purchased a dime's 
 worth of tobacco, some of which -he offered Tommy, 
 who refused the weed.
 
 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 The two now took to the railroad, and late in the 
 afternoon made a water tank and side track below 
 Elizabeth, where the time table "For employees 
 only," informed them many trains would stop to wa- 
 ter and pass, during the night. 
 
 On the walk down the track, Tommy had made nu- 
 merous excursions to houses along the lines for " hand 
 outs." He met with much success and nearly always 
 returned with something. Sometimes with bread, 
 sometimes bread and meat, and once a lot of soft rice 
 pudding, carefully conveyed in his hat ; all of which 
 he shared with Ben, and when they had more than 
 they needed, gave to other tramps whom they met. 
 They passed several of these gentry on their way north- 
 east. At such a meeting, all hands would squat on the 
 rails and a long confab ensue. There were two ques- 
 tions always asked by those ' they met. One was, 
 " How's ' times ' where you fellows come from ? " and 
 the other, " How's grub on the road ? " , All of them 
 professed to be in search of work ; which, no doubt, 
 the majority honestly were, but work is at present a 
 very scarce article in the United States. 
 
 These tramps either preferred walking, or had been 
 recently " bounced " from trains on which they were 
 stealing rides. Hardly any took to the country roads, 
 
 save it might have been in the vicinity of a town, 
 
 much preferring the railroads, from which fact 
 they have derived the sobriquet of "cross-tie sailors." 
 Once while Ben was sitting on a pile of ties, awaiting 
 Tommy's return from a foray into a neighboring farm 
 house, he heard his name called, and looking in the 
 direction of the house saw Tom vigorously beckonino-
 
 DUE, HERO EATS THE BREAD OF CHARITY. 55 
 
 him. A plump, kind faced, motherly housewife gave 
 him a pleasant greeting, and on a bench he saw spread 
 an appetizing banquet of bread, butter, milk and ap- 
 ple sauce, to which his little friend was energetically 
 devoting himself. Ben needed no persuasion to fol- 
 low his example ; the good dame,- meanwhile, stand- 
 ing by, and condoling with them. 
 
 " I have a son at sea, myself," said she, " and Heaven 
 watch over my dear boy ! I know not when the fierce 
 winds may shipwreck him among strangers. God, 
 forbid, though. You, young men, should be thankful 
 that it is no worse. And don't forget to thank Him 
 who did it for extending his protecting hand to you." 
 
 This was all not quite so lucid as Greek to Ben, 
 who judiciously replied in monosylables, as he de- 
 voured the food. On leaving, their kind hostess pre- 
 sented them with a large package of bread and ham. 
 
 When they regained the truck, Tommy explained 
 that he had given the good lady " quite a racket." 
 The " racket " proved to be a pathetic tale of ship- 
 wreck in which the two tramps had taken a prominent 
 part, having recently landed destitute in New York 
 City, from thence they were making their way on foot 
 to their homes in Baltimore. While Ben could not 
 indorse the moral laxity embraced in the "racket," 
 he nevertheless admired the milk and apple sauce. 
 The bread and ham made them a hearty supper that 
 afternoon, when they had taken to the seclusion of a 
 small grove near the tank and side track. After their 
 repast, Ben was about to remove his boots ; for his 
 feet were tired and badly chafed. Tommy advised 
 him not to, stating that it would be better to let his
 
 56 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 feet "get used to it," and that they would "harden 
 quicker " by allowing his boots to remain on. He took 
 them off, though, and both lay down for a nap to 
 strengthen them for the night's work. 
 
 They were soon asleep. Our hero dreamed of New 
 Orleans and its glories. Of bread and milk, a moth- 
 erly woman and a gruff man. Of gates that would 
 not open, pull them ever so hard ; and doors that he 
 battered his knuckles to pieces on without there being 
 a response. But most he dreamed of a pair of great, 
 glorious, grey e t yes, that, indeed, had occupied his re- 
 flections the major portion of the day. 
 
 If Tommy's face indicated the thoughts passing 
 through his mind, his dreams were far from pleasant. 
 He gritted his teeth, and clenched his hands, and 
 muttered hoarsely as he tossed about. Gradually he 
 rolled over on to Ben's outstretched arm. And the 
 arm unconsciously closed around him and drew him 
 to Ben's bosom, on which pillowing his fyead, the boy 
 slept soundly.
 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE. 57 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE. 
 
 BEN had just knocked at a back door and a man 
 was threatening to set the dogs on him if he 
 did not take himself off, and he was in the midst of 
 eloquent protest, that he was no tramp and was not 
 doing this thing from necessity, when Tommy awoke 
 him, and he started up with his protest but half ut- 
 tered, to find the night air quite chilly, and countless 
 stars in the. coverlet of Earth winking and blink- 
 ing at him in a most familiar manner. 
 
 " Get up," said Tommy. " It is ten o'clock ! If 
 you sleep that way much longer you will talk yourself 
 to death." 
 
 " Have I been talking in my sleep ? " he asked sit- 
 ting up with a yawn. 
 
 " I should say so, indeed," replied Tom. " I've 
 been listening to you for the past half an hour." He 
 did not further state that during the half hour he had 
 bent, like a timid girl, over Ben and kissed him on 
 cheek and forehead but not on the lips. But such 
 was the fact. 
 
 " Come, it's ten o'clock and the freight is about due," 
 said he.
 
 58 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " How do you know what time it is ? " 
 
 " By my watch, of course. How else ? " 
 
 " Have you a watch ? " asked Ben, in surprise. 
 
 " To be sure. A splendid time piece. Been run- 
 ning these thousands of years, and never yet needed 
 repairing. There it is," and he pointed to the Heav- 
 ens. 
 
 " Where ? " 
 
 " Why up there the Big Dipper ! You can tell 
 time by the handle of it. Now you have learned 
 something. Get up ! " 
 
 Again on his feet he found himself quite stiff. It 
 appeared to him as though all of his joints were sol- 
 dered together. 
 
 " Oh you will soon 'get used to that," consolingly 
 reflected Tommy. " Bump your back against a tree 
 and that will shake you limber. Hi ! Here she 
 comes ! Now for it ! Hurry up ! " And in the dis- 
 tance was seen the great Cyclopean eye of a locomo- 
 tive, and the rumble of the approaching train filled 
 the air. 
 
 " Hold on Tom ! I can't get on my boots," ex- 
 claimed Ben, striving to force his swollen feet into 
 them. 
 
 " We can't wait, Ben. Come on in your stockings. 
 Carry your boots in your hand. Hurry up ! Here 
 she is ! " 
 
 Thus urged he limped over the rough ground with 
 his boots in his hand. 
 
 'Not this side," said Tommy. "Take the other 
 side of the track ; they'll see us here. Come, look 
 sharp and get over before the headlight discovers us."
 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE. f>9 
 
 Ben hobbled over the track and both crouched down 
 behind a pile of old rails on the opposite side from 
 the tank. While cowering there the train drew up 
 with a rush, and a roar, and a screeching of brakes, 
 and stopped to fill its own tank. 
 
 Scarce had it come to a standstill when three fig- 
 ures glided like shadows from among the cars, and 
 swiftly ran and hid behind the pile of rails where our 
 friends were crouching. One of them observing them 
 asked, in a hoarse whisper : 
 
 " Goin' to jump her ? " 
 
 " Yes," whispered Tom in reply. " What's the 
 show?" 
 
 " None at all," returned the other. " She's a loaded 
 train. Every box locked. We've been making it 
 on the drawheads from Newark. That's your only 
 show." 
 
 Tom uttered an exclamation of disappointment. 
 
 " Ben, can you ride bumpers ? " 
 
 " I think so. What are they ? " 
 
 " Bumpers. Drawheads. The coupling between 
 the cars. Here's three beats riding drawheads and 
 they say it's our only show. If you. think you can, 
 we will try it." 
 
 Our hero answered that he had no experience in the 
 business, but was willing to make the attempt. 
 
 " It's death, to fall," said Tommy ; and then the 
 boy cogitated a moment, and whispered : 
 
 " It won't do. You couldn't do it. Not in your 
 stocking feet anyway. We'll have to let this train 
 go." 
 
 At this time the whistle sounded " off brakes," and
 
 60 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 the engine wheels began to revolve. As the train got 
 under headway, the three figures stealthily stole forth, 
 and plunging between the cars, the long screeching, 
 grinding chain of wheels, appear to roll over them 
 and grind them out of existence. 
 
 Not so, however. As the train sped away, each of 
 the three was dangling on that narrow, precarious, 
 bumping, jerking little platform, made by the links 
 and connecting drawheads of the cars. A most dan- 
 gerous place truly, and many a tramp has left them 
 for Eternity. A jolt ! The foot slips ! A yell ! 
 And all is over. The tramp is finished. 
 
 But Ben discovered before he reached New Orleans 
 that the bumpers were not the most dangerous place 
 about a train on which men attempted to steal rides. 
 When no other opportunity offers, as in the case of a 
 passenger train sometimes, the trucks beneath the 
 cars are improved, where with a constant roar in their 
 ears, a storm of dust and gravel in their faces, and 
 a cramped position like a contortionist in his box 
 among the bottles these knights of vagabondage 
 cling on like squirrels. 
 
 Sometimes there is an extra heavy jolt, or a larger 
 stone than usual strikes them on the head. In such 
 cases the coroner's jury discover that the man was a 
 tramp and came to his death by being run over by 
 the cars. What would we do without coroner's ju- 
 ries? 
 
 Tommy watched the retreating train for some time, 
 and then said to Ben : 
 
 " Never mind ; better luck next time. I don't think 
 you could have made it on the bumpers. Here's my
 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE. 61 
 
 knife. Cut your boots so that you can get them on. 
 The lightning express will be along soon, and we can 
 make fifty or sixty miles on it. If the express car 
 has an open end, by thunder, we'll jump the pilot ! " 
 
 " What did those men get off for ?'' asked Ben. 
 
 " Why," explained Tom, " when the train stops, 
 they take to cover so that the train men will not see 
 them." 
 
 " There were three making their way on that 
 train." 
 
 " Hard telling," replied Tom. " There may have 
 been a dozen ; on the trucks, and bumpers, and hang- 
 ing on the ladders ; besides some that may have 
 forced an end gate and locked themselves in a box. 
 When I was at Albany, there came in a train from 
 the west and I heard the conductor boast that he'd 
 made one trip without a deadhead. Well, Ben, when 
 they came to open one of the cars that had wheat in 
 it they found a man inside dead as a herring. He had 
 forced the end gate and then nailed himself in, and 1 
 expect the dust or something smothered him before 
 he could get it open for fresh air." 
 
 " That was a deadhead, sure enough. Did they 
 find out who he was ?" asked Ben. 
 
 " Bless you, no. What does any one care about a 
 dead tramp. I was in hopes there'd be an empty on 
 that train that we could have jumped, and made it 
 clean through to Philadelphia. Now, we will have to 
 give the Express a whirl. 
 
 Ben had scarce got his boots on, after cutting them 
 considerably, when the express was heard thundering 
 in the distance.
 
 62 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Look alive now ! " cried Tom. " Follow me close. 
 She hardly stops at all, only just slacks up for that 
 crossing ahead." 
 
 Down rushed the express on another track from the 
 one occupied by the freight, and as it slacked its speed 
 near the travellers, they sprang from their hiding 
 place, and hugging tight to the side of the still mov- 
 ing train, ran along it toward the forward end. One 
 look at the express car sufficed for Tom. 
 
 "' No go ! " he hurriedly whispered. " There's a 
 door in the end. Make for the pilot. Quick! 
 Quick ! " 
 
 Expedition was necessary, for the air breaks had re- 
 leased their grip upon the wheels, and the train was 
 again assuming speed. 
 
 Tom rushed in front of the locomotive and with a 
 spring and a scramble, safely seated himself on the 
 platform immediately above and in the rear of the pi- 
 lot ; or, as it is better known in schoolboy nomencla- 
 ture, the " cow-catcher." 
 
 Ben was not so fortunate. With a scantier knowl- 
 edge of their construction and the art of boarding 
 them, his foot slipped from the inclined grating and 
 struck the fast retreating rail beneath. Another in- 
 stant and he would have been drawn down to death, 
 had not Tommy's hand grasped his collar and aided 
 him up. 
 
 " Thank you, Tommy," he said warmly, " I owe 
 you one." 
 
 " You may be able to pay me sometime. Aint this 
 old peaches ! " And Tommy gazed on the great broad 
 pathway of light in front, made by the Cyclopean eye 
 over head.
 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE. 63 
 
 The novelty of his new position was exhilarating 
 to Ben. There was a spice of danger about it, that 
 made it enchanting. 
 
 What if the locomotive should jump the track ! 
 Or should be ditched ! Or run into another train ! 
 Or strike some stray animal ! It rocked and swayed 
 to and fro like a ship at sea. He could hardly satisfy 
 himself that this ratiling, rickety, rocking, jumping, 
 sliding, groaning iron horse was the same metallic an- 
 imal that pulled those easy riding, luxurious coaches 
 he had so often rode in. It appeared to him novice 
 in locomotive riding as he was that every moment 
 the steel shod steed was about to leave the track and 
 take to the fields. Singular too, it was neither cold 
 nor windy ; for nestling close against the iron boiler 
 head both felt quite comfortable. 
 
 " Tommy," said Ben, " suppose we should catchup 
 a horse ? " 
 
 " Then we'd be a horse ahead," replied Tom. " I 
 met a tramp who had taken a ride on a cow-catcher 
 on the New York Central. He was bound for Buf- 
 falo. Well sir, they caught up a big pig, and landed 
 it all unhurt, but terribly scared, right into the tramp's 
 lap. He hung on to it, and when he got the bounce, 
 he took the pig with him and sold it for enough to 
 pay his fare to Buffalo." 
 
 " And bought a ticket out of his hog speculation ? " 
 suggested Ben. 
 
 "Of course not. He went on a big spree, got 
 broke again, and beat his way through." 
 
 Ben was about protesting against such a misappli- 
 ance of the means good fortune had placed at the
 
 64 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 tramp's disposal, when the current of his thoughts 
 was radically changed by a lump of coal striking him 
 on the foot. 
 
 " Hello ! What's that ? " he exclaimed. 
 
 " Wait a moment and I'll see," said Tommy, rising 
 and peering over the rim of the boiler. Scarce had his 
 head appeared above it however, when he quickly 
 dodged back, and another lump flew whizzing down 
 the broad avenue of light, 
 
 " Just as I suspected," said he ; " they know we 
 are here and the fireman is pegging coal at us to amuse 
 himself." 
 
 "What will we do?" 
 
 " Why, we can't do any thing, only wrap our coats 
 over our heads and let him peg away. They can't 
 bounce us until the train stops." 
 
 But the fireman soon tired of his sport, and only an 
 occasional missile reminded the voyagers that their 
 presence was known in the cab. Once; Ben in chang- 
 ing his position, arose to his feet and looked the Cy- 
 clopean eye square in the pupil. Tom hastily pulled 
 him down ; but none too soon, for a shower of coal 
 announced the indignation he had excited behind 
 them. 
 
 He really enjoyed the ride and could scarce credit 
 his senses when his companion informed him that they 
 had come forty miles. It was agreed to leave the pi 
 lot the moment the train slackened speed enough to 
 permit their so doing, and Tommy thought that it 
 would be impolitic to attempt to " jump " it again, as 
 their presence was known. Therefore, when the train 
 drew up on entering the depot at Trenton, our
 
 UNDER THE CYCLOPEAN EYE. 65 
 
 voyagers jumped from their perch and were greeted 
 with a shower of coal and a volley of imprecations 
 by the irate fireman, both missiles passing them harm- 
 lessly. 
 
 As they turned to look at the long line of passen- 
 ger coaches, now slowly drawing to a stop in the de- 
 pot, Ben uttered a cry of surprise. Seated at an open 
 window he had seen the great, glorious, grey eyes, 
 and their owner. Beside her sat an elderly gen- 
 tleman, while in a seat, immediately in their rear, was 
 his antagonist of the previous evening. His own sur- 
 prise prevented him from noticing that Tommy's face 
 had grown ashy white, and while the boy's teeth were 
 clenched until his lips grew blue, hi.* eyes glowed 
 with an unnatural fire. Cleveland was about to move 
 off toward the train, when Tommy caught him by the 
 arm. 
 
 " Where are you going? " he asked, hotly. 
 
 " On that train, Tom ; I must, I must ! " answered 
 he, little appreciating what he was saying. 
 
 " Don't be a fool. What are you going to do on 
 that train without money ? " 
 
 Ben immediately recovered his senses, and looked 
 dejected. 
 
 "What's the matter with you, partner?" asked 
 Tommy as he took him by the aim and the two turned 
 away. " What ails you ? " 
 
 ' Tom," said Ben solemnly, " it may seem very 
 foolish to you, but I should like to know that young 
 lady, very much." 
 
 -What for?'' 
 
 "I I don't really know ; but I should, indeed I 
 should ! " he repeated earnestly.
 
 66 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Ben, I'll tell you something for your consolation," 
 said the boy ; " they are going to St. Louis, too ! " 
 
 " Who ? " asked Ben, in surprise. 
 
 " That young woman with the grey eyes." 
 
 Ben looked his amazement : 
 
 " Tom," he at last said, " who are you ? " 
 
 " I'm myself," replied Tom. " There's no mystery 
 about me, partner. That party is going to St. Louis, 
 and I happened to overhear them say so in Jersey 
 City. Perhaps you may meet them there ; and," he 
 added in a lower tone that Ben did not hear, " per- 
 haps I may."
 
 THE PULLMAN BOX CAB. 67 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE PULLMAN BOX CAR. 
 
 WHILE loafing about the depot, waiting for an- 
 other Philadelphia train, a string of empty 
 coal flats and gondolas drew slowly past on another 
 track. Tom's quick, practical and professional eye 
 immediately noticed them, and also the brand on the 
 cars telling the road they belonged to. 
 
 " Hurrah ! " said he, " we've made a close connec- 
 tion ! Come on ! " and in a short time Ben found 
 himself at the bottom of a black, dusty coal-smeared 
 gondola. 
 
 " Bully I " exclaimed Tommy. " Here we are and 
 no one saw us get in, so if we keep quiet and lay low 
 we are not likely to be disturbed." 
 
 This prediction proved correct, for they travelled 
 the remainder of the night in the gondola without 
 being noticed. The train went slow, and stopped 
 often, switching frequently, but as they lay at the bot- 
 tom of the car and there was no travelling over them 
 by employees, they were not interfered with. Singu- 
 larly enough, Ben fell asleep while the train was in 
 motion, and slept well. The jolting of the gondola
 
 68 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 became rather conducive to his slumbers, than other- 
 wise. 
 
 In the grey of the dawn the two got down at a 
 side track, in the city of Easton, Pennsylvania, cov- 
 ered with coal dust and as black as chimney sweeps. 
 
 " We are across the State of New Jersey, anyway," 
 said Tommy. 
 
 " That's encouraging," returned Ben. " If I make 
 as good time right through, I shall win my wager 
 easily." 
 
 " What wager ? " asked Tommy. 
 
 Ben was momentarily confused, but answered that 
 he had wagered with some friends that he could make 
 St. Louis by the 22d of the month. 
 
 " Oh, that's easy enough done. Let us have a scrub 
 up, and then get some chuck." 
 
 The " scrubbing up " proved a formidable opera- 
 tion. The coal dust seemed ground into their skins, 
 and despite much rubbing under the spou^ of a pump, 
 Ben differed materially in appearance from the young 
 gentleman who had left New York city but a day be- 
 fore. Much of this was due to the rumpled and dirty 
 condition of his clothes, which were all creased, and 
 gave him the appearance of having been run through 
 a mill of some sort. 
 
 The two travellers separated with the agreement to 
 meet at the railway station in about an hour, and per- 
 fect plans for future operations. Ben was quite 
 hungry. His long night's ride had given him a 
 vigorous appetite that he felt would have to be ap- 
 peased shortly. He also felt that the past forty-eight 
 hours had wrought a great change in him. He was
 
 THE PULLMAN BOX CAR. 69 
 
 no longer himself, so to speak. A new man had been 
 born within him. A callous, careless, independent 
 man, that had not been in his possession before. He 
 felt indifferent as to appearances, and the stares of 
 strangers did not annoy him. He shuffled along with 
 his hands in his pockets, and head down. He slouched. 
 A marked contrast to his usual erect deportment. In 
 fact, he was becoming (though he did not know it) a 
 tramp. It still was humiliating to have to ask for 
 something to eat, but nature overcame his objections, 
 and he proceeded to the back door of a comfortable 
 cottage. The door was open, and a rough-looking, 
 dirty man was seated at a table eating his breakfast. 
 
 "Well?" said this individual, surveying Ben sur- 
 lily. 
 
 "I beg your pardon; but but I'd like to do 
 something to earn a little breakfast, if " 
 
 " That's enough ! " interrupted the man. " Go 
 work for your living, and earn it, as I have to do. Be 
 off now, and see that you don't take any thing that 
 don't belong to you. You tramps should be arrested. 
 The country's overrun and ruined with you. Why 
 don't you give up your lazy life and go to honest work 
 like the rest of us ? " 
 
 Poor Ben hastily left, and felt very bad about his 
 reception. After a short time his mortification turned 
 to^anger, and he wished a score of times that he could 
 have the dirty man all to himself in a quiet place for 
 a short time. He moreover determined to get some 
 breakfast if he had to visit every house in Eastou. 
 In fact the repulse, in a manner, did him good. 
 
 His next attempt was successful, and a hospitable
 
 70 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 housewife, after shooing her children into the "house 
 with her extended dress, gave him a very substantial 
 repast on the buck door step. She was evidently ac- 
 customed to back door guests, and said but little and 
 asked no questions. They had ceased to be a novelty. 
 
 Thanking her in a gentlemanly manner, some- 
 thing that called a look of surprise to the lady's kind 
 face our hero made his way to the depot, with a 
 feeling of quiet rest in the region of his late hunger 
 that was highly satisfactory and worth all the humili- 
 ation in the world. Who should he there discover 
 seated on the depot steps, picking his teeth with a 
 splinter and hugging a small bundle under his arm, 
 but the dirty man that had refused him a breakfast. 
 He was half inclined to go up and reproach him for 
 his inhospitality ; but thought better of the matter, 
 and was passing on with a frown, when the dirty man 
 looked up with a grin, and said : 
 
 " Get yer peck, pardy ? " 
 
 " What? " said Ben, turning angrily upon him. 
 
 " Get your commissary filled ? There, there. You 
 needn't be angry at me. There wasn't enough for 
 two I swar there wasn't. I'd invited you in if 
 thur hed been." 
 
 " Why you confounded puppy, you are nothing but 
 a tramp yourself, then ! " exclaimed Ben in indignant 
 astonishment. 
 
 " Incourse," coolly replied the dirty man ; "I never 
 'lowed I wus any thing else." And he grinned again. 
 
 Ben felt that this grin was contagious, and as his 
 outraged sensibility would not permit him entering 
 into fellowship with his brother professional, he moved
 
 THE PULLMAN BOX CAR. 71 
 
 away. Ultimately Tommy and he had a good laugh 
 over the fellow's cool impudence. 
 
 Tommy shortly made his appearance, having met 
 with his usual success, though he confessed to visit- 
 ing six different houses before his appetite was ap- 
 peased. 
 
 A freight train stood on a side track a short dis- 
 tance from the depot, and after a professional explor- 
 ation, the boy returned with the intelligence that it 
 numbered several u empties." 
 
 " It is a splendid chance," said he, enthusiastically. 
 " I asked one of the yardmen and he says the train is 
 made up for over the mountains. We might make 
 Pittsburg on it." 
 
 A few moments later the two were safely ensconced 
 in an empty car, having crawled through the window 
 in the end, all unobserved. Crouching down in a 
 corner they remained perfectly quiet, rarely speaking 
 even in a whisper, lest they should attract attention 
 from the outside. Several times footsteps were heard 
 passing, and their coming and going were matters of 
 the most intense anxiety to Ben, whose imagination 
 made every sound a conductor's approach and an ac- 
 companying discovery. At last the train started ; 
 backed up on another track ; switched around some 
 cars ; and then all remained quiet again for a few mo- 
 ments, until the engineer suddenly sounded " off 
 brakes " with his whistle, and the voyagers were con- 
 gratulating themselves on a start, when a dark object 
 was hurled through the window, and following it, 
 three ragged men, one after another, plunged through, 
 headforemost; much the same as the clown goea 
 through the baker's window, in the pantomime.
 
 72 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 "Helloa! Blazes!" exclaimed the first to alight. 
 " All the berths taken ? " 
 
 " Hush," said Tom, "or you will give us away." 
 
 " That's all right. We're solid now. The train's 
 in motion," said another ; while the third stepped off 
 the " wind up " to a familiar jig, in testimony to his 
 utter indifference to noise. 
 
 Indeed the train being in motion the chances of 
 discovery were greatly diminished in the voyagers 
 favor. 
 
 " Where you travelling, boss? " asked he of the an- 
 tique carpet-bag, which proved to be the dark object 
 that had first entered the window. 
 
 " St. Louis," answered Ben. 
 
 " St. Louis be blowcd. I come from there three 
 months ago The town's a good town, but its always 
 crowded. Better go South. Cold weather's coming 
 on before long, 
 
 " And I sigh for the land, 
 Where the orange blossoms bloom." 
 
 And he wound up by singing these lines in a rich 
 baritone voice. 
 
 " Where are you fellows going ? " asked Tom. 
 
 " Cincinnati, sure's you breathe," answered one. 
 
 " An' then New Orleans an' the jetties ! We're 
 the United States Special Commission for ascertain- 
 ing the depth of water in the South West Pass, 
 that's who we are!" said the terpsichorean artist; 
 and another series of jig steps emphasized this im- 
 portant announcement. 
 
 " Hello, young fellow," exclaimed the third man, 
 extending a nod of recognition to Tommy. " How 
 de do. Got this fur, hev ye ? "
 
 THE PULLMAN BOX CAR. 73 
 
 Tommy recognized a fellow traveller who had jour- 
 neyed from Hartford to New Haven in a Pullman pal- 
 ace box car with him. He recounted what had hap- 
 pened to him since they last met, and in return his 
 old companion told him he had been to Albany, taken 
 a look at the Legislature, saw the political bummers 
 gathered there and felt ashamed of their company, de- 
 parted for Troy to attend a municipal election, got on 
 a glorious spree, been locked up, had the freedom of 
 the outskirts of the city granted him at the police 
 court, " beat " his way to New York on a North River 
 boat, and was now migrating South to save the expen- 
 ses of an overcoat. 
 
 From the conversation that followed, Ben learned 
 that one was a printer, another a carpenter, and the 
 terpsichorean artist an iron and brass moulder by trade 
 and a variety performer by profession. They had 
 several times obtained work during the summer, but 
 the love cf a vagabond life was so strong within 
 them, that job after job had been deserted for this 
 roving. He also obtained a glimpse of a fact that be- 
 came more palpable, the more he associated during 
 his tramp, with this class of American gypsies. It 
 was, that underlying the rambling propensities, 
 nay the very instigator of those propensities was 
 the vice of drunkenness. In their quieter moments 
 expressions escaped the trio that demonstrated a 
 hearty contempt for the life they were leading, and a 
 haunting desire to return to the paths of honest in- 
 dustry, and the comforts of a settled home. But 
 however strong this last feeling may have been, it 
 was evidently overruled by the thirst after those hell-
 
 74 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 born stimulants with which man is allowed to destroy 
 the peace and prosperity of his fellow man. As the 
 printer remarked to Ben : 
 
 " I tell you, boss, there's not a ragged coat on a 
 dirty back, or a pair of torn shoes on the bruised and 
 blistered feet of the thousands of tramps that are 
 rambling around the country like wild men, but 
 whiskey is the first cause of it I " 
 
 " Then why don't they stop using it ? " asked 
 Cleveland. 
 
 " Give it up ! " he exclaimed. " As well ask them 
 to give up life. So long as the cursed stuff is made, 
 so long will men drink it, and the government that 
 licenses and protects it are responsible for the vaga- 
 bonds it makes. They're holding conventions, and 
 wanting to know what the devil they're to do with 
 the tramps ? Shut up the distilleries and in two } r ears 
 there will be no tramps ! Many men can not give up 
 the use of liquor when left to themselves. It is not 
 a habit, it is a cur ." 
 
 "Oh cheese your preaching! Here this killed 
 me father and I'll have revenge on it ! " and with a 
 savage laugh the moulder thrust a bottle into the 
 printer's hand. 
 
 The printer, who was a man of middle age, looked 
 at the liquor askance a moment, and addressed it as 
 follows : 
 
 " Oh, you father of all curses ! Murderer, thief, 
 ravisher ! Stealer of men's brains ! Caterer for the 
 gallows ! Feeder of the jails ! Soaked in the tears 
 of widows, mothers and orphans ! Iconoclast, break- 
 ing he images of all we love ! Defying God, and de-
 
 THE PULLMAN BOX CAB. 75 
 
 facing his handiwork ! Daubing blood on the face of 
 
 o o 
 
 humanity ! Smearing crime on the garments of so- 
 ciety ! Barring the door to Heaven ! Paving the 
 way to Hell ! Curse you ! Curse you ! Curse those 
 that make you ! Curse those in power that allow you 
 to exist ! Fragments of Hell hurled into Nineteenth 
 Century ! How I hate you ! How I love you ! " and 
 with trembling hand, and glittering eye, he drank 
 deep of the bottle's contents. 
 
 The liquor was then passed around, but when it 
 came to Ben he refused it. In that box car and from 
 those homeless vagabonds he had learned a lesson 
 that he promised himself should last him a lifetime. 
 It was "Total abstinence." Absolutely total: the 
 only safeguard against the disease of drunkenness. 
 
 Singular enough his rough companions did not take 
 his refusal to drink with them amiss. The moulder 
 said : " It's the best thing you ever did in your life 
 to let it alone," which the carpenter indorsed, by re- 
 marking : " If I'd done it years ago, I'd not be here 
 now." 
 
 But the printer said rather irrelevantly, and quite 
 profanely : 
 
 " We're all going to Hell anyway ! What's the 
 odds so long's you're happy ! " 
 
 After awhile the three tramps sat down in a corner 
 of the car, and one of them producing a ragged pack 
 of cards, (which same, he stated, with pardonable 
 pride, had been in every state of the Union, and^on 
 nearly all the railroads) they were soon engaged in 
 the mysteries of that ancient game, " cut-throat old- 
 sledge," the stakes being a pull at the bottle.
 
 76 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Ben felt drowsy, and having had but little sleep the 
 previous night, stretched himself at full length on the 
 car floor and was soon lost in a sound slumber. The 
 travellers having securely fastened the end gate shut 
 with a nail (to prevent other tramps from imposing 
 their presence among them, and also to repel the cu- 
 riosity of train employees,) kept remarkably quiet 
 whenever the train stopped, which it frequently did, 
 and so rode along in safety.
 
 A BLOCK IN THE WAY. 77 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A BLOCK IN THE WAY. 
 
 BEN was awakened from a sound sleep of many 
 hours, by a rough thrust in the side. 
 
 " What's the matter, Hough ? " he exclaimed, his 
 scattered thoughts not having yet all returned from 
 dreamland. 
 
 " 111 ' how ' you, you scoundrel ! Get out of this !" 
 and another vigorous poke in the ribs with a barrel 
 stave followed. 
 
 This last attack thoroughly aroused our friend, who 
 awoke to find the car deserted by all save himself, 
 while at the end gate appeared the face of a burly 
 brakeman who was thus unceremoniously stirring him 
 up with a stave. 
 
 "What is the matter?" asked Ben. 
 
 "Matter? The matter is that you'll get out of 
 this pretty lively, or I'll come in there and throw you 
 out ! " cried he of the stave. 
 
 " Come in and try it," laconically replied our trav- 
 eller. 
 
 The conductor, who was standing outside, watch- 
 ing his deputy's performance, asked the latter if any 
 thing was the matter and if he needed help.
 
 78 A TIGHT SQUEEZE 
 
 Now it so happened that the brakeman was what is 
 known, in the language of the road, as a " bouncer." 
 That is, he was a hybrid combining the qualities of a 
 brakeman and a bruiser, and was frequently called 
 in to requisition by the conductor to take the dirty 
 work of ejecting tramps off of his hands. So he re- 
 plied to his chief that he needed no assistance, but 
 would send him down a tramp in piecemeal in a few 
 moments. With this he plunged through the end 
 gate, intent on giving Ben a sound drubbing. But 
 he reckoned without his host. Ben was a stout, sin- 
 ewy, young fellow, and an excellent boxer, though 
 his muscles lacked hardness. As the " bouncer " 
 reached for his collar with one hand, while with the 
 other he aimed a blow at his face, Ben gave him a 
 trip accompanied by a stinging punch between the 
 eyes that sent him sprawling to the floor ; and with a 
 knowledge of the work before him, brought his ad- 
 versary down with smart raps three times.successively, 
 as the bully strove to regain his feet. 
 
 At this unexpected treatment the professional 
 " bouncer " called loudly for help, and his chief, slid- 
 ing back a side door, sprang to the rescue, also armed 
 with a stave. When Ben, whose blood was now up, 
 turned to face his new assailant, the " bouncer " re- 
 gained his feet and stave, and aiming a vicious blow 
 at Ben missed him, from the fact that the latter at 
 that moment, by accident, stepped aside, and the stave 
 brought the conductor a tremendous thwack on the side 
 of his head. This so startled and enraged the la ter, 
 that howling with pain and maddened with the blood 
 starting from a gashed cheek, he ignored Ben, and re-
 
 A BLOCK IN THE WAY. 79 
 
 turned the " bouncer " his blow with interest, and in 
 a moment the two were engaged in a give and take 
 pitch battle. 
 
 Our hero was on the point of vacating the car, but 
 noticing that the conductor, who was a small man, 
 was about to get the worst of it, he turned, and seiz- 
 ing the " bouncer " by the collar hurled him through 
 the open door, and followed himself, intent on renew- 
 ing the battle outside, when he suddenly found him- 
 self surrounded by the majesty of the law in the 
 shape of a policeman. Two other guardians of the 
 peace attracted to the scene by the noise of the en- 
 counter, seized the conductor and brakeman, and the 
 trio were marched off, followed by half a score of 
 rail-roaders ; the two damaged officials breathing fire 
 and fury upon one another to the utter neglect of 
 Ben. The officer in charge of our friend informed 
 him that he was safely landed in the ancient town of 
 Harrisburg, and that it was five o'clock. 
 
 Fortunately, as it ultimately proved, the police 
 court was still in session, being engaged on special 
 business. The prisoners were therefore immediately 
 marched into the presence of a short, plethoric Mile- 
 sian gentleman, who upheld the honors of the munici- 
 pal bench. 
 
 No sooner did his eyes encounter the form of our 
 friend than he called out : 
 
 " What ! Here again, are yez I What did I tell 
 yez the last time ! Ye're here too often, that yez air. 
 Do yez think the coort was made for your consump- 
 tion ? It's twinty dollars and costs, or sixty days in 
 the lockup. Shut up! Every word out of yez will 
 be sixty days more. What's the charges, officer ? "
 
 80 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Poor Ben was dumbfounded. He was positive he 
 had never met this vicious little magnate before in 
 all his life, and did not know that the greeting he re- 
 ceived was the august manner in which the blind god- 
 dess of the police court of -Harrisburg struck terror 
 into the hearts of those who hud the misfortune to 
 tread 011 the tail of her coat. 
 
 The preference of a hearing was given to the con- 
 ductor and brakeman. Both had now secured legal 
 assistance, and a charge of assault and battery was 
 preferred by each against the other. Their cases 
 were set for a future hearing, and both released on 
 their own recognizance ; when they immediately with- 
 drew accompanied by their friends, entirely neglect- 
 ing Ben, much to his gratification. All the officer 
 who had arrested him could charge him with was be- 
 ing a vagrant caught in the vicinity of railroad prop- 
 erty ; which same is a serious enough petty offence 
 along the line of the Central road. 
 
 The little judge asked him if he had any thing to 
 say for himself, and immediately thereafter told him 
 to " shut up ! " He then went into a lengthy diatribe 
 against tramps in general, and wound up by giving 
 Ben sixty days in the workhouse. 
 
 Our traveller stood aghast ! There was no provis- 
 ion in his wager about forcible detention, and he felt 
 himself lost. Here then was an end to all his hopes 
 and ambitions. From a tramp he was about to de- 
 scend to the deeper degradation of a workhouse expe- 
 rience. The little justice must have noticed his con- 
 sternation, for he smiled gleefully. 
 
 "Oye, that shuits yez too well, don't it?" he ex-
 
 A BLOCK IN THE WAY. 81 
 
 claimed. " Sixty d&ys boord, lodgin' and washin' at 
 the ixpinse av the county ! Egad sor, it ud be foiu ! 
 Chur foin, me lad, cliur foin ! Yez hid bate yer way 
 an hundrid moils for the loike ; so yez would ! We'd 
 have all the thramps in the country to kape, so we 
 would, be gorra ! Pater, is the walkin' good ? " this 
 last to a policeman. 
 
 " Yes, your Honor," answered Peter. 
 
 " Thin furnish this gintleman wid a good map av 
 the county, and the coort will suspiud sintince for wan 
 hour! Nixt!" 
 
 An officer accompanied our friend to the door of 
 the hall of justice, and bade him leave the city imme- 
 diately ; and the little judge shouted after him : 
 
 " Moind yez thramp, if yez air found in the city of 
 Horrisbug sixty minutes from the prisint momint, Oil 
 set yez chu studyin' geology wid a hammer for the 
 binefit of the city strates-for the remainder av the 
 year. Now moind ! " 
 
 Ben was so overjoyed with his freedom that the ter- 
 rible words of this terrible little man were music in 
 his ears. His first thought on regaining the street 
 was to get out of town. His next one was to get on 
 the railroad track and strike westward. He wondered 
 what could have become of Tommy, and sadly missed 
 his little companion. 
 
 To retrace our steps and account for his having been 
 left alone in the car will not necessitate much of a di- 
 gression. While Ben placidly slept the three tramps 
 continued their game of " old sledge " and their ap- 
 plication to the bottle. They at last became so primed 
 with the evil spirits in the latter, as to awake bellig-
 
 82 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 erent spirits of their own, and as the train drew into 
 Hariisburg were engaged in a loud wrangle that was 
 heard by employees in the yard, and they 'were conse- 
 quently routed out of the car, and Tommy along with 
 them. Ben, however, was overlooked, and his little 
 friend viewing it as a stroke of good fortune in the 
 sleeper's favor, thought to allow him to remain and 
 ride through so far as he could alone. But the train 
 had received orders to sidetrack in Harrisburg and 
 await instructions, and while on the side track, Ben's 
 snoring had attracted the attention of the conductor 
 with the results already known to the reader. 
 
 Taking to the track as his surest and safest road, 
 the sun was kissing earth good night, when he left 
 the city limits of Harrisburg behind him. He walked 
 on at a brisk pace until twilight gathered its dusky 
 arms about him and then found it necessary to go a 
 little slower, as he was continually stumbling against 
 the ties. 
 
 About three miles from the city he was met by 
 two voyagers going east. These gentlemen of the 
 foot path informed him that they were on their way 
 to Philadelphia, and had been " bounced " from a 
 freight train some six miles back. Neither appeared 
 to have any definite object in visiting Philadelphia, 
 and were probably travelling on general principles, 
 thinking they might as well be going there as any 
 where. Their intention was to make Harrisburg and 
 lodge in the police station ; resuming their line of 
 march in the morning. 
 
 These tramps were quite kind in supplying Cleve- 
 land with information relative to his route. They
 
 A BLOCK IN" THE WAY. 83 
 
 stated that the road was crowded with tramps, going 
 in both directions, but the majority heading for 
 the west. They also told him of several good " hang 
 ups," in the way of barns and sheds, that with the 
 eyes of experts they had noticed as they came along. 
 
 Ben lost no time in seeking a comfortable resting place 
 and was soon asleep dreaming of two great, glorious, 
 grey eyes that looked out sweetly upon him from the 
 snowy folds of a nubia. Then, as he dreamed, the 
 look in the grey eyes changed to one of sorrow, and 
 they filled with tears. Anon a look of fright filled 
 them, and the voice of the fair one called to him : 
 " Save me Ben ! Save me ! " 
 
 And Ben crying out " I will!" sprang to his feet, 
 and found, by Tommy's time piece the Dipper 
 that he had slept nearly five hours.
 
 84 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A GLIMPSE OF DEATH. 
 
 CLEVELAND hastened down the track in the 
 bright star light, and arrived at the tank re- 
 ferred to by the two tramps, just in time. For scarce 
 had he retreated into a clump of weeds, when the 
 freight train made its appearance and stopped for wa- 
 ter. . Ben had now some experience in boarding trains, 
 and in a quiet, stealthy manner crept along >the sides 
 of the cars, with a watchful eye and ear for train men. 
 At last he found one with an end window open. It 
 proved to be a box car loaded with lumber, with just 
 the nicest little place in the world for a man to stow 
 himself away in. The lumber was piled up to within 
 a few inches of the roof, but between the ends of the 
 planks and the end of the car was a space about three 
 feet wide, in which he hastened to lower himself with 
 a congratulatory chuckle. 
 
 By feeling the boards he discovered that the load 
 consisted of inch planks, of dressed lumber, for some 
 three feet from the car floor, after which followed two 
 inch planking. The ends of the top load of two inch 
 etuff projected a foot or more, like a verandah roof,
 
 A GLIMPSE OF DEATH. 85 
 
 over the inch boards, and made him quite as cosy and 
 comfortable a little house as the heart of a tramp 
 could desire. What is more it was warm and clean, 
 and our traveller stretching himself on the floor of 
 his apartment, was soon sound asleep, with the song 
 of the wheels and the response of the ringing rails in 
 his ears for a lullaby. 
 
 Long he slept, and well ; until wicked dreams came 
 to abuse his curtained sleep. First they intruded 
 upon him in the shape of great, glorious, grey eyes 
 and a nubia, and several moments of ecstasy were 
 passed in the company thereof. Indeed many men 
 can make love better asleep than they can awake, and 
 who of the sterner sex, when young and lusty in the 
 full vigor of brand new manhood, has not had those 
 luscious dreams, a counterpart of which it would be 
 impossible for reality to produce ! If there be him 
 who has not had them he has our sympathy. Na- 
 ture has withheld from hirn one of the choicest bon- 
 bons in her basket. 
 
 So Ben dreamed. He was with her. Her hand 
 was in his, her heart beating against his heart, her 
 warm breath on his cheek, her glowing breast heaving 
 in gentle undulations against his bosom. She mur- 
 mured love, confidence and endearments. He talked 
 heroically, and felt the cup of his happiness full to 
 running over. But there came a change. Suddenly 
 a tall dark man came between them, and attempted to 
 separate the lovers. She clung about his neck and 
 prayed him to save her. But the dark man overpow- 
 ered him. He tore her from his arms and wound his 
 own with an iron grip about Ben's form. He strug-
 
 86 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 gled to release himself. His struggles were futile. 
 Closer and closer grew the embrace. It seemed as 
 though it was crushing in his bones. He could not 
 breathe with it. It had assumed the coils of a gi- 
 gantic serpent, and fold upon fold was wrapped around 
 his body and tightening upon it. He writhed and 
 groaned in agony. His breath came short and thick. 
 His head seemed a molten mass of fire, bursting 
 with the pressure. His eyes started from their sock- 
 ets. Yet closer, still closer, the folds drew about 
 him, and the dark face of the man became the 
 hideous, gaping mouth of a serpent, that licked him 
 with its forked tongue, and whose hiss sounded 
 deafening in his ears, while its bright, devilish lit- 
 tle eyes gloated on him with terrible intent. 
 
 With a yell of fear and agony he awoke ! 
 
 His clothes were wringing with sweat, and the per- 
 spiration was pouring from his body. All was dark, 
 Egyptian darkness, a fearful, appalling black ! 
 
 And though awake, the iron folds still held him in 
 their terrible embrace. Was he awake ! Was it real ! 
 Was it not some horrible nightmare that still accom- 
 panied him ! 
 
 What was this iron hand that clutched him ? What 
 these terrible coils about his person, squeezing life out 
 of him ? What this hot, close burning breath he 
 felt? 
 
 Arouse you Ben, arouse and pray ! Pray ! Pray 
 as you never prayed in your life before ! The gates 
 of Eternity are swinging ajar, and you are to have a 
 glimpse of DEATH. 
 
 One hand, partly released, he extended upward.
 
 A GLIMPSE OF DEATH. 87 
 
 Horror ! It struck against a solid wall of lumber that 
 completely closed him in, and converted his chamber 
 into a living tomb. But there was not death. No, 
 no. That was but the trap. Death came surging 
 down upon him in the shape of four thousand feet of 
 lumber, moving slowly, noislessly, but oh, how fear- 
 ful and sure, upon his devoted body, as the train 
 toiled up a heavy grade. Already the mass had pinned 
 him to the end of the car so that he could not move 
 his body. It was crushing in his very ribs. He found 
 it hard to breathe. His head was on fire. He yelled 
 and shrieked for help. Prayed ; entreated; supplica- 
 ted. All in vain. The revolving wheels crunched 
 out a dismal monody beneath him. Requiem for a 
 dying soul. And afar off could be heard the groan- 
 ing of the locomotive as it toiled up the steep moun- 
 tain side. 
 
 Horrible fancies took possession of him. He thought 
 himself dead and laughed deliriously. Then, in saner 
 moments, he called upon his God to end his torture, 
 and send a speedy death to his release. A release 
 from the slow, lethargic, creeping monster, that was 
 sucking up his life atom by atom ; hair's breadth by 
 hair's breadth. In those few awful moments the pan- 
 orama of his life was unfolded, and the dead past res- 
 urrected, revealing itself more palpable to him than 
 the living present. Worse than the tortures of the 
 Inquisition, where weights were heaped upon the 
 breast of a prostrate man, were now upon him. 
 Shorter and shorter came his breath. He hated to 
 die ! He would not ! He could not ! Ha, ha ! The 
 great, dull, shapeless fiend that was crushing out his
 
 88 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 existence seemed to laugh at him derisively. Blood 
 started from his nostrils ; water gushed from his eyes ; 
 and the fiend with one great yell closed a last clutch 
 upon his life, and he was released from his agony. 
 
 When B.en recovered consciousness he was lying on 
 the floor of the car, and a kind, rough face was bend- 
 ing over him. There was plenty of room about him. 
 The last yell of the fiend that was smothering him, 
 when he lost consciousness, was the whistle of the lo - 
 comotive announcing that it had reached the summit 
 of the grade. In the descent on the other side, the 
 lumber had moved away from him as steadily as it had 
 before moved down upon him. Had the up grade 
 lasted but a short distance further, Ms tramp would 
 have been over forever. There was blood upon his 
 face as a reminder of the agony he had passed through, 
 and he felt weak, limp and lifeless, while the clour 
 sun light was streaming in upon him from the open 
 end gate. 
 
 " That was a pretty close call, my friend," said the 
 brakeman, who in going over the cars had chanced to 
 look in at the open window and noticed our friend 
 stretched lifeless upon the floor. Though it was nearly 
 an hour after he had received his squeeze, the man 
 readily understood the situation and the peril Ben had 
 passed through. " That was a pretty close call on 
 you." 
 
 " It was that," faintly responded Ben. 
 
 " I remember you," continued the man ; " you are 
 the tramp that whipped Joe Brown at Harrisburg yes- 
 terday. I don't approve of fighting, but I'm glad you 
 gave him a beating. He's the biggest bully on the
 
 A GLIMPSE OF DEATH. 89 
 
 road, and takes a delight in thumping men smaller 
 than himself. Where are you bound for ? St. Louis, 
 hey. And you aint got no money ? No ? Well 
 there are a great many travelling in your fix, nowa- 
 days, and our orders are very strict about putting 
 them off the trains. But I'll break rules this time, 
 and won't know that you're here." 
 
 Ben looked his gratitude, and pressed the man's 
 hand. 
 
 " You can stay safely here now," he continued ; 
 " for the road's pretty level for some miles yet. When 
 we are to go up the mountains, I'll come back here, 
 and show you another car that's filled with barrels, 
 and you can get in at the end window and go safe to 
 Alatoona." 
 
 " God bless you ! " said Ben fervently. " I feel 
 very weak." 
 
 " Yes, I see you do," and a look of sympathy came 
 over the great, rough, grimy face of the brakeman, 
 and looked well there, although the face was badly 
 mottled with coal dust and tobacco juice. " I see you 
 do, partner. And it's agin rules bad, and they are 
 strict, but when this crew changes at Alatoona, I'll 
 give you a good word with the man that takes my 
 place, and you may be able to make it to Pittsburg. 
 There'll be down brakes in a minute, for a crossing, 
 and I must go. So long." And his burly figure 
 crawled through the window, and out on the roof of 
 the car. 
 
 Ben had closed his eyes a moment, when they again 
 opened to see the face of the brakeman, upside down 
 at the end gate, he being extended flat on the roof of 
 the car.
 
 90 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " I say, partner, that was pretty close, wasn't it ? " 
 
 Ben nodded. 
 
 " Was yer prepared, partner ? " 
 
 Ben looked his surprise. 
 
 " Did you know who shoved that there lumber back 
 off of ye ? " 
 
 Our friend shook his head doubtfully. 
 
 " God did it, partner. You might say a word of 
 thanks, if yer felt so inclined. So long." And the 
 dirt-begrimed, tobacco-painted face disappeared.
 
 THE MARCH TO FORT DUQUESNB. 91 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE MARCH TO FORT DTJQUESNE. 
 
 THE train man was as good as his word. Ere 
 they climbed the mountains to the pretty town 
 of Alatoona, that sits perched like a crow's nest, on 
 the summit of the Alleghanies, he transferred Ben to 
 another car. And when they reached Alatoona, and 
 the train changed crews, he not only gave him into 
 the care of another brakeman of the new crew, but, 
 as the train would stop there half an hour, he took 
 him to his own home and made him eat a substantial 
 meal. 
 
 Daylight was fading out of the west when the train 
 drew out of Alatoona. The car with the barrels in 
 had been left, and our hero was now safely stowed in 
 one loaded with pig iron that had been brought off 
 of the Williamsburg branch. Darkness prevented 
 the traveller from viewing the glorious mountain 
 scenery, in the train's descent from the hills. The 
 great Horse Shoe Bend, with its panoramic views of 
 mountains, woodlands, and valleys ; the old grade on 
 the opposite mountains, where in times of yore 
 they sailed canal boats over the hills on rails, and de-
 
 92 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 posited them safely in their native elements on the 
 western slope, together with the many enchanting 
 scenes this road runs through, were all lost to him. 
 Nor did he see Johnstown, with its great Cambria 
 Iron and Steel Works, the largest in the world (and 
 a popular resort of hundreds of tramps who journey 
 that way and toast their sides among its many fires 
 and furnaces). Nor could he view the noisy little 
 Conemaugh, that led the rail road along its bank to 
 the foot hills below. We -say Ben saw none of these, 
 for, in the first place it was night, and in the second, 
 his patron the new brakeman had shut him up 
 in the car, and told him to keep the doors and end 
 gates closed, both as a matter of protection from the 
 prying eyes of road officials, and to prevent a horde 
 of impecunious travellers like Ben from enter- 
 ing. The last was by no means visionary advice, 
 for at nearly every station and side track the doors 
 and windows were tried by tramps, who fcad awaited 
 the shades of night to aid them in "jumping" a 
 train. 
 
 Ben, still somewhat weak from his recent adven- 
 ture, yet feeling in a peaceful state of mind from the 
 assurance of his ride and the beneficial effect of the 
 hearty supper he had made at the home of the hospit- 
 able brakemau in Alatoona, dozed on the pig iron. 
 His bed was a hard one, to be sure ; but when one 
 side was dented so as to be no longer endured (which 
 occurred every little while) he turned over on an- 
 other ; and by so revolving discovered the important 
 fact that a man is in possession of four sides with 
 which he may lie on the hardest of beds in compara-
 
 THE MARCH TO FORT DUQUESNE. 93 
 
 live comfort by judiciously using them in rotation. 
 That is continually turning from left to right or right 
 to left, as the case may be, so that when No. 1 is worn 
 out No. 4 will be fresh, and ready for use. 
 
 When they arrived in the outskirts of the city of 
 Pittsburg, the brakeman appeared at the end gate and 
 told Ben he had best disembark at East Liberty and 
 walk into the city, to avoid being seen by watchmen 
 at the lower yards. Cleveland thanked him for the 
 ride, and, as the train slacked up, dismounted to find 
 himself in the suburbs of the Smoky City, in the grey 
 of the dawn. 
 
 " Good enough," said he, stretching himself, and 
 rubbing his stiffened limbs; "-good enough. Three 
 da} r s gone and I have mude over four hundred and 
 fifty miles. If I can keep up this rate of travel I will 
 win my wager and have time to spare." 
 
 As he walked toward the heart of the city, he met 
 several knights of the foot path who had rolled out 
 of lumber yards and from about the furnaces of iron 
 mills. These informed him that Pittsburg was con- 
 sidered an excellent tramp town by the fraternity. 
 Indeed the generous citizens had established a home 
 for them on Duquesne Way, where they were both 
 lodged and fed in gorgeous style. But, he was told, 
 breakfast would be over before he could reach the 
 " home," and as the tramps did not dine until six P. 
 M., and guests were not allowed to remain in the salon 
 during the day time, our traveller reflected that it 
 would do him no good to visit the institution until 
 hospitalities opened. As he still felt too weak for the 
 road, he resolved to spend the day in fasting and view*
 
 94 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 ing the iron industries for which the city is famous. 
 He strolled around among these and chatting with the 
 hands was told that the good town's glory was depart- 
 ing from out its hands. Years ago, before it became 
 a great iron mart, the city had been the most exten- 
 sive shipping point in the then " Great West." Steam- 
 boats crowded one another at its levees, and the man- 
 ufacturers of the east were continually departing down 
 the Ohio, for the southern and western countries, in 
 vast quantities. Then came the era of rail roads and 
 the rapid settlement of the far west, and Fort Du- 
 quesne, as a great shipping point, ceased to exist. 
 But when this industry was wrested from it, the brave 
 old town adopted another. The transportation center 
 of vast coal fields and iron deposits, she soon became 
 a manufacturing hive, unequalled on the continent, 
 and for many years upheld the reputation of the 
 Birmingham of America. 
 
 But there came a change. 
 
 Capital ripped open the bowels of Mother Earth, 
 and stole the ores with which the good dame was preg- 
 nant, in other and newer localities, far away. Iron 
 works shot up their tall chimnies all over the west ; 
 at Cleveland, Columbus, Chicago, Joliet, Indianapolis, 
 Terra Haute, St. Louis and elsewhere. As a conse- 
 quence the good town found its second sceptre taken 
 away, and the grip it had held upon the Great West, 
 BO long and well, Ben found had dwindled down to 
 its coal fleets, which, with the vast natural resources 
 of Pittsburgh water-ways, it is never likely to be 
 deprived of. All this he heard, and much more. 
 He learned that the city had a magnificent debt
 
 THE MARCH TO FORT DUQUESXE. 9-3 
 
 that was a thing of beauty and apparently a joy 
 forever. No one appeared to know just how much 
 it was, but all agreed that it was ahead, per capita, 
 of any other city in the Union and this was a 
 source of much honest pride. For though the city's 
 commerce and manufactures might be stolen from 
 it by western upstarts, they could not take its 
 debt. 
 
 Ben discovered more real courtesy and kindness to- 
 ward poverty in Pittsburg, than in any other town he 
 visited during his tramp. The inhabitants were so- 
 ciable, generous and unpretending. 
 
 While our friend was standing in the doorway of a 
 mill, observing the men draw out the glowing, cherry- 
 red bars from the rolls, and listening to the "bloom" 
 snap and crackle, like a roll of musketry, in the 
 jaws of the squeezer, he heard a little exclamation 
 in a female voice. It was simply " Oh, my ! " but 
 it sent a thrill through every nerve in his body, 
 for it was the voice of her he nightly met in hJs 
 dreams. He dared not look up, but stood there, 
 feeling her presence, and with the music of her 
 voice ringing in his ears, waiting to hear her speak 
 agai n . 
 
 But the " Oh, my ! " was not repeated, as she of 
 the grey, glorious eyes had only made the exclamation 
 while passing in company with an elderly gentleman, 
 and observing the glowing " bloom " pass into the 
 squeezer. When Ben looked up, they were no where 
 to be seen. 
 
 " Well," he muttered, " what is to be, will be. 
 Tommy said they were going to St. Louis, and I may
 
 96 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 see her there. In my present condition it would do 
 me but little good to meet her, anyway, I presume. 
 I'm a tramp ! Actually and professionally, a tramp, 
 and I begin to look and feel like one. Should I lose 
 my wager, I may adopt the business permanently," 
 and he laughed not altogether well pleased with him- 
 self.
 
 A MYSTERY. 97 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A MYSTERY. 
 
 f" TELL you, Nipper, if you will only give me half 
 A a chance I will make the matter all right. 
 What do you get by pushing me so ? The plain facts 
 are that if you have me arrested, you get nothing ; 
 whereas if you let me alone I will do as I have prom- 
 ised, and you shall not only have the full value of the 
 notes, but the bonus besides." 
 
 Ben listened intently for the answer. It was in the 
 dusk of evening, and he was sauntering up from a 
 view of one of the most picturesque bridges in the 
 world and the only one of its kind in the United 
 States ; there being only one duplicate in existence, 
 and that in Europe. It is of iron and spans the Mo- 
 nongahela (Oh gloriously suggestive name ! Whose 
 delightfully realistic anatomy is so pregnant with re- 
 membrances of the liquid destruction our grandsires 
 admired ! ) immediately at the point of land formed 
 by the wedding of that stream with the Alleghany ; 
 the two thereafter journeying through life as one un- 
 der the name of Ohio. 
 
 As Ben was turning the angle of a low wooden
 
 98 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 shed, the voices of persons in conversation struck upon 
 his ear, and the familiar tones of one of them caused 
 him to take to the shade of the building and play the 
 not very honorable part of eavesdropper. Charles 
 Lever, in that picturesque, but highly improbable 
 " Boy of Norcotes," allows the boy to state in a prig- 
 gish manner, that eavesdropping is reprehensible on 
 account of the impossibility of a gentleman using the 
 information so obtained, and immediately thereafter 
 causes the boy to tell all he overhears. Ben had not 
 read the book referred to, and did not feel ashamed 
 of himself. Nor having listened was there a dull, 
 dead feeling of lost self-respect that urged him to go 
 and throw himself into the river, and seek at its bot- 
 tom oblivion offering a rest from remorse that this life 
 could never offer. Nothing of the sort. He listened 
 because he wanted to hear, and was glad of the oppor- 
 tunity. For the voice belonged to the man whom lie 
 had had the encounter with in Jersey City, when he 
 first felt the influence of the grey eyes. 
 
 It was the tall dark escort, w T hom she had called 
 " Arthur," and he was talking to a thick-necked, 
 thick-shouldered, thick-faced, and possibly thick- 
 headed individual, who appeared if Ben could 
 judge from what passed, to hold Arthur in no very 
 high repute. 
 
 "I tell you, Blackoat," said the thick man, "I am 
 in need of the money, and the matter's run long 
 enough. You have been promising, and promising, 
 and promising, until I am tired of promises and want 
 something more substantial, or you "go up " so sure 
 as my name is Jonah ! " And the namesake of the
 
 A MYSTERY. 99 
 
 ancient mariner who " beat " the whale out of forty 
 days board and lodgings, brought one hand down on 
 the other decisively. 
 
 " See here, Nipper," said Blackoat, " don't make a 
 fool of yourself. It might afford you a high moral 
 satisfaction to know that I was working for the state, 
 but it would be no money in your pocket. Wait. Be 
 patient. I can not compel her to marry me, and in 
 another month, if she continues to refuse me, I will 
 have the money any way and the whole of it.'' 
 
 " Three hundred thousand dollars ?" asked Jonah. 
 
 " Three hundred thousand dollars," replied Black- 
 oat. " I do not ask you to believe me ; go ask old 
 Braster if such is not the will." 
 
 " Yes, yes, that's all right enough, but you are not 
 keeping up to our agreement, Blackoat," replied Jo- 
 nah. " You told me you'd marry and settle with me 
 before August, and here it is September. It won't 
 do. I'm getting no interest on my money," and this 
 modern Jonah, whom Mr. Blackoat would have been 
 so pleased to throw overboard and have a whale swal- 
 low, even if it did set wise theologians by the ears for 
 the next three thousand years, stamped his foot. 
 
 " How much interest do you want ? " asked the 
 other. 
 
 " One thousand dollars a month, until paid, is lit- 
 tle enough," answered Nipper. 
 
 " Oh, now the cat's out of .the bag. That's what 
 brought you on here, is it ? " cried Blackoat. " I 
 will not give it ! I will not ! " 
 
 " That settles it," replied Nipper quietty, and turn- 
 ing on his heel professed to be about to walk away, 
 when the other grasped his arm.
 
 100 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " See here, Nipper," said he, in a tone of supplica- 
 tion, " be reasonable." 
 
 Nipper turned in a positive manner, and replied in 
 a positive manner that admitted no protests : 
 
 " Blackoat it's forgery ! You pay me one thousand 
 dollars a month for the privilege of remaining out of 
 states prison. You will either agree to that, and give 
 me notes for it this very night, or I will sacrifice 
 twenty thousand dollars to see you get your just de- 
 serts. You know me." 
 
 Alas, Mr. Arthur Blackoat did know him, and knew 
 him only too well. He knew that this namesake of 
 the original whaler could sacrifice twenty thousand 
 dollars and still have many thousand left. He also 
 knew that he would do it if so inclined. Therefore 
 he remarked in a dejected voice : 
 
 " Nipper, it's the meanest piece of work I ever 
 heard of. You knew of the stipulations of that will, 
 and bought up those notes on speculation, and the 
 face value would well repay the investment. It's 
 the " 
 
 " See here, no more of this, Blackoat," sternly in- 
 terrupted the holder of the notes. " Plow I came by 
 the paper is my business. That I do hold them, and 
 in them have the power to send you to prison and ruin 
 your chances to get one cent of the three hundred 
 thousand dollars, is enough for you to know. Will 
 you do as I demand ? Answer yes or no ? " 
 
 " It's an outrage, but I'll have to submit," replied 
 Blackoat, angrily. " Come to the Monongahela House 
 and I will give you my notes for it," and Mr. Black- 
 oat turned toward his hotel, with Mr. Nipper quietly 
 walking beside him.
 
 A MYSTERY. 101 
 
 Ben was about to leave the friendly shade that had 
 hidden him, when a small, lithe figure sprang from the 
 shed through an aperture made by a loosened board. 
 This new party on the scene gazed earnestly after tire 
 two retreating men ; shook his clenched hand at them 
 and muttered, " I'll have you yet ! I'll have you 
 yet ! " Then turned and ran swiftly away in an op- 
 posite direction. Ben was so astonished that before 
 he could call out, the flying form was lost in the dusk 
 of the night. 
 
 It was Tommy. 
 
 As he slowly wended his steps down Duquesne Way 
 to the great tramp resort he cogitated upon the even- 
 ing's developments. And the result of his reflections 
 was that there was a mystery connecting the owner 
 of the glorious, grey eyes with Arthur Blackoat, who 
 in turn was likewise connected with the thick man, 
 Nipper, (who was evidently the latter's Jonah) and 
 Blackoat in his turn was somehow connected with his 
 little friend Tommy. But this was as far as he got. 
 What the mystery was he could not surmise, and as 
 he was not a very imaginative young fellow, he con- 
 tented himself with the reflection that " Time tells 
 all things," and hoped Time would not neglect its 
 business in this instance. 
 
 '* Well," said Ben, as he looked up at a somewhat 
 pretentious three story brick building, fronting on the 
 Alleghany river, " they have provided a pretty re- 
 spectable-looking hotel for us people of the foot path, 
 any way." 
 
 A short flight of stone steps led np to a broad hall 
 way, that entered a spacious, well-lighted office.
 
 102 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 "Well dressed men were lounging about, and passing 
 in and out, the same as at any other hotel. 
 
 " Indeed," thought our hero, " this is a new depar- 
 ture in tramping. How well they dress and how com- 
 fortable they appear to be." To make no mistake he 
 stepped up to a group of three men lounging over an 
 iron railing. Their tatterdemalion attire, and general 
 air of conglomerate dirt and rngs, denoted them to be 
 the bona fide article. 
 
 " Recent arrivals, probably, who have not yet had 
 time to recuperate under the beneficent influences of 
 the ' home,' " thought he. 
 
 " Is this the Young Men's Home, the place where 
 they take in strangers ? " he asked. 
 
 Yes. There was where they took in strangers. 
 He had struck the right spot. He was to go right in 
 and register at the office. 
 
 Ben entered without noticing that the three tatter- 
 demalions ranged themselves on the sidewalk where 
 they could get a good view of the interior, each hav- 
 ing a face illumined by a broad grin of expectancy. 
 
 The office was a spacious, steam heated apartment. 
 Ben boldly affixed the name of " B. Cleveland, New 
 York City," to the register, and the polite clerk asked 
 him if he had had supper. Replying in the neg- 
 ative, he was informed that supper was still in pro- 
 gress, and pointed out the dining hall. But as he 
 turned his steps toward the designated door, the po- 
 lite clerk called to him : 
 
 " One moment, if you please, sir. Have you any 
 baggage ? " 
 
 " No sir," replied Ben in surprise.
 
 A MYSTEKY. 103 
 
 " It is our invariable rule to ask a settlement in 
 advance from those who have no baggage," said the 
 polite clerk. 
 
 " Settlement !" exclaimed Ben growing red to the 
 roots of his hair ; " why I thought this was a 
 charity ! " 
 
 " Oh," replied the clerk, " you are in the wrong 
 pew. Step around in the alley, and enter the first 
 door to the right." 
 
 As Ben retreated his feelings were not improved by 
 an audible titter indulged in by the loungers present. 
 
 (And right here permit us to parenthetically ask 
 what it is that causes man to so enjoy the misery of 
 his fellow man ? Some one has discovered that the 
 pinnacle of human happiness is based upon the mis- 
 eries of others. Is it so ? A drunken man reels, 
 falls and breaks his nose. We laugh. A poor, pov- 
 erty-stricken, hungry, ragged wretch is driven from a 
 door. We laugh. A fellow mortal makes a mistake 
 that causes him intense mortification and suffering. 
 We laugh. What causes us to do all this laughing at 
 the troubles of others ? ) 
 
 On the sidewalk Ben was met by the three bona 
 fides, rubbing their hands in high glee. 
 
 " What did he tell you? What did he say ? Did 
 you gin him a racket ? He won't take it, he won't. 
 Ha, ha ! " and the three were very merry, it after- 
 wards appearing that the sending of fresh tramps into 
 the hotel office to annoy the clerk, was an aesthetic 
 diversion peculiarly acceptable to the trio. 
 
 The " entrance in the alley " proved to be quite a 
 different affair. In a narrow, little landing, highly
 
 104 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 perfumed with the odors of rum, tobacco, and dirt in 
 general, Ben's age, name, nativity, trade and con- 
 dition of life were taken down in a big book by a man 
 who occupied a small rough board office, and held 
 communications with the outer world through a dim- 
 inutive pigeon hole. Having furnished the desired 
 information, our hero was presented with a meal ticket, 
 and informed that the hospitalities of the " Home " 
 were extended to him for three days, if he could not 
 sooner find employment, after which he would have 
 to provide for himself and pay the transient rates of 
 five cents per meal and ten cents for lodging. 
 
 These preliminaries having been gone through with, 
 he ascended a flight of narrow stairs, and was ushered 
 into the greatest tramp resort in the United States, and 
 probably the best patronized in the world.
 
 THE GREAT TRAMP RENDEZVOUS. 105 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE GREAT TRAMP RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 A LARGE bare room, steam heated and furnished 
 with several long tables and benches, was al- 
 ready filled by nearly three hundred tramps. They 
 formed a motley crowd. Old and young, of numer- 
 ous nationalities and every degree of raggedness and 
 trampdom were there. Young novices, just entering 
 upon this degraded life. Occasionals working men 
 to-day, tramps to-morrow, and drunkards at all times. 
 Professionals, who preferred mendicancy to honest la- 
 bor. Honest men, reduced by dire misfortunes to 
 this sore distress. Sick men, whose hold upon life 
 was waxing faint. Scorbutic men, bearing on their 
 face and persons the indelible marks that outraged 
 nature had branded them with, for life. Sad men, 
 who felt the degradation of their position. Bold, 
 callous men, for whom this world held no shame ; and 
 men whose deportment denoted that they had seen 
 better days, and could not forget them, were all gath- 
 ered there in a heterogenous mass of rags, hunger, 
 dirt, and profanity. 
 
 No notice was taken of Ben's advent amone: them.
 
 100 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Indeed he was immediately swallowed up in the crowd, 
 the members of which were variously engaged. Some 
 paced up and down the floor, in lonely communion 
 with their own thoughts. Some were seated by the 
 wall patching their garments, and sewing up rents ; 
 some reading, others tossing coppers, and others asleep 
 in all the hubbub and Babel of voices. Gathered in 
 groups were men discussing the events of the day, or 
 mapping out routes for future travel. What struck 
 Ben as singular was the fact that there were very few 
 old men present. Nearly all were young or in the 
 vigor of manhood. He did not see but one or two 
 old u war-horses " and they moodily held themselves 
 aloof from the crowd. There was a hot, fetid air in 
 the room, and his stomach sickened at this expression 
 of the life he had adopted. 
 
 A word of explanation relative to this great tramp 
 " home " will not be amiss. It was built by the 
 contributions of generous citizens of Pittsburg as an 
 asylum for the homeless wanderer. A place where 
 he might rest and recuperate, while he sought em- 
 ployment. One would naturally suppose that those 
 partaking of the charity would be grateful, but the 
 tramps are not. A man with authority is continually 
 emplo} r ed in preserving the peace among them, and a 
 more ungrateful, querulous, quarrelsome lot of misery 
 it would be hard to conceive. 
 
 The building, which is a large one, is divided into 
 two departments : the " Hotel " and Ci Bum " sides 
 of the house, as they are locally known. The " Bum " 
 side consists of a single large hall, located in the rear, 
 and separated entirely from the remainder of the
 
 THE GTJEAT TRAMP RENDEZVOUS. 107 
 
 the house. The "pay" department, is a well ar- 
 ranged, well furnished, and well conducted hotel, 
 principally patronized by permanent guests having oc- 
 cupations in the cit}-. The proceeds of the " Hotel " 
 are supposed to be devoted to the maintenance of the 
 " Bum " department. "Bummers Hall" has an av- 
 erage nightly attendance of two hundred and fifty 
 impecunious men every night in the year. Sometimes 
 the number reaches to near four hundred. Statistics 
 are kept of the attendance. Single men predominate, 
 being above eighty per cent of those seeking the ref- 
 uge. The nationalities represented stand in the fol- 
 lowing order as to numbers : Ireland, Germany, 
 America and England ; though all Europe has dele- 
 gates in " Bummers Hall." It has been often ques- 
 tioned if the resort be not a detriment to the city, and 
 an inducement for the fraternity to rendezvous there. 
 But this is not good reasoning. The tramps would 
 come whether the " Home " was there to receive them 
 or no ; and it is far better to have two hundred and 
 fifty impecunious and frequently lawless and reck- 
 less men stowed safely away at night, than have 
 them thrown loose upon the city. It is a difficult 
 matter to make tramping a crime, for it would make 
 poverty criminal. The suggestion that jails and work 
 houses receive them is pernicious in the extreme. 
 Reformatory institutions turn out finished law-break- 
 ers. They generally reform a man of what little good 
 there may be in him when he enters them. The great 
 majority of tramps have not the nerve to commit a 
 crime, though they had the inclination. They are a 
 poor, weak, purposeless, cowardly set of vagabonds,
 
 108 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 whose most henious offence consists in "jumping " a 
 train, or, perhaps, purloining some trifle of food. 
 They bhrink from committing acts that will bring 
 them before that terror of terrors, a police court. 
 But a term in the state's prison or work house turns 
 out quite a different individual. As tramps they 
 still have latent hopes (however futile) of some 
 day recovering a membership in good society. As 
 prison graduates, this hope has left them, and they 
 look viciously upon life. As an evidence of this, 
 it will be found that three-quarters of the tramps 
 arrested for unlawful acts, are released convicts. 
 
 There is a great hue and cry raised every now and 
 then about " what shall we do with them? " Better, 
 if we turn our attentions to the cause that produces 
 the effects, and ask ourselves " what shall we do with 
 the system that makes them ? " 
 
 Ben had scarcely time to look about and familiarize 
 himself with the place, when supper was announced. 
 It consisted of a tin dish of soup and a piece of bread, 
 and was served up on the long table in the center of 
 the room. The soup was of the " bouillon " order. 
 In it were sliced carrots, stewed potatoes, boiled po- 
 tato peelings, baked fish, chicken bones, salt mackerel, 
 cabbage, tomatoes, cheese, beef, beans, dried apples, 
 vegetable parings, and a few other articles. To the 
 imaginative mind it suggested the possibility of a 
 small grocery store having gone off on a drunk, and 
 got drowned in a cauldron of boiling water. A more 
 practical view of the matter was that it consisted of 
 the remnants of the " Hotel side," with the kitchen 
 dish water generously added, by way of a flavor.
 
 THE GREAT TRAMP RENDEZVOUS. 109 
 
 Though Ben had fasted all day, he declined partak- 
 ing of it, and sat toying with his iron spoon, and no- 
 ticing the other guests. .They. had not his squeamish- 
 ness. The greater portion of the three hundred were 
 devoting a majesty of jaw bone to the work before 
 them, highly edifying. 
 
 " The soup is extra to-night," remarked a veteran, 
 as he fished up a mass that might have been fish, flesh 
 or fowl. 
 
 "Excellent!" responded a neighbor; "the best 
 I've tasted since leaving the rotisseries in the Rue de 
 Gumbo ! " 
 
 " I'll wait fur the toorkey wid the ister stufnin'," 
 remarked another who had finished his pan. 
 
 " Yez'll have to wait, thin, for it's Friday, an' 
 there's no toorkey. It'll be trout an' salmon, the 
 day," returned a gentleman whose ragged sleeve had 
 evidently enjoyed the soup in company with its owner. 
 
 " What part of the fowl do you prefer, sir ? " asked 
 a polite tramp, tendering Ben a section of a macker- 
 el's back. 
 
 " Let the gentleman alone. The venison he had 
 for dinner did not agree with him," said a thin man, 
 eyeing Ben's untasted soup longingly. Ben saw the 
 soup and presented him the panful, which made the 
 thin man an object of envy to all in that vicinity. 
 
 " Didn't I see you in Poverty Barn, in Cleveland ? " 
 asked a fat, asthmatic tramp of Ben. 
 
 Our friend replied in the negative, when the asth- 
 matic went into a glowing description of the magnifi- 
 cence of " Poverty Barn, in Cleveland." 
 
 " It's behind the police station, Sor. Bunks three
 
 110 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 tier high, Sor. A plank set on edge for a pillow in 
 each of them, Sor. A big stove that you can dry 
 your clothes at, Sor. There's no knob on the inside 
 of the door, Sor. So when you get in you can't get 
 out, Sor. It's a good hangup, but no chuck, Sor. 
 When you're in Cleveland don't fail to give it a call, 
 Sor. It's deserving of patronage, Sor." 
 
 Ben assured him that Poverty Barn should have 
 his custom if business took him to Cleveland." 
 
 " To hell mit Boverty Parn ! I preaks my neck 
 from vone of der punks down comma, von night. 
 Youst, when you go mit Cleveland, youst try der iron 
 vorks an' shleep in der varm sandt ! " kindly advised 
 a gentleman having a pronounced Teutonic accent. 
 
 With much similar conversation, the meal drew to 
 a close, the pans were removed, and the long table 
 turned, bottom-up, against the wall ; so that having 
 banqueted off of the top side they might sleep on the 
 bottom. The benches were then arranged across the 
 room, and an elderly gentleman in black, with a cler- 
 ical stock about his neck, (who was irreverently 
 greeted as " Old Blue Blazes " ) entered at a side 
 door, at the upper end of the hall, and proceeded to 
 hold religious services. A more orderly and attentive 
 congregation than the three hundred tramps composed, 
 could not have been desired. This evening service 
 was as much a part of the charity as the soup, and 
 should it have been omitted they would have felt 
 themselves defrauded. Cards, with the popular re- 
 vival hymns of the day printed on them, were distrib- 
 uted through the crowd, and they lustily sang u Hold 
 the Fort ! " and " Pull for the Shore ! "
 
 THE GREAT TBAMP RENDEZVOUS. Ill 
 
 The services concluded, preparations were made for 
 retiring. Some of the fastidious (generally the most 
 ragged) spread a newspaper on the floor to keep their 
 clothes from getting soiled. Others contented them- 
 selves with scraping a place free from tobacco quids, 
 and retired with their boots for a pillow. 
 
 There was one devotion peculiar to nearly all pre- 
 vious to closing their eyes. Everyone indulged in a 
 good scratch ! That great luxury that no unfeeling 
 world could dispossess them of so long as they had 
 their hands. And such scratching ! Such contortions 
 in getting way round at their backs ; such grunts and 
 sighs of satisfaction as both hands would be vigor- 
 ously applied to opposite extremities ! And then the 
 inventions of genius rubbing the back against a 
 table leg while employing the hands elsewhere; and 
 using a foot and both hands at the same time ! And 
 such courtesies one scratching the unreachable por- 
 tion of another, and three and four scratching each 
 other in a row ! Ben was about the only one present 
 who did not scratch, and when a neighbor asked him 
 to rub his back with the sole of his boot he could not 
 refuse the kindness ; so while he did not scratch him-* 
 self, he aided others. Let him awake at what hour 
 of the night he might, there was scratching going 
 forward in some parts of the hall. Before daybreak, 
 however, he found it congenial to commence upon 
 himself, and it took the closest application and indus- 
 try of search and slaughter, during the leisure mo- 
 ments of two succeeding days, to prevent him from 
 becoming a confirmed scratcher.
 
 112 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 INTRODUCES THE EVANGELIST. 
 
 THAT night was a memorable one for Ben. It is 
 not often that a man lies down to sleep, in full 
 sight and hearing of three hundred of his fellow mor- 
 tals ; not to mention three hundred with such peculiar 
 characteristics as separate the genus tramp from, the 
 rest of God's creation. 
 
 Ben reclined on a hand and elbow, wide awake, 
 listening to the various noises proceeding from the 
 sleepers. Snores, grunts, exclamations, curses, prayer, 
 laughter and writhing proceeded from the bodies la- 
 boring under Dame Nature's mild anaesthetic. While 
 so listening, a tall, thin figure approached him. It 
 was a pale, long-faced young man, who had an air of 
 dilapidated gentility about him, that was in unison 
 with his intelligent, but care-worn, face. v Noticing 
 Ben's wakefulness, he said: 
 
 " I see that you, like myself, cannot sleep. What 
 a pen of human swine it is ! " and he seated himself 
 beside our friend. 
 
 " Which way are you travelling ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " I go west in the morning. Which direction are 
 you tailing?"
 
 INTRODUCES THE EVANGELIST. 113 
 
 "I am going to St. Louis," answered Cleveland. 
 
 " Very well, we will go together. That suits me. 
 I thought it would be easiest to get 011 a coal fleet and 
 go down the river with it, but I find the fleet is hung 
 up here for want of water, and there is no telling 
 when the river will raise. So we had best take the 
 road for it," observed the stranger. 
 
 " Have you ever been to St. Louis? " inquired Ben. 
 
 " Oh, yes," replied he, " several times." 
 
 " Tramped it ? " 
 
 " Tramped it." 
 
 "But," hesitatingly suggested Ben, "you appear to 
 be a man of intelligence, I should think you could do 
 better than leading the life of a tramp." 
 
 " Think nothing of the sort," responded the stran- 
 ger. " A man in this world does just what he is fitted 
 for. Habits, that I need not specify, have drifted me 
 into this life, and I am becoming confirmed in it." 
 
 " But do you not struggle against it. 
 
 " Yes, I do struggle, but each struggle is weaker 
 and weaker, and shorter and shorter. You appear to 
 be above the average tramp, and as we are to travel 
 together, I'll tell you some of my history without ask- 
 ing any of your own in return. I had a fair educa- 
 tion and studied for the ministry. Until my mother 
 died (and at mention of that sacred name of mother 
 his voice softened) I had something to live for, some 
 one to make proud of me. But on her death I was 
 left alone in life, and though homage comes from all 
 the world, it can not give a mother's praise. With a 
 naturally unstable disposition I took to rambling, and 
 I have been rambling ever since."
 
 114 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " And do you never try to settle down ; never at- 
 tempt anything permanent ? " persisted Ben. 
 
 " Oh yes," returned the other with a laugh ; " I 
 have been reporter, auctioneer, teamster, raftsman, 
 railroader, clerk, stable-hand, and Evangelist ! " 
 
 " Evangelist ! " exclaimed Cleveland. 
 
 " Yes," replied he, and immediately the " tramp " 
 presented itself; " don't you know the racket. Lots 
 of the boys made a stake at it last year. It's the 
 Moody business gave them a starter. First they 
 evangelized themselves and then started out to evan- 
 gelize others, with a weather eye out for financial 
 matters." 
 
 Ben was horrified ! He had attended the Hippo- 
 drome meetings and been greatly impressed with the 
 work of the revivalists, and had never connected a 
 mercenary thought with them. This new develop- 
 ment of using revivals for money making purposes 
 grated harshly on his feelings, and so he expressed 
 himself. 
 
 " And why not ? " asked the Evangelist. " People 
 are willing to pay well for being led to the devil, why 
 should they not pay to be started on the road to 
 Heaven ? It is singular that men should honor 
 money-making by all methods except the saving of 
 their souls." 
 
 " But are the Evangelists engaged in money-mak- 
 ing ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " To an extent certainly. Why not ? It is dis- 
 honest ? Look-a-here, why don't you view this mat- 
 ter practically ? What's the use of giving it a ficti- 
 tious reputation? Is it dishonest? No. Why
 
 DTTKODUCES THE EVANGELIST. 115 
 
 should not men make money in doing good as well as 
 in doing evil ? Oh why should there be auy attempt 
 to disguise the matter ? There is where the mistake 
 is made, for it gives to good works a taint of decep- 
 tion. Do you for a moment suppose the world does 
 not see under the cloak of a ' call ' the greed of gain ! 
 Why not be open and above board and say, ' We do 
 this good for money ' ? Is honesty a crime ? Indeed 
 I half believe it is. When I started as an Evange- 
 list, I fixed a fair remuneration for my services, and 
 demanded it the same as I would wages for any other 
 work. What was the result. I was called mercen- 
 ary, and people said I not only laborized for the good 
 of my fellow man, but for the good of my pocket 
 also. I was fool enough to acknowledge it, and 
 shortly found my services no longer in demand. Nat- 
 urally I changed my tactics. I no longer asked a 
 stipulated remuneration. I was not after money. 
 But quietly determined that money should be after 
 me. The result was I received more in contributions 
 than I ever could have obtained in wages. Do you 
 think people were not aware of my object just the 
 same, because I did not make a demand ? Perhaps 
 you will learn, as you journey through life, that all 
 the world wears a mask, and though the mask may be 
 transparent, it is highly impolitic to ask its removal. 
 Humanity is an dfetrich, with its head in a s x and- 
 bank ! " 
 
 " Did you make it pay ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Oh, yes, it paid well enough." 
 
 " Why did you not stick to it then ? " 
 
 The brows of the dilapidated cynic contracted as 
 he responded :
 
 116 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Because from a child I have been unable to stick 
 to anything. There is no permanency in me. I am 
 as shifting as running water. There, there ; you 
 need not ask why I do not school myself to more 
 stable habits ; as I am, I am ; and be it fault or mis- 
 fortune, so it is." 
 
 Ben's mental eye looked upon his new acquain- 
 tance through a fog. He could not understand him. 
 At the same time the thought suggested itself to 
 him : " What a purposeless, objectless life ! What 
 if my own should shape itself to such a result ! " and 
 then the more encouraging reflection came to him : 
 " Better a tramp, with a New Orleans to be attained, 
 than a Ben Cleveland dozing life away on Smythe's 
 lawn." 
 
 His new acquaintance having relieved himself of 
 an over load of c} r nicism proved to be a pleasant con- 
 versationalist, and a well informed man. He was 
 apparently a harmless creature, placed on earth 
 to fill up one of the chinks in its great social struc- 
 ture. 
 
 The breakfast in the morning was a repetition of 
 the previous evening's supper, save that the soup had 
 fewer odds and ends in it. Though Ben had refused 
 the article the night before he found himself eating 
 heartily of it at the breakfast table, greatly to the dis- 
 appointment of the thin man, who had purposely se- 
 cured a seat next to him, with hopes based on his 
 good fortune at the supper table. Alas, they were 
 delusive ones. Ben cleaned out his pan, and felt sub- 
 stantially full. 
 
 In company with the Evangelist he made his way
 
 INTRODUCES THE EVANGELIST. 117 
 
 to the city of Alleghany, on the opposite side of the 
 river of that name, and there the two had a council 
 of war. It was finally agreed that they should walk 
 that day, and reach some point where a train could be 
 boarded during the evening. Accordingly they fol- 
 lowed the track that' borders the Ohio, until within 
 an hour of sunset, when they found themselves near 
 the town of Economy ; a settlement of industrious 
 Germans who are trying so to live that the transition 
 from life to death will be hardly noticeable, save that 
 it causes the reflection that for all intents and pur- 
 poses they might as well have been born dead. It is 
 a communal settlement, and propagation is unknown. 
 By strict frugality, industry and the natural growth 
 of wealth much money has been amassed, and the 
 riches undoubtedly give them all the enjoyment of 
 possession. One of these days when the last Econo- 
 mist shall have departed for Eternity, with his shekel 
 done up in a napkin, there will be a delightful hub- 
 bub over the ownership of the thousands they have 
 accumulated. 
 
 Before reaching the settlement our travellers were 
 met by a lone tramp, on his way to New York City, 
 for the purpose of viewing the abutments of the East 
 River bridge. He had heard and read so much about 
 that structure, while summering in the vicinity of 
 St. Paul, that his curiosity was aroused, and he thought 
 to have a look at it. 
 
 " I have not come from Minnesota direct," he ex- 
 plained; "I went to St. Louis to see the bridge Eads 
 built so as I could compare the two. I takes a great 
 interest in public works, and more 'specially engi-
 
 118 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 neering. Sometimes I think I'd a made a good bridge 
 builder myself, but I served my time in a bakery, and 
 never had no inclination for bread, 'cept to eat it." 
 He might further have stated that being a gentleman 
 of impecunious leisure, and time not being money 
 with him, he had all the advantages necessary for in- 
 dulging his penchant for investigating public works. 
 
 " You're near Economy now," he continued, " and 
 you can stop over night with the ' brothers.' I'll tell 
 you how you can do it. Old ' brother ' Eapp will 
 meet you and he'll say ' no.' Then you just ask him 
 to give you a few matches, and when he asks what for, 
 say it's to build a fire and cook you something to eat 
 and sleep by, and you'll see how quick he'll ask you 
 to come in and stop. So long." And the tourist 
 again resumed his way toward the East River bridge. 
 Ben and his comrade had no intention of remaining 
 over night in Economy, however. They took supper 
 there though, being hospitably received arid treated 
 to plenty of fresh coarse bread, cheese and smoked 
 sausage, the latter so hard that it would have made a 
 dent in an oak plank. Politely thanking their enter- 
 tainers *they resumed the track in the balmy dusk of 
 evening, listening to Nature's vesper hymn. 
 
 Along the roadway, and from swamp and pasture 
 and woodland, came the chorus of a million throats. 
 The deep base of some old patriarchal serenader 
 heightened the treble of the noisy newts. Afar off 
 the tinkle of a cow bell floated softly over the hills ; 
 the rustling of dried leaves ; the snapping of a fallen 
 bough : the owl's whoop from out his hermit dell ; 
 the beetle's never changing drone ; the call of katy-
 
 INTRODUCES THE^EVANGP:LIST. 119 
 
 did, and the mournful notes of the whip-poor-will, all 
 mingled in the evening service ; and the heart of Ben 
 stopped to listen, and all the sophistry, cynicism and 
 doubtings that this world possesses, could not at that 
 moment have prevented him from thinking that this 
 life is not the be-all and the end-all, here; but that 
 far, far beyond the star lit girdle of earth there is 
 another, a better, and a purer one.
 
 120 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 AN TJNCOMFOKTABLE NIGHT. 
 
 THE two travellers boarded a western bound 
 freight train at Brighton. There being no ac- 
 cessible box car, they were compelled to content them- 
 selves with a seat on the rear steps of the caboose, 
 where they were discovered and incontinently 
 "bounced" after being carried some twenty miles. 
 Ben thought this ejectment finished their ride on that 
 train, but the Evangelist whose name was Horton 
 corrected him. Creeping along in the shadow of 
 the train until it started, they again seated themselves 
 on the steps. This time they made but ten miles, be- 
 fore they were discovered, when some strong adjec- 
 tives were used, and some hard names called, and 
 they were warned if caught on the train again they 
 would be dealt with in a most summary manner. 
 
 " Wait for another train ! " exclaimed the Evange- 
 list. " Certainly not why we have only been 
 bounced twice ! " 
 
 He instructed Ben to crouch under the cars at the 
 centre of the train, and when it started walk with it, 
 so long as he could keep up. When he found the rate
 
 AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT. 121 
 
 of speed getting to much for him, he was to mount a 
 ladder, but not put in appearance on the roof until 
 positive that the crew was not around. 
 
 The crew of a freight train consists of the fireman 
 and engineer, who remain in the locomotive's cab ; a 
 conductor who, while the train is in motion, gener- 
 ally remains in his caboose, and two brakeman front 
 and rear supposed to remain on top, but who, after 
 the train has started, usually betake themselves to the 
 engine-cab and caboose respectively. On the night 
 runs all carry lanterns, and through them their ap- 
 proach is easily discernible by the sly tramp. It will 
 now be understood why Ben was to delay mounting 
 to the top. 
 
 Having clung to the ladder for some time he slowly 
 raised his head above the roof and surveyed the situ- 
 ation. Not a light appeared in sight, but on the next 
 car he saw the dark outlines of a man, and heard the 
 Evangelist croning to himself a revival hymn. He 
 mounted to the roof, and both men sat down immedi- 
 ately over their respective ladders, ready to go down 
 them on the slightest provocation. Much after the 
 fashion of prairie-dogs, sitting ,t the mouth of their 
 holes, prepared at the faintest disturbance to show a 
 clean pair of heels and faint Avhisk of a tail. Sev- 
 eral times during the ensuing hour the light of the 
 jront brakeman appeared as that individual attended 
 to easing the train down grades. And each time our 
 two travellers suddenly disappear ; reappearing again 
 when the coast was clear. Having gone about six- 
 teen miles, the train side tracked to allow an eastern- 
 bound express to pass. Ben and his companion
 
 122 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 crouched under the cars until they again started, 
 when the ladders were resumed and ultimately the 
 roof. 
 
 This method of travelling seemed quite pleasant to 
 him and he was begining to rest more at ease, and re- 
 cline on his back, when a note of warning from the 
 Evangelist aroused him, and glancing along the train 
 he perceived lights approaching from both directions. 
 The tramps immediately disappeared in the darkness, 
 while the conductor and front brakeman met on the 
 identical car to which our friend Ben was clinging. 
 After some instructions had been given the brakeman, 
 the political disquietudes of the day became a topic 
 of conversation, and so interested did they become, 
 that placing their lanterns on the roof they sat down 
 themselves, to the intense disgust of our friend, who 
 dared not elevate his head. Unfortunately for him 
 the train was a through freight and had just entered 
 on one of the longest runs of the division. The 
 perch that had been comfortable enough for a short 
 occupancy, soon became quite unendurable with the 
 continued jolting of the car. His feet grew stiff and 
 and his hands sore. Besides he had to cling close to 
 the ladder in constant terror lest the timbers of the 
 bridges they frequently crossed should sweep him 
 off. To add to his misery both of the train men were 
 great consumers of tobacco, and facing Ben's ladder 
 they poured upon his devoted head a torrent of to- 
 bacco juice. Moments grew to the dignity of hours, 
 minutes to ages. Never had he been so thoroughly 
 disgusted with politics. He wished he belonged to a 
 despotism where the discussion of them was punish-
 
 AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT. 123 
 
 able with death. Not only dared he not elevate his 
 head, but he was afraid to turn his face skywards at 
 all, lest he receive in the eyes and mouth a charge of 
 the amber juice that was being so liberally bestowed 
 upon him. 
 
 Our hero was certainly in an unenviable position. 
 If he ascended to the roof and gave himself up, the 
 conductor had threatened in case he was again caught 
 on the train to hand him over to the authorities the 
 first stop that was made ; a procedure that, under the 
 vagrant laws would insure him ninety days in the 
 work house ; enough to totally wreck his expectations. 
 On the other hand if he fell to the ground he was 
 sure to be either killed or badly mangled. In this 
 sad predicament his over-strained feelings found vent 
 in a groan. 
 
 Railroad men, as a class, are superstitious. There 
 are spots along each crews' route that are vested with 
 supernatural properties. We knew a practical man 
 of good common sense, an engineer, who solemnly 
 avers that on crossing a certain bridge at midnight, a 
 large white dog always springs across the track im- 
 mediately his engine leaves the bridge. Another 
 man, a brakeman, would have deserted his train 
 sooner than omit changing his lantern three times, 
 from his right hand into his left, the first time he 
 walked the train. Whatever it is in the human fab- 
 rication that yearns after the incomprehensible we 
 know not ; but that such a force is established there 
 is verified by the scores of different religious beliefs ; 
 founded on faith or fancy as you please. 
 
 The Administration was receiving a hearty en-
 
 124 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 dorsement from the conductor when Ben's groan 
 struck on his ear. A sudden silence ensued. The 
 conductor looked at the brakeman, and the brakeman 
 looked at the conductor. Neither spoke. Another 
 smothered groan came floating from out the surround- 
 ing darkness. The conductor was suddenly reminded 
 that his way bills needed overhauling and the brake- 
 man discovered that his presence was needed at the 
 front of the train. Ben was left master of the situa- 
 tion, though unaware of the influence his groans had 
 had in placing him there. He dragged his stiffened 
 limbs to the top of the car, and indulged in a luxu- 
 rious rub of his bespattered countenance. Presently 
 he was joined by the Evangelist and the two recounted 
 their experiences. 
 
 By constant watchfulness and much dodging down 
 the ladders, they retained possession of the train dur- 
 ing the night, and the first glimpses of the morning 
 sun found them at Columbus ; having made over one 
 hundred and twenty miles on the train Ben had thought 
 it impossible to ride. Stiff, sore, tired and sleepy, 
 but in possession of the satisfaction of having taken 
 a long step on their journey, our friends dismounted 
 and took a look around the'm. While they still stood 
 by the train the conductor passed. He gave them one 
 look of astonishment, and with the remark, " Well, 
 I'll be blowed ! " went on his way. 
 
 As they stood staring about them, not knowing 
 just what to do or where to turn their steps, a man 
 approached,. ringing an old cow bell.^v 
 
 " Just come in on the train, gentlemen ? " asked 
 this individual with a polite bow and monkey-like 
 grin.
 
 AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT. 125 
 
 The travellers replied in the affirmative. 
 
 "Wish to put up at a hotel? Right this way. 
 First cla^s house. Hotel de Log ! On the European 
 plan. Patronized by the elite. Table spread with all 
 the delicacies of the season, and the best the market 
 affords. My clerk was out to a ball last night, and I 
 have to attend to the trains myself this morning. 
 Any baggage? I'll send the porter after it. Just 
 follow me. Breakfast is ready. You are just in time. 
 Right this way, gentlemen. Allow me to carry your 
 coat, sir." This last to Ben, who immediately pro- 
 fessed to be competent to carry it himself. 
 
 " Very well," replied he of the cow bell ; u come 
 right along. You gentlemen also " ; to two terrible 
 looking tramps, that it was afterwards discovered had 
 been on the train all the way from Pittsburg, riding 
 bumpers and trucks. 
 
 Curiosity caused the travellers to follow the pro- 
 prietor of Hotel de Log. He led them some distance 
 down the track, and then struck across an open field 
 to a piece of scrub timber, traversed by a brook. A 
 short walk in this patch of woodland revealed the 
 hotel. 
 
 A giant sycamore had bowed its aged head to some 
 western tornado, and lay at length upon the ground, 
 parallel with the brook, and about a rod from its 
 brawling waters. Along the brook side of the tree 
 were stretched, upon beds of boughs and leaves a 
 dozen or more men, while two others stirred up the 
 embers of a fire, near them. There were countless 
 empty tin cans fire scorched and battered empty 
 bottles of every degree of gentility, from the aristo-
 
 126 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 cratic, thick bellied champagne bottle, down to the 
 plebeian blue glass pop, and an iron pot or two, while 
 rags, bones, and scraps of cold victuals, littered the 
 ground ; and in the log stuck a piece of broken look- 
 ing-glass with a fragment of horn comb behind it. 
 
 " Gentlemen," said their guide with a courteous 
 wave of the cow bell, " allow me j The Hotel de Log! 
 Make yourselves to home."
 
 THE HOTEL DE LOG. 127 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE HOTEL DE LOG. 
 
 BEN and the Evangelist broke out in a roar of 
 laughter, that caused one of the sleepers to 
 awake and murmur a protest, and the proprietor of 
 the " Hotel " to request them to suppress their hilar- 
 ity lest they disturb some of the sleepers on the ground 
 floor. 
 
 So our travellers bottled up their mirth and pro- 
 ceeded to make themselves at home, by taking a sleep 
 that their exhausted natures loudly demanded. Hav- 
 ing secured apartments near the fire, they scraped 
 away such articles as encumbered the ground, and 
 gathering together some leaves and branches for beds, 
 were soon lost in a sound slumber. 
 
 The proprietor of the Hotel de Log was quite a 
 character. He was a professional tramp and journey- 
 man painter, who, being of a sociable turn of mind, 
 had found congenial pastime in establishing and main- 
 taining this popular resort. Originally he had camped 
 on the spot alone, lame with a foot sore from the ef- 
 fects of travel. Passing tramps had been attracted 
 to his camp fire, and iL their stories of the foot path
 
 128 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 and tales of adventures he had found the true pleas- 
 ure that his nature craved. From tramp to tramp, 
 along the line of track, the word had passed where 
 good camping ground was to be found, and the Hotel 
 de Log never lacked guests. Hotel keeping became 
 a mania with the painter-tramp. He secured an old 
 cow bell and regularly visited all freight trains those 
 being the vehicles generally patronized by his cus- 
 tomers and invited members of the fraternity who 
 were intending to stop off down to his mansion on 
 the sunny side of the grey sycamore. He was a harm 
 less, good-natured little fellow, and liked by the re- 
 spectable community residing in the vicinity ; for, to 
 an extent, he controlled the disorderly vagabond el- 
 ement that gathered about him. The citizens gave 
 him such scraps of food as they could spare, and his 
 boarders went out on " cadjing" pilgrimages, and re- 
 turned well ladened. He was generous to a fault, and 
 had a kind, gentle hand for the wounded and afflicted 
 among his guests. The one great luxury of his life, 
 was the occasional indulgence in a quiet, solemn drunk, 
 during which he would sit nodding by the brook, and 
 holding pleasant converse with its laughing waters. 
 
 Who knows but the little man was filling the very 
 spot the Creator had moulded him for. If nothing is 
 made in vain, why should this little painter-tramp 
 have been ? 
 
 Heaven only knows where he now is. But it is 
 safe to venture the suggestion that if his cow bell is 
 rusting in the grass grown court yard of his hotel, 
 and the thrush sings undisturbed upon its walls of 
 sycamore, there are other bells in distant lands that
 
 THE HOTEL DE LOG. 129 
 
 will welcome the poor little painter to a mansion 
 paved with gold and glittering with precious stones. 
 A mansion like his quaint Hotel de Log not made 
 by human hands. 
 
 Better, perhaps, apply for admission at the gates 
 of that Great Hostelry, bearing with you the odor of 
 kind deeds and the sanctity of a generous heart, than 
 with all the pretentious of a successful life and most 
 respectable burial, supplemented by a shaft of marble 
 that shall hand your virtues to posterity in as cold 
 and useless a shape as they existed while you were 
 alive. 
 
 When Ben awoke the sun had passed meridian. 
 The Evangelist still slept, and around the fire lounged 
 two tramps with wounds upon their legs caused by 
 unattended bruises received in boarding trains. The 
 rest of the guests had flown. 
 
 Ben felt much refreshed by his slumber. One of 
 the invalids asked for tobacco and he gave them both 
 a generous supply. In return they spread before him 
 the contents of the larder, consisting of bread, newly 
 dug potatoes, roasting ears, and a jug of cider. The 
 proprietor, he was informed, had departed early in the 
 forenoon to attend a neighboring carpet beating, to 
 which he had been invited. When the Evangelist 
 awoke he also partook of like fare. At his sugges- 
 tion, Ben boiled some water in an iron pot, and with 
 a wash tub improvised out of half a barrel they 
 washed their undergarments by the brook, and spread 
 them in the sun to cby. 
 
 One of the invalids suggested if they were "crumble" 
 they had best give their clothes a " dry wash," and
 
 130 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 further explained that a dry wash consisted in spread- 
 ing their garments over a village of ant hills, and al- 
 lowing those useful little scavengers to go through 
 them and carry off the parasites, both full grown and 
 in protoplasm. Fortunately the " dry wash " had not 
 yet become a necessity with either. 
 
 Being informed that a water tank, conveniently 
 situated for" jumping " trains, was located some seven 
 miles to the west, our two travellers left the Hotel de 
 Log late in the afternoon before the proprietor re- 
 turned and started for it. 
 
 The night that followed was an active and eventful 
 one. The two were repeatedly put off of trains, and 
 after having tried bumpers, pilots, ladders and roofs 
 during which they managed to travel some forty 
 miles they at last, about midnight, seated them- 
 selves upon the front platform of the lightning ex- 
 press baggage car, and made fifty miles without a 
 stop. But, unfortunately, when they attempted to 
 renew their place, the train side tracked, and they 
 were discovered. An exciting chase between the 
 tramps and several road officials followed, but eluding 
 their pursuers, and convinced that it was impractic- 
 able to board a train at that depot, they took to the 
 road and walked several miles until they came to an 
 inviting haystack, when both lay down and slept. 
 
 Ben had now passed through the states of New 
 Jersey, Pennsylvania and Ohio, and was on the bor- 
 der of Indiana. He had travelled over seven hun- 
 dred miles in six days, and St. Louis was within a 
 little more than three hundred more in a bee line, but 
 nearer five hundred by the route and in the manner
 
 THE HOTEL DE LOG. 131 
 
 he was compelled to go. So far his success had been 
 encouraging. Should it continue he felt confident of 
 accomplishing his task. Those six days had accom- 
 plished a wonderful change in him. He was ragged 
 and dirty, and no longer cared for appearances. He 
 was now an expert in stealing rides. There was a 
 bold, lawless, vagabond feeling gaining an ascendancy 
 over him. He was fast losing the self respect that 
 cares for the opinions of others. His stomach had 
 accustomed itself to the new regime. He ate vora- 
 ciously when he could obtain food in plenty, and 
 found himself fasting an entire twenty-four hours 
 without any very disagreeable sensations. He was no 
 longer afraid to ask for food, nor ashamed of being 
 ordered roughly from a train or its vicinity. He cared 
 nothing about the stares with which he was greeted; 
 an Ishmaelitish feeling was growing upon him and 
 he did not care to repress it. In fact Ben had become 
 a tramp. 
 
 His new companion, the Evangelist, was a sociable, 
 easy-going, good-natured fellow. He had traits that 
 were peculiar. Differing from the majority of tramps, 
 he never uttered an oath. " I promised my dear, 
 good mother, when a child, that I would not swear, 
 and I never have," he said. 
 
 His love and respect for his mother's memory was 
 something sublime, amid his rags and degradation. 
 He never spoke disrespectfully of her sex, nor would 
 he allow others to. He mentioned her often in the 
 most devoted manner, and it was easy to be seen that 
 she was the idol of his life. Though a cynic and a 
 skeptic he once said to Ben :
 
 182 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Were I positive that there was no hereafter, 1 
 would school myself to think otherwise. For of what 
 use would life be to me did I not have the hope of 
 again being by the side of her who has gone before 
 me ? " And on another occasion he said : 
 
 " I like free-thinkers well enough, and freedom of 
 thought. I would not that any one should be bound 
 down to the slavery of creed or dogma. Nor do I 
 believe that any one poor, weak piece of human clay 
 has a right to dictate the road to immortality, or sit 
 in judgment on a fellow being. But he who wrecks 
 a comforting belief or destroys a solacing faith, ruins 
 that which he cannot replace. He takes away a hap- 
 piness and offers nothing in return. It is a despicable 
 act. A man had better let the creed or faith of his 
 neighbor alone." 
 
 Horton had no aims, no ambitions, no aspirations. 
 His was a harmless, purposeless life. An inoffensive 
 vagabond who first excited your contempt, and then 
 won your pity. His mother had been left a widow, 
 in poverty, when he was a babe, and with her needle, 
 supported herself and child. All her mother's hopes 
 were centered in him ; all his childish love in her. 
 She struggled hard to give him a fair education, and 
 the happiest moment of her life was when her boy en- 
 tered a theological seminary. Up to that time Hor- 
 ton had been a more than usually bright and promis- 
 ing boy. Whatever he did was done " for mother's 
 sake," and all his air-castles were occupied by her. 
 While he was at the seminary she died, and he never 
 recovered from the blow. A dull, dead apathy to all 
 about him was succeeded by a mild cynicism and a sad
 
 THE HOTEL DE LOG. 183 
 
 rebellion against the justice of Providence ; which 
 latter caused his speedy expulsion from the theological 
 school, about which he cared nothing, however. 
 
 " Why could not my mother have been left tome?" 
 he would say. " Had not sorrows, toils and trials 
 enough been heaped upon her clear head, but that 
 just as I was becoming a value and a consolation to 
 her she must be taken from me and I from her ? " 
 
 When told that " the Lord chasteneth those he 
 loveth," he would bitterly exclaim : 
 
 " Then I want nothing to do with such a God! It 
 is man's God. Created by himself, and like himself, 
 a thing of fury and vengeance ! No, no, no. Him 
 who lights the stars in the sky, and in whose hand 
 this world is a mite so small that his Almighty eye 
 alone can see it, is not the base, slaughter-thirsty cre- 
 ation poor, weak mortals attempt to depict in words 
 that flavor of the dust of earth and thoughts that can- 
 not go beyond the grave ! " 
 
 It was probably a lack of discretion on his part, 
 and a pernicious habit of speaking out his thoughts, 
 that brought Horton into disrepute with respectable 
 people when he chanced to stop among them. For 
 men and women do not like to have people es- 
 pecially poor and dependent people set up in the 
 thinking business for themselves, while so much labor 
 and money has been expended to have their thinking 
 done for them ; it looks presumptuous and ungrateful. 
 
 The Evangelist had an old silver watch that had 
 belonged to his father. It had been the family time 
 piece of the little home formed by his adored mother 
 and himself, and through all the vici^itudes of his
 
 134 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 rambling life he had managed to retain it. It was the 
 connecting link between himself and a past respecta- 
 bility. 
 
 Ben had taken a great liking to the fellow, and of- 
 ten spoke to him seriously about reforming his vaga- 
 bond career, and becoming a decent member of soci- 
 ety. But Horton's sophistry was too much for him. 
 
 " Drones are not the worst inhabitants of this great 
 hive, called the world," he would say laughingly. 
 " Drones are consumers, and the more consumers and 
 fewer producers, the better times are. This country 
 was never so busy at work as when it had a million 
 of non-productive men in the field, to take care of. 
 As a vagabond, I support others by compelling others 
 to support me." 
 
 Ben's words evidently at times had some effect on 
 him, however, and set him to doing much quiet think- 
 ing. 
 
 I
 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HORSE. 135 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HORSE. 
 
 A RATHER unprofitable journey by daylight was 
 attempted, with but little success. The trains 
 were so closely watched that they found it next to 
 impossible to ride on them. Some tramps, whom they 
 met on foot, informed them that this was on account 
 of a fracas that had occurred on the western end of 
 the line. The train men were expelling some free- 
 riders, and handling one of them very roughly the 
 tramp drew a knife and plunged it into the side of 
 a brakeman. The wounded man was not expected to 
 recover, and very strict orders had been issued by the 
 management of the road to prevent all tramps from 
 boarding trains or riding upon them. 
 
 This being the case the Evangelist suggested that 
 they strike across the country, and get on another 
 railroad, running nearly parallel, fifty miles to the 
 south of them. 
 
 They walked quite a distance that evening, and 
 camped in a straw pile. On the following day they 
 resumed their line of march through a lovely rolling 
 country of openings, woodlands and meadows, inter- 
 spersed by many streams.
 
 1S6 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 It was the middle of September the golden time 
 of all the year. The atmosphere was filled with a 
 soft, hazy lustre ; the reflex heat of the summer 
 months after it had journeyed so far as the ice fields 
 of the far north, arid been turned back in a soft and 
 gracious air. Gentle winds told forest tales among 
 the tall trees, and nodded the heads of the grey mul- 
 lens in requiem over the great, broad, plush-like leaves 
 that lay dying at the foot of the stalks. Sentinel 
 sheaves of wheat stood grouped about the yellow 
 fields, and from out the stubble came the piping of 
 the quail mingling with the rustling of the long, 
 drooping, corn leaves; a mellow, autumnal refrain. 
 Near at hand the chattering brook ran a messenger 
 of harvest time to the far ofi^ river, and the river car- 
 ried the news to the gulf, and the gulf swept it to the 
 four corners of the earth. 
 
 " As printed staves of thankful Nature's hymn, 
 The fence of rails a soothing grace devotes, / 
 With clinging vines for bass and treble cleffs, 
 And wrens and roBins here and there for notes ; 
 Spread out in bars, at equal distance met, 
 As though the whole bright autumn scene were set 
 To the unuttered melody of Rest ! " 
 
 " The mill-wheel motionless o'ershades the pool, 
 In whose frail crystal cups its circle dips ; 
 The stream, slow curling, wanders in the sun, 
 And drains his kisses with its silver lips ; 
 The birch canoe upon its shadow lies, 
 The pike's last bubble on the water dies, 
 The water lily sleeps upon her glass." 
 
 The lovely quiet of the country gave our travellers 
 a feeling of peace and rest, that the sharp voice of 
 the iron horse and the rattle of his steel-shod hoofs 
 had forbidden them..
 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HORSE. 137 
 
 " This it is that makes tramping glorious ! " ex- 
 claimed the Evangelist, imbued with the beauty and 
 placidity of Nature's feast. 
 
 u ' Far from the maddening crowd's ignoble strife ' 
 I could tramp forever and forever, with Nature for a 
 companion, and feed my hungry eyes on her loveli- 
 ness ! " 
 
 Toward the close of the afternoon, as Ben arid his 
 friend were seated, resting on the top rail of an old, 
 moss-covered, stake-and-rider fence, a young man came 
 up to them mounted on a horse. The animal was 
 without a saddle and looked as though he had been 
 severely ridden. His rider appeared to be an ordinary 
 young country fellow, without any particular points 
 of interest about him. He drew rein opposite our 
 friends and entered into conversation with them, stat- 
 ing that he was a resident of Bonfield in the adjoining 
 county, thirty miles distant, and having had a falling 
 out with the old folks at home, had left the parental 
 roof with this horse his only property determined 
 to seek his fortunes abroad ; ef it tuk him through six 
 'jining counties ! But he found the horse to be a 
 plaguy botheration. He'd no saddle, an' he was too 
 poor to buy one, and too poor to afford the luxury of 
 a ridin'. He could better afford to walk. He said 
 he was a simple feller and didn't know much 'bout 
 the world, no how, which they might a seed. He 
 was determined to sell or dicker his hoss, and mebbe 
 they'd like to buy the anamyle. How much w'uld 
 they give fur him ? But our friends had no money 
 to purchase him with even had they been so in- 
 clined. In that case moughtn't they hev sumthin'
 
 138 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 they'd trade ? For the rider was so durned tired 
 of the bruit, durned if he didn't nigh feel like 
 givin' him away, or a tradin' him fur sum durned 
 jack knife ! Our friends had nothing to trade him, 
 however. 
 
 No pistols, nor watches, nor jewelrj^, nor nothing ? 
 
 Ben shook his head, but the Evangelist studied a 
 moment. 
 
 " Ben," he whispered, " I hate to part with my 
 watch. It is the last earthly tie I have binding me 
 to memories of the past. But if if I had that 
 horse I could sell him sell him may be for fifty or 
 sixty dollars ! And that would be money enough to 
 take us both decently to St. Louis, and pay our ex- 
 penses there until we could secure emplo3 r ment 
 good employment. I'd give' up rambling, and it 
 might be the making of us both ! " 
 
 Cleveland tried to persuade him not to part with 
 the watch, but the sanguine temperament of the Evan- 
 gelist peculiar to him was already picturing a 
 life of respectability in St. Louis. A great reforma- 
 tion with Ben for a constant moral support to lean 
 upon. Indeed it was Ben's own reasoning heretofore 
 that caused the other to think at all of changing his 
 condition. 
 
 " Yes I will, yes I will, Ben. It's a great chance 
 who knows what may come of it ! " 
 
 And Ben who had formed a strong liking for his 
 companion thought perhaps it might be for the best 
 after all. That it might, possibly, be a turning point 
 in Horton's life, that would redeem him. 
 
 The watch was scarce worth twenty dollars. It
 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HOESE. 139 
 
 had heavy, old-fashioned silver cases, but the works 
 though in good order were antique. Horton 
 offered it to the rider for his horse, and the latter, af- 
 ter dickering for something " to boot," and finding he 
 could get nothing more, accepted it. Then he trans- 
 ferred the horse to ths Evangelist, calling upon Ben 
 to be a witness to the trade, and bidding our friends 
 good day, stated that he wished to pass the night with 
 a cousin six miles distant, and struck out over the 
 fields. 
 
 The two travellers took a look at their new ac- 
 quisition. He was a trifle old, and had a bone 
 spavin, but otherwise was a good, solid chunk of 
 a farm horse. The question now arose what to do 
 with him. 
 
 " I'll tell you," said Horton, " it is about twelve 
 miles to Lickskillet, where we strike the railroad. 
 That is too far for you to walk to-uight, but I can 
 ride, and get into the town an hour or so before sun- 
 down, by pushing my horse. I'll sell him there for 
 all I can get, and wait for you. You walk so far as 
 you feel able to-night and get up early to-morrow 
 morning and come on," and then after a pause : " Don't 
 delay Ben, for it aint just safe for me to have money 
 about me yet my good resolutions are too new," 
 and he laughed, but his voice was serious and entreat- 
 ing. 
 
 This arrangement being perfected the Evangelist 
 mounted his purchase and rode off at a sharp canter, 
 Ben following more slowly on foot. 
 
 Now that Horton was gone our hero discovered 
 what a companion he had been. Always ready with
 
 140 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 some quaint suggestion or far-fetched argument 
 original in his metaphors and epigrammatic in his 
 criticisms he had caused the time to pass away 
 agreeably, and Ben missed him. 
 
 With pleasant reveries he beguiled the way until 
 sundown came upon him unnoticed. He could have, 
 made Lickskillet that night by an increase of exer- 
 tion, but his feet were tired and as there was no ne- 
 cessity for getting into the town until morning, he 
 began looking about him for a camping place. While 
 prospecting for a straw pile, or hay stack, suitably sit- 
 uated for his night's rest, he passed a comfortable 
 farm house, consisting of a frame building with a. log 
 kitchen in its rear. In the barn 3 r ard, near the house, 
 a man was attempting to raise a corn crib by means 
 of two timbers used as levers. The method did not 
 appear to work well, and Ben watched him through 
 several failures. He would first bear down one of his 
 levers, and piling stones upon it attempt to hold it in 
 this manner, while he lifted on the other. But the 
 levers slipped, and he was unsuccessful. He had 
 worked fruitlessly long enough to make help appreci- 
 ated, and when Ben offered his assistance, it was 
 gladly accepted. It took nearly an hour's labor to 
 get the corn crib into the desired position and prop- 
 erly propped up. 
 
 When the work was done, the farmer thanked him 
 and asked if he was travelling. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I'm on my way to St. Louis." 
 
 " Wall, I declar ! Reckon you'll git thar twixt 
 now and Chris'mas ? " 
 
 Ben reckoned he would.
 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HOESE. 141 
 
 " I declar ! No money ? " 
 
 " No money." 
 
 " Tumble bad condition, I declar ! Come in and 
 take a bite ; ye've arned yer supper. I ain't got no 
 great show of 'commodations, but these nights air 
 not cold, an' thar's a plenty of fresh straw out in 
 the cow shed. Reckon ye kin make out ? Hey, 
 not?" 
 
 Ben assured him that the accommodations offered 
 were highly acceptable. 
 
 "And whar mought ye come f rum ? " asked the 
 farmer. 
 
 " New York," replied Ben. 
 
 " I declar ! State or city ? " 
 
 " City." 
 
 " I declar ! " And he looked at Ben and Ben 
 looked at him. " That's a right smart piece frum 
 hyar, I reckon ? " 
 
 Ben told him it was nearly eight hundred miles, at 
 which he " declar'd ! " again. 
 
 On entering the farm house he was introduced to 
 the farmer's wife, and four small tow-headed children, 
 with the remark : 
 
 " Fly round, 'Riah ; hyar's a man all the way frum 
 New Yurk City agoin' to St. Lowis ; an' I'm tumble 
 peckish, which I reckon he is too," at which 'Riah 
 also said " I declar ! " and the four tow-headed chil- 
 dren stood with open mouths and looked it, though 
 they did not say so. 
 
 At the table the farmer turned to Ben, somewhat 
 to the latter's consternation, and asked : 
 
 " Strangier, will you say a blessin' ?"
 
 142 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Ben might have recited some Homeric ode, but a 
 simple blessing left him high and dry on the shoals of 
 ignorance, and he had to decline. 
 
 The good man came near saying " I declar ! " but 
 corrected himself, and proceeded to ask divine protec- 
 tion for himself and family and the stranger within 
 his gates, interpolating a few reflections upon his old- 
 est son and heir's reprehensible act of sticking his 
 fingers in the "meat gravy," and introducing in the 
 invocation a promise to give the two youngest tow 
 heads " a good larrupin' fur their obstreporosity of 
 behaviour." Grace having been duly wound up by 
 the head of the family smartly rapping the tow head 
 nearest to him with his knuckles, for an infraction of 
 proprieties, Ben was solicited not to stand on cere- 
 mony, but to " pitch in." 
 
 After supper a pipe and a chat by a log fire more 
 for light and cheerfulness than heat followed. But 
 our hero soon grew sleepy, tired out with the day's 
 long walk, and retired to the cow shed determined to 
 be up and away at early cock crow in the morning. 
 
 Sometime during the night he was partially awak- 
 ened from his slumbers by voices on the kitchen 
 porch. Half asleep and half awake he heard the fol- 
 lowing disjointed expressions : 
 
 " He's caught Lickskillet jail they're all a com- 
 ing 'greed to it after meetin' make an example 
 of him we'll show 'em come on be quick ! " 
 After which he was dimly conscious that some one 
 entered the barn and saddled a horse. There was a 
 clatter of hoofs out on the road, and then all was 
 again quiet, and Ben slept peacefully.
 
 THE EVANGELIST INVESTS IN A HORSE. 143 
 
 It was the dark hour before dawn when the rest- 
 less chanticleer from his perch in a neighboring apple 
 tree called our hero up. He limbered himself with 
 a good round of shakes and stamping life into his 
 sleepy feet, started out in the dark for Lickskillet, 
 five miles distant.
 
 144 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 LICKSKILLET HAS A SENSATION. 
 
 THOUGH this is a true and faithful chronicle of 
 the adventures of our friend Benjamin Cleve- 
 land, so closely have his affairs now become linked 
 with the destiny of another that we must temporarily 
 leave him, and turn to the hamlet of Lickskillet. 
 
 When the Evangelist arrived with his horse late 
 the previous afternoon, he found the village to consist 
 of a single straggling street, lined by country stores, 
 in front of which were hitched a few farm teams and 
 country wagons. The Evangelist was stared at after 
 the usual bucolic fashion. His immediate business 
 being the disposal of his equine property, he rode up 
 to a long, low, weather-stained building, bearing the 
 legend, " Livery, board and sale stable," in skeleton 
 characters on a board that decorated a pole. Half a 
 dozen loungers greeted his advent with a stolid stare. 
 
 Horton rode into the building and dismounting, 
 propounded the question: 
 
 " Does anybody know of anybody that wants to buy 
 a horse ? " 
 
 Another stare, more dense in its stupidity and sto- 
 lidity, greeted the query.
 
 LICKSKILLET HAS A SENSATION. 145 
 
 " If they do, here's a solid good work horse I'll 
 sell cheap," continued he. 
 
 At this information a man, who had been engaging 
 his time and attention in company with an intelligent 
 jack knife, upon a shingle, arose, and allowing his 
 hand and knife to pare away at the wood after their 
 own inclination, walked slowly around the horse and 
 observed him with a critical eye. 
 
 " Whar'd ye get him ? " he asked. 
 
 " Bought him of a man up the road," replied Hor- 
 ton. " I got him at a bargain, and I'll sell him at 
 one." 
 
 " How much ? " asked the man. 
 
 " I'll sell him for fifty dollars, cash," said the Evan- 
 gelist. 
 
 The man stared at Horton a full minute without 
 speaking, slowly running his eye from the Evange- 
 list's head to his feet and up again several times. 
 Then, still whittling, he walked to the bam door, 
 where he turned and gave a sly wink to one of the 
 stolid men present ; which pantomimic piece of activ- 
 ity seemed to create some little sensation among the 
 human stolidity present. 
 
 One after another they arose, and slowly walking 
 around the horse, eyed him from head to tail, then 
 giving Horton a final examination, passed quietly out 
 of the door, until the latter found himself left alone 
 with his horse. 
 
 This situation lasted but a few moments, for the 
 man who first went out shortly returned, still whit- 
 tling, and commenced interrogating him. 
 
 "Whar did ye kum frum? Whar air ye goin' ?
 
 146 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 How long ye bed the anirayle ? Wot ye want to sell 
 it fur? How'd he kum to be rid so hard ? " and nu- 
 merous other questions were asked and duly answered. 
 Having finished his category, the stable-keeper for 
 it was the owner and proprietor of the " livery " re- 
 marked : 
 
 " Looks mighty 'spicious ! " 
 
 " What looks suspicious? " asked Horton. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," replied the man with a tone and 
 look indicating that his yahoo mind was one immense 
 volume of doubt. 
 
 The Evangelist was puzzled. He could see noth- 
 ing strange about the matter, and so expressed him- 
 self. If a man wanted a good horse cheap, there was 
 the animal and if he did not, he could let it alone. 
 A liberty of action that would no doubt have power- 
 fully impressed the " 'spicious " man were it not that 
 the attention of both was suddenly diverted into other 
 channels. There were heard the murmur of many 
 voices, and the shuffling of many feet on the street, 
 and half a hundred men, picked up from farmers' 
 wagons, trading stores and adjacent fields, rushed into 
 the stable and surrounded Horton and the horse. 
 While he was staring in astonishment at this influx 
 of purchasers, a lank, sandy-complexioned man stepped 
 from the crowd and taking one look at the horse, ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " That's him ! Whoa, Bob ! " 
 
 The animal immediately recognizing the voice and 
 name, turned his head and greeted the sandy man 
 with a neigh. 
 
 At this Horton stepped back in astonishment, but
 
 LICKSKILLET HAS A SENSATION. 147 
 
 the next instant was felled to the stable floor "by a 
 blow on the head, and three men pounced upon him, 
 crying out : 
 
 " No you don't, you scoundrel ! You're too late ! 
 We've got ye and'll keep ye ! You bet ! " 
 
 " Gentlemen," cried the Evangelist so soon as he 
 could recover breath. " What in the name of Heaven 
 does all this mean ? " 
 
 " Mean ! " exclaimed half a dozen voices, while a 
 score of angry eyes glared vengefully upon him ; 
 " Mean ? Why it means ye're gone up, ye whelp of 
 a hoss thief ! " 
 
 " I am no thief ! " he indignantly replied. " That 
 horse is my property, and I came by him honestly." 
 
 " Ye lie ! " shouted he of the sandy complexion, 
 who was now holding ' Bob.' " Ye lie ! Ye stole 
 that hoss outer my cow lot night afore last, I kem 
 from Spoonerville down the town-line rud or I'd hev 
 cot ye on the way, an' ef I hed the county ud hev 
 been saved the expense of yer trial ! " And giving 
 utterance to this dark shadowing of a vengeful pur- 
 pose the sandy man glared upon Horton. 
 
 "Gentlemen it is false ! I " commenced the 
 Evangelist, but the sandy man, unable to reach him 
 with his hands and hold his horse at the same time, 
 gave the poor captive a vicious kick in the stomach, 
 exclaiming : 
 
 " Ye mean to tell me I lie, ye dirty, hoss thief ! " 
 
 One would have thought that in that crowd some 
 voice had been found to call " shame " at the cow- 
 ardly act of striking a man held from self defence by 
 the hands of others. But the agricultural sense of
 
 148 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 hon<3r is somewhat like the agricultural habits of life 
 somewhat narrowed by limited associations. Had 
 the good feelings of the crowd been appealed to they 
 would all have rushed after a leader like a flock of 
 sheep, probably. It being the opposite, Horton was 
 kicked and cuffed to their heart's content, as though 
 
 o 
 
 each had a private grievance to attend to. They then 
 stood him on his feet and demanded that he give an 
 account of himself. 
 
 Thoroughly frightened and suffering much pain 
 from the harsh treatment he had received, and fear- 
 ing a repetition of it that seemed to indicate itself in 
 the lowering looks surrounding him, the poor unfor- 
 tunate Evangelist humbled his tone, and gave a truth- 
 ful statement of himself and the manner in which he 
 had obtained possession of the horse. Briefly he 
 stated who lie was and did not try to palliate the crime 
 of being a tramp. Then he related ho\v, while in 
 company with Ben, he had traded a watch for the 
 horse with a farmer's boy who lived in Boiifield, and 
 had brought the animal in town to sell it ; leaving his 
 comrade back on the road, to come after him on the 
 morrow. 
 
 " A likely story ! " 
 
 " Did he think to stuff that down their throats ? " 
 
 " A man without money having watches to give 
 for horses ! Too thin ! " 
 
 " Where was his partner?" 
 
 " Selling another horse somewhere, probably ! " 
 
 " He said he was a tramp, and what was a tramp 
 but a hoss thief! " 
 
 And they laughed at his statements in derision.
 
 LICKSKILLET HAS A SEXSATION. 149 
 
 The tide was setting strong against the Evangelist. 
 It became a perfect torrent when the sandy complex- 
 ioned man called upon another sandy complexioned 
 man, with sandy hair and sandy beard and sandy 
 clothes, and small sandy blue eyes, and hard sandy 
 hands (honest, no doubt, but very ragged at the fin- 
 ger ends and very dirt-grimed) and a sandy voice, 
 and sandy appearance generally from his heel to his 
 occiput, to come take a good " squar " look at Hor- 
 ton, and see if he was not the man he had seen loaf- 
 ing around in the vicinit} r of Spoonerville ? And this 
 sandiest of all sandy men, feeling himself elevated to 
 a consequential position, felt it incumbent upon his 
 new notoriety to aver that Horton was the man ; 
 compromising with some slight qualms of conscience 
 with the codicil that " leastways he lulcs mighty sight 
 like him." That settled it. And all his wild pro- 
 testations could not change the decision of the crowd 
 that immediately transformed the luckless Evangelist 
 from a tramp into a horse thief. 
 
 By this time a man who was duly authorized to act 
 as town marshal appeared on the scene, and with a 
 deal of importance seized Horton's person in the ma- 
 jestic name of the Law ! and conveyed his seizure, fol- 
 lowed by the crowd, to the village lock-up. A small 
 plank box, twelve feet by twelve feet in all of its di- 
 mensions, without a window, and principally used for 
 the occasional cooling off of' some obstreperous bu- 
 colics who on coming to town became surcharged 
 with the staff of life in a liquid form. Into this hole, 
 standing solitary and alone in the centre of the vil- 
 lage common, he was thrown, and the door closed
 
 150 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 with, a bang. The rusty key grated in the rusty lock, 
 the rusty crowd outside gave some rusty whoops and 
 yells, and then went off pawing the air as men who 
 had done great deeds. It was as though, in some far 
 off Hindoo village, the tiger that had been fattening 
 his ribs upon the natives had at last been caught and 
 caged. Everybody, save that poor battered and 
 bruised form on the floor of the village lockup, was 
 triumphant ! 
 
 And now of what use is a triumph unless we cele- 
 brate it ? And what is the great American method 
 of celebrating triumphs? From the nabob who in 
 gilded apartments gracefully nods his head to his 
 brother nabob, as he remarks : " I congratulate you " 
 before sending the soul of sunny France gurgling 
 down his pink throat, down to the ragged effigy who 
 leans against the sour-smelling fetid bar and cracks 
 his glass against the glass of his brother effigy, with : 
 "Here's luck, d n your soul! " as he. pitches the 
 scorching tanglefoot down his red hot gullet, we 
 Americans have our own method of celebrating tri- 
 umphs. We get drunk. 
 
 So these Lickskilletonians celebrated in the hour 
 of their triumph. 
 
 Stiff, sore, bruised, battered and bleeding, the Evan- 
 gelist struggled to his feet and staggering to a nar- 
 row, iron-barred slit in the side of the village lockup, 
 looked out. The sun was creeping to bed among the 
 purple hills of the horizon. Already it had nearly 
 disappeared ; all save a narrow disk, that with a red, 
 autumnal glow was bidding the world good-night. 
 Long and earnestly he gazed upon the glowing west,
 
 LICKSKILLET HAS A SENSATION. 151 
 
 painted with red and purple and russet, and trimmed 
 with silver and gold. With its woods and meadows 
 and vales, painted by God's own hand. With its fad- 
 ing lights, its deepening shadows, its soft grey of com- 
 ing twilight. Long he gazed, until the shadows had 
 swallowed up the light, and the grey of twilight was 
 lost in the dusk of night. Then he flung himself on 
 the floor, and sleep came with a soft and soothing 
 balm to anoint his wounds ; his eyes filled with that 
 last glow his last of his Creator's sunlight.
 
 152 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 JUDGE LYNCH HOLDS COURT. 
 
 A SHORT distance out of Licksldllet stood a 
 country church. A quiet-looking, unpreten- 
 tious frame building, with a stunted little steeple sur- 
 mounted by a weather-vane in the shape of an arrow 
 hanging at right angles on an iron rod with a gilded 
 point. The weekly prayer meeting was being held 
 that evening, and the yeomen of the vicinity met to 
 send their appeals for clemency, in a body, to the 
 Great Judge on high ; each taking his turn in the 
 supplications. A sort of prayerful round-robin. An 
 opportunity to improve the recording angel's record 
 in the celestial ledger, and enhance their reputations 
 for goodness among the neighbors by a full, (but in- 
 expensive,) confession of their sins and wickedness. 
 Confessions on general principles, however not spe- 
 cific ones. Brother Longhorn prayed for forgiveness 
 for his sins in general, but did not mention defraud- 
 ing Green Southdown in a horse trade, nor did he 
 speak any thing about restitution. Brother Plough- 
 git demanded that the wicked be no longer allowed to 
 flourish like the green bay tree and did not tremble
 
 JUDGE LYNCH HOLDS COURT. 153 
 
 with personal apprehension while doing it. Brother 
 Hedges took much satisfaction in announcing that he 
 was a poor, weak sinner which confession was ap- 
 parently concurred in by a number of the brethren. 
 Brother R3-efield spoke glowingly of charity and 
 prayed that they all might be greatly blessed with 
 that virtue but said nothing about withdrawing a 
 suit against a man who was trying to support a wife, 
 five children, and the consumption on nothing. 
 Brother Powter wanted strength to do His bidding, 
 which caused Brother Applegate to reflect that if His 
 bidding conflicted with Brother Powter's own bidding 
 it would take all the strength of sixteen hundred 
 million yoke of fat cattle to answer Brother Powter's 
 prayer. Brother Potts was thankful for what he had 
 and wanted more. Brother Rockafellow prayed that 
 their hearts might all be filled with an abiding peace 
 and love. And they all say " Amen ! " 
 
 After meeting the general topic was the capture of 
 the horse thief. Down in the village the unregener- 
 ated were still holding a feeble celebration, but beyond 
 an excuse for celebrating they did not look upon the 
 capture as an incentive to sterner action. Not so 
 with the brethren. They did not endorse the cele- 
 bration. That is, not publicly. Moreover they 
 looked upon the celebrants as a vain and worldly peo- 
 ple. 
 
 But at a cross road Brother Pewter met Brother 
 Longhorn, and was overtaken by Brother Rockafel- 
 low and Brother Ploughgit and Brother Hedges, and 
 several other brothers, and a discussion ensued as to 
 the safety of live stock in that vicinity more espe- 
 cially " hosses."
 
 154 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " I tell ye wot," said Brother Powter, "this thing's 
 got to be stopped. We aint none of us safe ! " 
 
 " An' I don't see but now's the 'pinted time to stop 
 it," said Brother Rockafellow. 
 
 And Brother Longhorn said : 
 
 " Ef we make a example of this one, it'll clear the 
 country of the scoundrils an' give us peace an' secur- 
 ity ! " 
 
 " But mebbe the lor hed better take its course," 
 suggested a timid brother. 
 
 " Thet's it Brother Calfer ; thet's it. Wot is the 
 course of the lor ? Why it's to involve the county 
 hed over ears in debts fur us farmers to pay, an' let 
 the hoss thief go free ! Thet's wot the lor is ! " and 
 this explanation of what the law consisted of met 
 with many approving expressions of " Thet's so ! " 
 "You've hit it!" "Lor's a swindle!" "Ropes 
 good cheap lor ! " and other endorsements. 
 
 And the little crowd at the cross roads in caucus 
 assembled appointed each one present a committee of 
 one to ride around the neighborhood that night and 
 invite the neighbors to meet before " sun up " on the 
 public square in Lickskillet, and " devise measures for 
 the protection of the public peace and property, more 
 especially hosses." 
 
 On the cold floor of his prison the Evangelist lay 
 folded in the arms of the merciful angel of rest. The 
 blood had dried upon his face, and its deep crimson 
 contrasted weirdly with the ghastly palor of his coun- 
 tenance even in the faint star light that crept through 
 the one narrow aperture in the building. His long, 
 thin fingers were clasped as though in prayer, and
 
 JUDGE LYNCH HOLDS COUKT. 155 
 
 ever and anon his lips would move and a smile break 
 upon them hideously out of conformity with his 
 blood-stained face. But blood and wounds and bruises 
 and rags and miseries and wretchedness, were all for- 
 gotten by the sleeper. He was with his mother. He 
 was with her, in that realm entered only through the 
 portals of sleep. Again he was a boy. Again with 
 dog-eared books flung over his shoulder, he saun- 
 tered down the green New England lane ; rich in 
 the glories of wild-roses and gaudy thistle-blossoms ; 
 odor-ladened by groups of cedar bushes and the mel- 
 low fragrance of old orchards, tuned to harmony with 
 the chatter of blue jays and the operatic notes of bob- 
 olinks. Here a pebble to kick, there a mullen head 
 to switch from its stalk; now a puff-ball to crush 
 with his heel, a rabbit to chase in the brush, and an 
 old post to lean against with hands in pockets and 
 books flung at his feet, while he looked and whistled 
 and whistled and looked, just in sheer glee and relief 
 that the day's work in the weather-stained school- 
 house was over. Then a shout and a run down the 
 low hill that ended by the cottage gate, where a thin 
 care-worn woman, with fond eyes, wrapped him in her 
 arms and pressed her lips lovingly to his joyed with 
 him in his joys and sorrowed with him in his sorrows. 
 No wonder that the lips of him who lay on the hard 
 floor of the Lickskillet lockup murmured the name 
 of " Mother." The purest, truest, holiest being that 
 the heart of man ever enshrined for its idol ! 
 
 But what is this ? There is the noise of many 
 voices without a rush of many feet. The door of 
 his prison resounds to a heavy blow. The sharp point
 
 156 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 of an-'tron bar is thrust between the jamb and the 
 lock. It shivers and groans with the pressure. 
 Groans as if in protest against the violence about to 
 be committed. Then, with a grinding screech, it ilies 
 open and the Evangelist springs to his feet. Springs 
 to his feet to. be confronted by a judge from whose de- 
 cision there is no appeal. A judge whose court has 
 flooded this fair land with scenes of blood and mur- 
 der. A judge whose jury is the brute passions of 
 mankind. The abettor of spite, vengeance, igno- 
 rance and bigotry. A judge who knows no law save 
 the law of might. A judge who he'd his court on 
 the steps of the guillotine, in the mountain haunts of 
 the Covenanters, and in the streets of old Venice. 
 A judge, who when banished in loathing from the old 
 world, brought his dread court to the new, and treads 
 the civilization, the Christianity and the progress of 
 the nineteenth century beneath his heel in this fair 
 land. A judge who daily calls upon us* by his acts, 
 cited in the public press, to rise and hurl him from 
 his bench, and declare ourselves at last on a level with 
 the enlightened nations of the earth. JUDGE LYNCH ! 
 
 As Ilorton arose to his feet he encountered this 
 hideous parody upon civilization in the shape of two 
 hundred maddened men. Maddened with a thirst for 
 human life. 
 
 " Come out hyar ! " yelled the mob. 
 
 " Bring him out ! Bring him out ! Hang thehoss 
 thief! Shoot him! We'll rid the country of him! 
 Rope him ! Rope him ! " they cried. 
 
 There were many men in the crowd, who in calm 
 reflective moments would have shrunk from a deed
 
 JUDGE LYNCH HOLDS COUET. 157 
 
 of violence. But they were wild. Wild with excite- 
 ment. Wild with the darkness of night. Wild with 
 a ^elf-heated anger. Wild with the horribly fantastic 
 knowledge that a human life was in their hands to do 
 just as they pleased with. To crush, to destroy, to 
 han<j and none to say them nay. 
 
 " For God's sake, gentlemen, what will you do with 
 me ? '' cried the Evangelist. 
 
 " We'll show you ! We'll teach you to steal hos- 
 ses ! " they veiled for an answer. 
 
 " I did not steal ! As God is my witness I am no 
 thief. Time will prove it. Will you not give me a 
 chance for my life ? " he pleaded wildly. 
 
 " Dry up ! No use lying now ! We know what 
 kind of watches you fellers trade for hosses ! " and a 
 loud laugh greeted this last witticism. 
 
 Four men seized the protesting man and running 
 as many ropes about his neck, the} r started off,' drag- 
 ging him along the road in the clear starlight, the 
 crowd following hooting and yelling. The ropes 
 tightened aroui'd his throat, and it was with the ut- 
 most difficulty he kept himself from being strangled. 
 Speak he could not, though every atom of his body 
 was in a dreadful quiver with that appalling sensation 
 which those who have approached close to a horrible 
 and unexpected death alone can realize or understand. 
 
 Yelling, hooting and jeering, the crowd dragged 
 him out of the village to the patch of woods near the 
 country church. Every thing was done hurriedly. 
 A man climbed an oak tree and flung a rope over a 
 sturdy limb into the hands of those below. At this 
 moment the Evangelist found tongue.
 
 158 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 "Men!" he exclaimed. "Men or brutes! This 
 is murder ! Murder ! I am as guiltless of stealing 
 that horse as the child unborn. I have told you truth- 
 fully how I came by it. Will you kill me thus with- 
 out allowing me to prove my innocence ? Are you 
 men, are you human, are you Christians ? Will you 
 deliberately take my blood upon your hands ? " 
 
 But a voice replied, and it sounded like that of 
 Brother Rockafellow, though the man had a handker- 
 chief tied over his face, partly concealing it : 
 
 " Strangier, make yer peace with the Lord. Thar's 
 even marcy fur such as you, perhaps. Hev ye the 
 rope ready ? " 
 
 At this moment a new comer appeared on the 
 scene. It was. the lank, thin, care-worn pastor of the 
 little church ; the shepherd of this thirsty flock. The 
 noise had aroused him in his faded cottage, and in 
 great perturbation and much trembling of his bony 
 limbs, and rubbing of his withered hands he ap- 
 proached to see what it was all about. 
 
 " It's a hoss thief, an' in a minit we're going tohev 
 one less in the kentry," explained the mob. 
 
 Instantly the thin, lank, trembling pastor was trans- 
 formed into an iron-nerved, fearless warrior of the 
 Master's army. 
 
 " Men," he cried, and his thin voice fairly reached 
 a shriek with the unaccustomed energy ; " men, you 
 shall not kill the man ! Vengeance is mine, saith the 
 Lord ! A murderer shall not enter the kingdom of 
 heaven, and you are committing murder ! In the 
 name of Jesus I implore you to stop. Hold on. Let 
 me alone. Release me. I will get to him. You are
 
 JUDGE LYNCH HOLDS COURT. 159 
 
 savages. How dare you, sir ! Don't kill him. Stop, 
 stop ! " and hustled back by the crowd, this soul, 
 worthier of a nobler tenement, went down on his 
 knees and begged and prayed that they would hold 
 their vengeful hands. 
 
 " He'll not preach here no more." " We've done 
 with him." " Conference will hev to give us another 
 preacher." " Make the durned old fool shet up," and 
 similar hostile expressions were unheard or unheeded. 
 He reproached, begged, threatened, implored. All 
 was wasted upon the crowd. The tiger was loose. 
 He had wetted his lips in imagination, was he to be 
 cheated of his prey ? The good man's protestations 
 and supplications were alike disregarded. 
 
 " At least let me pray with him. Let me give him 
 the consolation of our blessed Lord and Saviour in 
 these, his last moments upon earth," he implored. 
 
 This request was at first refused, but ultimately re- 
 luctantly granted, with the observation that they could 
 not see what the old idiot wanted to make so much 
 fuss over a durned hoss thief for. The good man 
 shook Horton by the hand, and spoke consolingly to 
 him, giving him such sympathy as he could, and beg- 
 ging him to turn his thoughts on Him who died for 
 all. 
 
 A great change had come over the Evangelist. He 
 no longer supplicated for life, nor indeed did he pay 
 much attention to those around him. Perhaps he 
 saw how useless it was to search for their feelings. 
 Perchance his thoughts were far away and death had 
 lost its terrors. To a question of his only friend he 
 replied :
 
 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " No, I have no relatives. There are none that I 
 would care to acquaint with my fate. But I am an 
 innocent man. Here, standing- on the brink of Eter- 
 nity, without a hope for this world, about to be ush- 
 ered, all unheralded, all unsummoned, into the presence 
 of Him who gave me life, I would not deceive you. I 
 am innocent. And I solemnly adjure you at whose 
 hands I perish that in the future, when you have found 
 out the mistake of your crime, that it shall ever be a 
 warning to you to hold more sacred that life which 
 God has given, and which, though you may take, you 
 cannot replace. And may He forgive you. as I for- 
 give you." 
 
 A man now flung the noose of the rope over his 
 head. Others roughly ordered the minister out of 
 the way, and the good man affectionately embracing 
 Horton and bidding him good-bye, retreated to the 
 church steps, and seating himself, with face upturned 
 and eyes flowing tears, sang in a thin treble voice : 
 
 " Jesus, Saviour of my soul, 
 Let me to thy bosom fly." 
 
 At the moment the rope was tightening on the vic- 
 tim's neck, there occurred a commotion on the outer 
 edge of the crowd, and breathless and hatless Ben 
 forced his way through and up to the unfortunate 
 companion of his wanderings. 
 
 " Hold ! " he cried, " hold I This man is innocent. 
 I was with him when he traded his watch for that 
 horse. You are murdering an innocent man ! " 
 
 " Who're you ? " roughly enquired a number. 
 
 " He's the man who was with me when I got the 
 horse ; the man I told you of. He will prove that I 
 did not steal it," calmly replied Horton.
 
 JI T DC,E LYNCH HOLDS COURT. 161 
 
 " That's a likely story ! " exclaimed a voice. 
 
 " Thief a helpin' thief! " shouted another. 
 
 " He's another hoss thief ! " 
 
 " We've got 'em both ! Hang 'em both ! Make a 
 clean sweep and clean the kentry of them ! " yelled 
 the crowd. 
 
 " I am no thief ! " cried Ben. " My name is Ben- 
 jamin Cleveland. Boston is my home. I am walk- 
 ing to New Orleans on a wager. You can prove it by 
 telegraph and hang me if it is not so." 
 
 A derisive laugh greeted this information. 
 
 " Walkin' to New Orleans, air ye ? Well ye'll hev 
 to walk another route, and a warmer one ! " 
 
 " Rope him ! Rope him ! Let's clean the State 
 of the villains, and leave 'em hanging up as a warn- 
 ing!" 
 
 As this was shouted Ben felt a rope thrown over 
 his neck, and the next instant both he and the Evan- 
 gelist were jerked into the air amid a chorus of yells. 
 There was a confused murmur of voices beneath him. 
 He struggled and kicked. Tried to loose the rope 
 that was strangling him with his hands. The froth 
 oozed from his mouth. The confined blood seemed 
 bursting his head. Ten thousand bells were clanging 
 in his ears. He tried to cry out. A low gurgle es- 
 caped him. Then all grew black and blank. 
 
 When Ben regained consciousness he was lying at 
 the foot of the oak tree with a loosened rope around 
 his neck. His head seemed gigantic in its size and 
 his lips were parched. The grey light of morning 
 was struggling over the eastern hills. Not a soul was 
 in sight. No, not a soul.
 
 102 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 But turning his eyes upward they encountered a 
 sight that caused him to close them again with a groan 
 of horror. For there, swinging gently to and fro, in 
 the morning breeze, hung the stiff, lifeless body of 
 Horton the Evangelist. His eyes bulging from their 
 sockets, his swollen tongue protruding from his mouth, 
 and his gaunt face tinted with the leaden palor of 
 stagnant blood. 
 
 Dead ! Hung by the neck. Dead ! 
 
 As the eye of God came grandly up over the east- 
 ern horizon, it glanced upon awakening nature, and 
 fell upon that hideous, untenanted clod of abused 
 clay, that gently swung from the sturdy oak. And 
 as it glanced on the ruin and devastation the little 
 church fell in its way. And it took the shadow of 
 the steeple along over the road and over the open 
 space, to the woods, clean to the foot of the oak tree, 
 up which it pointed like some avenging finger. Up 
 and still up crept the shadow until it reached the body 
 of the dead man with the weather vane. And, Lo ! 
 When Ben again dared to lift his eyes, there, on the 
 stark, still, pulseless breast of the Evangelist, was 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE CKOSS ! "
 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE. 163 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE. 
 
 TURN we now to record more grateful scenes. 
 Let us leave the black cross on the breast of 
 the dead man. The dead man swinging in the morn- 
 ing breeze. Our backs are turned upon an unknown, 
 moundless grave, down in a sandy, barren jack-oak 
 field. A shallow grave over which no head stone tells 
 the passer by that all flesh is grass. A grave on 
 which the startled rabbit pauses, with ears erect, to 
 heed the breaking of a twig. A grave on which the 
 quail pipes forth his cheering notes in the glimmer of 
 the dawn, and the prairie grouse crows good night to 
 the setting sun. A grave in which lies mouldering a 
 monument to the reign of the lawless judge. A grave 
 in which is secreted the prey of the human tiger. 
 The occupant of the grave has found rest at last. 
 His tramp is o'er. He sleeps the sleep that knows no 
 waking, he dreams the dream that knows no breaking. 
 That there is only one occupant of the shallow 
 grave down in the black-jack barren is due to the ex- 
 ertions of the man with whom Ben ate supper the 
 previous evening. He it was who extended aid to
 
 164 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 our hero in his dire distress and saved his life. 
 Through his intercessions Cleveland was lowered from 
 the limb and spared. Like one walking in his sleep, 
 his mind and energies paralyzed by the dreadful scene 
 through which he had passed, Ben made a futile at- 
 tempt to justify- his dead friend's memory. He only 
 met with repulses nay, threats. No one would be- 
 lieve him, none give credence to his tale. He found 
 none who had witnessed the hanging, none who would 
 talk about it, but plenty who with frowning eyes and 
 threatening looks turned their backs upon him when 
 he attempted to speak of it. Had Ben appeared be- 
 fore that bulwark of the law that greatest of all 
 great American impositions the Grand Jury, and 
 told his tale of the crime, the Grand Jury could not 
 have laid its indicting hand on a single man who had 
 hud any thing to do with the hanging. He did not 
 know this, nor did he appreciate the people he was 
 among. He called for justice, and came near getting 
 a flogging. One not unfavorable result was accom- 
 plished by his pertinacious search after justification, 
 however. Though he did not find the blind goddess, 
 he found a railway ticket that conveyed him out of 
 the State, and two hundred miles westward. His 
 presence became disagreeable to the citizens of Lick- 
 skillet. The tiger had glutted himself and was 
 drowsy. He did not like to be disturbed. 
 
 A delegation of two benevolent citizens waited 
 upon him and informed him that from the plentitude 
 of their hearts, and the charitable nature of their 
 dispositions they were not only willing to condone his 
 recent acts and view his crimes with a lenient eye,
 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE. 165 
 
 but they would aid him on his journey, and provide 
 him with a railroad ticket to a distant point, with the 
 stipulation that his foot should never press their sod 
 again, and a gentle intimation that his own particular 
 rope would be carefully preserved for his own partic- 
 ular use. The offer came in the shape of a command. 
 With a stubbornness, peculiarly his own, Ben would 
 have rejected it. He would have staid and fought 
 to the death there and then for his dead friend's 
 memory. But the poor, thin, lank parson came to 
 him. The good man trembled lest the tiger should 
 be roused from his slumber. He knew the beast for 
 had he not dwelt beneath the velvet of its paw for 
 many a day ? He demonstrated to our hero the futil- 
 ity of one man, and he a penniless stranger, at- 
 tempting the indictment of an entire community 
 bound together by ties of blood, relationship, interest 
 and crime. A community that was a law unto it- 
 self. Ben gathered a clearer view of the case from 
 the good man's explanations. 
 
 So Ben was placed on board of a train, and whirled 
 away into Egypt. 
 
 Or, to speak more lucidly, into the very centre of 
 Southern Illinois. And despite the sad incidents that 
 had thronged the past forty-eight hours of his exis- 
 tence, as he stood on the platform of the station 
 where the ticket expired and the train deposited him, 
 he made the reflection : 
 
 " Nine clays and nine hundred miles from New 
 York ! One hundred miles from St. Louis ! " and the 
 nine days seemed nine ages, and the nine hundred 
 miles seemed so many worlds, separating him from the
 
 166 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Benjamin Cleveland he had parted from and the life 
 he had left, in the far east. And for the first time 
 since the commencement of his tramp, he felt alone 
 and lonely. 
 
 Tramps ! Ben thought he had met many of the 
 brotherhood before, but he now found himself on 
 their great summer range. The solitary free-rider or 
 small detachments of two and three, now swelled to 
 squads numbering so high as a dozen. 
 
 In fact he had been dropped by the train on the 
 Great Harvest Route, extending from the wheat fields 
 of Minnesota, diagonally across the State of Iowa', 
 crossing the Mississippi at Davenport, and thence ex- 
 tending clear down into the southern half of Illinois. 
 A strip of country five hundred miles long, that may 
 appropriately be termed the Harvest Range. The 
 herd commences to move northward early in July. 
 Starting in the neighborhood of Du Quoin or Bell- 
 ville, it follows up the harvest, heading northwest, and" 
 ending the summer's incursion during the months of 
 September and October in Minnesota. An eastern 
 person has no conception of the vast army of impe- 
 cuniosities forming this great herd of harvest tramps. 
 Forth they come from the purlieus of cities, from hos- 
 pitals, work-houses, poor-houses, soup-houses, and the 
 various charitable asylums that have harbored them 
 during the winter and spring. Up from the orange- 
 scented south ; from the pampas of Texas ; the stave- 
 timber of Arkansas, the cotton-fields of Mississippi ; 
 and from those bon-resorts of the fraternity in the 
 river towns on the Father of Waters " Pinch " in 
 Memphis, " Under the Hill " in Natchez, k ' Elephant
 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE. 167 
 
 Johnnie's " and " Smoke Town " in New Orleans, and 
 other celebrated haunts, where an existence (such as 
 it is) has been dragged through for five months of 
 the year. They crowd the river boats; they haunt 
 the wood-pile landings, they line the tracks and cap- 
 ture the trains on their way to the joys and fattenings 
 of the Harvest Range. Once on the Range and life 
 smiles upon them. Back doors know them so well 
 that during the favored period, the good housewife 
 responds to each knock with a chunk of bread in one 
 hand and a hunk of meat in the other, awaiting no 
 solicitations. And how does the herd graze ? They 
 graze off of the charity of a community mellow with 
 the ripeness of harvest-time. There help is needed 
 they are the monarchs of the hour. 
 
 They become despotic. They will not solicit work. 
 Work must solicit them. Their labor is an article in 
 demand, and the price goes up, up, up. There are 
 special rates paid during harvest paid at no other 
 season. In the years immediately succeeding the war 
 harvest hands received as high as five dollars per day 
 and were not content. They never are. If wages 
 are two dollars and fifty cents, they demand three 
 dollars. If three they ask for four. It is their har- 
 vest-time ; and without a cent in their pockets and 
 existing on the bread of charit}', they will hold out 
 for days together, in idleness, rather than work for 
 less than they demand. 
 
 Then a few days work ; a glorious spree in which 
 their earnings disappear ; and they move off along 
 the Range. As the harvest retreats north they fol- 
 low it. Neither benefitted in purse or person by the 
 labor they irregularly perform.
 
 168 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 The dram shops do a thriving business. Scenes of 
 lawlessness are numerous, and battles with towns that 
 have tired of their arrogant idleness and mendicancy 
 frequently occur. Railroads are blockaded with them. 
 Road employees lead a life of trouble, terror and tur- 
 moil. Incidents have been where they have seized 
 trains. They hesitate at nothing. Every year the 
 herd becomes larger, every year its chance for hon- 
 est labor smaller and smaller. There is a great enemy 
 eating up their range ; destroying their stamping- 
 grounds. It is invention. Where seven men held 
 stations and bound in a field, three men on a harvester 
 now do the same amount of work. What will you do 
 with the idle four ? Where three men labored on a 
 harvester, one now drives and the automatic binder 
 makes the sheaves. What will you do with the idle 
 two? 
 
 " Make producers of them." 
 
 Good. Who will make the consumers, were each 
 to produce for himself ? 
 
 On to the north to the great grain fields of Min- 
 nesota go the herd. And then they come back 
 again ; but no longer the solid army that marched 
 north. Fleeing from the cold they come down in 
 fragments. By boat, raft, arid skiff down the great 
 river. By tramping, and jumping the trains. By 
 every conceivable method of travelling they make 
 their way south. Where was this herd twenty-five 
 years ago ? We do not know. Like the Texas cat- 
 tle trade, it is a growth of the present decade. 
 
 It was this Harvest Range that Ben now found 
 himself crossing. The herd had left. It was far to
 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE. 169 
 
 the north. Remnants of it were numerous, however. 
 Tramps who had tired of following the trail. Sharp 
 tramps who cutely remained to fatten on the deserted 
 pastures. Sharper tramps who sought the lower ren- 
 dezvous before the herd returned. Crippled members 
 of the fraternity, left behind. Parties that the law 
 had detained. The stragglers formed quite a respect- 
 able army still. 
 
 At least our hero thought so, shortly after enscon- 
 cing himself in an empty box car on a western bound 
 freight, late that night. It was the only empty and 
 open car in the train, and he was congratulating him- 
 self upon holding exclusive possession of it when a 
 gang of four invaded his privacy, and in passing the 
 next three stations the excursionists had augmented 
 to fifteen souls. Of course the train employees be- 
 came aware of their presence, and ordered them off 
 twice. The first time they all got out and going 
 around to the other side all got in again. On a repe- 
 tition of the order to dismount they merely laughed 
 and chaffed the conductor. The conductor tele- 
 graphed the state of affairs to Maidensville and called 
 for help to eject them. The operator made the dis- 
 patch public, and the citizens of Maidensville were 
 apprised of their approaching visitors. The tramps 
 were not blind to these matters. Expecting a forci- 
 ble ejectment and arrest when they arrived at Maid- 
 ensville, they guarded against it by refusing to allo\v 
 the train men to close the doors and lock them in, in- 
 tending to jump from the trainbefore it drew up at the 
 station. But the engineer threw his valves wide open 
 and ran his train into the depot at a rate that pre-
 
 170 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 vented the squad from leaving until it finally stopped. 
 When it did so a surprise awaited all parties. A del- 
 egation of citizens was on hand with bread and cheese. 
 It begged the tramps to remain in the car and par- 
 take of the food, intimating an immediate arrest for 
 any who dismounted. They were also informed that 
 their ride to St. Louis was paid for, and the conduc- 
 tor discovered to his chagrin, that, by telegraph, the 
 citizens of Maidensville had chartered empty box car 
 No. 1073 to convey a load of live stock from Maidens- 
 ville to St. Louis that day and date. The conduc- 
 tor opened his -eyes. The citizens smiled broadly. 
 And the fair city of Maidensville was relieved from 
 her unwelcome guests. 
 
 With much hiliarity the excursionists completed 
 their ride into East St. Louis, where they arrived at 
 noon. But what was Ben's dismay to find a small 
 squad of police ready to receive them as they dis- 
 mounted ! Alas, here he was again, for the second 
 time during his journey, under arrest ! 
 
 The crowd was taken before the mayor, arranged in 
 a platoon, charged with vagrancy, asked no questions, 
 permitted no defence, found guilty, and sentenced 
 to sixty days in the work house, and a fine of fifty 
 dollars, each ! Good-bye to New Orleans. Good-bye 
 to the twenty thousand dollars. Good-bye to the 
 great, glorious, grey eyes. Our hero was fairly 
 floored. Indignation at this summary treatment was 
 swallowed up in amazement. Struck dumb with the 
 overwhelming nature of his disaster, with drooping 
 head and downcast eyes he followed his companions 
 in misery out of the court room. They traversed sev-
 
 THE GREAT HARVEST RANGE. 171 
 
 eral streets, closely attended by policemen, and at 
 last neared the river. The tall chimneys and acres 
 of roofs of smoke-curtained St. Louis arose on 
 the opposite bank. Our friend's heart gave a great 
 leap. There was the city that had filled his mind 
 these many days. There was where he was to have 
 again seen her. There was the half-way house of his 
 tramp. Once in it and his journey would have 
 seemed more like an accomplished fact, having at- 
 tained the first objective point in the stipulations of 
 his wager. And there it was, just across the river 
 so near and yet so far ! A mile of water, sixty days 
 imprisonment, and fifty dollars fine, separating them. 
 Wild thoughts entered his head. 
 
 He would break from his captors and rushing to 
 the stream plunge in and swim for the opposite shore. 
 Which, had he done, he might quite possibly have 
 reached New Orleans, but it would have been in a 
 very unenviable state. This desperate notion was 
 forming itself into a determination when his atten- 
 tion was arrested by the voice of the officer in charge 
 of the squad. 
 
 "Men," said that official, "yonder's St. Louis, 
 where you all want to go. Remember, if you are 
 caught on this side again, up you go for sixty days. 
 Here are your ferry tickets. Now git ! " 
 
 It was tit for tat. " Illinois Town " was paying 
 St. Louis in her own currenc}^. That morning the 
 " Future Great-" had shipped, by rail, half a dozen 
 of her paupers to Chicago. That afternoon the " Fu- 
 ture Great " received a consignment of sixteen tramps 
 from " Illinois Town."
 
 172 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 CUE HEEO BEACHES ST. LOUIS. 
 
 AS Ben placed his foot on the Missouri shore, he 
 cried aloud with an exultant thrill vibrating 
 every fibre of his body : " St. Louis ! Ten days and 
 ten hundred miles from New York ! Hurrah for New 
 Orleans ! " and his emotions were such that he could 
 fairly have turned a double somersault and cracked 
 his heels for joy. Then as his feelings quieted down, 
 " Now for New Orleans," he said. But how ? That 
 was the rub. 
 
 The levee was lined with steamboats. Boats with 
 wheels behind them like aquatic wheel-barrows, and 
 boats with wheels at their sides like folded wings. 
 River crafts piled deck upon deck until the pilot- 
 house, perched on top of the " Texas " looked like a 
 bird cage. A. forest of black smoke stacks interspersed 
 with golden balls and gilded figures of eagles/horses, 
 cotton-bales, barrels, and various devices. Some of 
 the stacks belching forth smoke like the nostrils of a 
 live monster; others silent and grim. Light draught 
 stern-wheelers in the Big Muddy trade, that ran way 
 up into the mystic region of the Yellow Stone in the
 
 OTJE HERO REACHES ST. LOUIS. 173 
 
 spring and came down in the fall, taking up with 
 them Indian annuities and government supplies, and 
 bringing down bullet-holes in their pilot-houses from 
 the rifles of ungrateful savages who cannot understand 
 why white men should take their land from them and 
 pay them in phantom beeves and unkept treaties. Ohio 
 river tow boats stern-wheelers also but aquatic 
 giants. Boats that think nothing of butting their 
 square heads against four solid acres of coal flats, 
 twelve feet deep, and shoving the whole field to the 
 lower river coaling grounds their very machinery 
 a load sinking them deep in the water, and well wor- 
 thy of their names, " Ajax," " Hercules," "Colossal," 
 and so on. Raft boats from the St. Croix, Black 
 River and Chippewa, with their holds stowed full of 
 great coils of rope. Trading boats from the Illinois, 
 Tennessee, Arkansas, White and Red Rivers boats 
 that somehow bore about them a romantic aroma of 
 travel and adventure. Wrecking boats and stump- 
 pullers that dredge the bottom of the river from St. 
 Louis to the Gulf. Vast floating palaces in the Mem- 
 phis, Vicksburg, and New Orleans trade their long, 
 fairy-like and gorgeous cabins elevated on stilts, way 
 high up above the hulls. Boats that could laugh at 
 sixteen hundred tons of freight, and stow five thou- 
 sand bales of cotton ! A solid two miles of these 
 crafts, thick as they could lie, all with their great 
 round blunt noses hanging on the levees. 
 
 And then the humanity gathered about them 
 Diego and African, native and foreigner people 
 from all over the world. Acres of cotton bales, regi- 
 ments of hides in bundles, barricades of salt, ramparts
 
 174 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 of sugar hogsheads ; all being constantly added to by 
 a supply from the bowels of the monsters on the le- 
 vee, while down their capacious maws was poured a 
 stream of flour in barrels, grain in sacks and other 
 productions of the stomach-supplying north. It was 
 a scene of life and activity, such as Ben had never 
 before witnessed. A wonderful picture of commerce 
 proving in stronger tongue than any wordy argument 
 the necessity of an undivided North and South a 
 
 UNION ! 
 
 Ben gazed and. wondered, and wondered and gazed, 
 and the more his eyes discovered, the more they 
 sought for ; while up against the sky loomed that 
 chef-d'oeuvre of modern engineering, the famous 
 bridge. He leaned against a cotton-bale and gave 
 his eyes a holiday. And well he might, for the picture 
 has not its equal 'in all the world. 
 
 A light touch on his arm aroused him. He turned 
 and saw Tommy ! Little Tommy whom he felt he 
 had known for years, instead of days. 
 
 " Ha, ha ! I thought I'd find you on the levee 
 sometime," he exclaimed. " All the ' bums ' sun 
 themselves here ! " 
 
 Save that he was a trifle thinner and his round cheek 
 had lost some of its bloom, the boy looked much as 
 he did when Ben parted with him in Harrisburg. The 
 sparkling brown eyes were the same and the ring of 
 his voice had lost none of its silver as he danced 
 around Ben crying : 
 
 " Bennie, old boy, I'm awful glad to see you ! I 
 am indeed. But how thin you are ! Poor Bennie. 
 He'll never make a first class cadjer, so he won't
 
 OUR IIEHO REACHES ST. LOUIS. 175 
 
 And, my eyes ! How ragged and dirty ! Why don't 
 you rent yourself out for a museum of hard times? 
 I hunted, and hunted, and hunted, for you all along 
 the road, but I must have been ahead of you. I came 
 through on express trains, I did. Sometimes on the 
 roof, sometimes on the pilot, sometimes on the plat- 
 form, and sometimes inside -until I'd get bounced. 
 I made myself bomb-proof with an old shirt and six- 
 teen newspapers, and I'm thinking they hurt their 
 boots more than they hurt me. Laugh again, Bennie. 
 I like to see you laugh you've got such pretty 
 teeth. And now you're blushing ! Oh, Ben, aint 
 you ashamed ! There's no use, I may as well give 
 you up for a bad job ; you will never be an ornament 
 to the profession ; never make a first-class war-horse. 
 Now tell me all about where you have been, and how 
 you have been, and and everything ! '' and Tommy 
 quite out of words and wind, stopped exhausted. 
 
 Ben was glad to meet a friendly face in the great 
 strange city, and boy though Tommy was, he felt 
 grateful for his friendship. 
 
 " But, Tommy, I have not told you all," said our 
 hero after briefly relating his experience on the tramp. 
 *' Do you know that I have seen you since you saw 
 me?" 
 
 Tommy looked his surprise and answered : 
 
 "No! Where?" 
 
 "In Pittsburg," and Ben told him how he had 
 stood and listened to the conversation between Black- 
 oat and Nipper, and how Tommy had appeared and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Had Ben been more attentive or observant of his
 
 17G A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 little friend he would have noticed that the hand on 
 his arm trembled, and the boy's cheek paled as he 
 mcniioned Blackoat's name. But he did not, and 
 \vhen he looked up, Tommy's face was a burning red, 
 filled with confusion. 
 
 " What a gilly you are, Ben ! " he said. " You 
 made a mistake in the dark. It was some one else 
 you saw and could not have been me, for I didn't stop 
 in Pittsburg. 
 
 Cleveland looked at him in astonishment. 
 
 " Tommy, are you telling me the truth ? " 
 
 " Truth positive, Benjamin ! " With an endorsing 
 nod of the head. " Don't you believe me ? " 
 
 Ben reflected a moment before he answered, and 
 when he did the words came slow, as though he was 
 trying to persuade himself that he meant what he said. 
 
 " Yes, Tommy I believe you. But I was never 
 before so mistaken in my life. Never in my life." 
 
 " It was a queer delusion," returned Tom ; and 
 there the matter dropped. 
 
 " And which way now, friend Ben ? You have 
 reached your destination, your pilgrimage is over, 
 there's to be a fatted calf, a purple robe and a gold 
 ring! Is that the programme ?" 
 
 u No, not quite," answered Ben, smiling. " The 
 fact is my pilgrimage is only half over, Tommy. I 
 am going to New Orleans " 
 
 " To New Orleans ! Why you told me St. Louis ! " 
 cried the boy in surprise. 
 
 " Very well, and am I not come to St. Louis ? " 
 
 " Yes, true enough; but you do not remain here ?" 
 
 " No, my boy. New Orleans is my destination. I
 
 OUIt HE11O REACHES ST. LOUIS. 177 
 
 have some moneyed interests there if I get there 
 in time. If I don't, well the interests are quite 
 as heavy but not of a financial nature." 
 
 " All this is a mystery to me, Ben, and I don't ask 
 for your confidence," said Tommy, shrugging his 
 shoulders ; " but when is it necessary for you to be in 
 New Orleans ? " 
 
 " At ten o'clock on the morning of the second of 
 next month; just eleven days from to-day," replied 
 Ben. 
 
 " Why you have lots of time ! I could go to Mex- 
 ico by that time," said Tom encouragingly. " I don't 
 care if I take a trip down the river with you, Ben. 
 Which way are you going ? " 
 
 Ben expressed himself pleased at the prospect of 
 his little friend's company, and thought the river 
 would be their best route. 
 
 " So it is, undoubtedly," said Tommy. "You can 
 go from St. Louis to New Orleans for four dollars on 
 deck. Have you four dollars ?" 
 
 Ben confessed that he had not. That all his cash 
 assets consisted of ten cents, the remnant of the twen- 
 ty-five he had received from the dray-man in New 
 Jersey City. 
 
 " What, you have the dime yet ? How saving you 
 are ! " cried the other. " But a dime won't take you 
 to New Orleans. Not by river. Say, you fellow, 
 how' 11 a fellow get to New Orleans ? " 
 
 This last query was propounded to a picturesque rep- 
 resentative of the fraternity who was sunning him- 
 self on a neighboring cotton -bale. 
 
 "New Orleans? Why buy a railroad and ride
 
 178 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 down," replied the party addressed, leisurely turning 
 over on his 'side, with his face toward our friend's. 
 
 " Oh, come, partner, give us a square answer," ex- 
 postulated Tommy. " We want to get down there." 
 
 At this the man sat up on the cotton-bale and re- 
 quested a chew of tobacco, having obtained which he 
 leisurely continued : 
 
 " You can go to New Orleans lots of ways. You 
 can walk down 'long the levees. Lot's of 'em does 
 that. You can beat your way by boat. Lots of 'em 
 does that. You can go from here to Cairo by boat or 
 rail and then beat your way from Cairo over the Jack- 
 son and Great Northern. Lot's of 'em do that. 
 That's the way most of the lake men go down in the 
 fall, and the cotton pickers come up in the spring. 
 The other big north and south road for the bums is 
 the Texas route. And a very good road it is. After 
 you get to Poplar Bluffs that's the end of the first 
 division it's clear s'ailing down to ' Texarkanna. 
 That's a boss town too. Stands half in Texas and 
 half in Arkansas. That's where it got that name. 
 You can shoot a man in Texas and go across the track 
 and be in Arkansas, or wicey wersey, which makes it 
 very convenient for the inhabitants. That road runs 
 catacornered across Arkansas, and its got to be a great 
 cotton route from Texas, which has made it very con- 
 venient for tramps." 
 
 " Yes, that's all right ; but how about the New Or- 
 leans route ? " interrupted Tommy, afraid lest the new 
 brother if he continued would get over into Asia and 
 commence barge-lining the Ganges. 
 
 " Well, as I was a saying, you can go from here to
 
 OUB HEKO BEACHES ST. LOUIS. 179 
 
 Texas, easy as you please, on the Iron Mountain road. 
 I 'spose four thousand tramps go down along it every 
 winter and come up every spring. They're the Texas 
 Rangers of '76 1876 ! " and he grinned. 
 
 " But is it a good route t^o New Orleans ? " asked 
 Ben, who was afraid the professional was again about 
 to desert his subject. 
 
 "No ; it's a better route to Texas," replied he. 
 
 " But we want to go to New Orleans," protested 
 Cleveland. 
 
 " Don't you be a fool and go to New Orleans when 
 you can get to Texas," advised their irrelevant in- 
 formant. 
 
 " New Orleans is crowded with tramps every win- 
 ter. So is all the South, though they don't howl 
 about the matter the way they do up North. You 
 let New Orleans alone. You go to Texas and be a 
 Ranger ! " 
 
 " A Ranger ? What sort ? " asked Tommy. 
 
 " Range all over the country after handouts," re- 
 plied the professional with another grin. 
 
 " You keep telling us about Texas and we are not 
 going to Texas," said Ben. 
 
 " More fool you," placidly commented the Ranger. 
 " Texas is a good state." 
 
 Ben was in despair of ever getting information 
 from this source, but made one last effort to obtain it 
 by asking the garrulous professional if they could get 
 to New Orleans by the Iron Mountain road. 
 
 " Well, you can and you can't," was the highly un- 
 satisfactory answer. " You can go from here to Lit- 
 tle Rock, and can there get off on the Memphis and
 
 180 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Little Rock Road. That road would take you to the 
 river right opposite Memphis." 
 
 " Then it won't take us to New Orleans ? " 
 
 " Oh, no. You'd have to jump a boat from Mem- 
 phis. But I say ! Why in thunder don't you jump a 
 boat here ? That's your best plan. Jump any of the 
 New Orleans steamers an' keep your eye peeled for 
 the clerk when he comes around. I see my buddy up 
 the levee. Good-bye. Take the boat. Better go to 
 Texas though. Might strike a Mexican revolution. 
 Have one every new moon. Go to Texas. That's 
 my notion," and shouting back these fragments of ad- 
 vice, the professional withdrew up the levee and was 
 soon lost in the crowd. 
 
 " There Tom," said Ben, " we'll have to go by 
 boat." 
 
 " I was aware of that long ago," coolly replied 
 Tommy. " Do you see that big boat down there with 
 the horns on her jack- staff ? That is the Argenta. 
 She leaves for New Orleans to-morrow afternoon at 
 four o'clock, and you and I will go on her." 
 
 This matter definitely arranged the two friends 
 walked up the levee.
 
 A SHAVE WHICH HAS A RESULT. 181 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 A SHAVE WHICH HAS A RESULT. 
 
 TOMMY, have you seen any one since you 
 came to St. Louis ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Seen any one ! Why of course I've seen thou- 
 sands," replied the boy stopping and looking Ben in 
 the face. 
 
 " I mean have you seen any one that I know ? " ex- 
 plained Ben. 
 
 " Any one that you know ! That's a singular ques- 
 tion. Pray whom do you know ? " 
 
 " Come, Tom, you know there is only one we Loth 
 know. Have you seen her ? " 
 
 " Her ? " said Tommy obtusely. " Pray now who's 
 her?" 
 
 " Be serious, Tom. There is only one her, and you 
 know the one I mean. You said I would see them in 
 St. Louis. Are they here ? " 
 
 " Oh, that's it ! " cried Tommy petulantly, and a 
 shade of disappointment crossed his bright face. 
 " You men are such fools ! You never see a pretty 
 face but you must fall in love with it ' " and then the 
 boy stopped, and stammered, and blushed, as though 
 in some way he had committed himself.
 
 182 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 But Ben was absorbed in his own thoughts and did 
 not notice his companion's confusion. 
 
 " Never mind my failings, Tom. Perhaps you will 
 have the same when you get to be a man." 
 
 " Mebbe" replied Tommy sententiously. 
 
 " Tell me then, is the young lady and her compan- 
 ions here ? " 
 
 Tommy's looks and manner suddenly underwent a 
 startling change. The light-hearted cheerful-faced 
 boy was suddenly transformed into a grave, thoughtful 
 person, and on his countenance was a look of anxiety 
 and even a shadow of hatred, giving his face an ex- 
 pression that startled Ben. After a moment's silence, 
 he replied, with his eyes on the ground : 
 
 " Yes, they are here. She is here. You wish to 
 see her ? " 
 
 " I do, I do," exclaimed Cleveland. 
 
 "And for what earthly good or purpose?" petu- 
 lantly asked Tom. 
 
 This caused our hero to stop and look troubled. 
 . " True," he muttered, " for what end or for what 
 purpose? Would she look at me me a tramp! 
 Preposterous ! And yet I would like to see her, if 
 only for the pleasure of basking in the glow of those 
 heavenly eyes. For what good or purpose ? Who 
 may tell ? I have as much right to win her as any 
 one. Pshaw ! What an idiot am I ! " 
 
 And yet he was as sensible as the majority of man- 
 kind, and had only been indulging in the pleasant 
 pastime of constructing air castles. Without ties of 
 home or kindred to claim his thoughts during the long 
 days and nights of the tramp, his mind had constantly
 
 A SHAVE WHICH HAS A RESULT. 183 
 
 reverted to this young woman, and builded in his heart 
 a creation that had at last taken full occupancy of it. 
 No wonder then when his daydreams were about to be 
 brought face to face with reality the practical com- 
 mon-sense of his nature had a hard struggle with the 
 fascinations of imagination. Tommy observed him 
 closely and probably understood what was transpir- 
 ing* in his mind. 
 
 ' Ben," he said, " I have heard that all men are 
 fools when in love, and I think you must be in love. 
 That's no concern of mine however, only mind you, 
 young man, after you have been well scorched, come 
 to me and I'll tell you something about love ! " 
 
 There was such a peculiarly bitter and sarcastic ex- 
 pression in the boy's tone and face that it recalled 
 Ben's wits from dreamland with a jump and he de- 
 voted his attention to his companion. 
 
 " Well, rooster, what is it about love that you pro- 
 fess to know so much ? Are you in love ? " he asked 
 with a smile. 
 
 " No, but I had a friend once who was," replied 
 the youth. 
 
 " And what became of him ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " It wasn't a him, it was a ' she ' / And this * she ' 
 fell in love. Love! It was something more than 
 love it was worship ! She gave up home, friends, 
 happiness, salvation everything did she sacrifice on 
 the altar of her love and as a natural consequence 
 she awoke to find the sacrifice rejected." 
 
 " And what became of her ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " She had her revenge ! She turned dressmaker 
 and never had her work done when she promised ! "
 
 184 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 and Tommy gave a whoop and a shrill laugh. " There 
 my boy," he continued, patronizingly patting Ben on 
 the back, " you didn't look for that windup, did you? 
 Never mind. When your fair maid rejects you, you 
 and 111 join hands and tramp all the rest of our lives 
 together. But I'm a true prophet, Ben; I told you 
 you should see those people here, and so you shall. 
 And now in return for the service I am about to ren- 
 der you, you must promise that you will ask no ques- 
 tions. Do you promise ? " 
 
 Ben promised most faithfully, and the boy con- 
 tin ed: 
 
 " You shall see her to-day." 
 
 " But what is her name, Tommy ? " asked our hero. 
 
 " There you go, breaking your promise already. 
 I'll forgive you this time, only don't do it again. I 
 don't know her name at least only her Christian 
 name. That is Bertha. A woman, to-day, gave me 
 a note to deliver to her. I am to be on Olive Street, 
 between Eighth and Ninth this afternoon, at five 
 o'clock, and hand it to her as she comes along. The 
 woman gave me ten cents for doing it. I transfer the 
 duty to you and we will go and dine off of the ten 
 cents. Come on." 
 
 The two friends thereupon dined with the aid of 
 the ten cents. To be sure it was not an extravagant 
 repast, consisting simply of two great sheets of gin- 
 ger-bread, known on the levee as " stage-planks " ; 
 but keen appetites made them palatable, and with 
 plenty of water they possessed filling properties to a 
 remarkable degree. 
 
 Ben then turned up Olive Street alone, and as he
 
 A SHAVE WHICH HAS A RESULT. 185 
 
 walked along the thronged thoroughfare felt, for the 
 first time during his tramp, thoroughly ashamed of 
 himself. Could it be that the dirty, ragged, slouch- 
 ing, unshaved, unkempt reflection he saw in the plate 
 glass windows, was the Benjamin Cleveland he had 
 known in other days ? Impossible ! And yet too 
 true. The effects of his tramp had altered him won- 
 derfully. 
 
 The elements, combined with coal dust and dirt, 
 had bronzed his skin. A nine days' growth of beard 
 stuck out in prickly profusion on his face. The hat, 
 that had been shapely in New York, resembled a felt 
 pouch on which an elephant had stepped. His clothes 
 hung on him strangely. Altogether he hardly recog- 
 nized himself. 
 
 " And she," thought he, " what will she think ? 
 I've ten cents and I'll have a shave if it sends me into 
 bankruptcy, and look a little more human." 
 
 When he came out of the barber's hands he cer- 
 tainly did look greatly improved and his clothes seemed 
 to fit him better. 
 
 Having reached Ninth Street he stationed himself 
 on a corner and awaited the owner of the great, glo- 
 rious grey eyes. He was looking for two glowing 
 eyes in a head wrapped up in a snowy nubia. 
 
 So it is with us all. Our last remembrance holds 
 tenaciously upon its pictures ; and refuses to surren- 
 der them to the march of time and events. After 
 years have changed the faces and scenes we love, we 
 return to them expecting to find them the same as 
 when we left, and feel a dull pain when we find that 
 our memories of the past belong to the past, and are
 
 186 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 not heirs of the present. So Ben stood, gazing down 
 the street in search of a white nutiia, and was fairly 
 startled into open-mouthed amazement when a voice 
 nearly opposite to him said : 
 
 " Bertha, dear, I am so sorry that you can not re- 
 main with us until next week, if not longer. Must 
 you positively go to-morrow ? " 
 
 And the person addressed replied : 
 
 " I should like to, Mary, but uncle says he posi- 
 tively must go." 
 
 The voice of the lady brought 'Ben's senses back, 
 and there, right before his eyes, was the object of his 
 worship more lovely, more beautiful, he thought, 
 than he had ever pictured her. 
 
 Bertha certainly was gifted with good looks far 
 more generously than her sisters. To be sure she no 
 longer wore a billowy mass of white worsted about 
 her head, that Ben's picture was familiar with, but in 
 its place was a saucy little hat that turned up behind, 
 and an ostrich feather that turned up in front ; and 
 at the back of the head and under the cocked-up rim 
 of the hat was a great roll of chestnut hair, with each 
 particular hair leading from the snowy neck thereto 
 drawn as tight and as smooth as the top-hamper of a 
 man-of-war. Two pretty shell-like ears, that this pe- 
 culiar mode of hair-dressing made stand out from their 
 owner's head like a pair of little wings, were kept 
 from flying away by two diminutive soltaire anchors. 
 Under the feather and under a broad expanse of snowy 
 forehead roofed over by the architecture of the 
 saucy hat beamed forth the eyes that had so effect- 
 ually fastened themselves in Ben's soul. They were
 
 A SHAVE WHICH HAS A RESULT. 187 
 
 lustrous grey orbs in which *the sunlight of high noon 
 seemed to have lost itself. Deep and thoughtful, they 
 were, beaming in purity and confidence ; alive with 
 kind promptings, and singing an undying melody of 
 love and faith. Just such eyes as we do sometimes 
 see, and ever after remember. 
 
 And they lighted up a face worthy to bask in 
 their sunshine. She was dressed richly, but taste- 
 fully, with every external evidence of wealth and re- 
 finement. Poor Ben's heart sank within him. When 
 now brought face to face with the object of his ador- 
 ation all his sanguine hopes went down below zero, 
 and the airy castles of his daydreams crumbled to 
 dust. How could he aspire to this elegantly attired 
 and lovely formed mass of femininity ! Absurd ! He 
 in rags and she in silks ! Preposterous ! He an un- 
 known tramp, she a wealthy belle ! Outrageous ! 
 He hastily arrived at the conclusion that he was a 
 fool, and immediately called himself one.
 
 188 <A. TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 OFF FOR NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 WHILE all this was transpiring, (in Ben's mind) 
 the young ladies had gathered up their trains 
 in one hand, and with the other extended by way of 
 a balancing pole and because the attitude is sup- 
 posed to be graceful were picking their way through 
 the mud of the crossing to the opposite side of the 
 street. The recollection that he had a letter to de- 
 liver flashed upon our friend's mind, and he hastily 
 followed them. 
 
 " Miss, I am commissioned to deliver this to you," 
 he said, politely lifting the felt pouch from his head. 
 
 For a moment it seemed to him that she was about 
 to pass on without taking the missive. Then she ap- 
 peared to change her mind and asked : 
 
 " Who sent it ? " 
 
 " It is from a lady, a stranger to me," replied Ben. 
 
 " Ah, I understand. Thank you ; " and before Ben 
 knew what had transpired she had taken the note, and 
 from a dainty pocket-book had placed a bright half- 
 dollar in his hand. 
 
 When he recovered himself both young ladies were
 
 OFF FOR NEW ORLEANS. 189 
 
 half a block away, and he staring after them stupidly. 
 That was all. She hud not only not recognized him, 
 but scarce observed Jiim at all, and in the little recog- 
 nition of himself and services that had been bestowed 
 was an air of condescension, and haughtiness of high- 
 breeding, that left the impression in his mind of an 
 utterly impassable gulf between them. Slowly he 
 turned and walked toward the levee, humbled and mor- 
 tified, and with a singular notion forcing itself in upon 
 his humiliation that his ten cents, expended in a shave, 
 had been money thrown away. His castles had not 
 only tumbled down, but they had buried him in the 
 ruins. For several blocks Tie crushed the half-dollar 
 in his hand, as though it were the author of his mis- 
 eries and disappointments. Then, in a moment of 
 wounded pride and passion, he flung it far into the 
 street, and felt better. 
 
 " What an ass I am," he said bitterly, " to think 
 that she would have noticed me ! Who or what am I 
 that she should grant me the courtesy of a recogni- 
 tion ? I am an ass, that is what I am. And I'll get 
 to New Orleans as quickly as I can, and if I am suc- 
 cessful sail from there to Europe, and see if I can't 
 pick up some common-sense over there where all the 
 rest of my countrymen lose what little they have." 
 
 " For Memphis, Vicksburg and New Orleans. Tlie 
 swift and palatial ' ARGENTA ' ; SPARBAR, Master; 
 QUILLBTJCKER, Clerk ; will leave St. Louis at 4 P. 
 M., to-daij. For freight or passage apply on board." 
 
 The " Argenta ' ? was the pride of the western wa- 
 ters. She it was that ran the celebrated race with 
 the "Chief there several years ago. Both boats
 
 190 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 were advertised to go on their usual journey in a 
 quiet, orderly, non-contesting manner. The captains 
 knew nothing about any race. The clerks knew noth- 
 ing about any race. The mates, engineer, fireman, 
 deck hands and roustabouts knew nothing about any 
 race. Nobody knew any thing about any race. So 
 when the boats backed away from the New Orleans 
 levee out into the broad river there were thousands 
 of persons there to witness their departure and thou- 
 sands of dollars wagered upon them. Both were 
 stripped to the belt. 
 
 Every thing that would oaten wind or water was laid 
 aside. Machinery carefully looked to, polished and 
 oiled. Superfluous weights removed and both crafts 
 prepared for the contest that no one knew any thing 
 about. As a result of all this stripping the Argenta 
 came into St. Louis ahead of the Chief, and several 
 thousand sanguine individuals were stripped of their 
 spare change for many months thereafter. It was the 
 " wind up " of Mississippi yachting. A peaceful epi- 
 logue to a long drama of bursted boilers, murdered 
 men, scalded deck hands and drowned passengers. 
 Racing on the western waters is out of date and out 
 of fashion. 
 
 With deep intonings the Argenta's great bell 
 sounded its final notes of solemn warning. The ap- 
 ple venders and orange peddlers sprang to the shore. 
 The short-card men, fakirs, and magic-knife and thim- 
 ble-rig manipulators deserted their prey. The huge 
 stage was drawn in and up. The " last man " came 
 rushing down the levee, bag in hand, and was taken 
 on board on a single plank. There was a great Jang-
 
 OFF FOB NEW ORLEANS. 191 
 
 ling of small bells a moment's silence and then 
 with a rush and a roar, amid the batter of big paddle- 
 wheels, churning of water, clank of machinery, pul- 
 sations of the great exhausts, and the shouts of the 
 crowd on shore, the Argenta backed from her berth 
 into the stream, lay a second or two motionless in the 
 waters, and then turned her nose to the south, and 
 sped for New Orleans I
 
 192 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A NIGHT ON DECK. 
 
 BEN sat on a barrel, looking about him in won- 
 der. Fifty negro roustabouts, great sable Her- 
 cules they were scarce half civilized secured and 
 arranged the freight and ropes on deck for their trip, 
 talking the while a mellow-voiced gibberish that he 
 could but half understand. The mate, as great a 
 savage as the blacks, though wearing a white skin, 
 and whose reputation was based upon the fact of his 
 having killed three roustabouts, directed them some- 
 thing after the fashion of driving cattle. Ben thought 
 he had a more extensive repertoire of great big round- 
 cornered oaths than any blasphemy-belching monster 
 he had ever seen or heard tell of. Our friend won- 
 dered the darkies stood the abuse. He thought that 
 being freemen, brothers and voters they would have 
 taken umbrage at the aspersions, imprecations and 
 anathemas hurled at them. He found they rather 
 liked it, and worked to the tune of the mate's profan- 
 ity much like a mule team does to the jingling bells 
 above its hanies. Previous to the war a negro was 
 worth more than a white man. Now a white man is
 
 A NIGHT ON DECK. 193 
 
 worth just as much as a black. The war elevated the 
 white race. To understand this matter the reader 
 must know that these roustabout crews are not al- 
 ways composed of black men. Some steamers carry 
 mixed crews that is white and black men working 
 together. Previous to the war if a mixed crew were 
 " up cottoning " the heavy bales gathered from along 
 the river and an accident occurred, followed by a 
 splash and the cry " man overboard ! " the captain 
 would anxiously ask, " white or black ? " If the an- 
 swer was " black " the boat was stopped, life preserv- 
 ers flung overboard, and every exertion made to save 
 the unfortunate from a stream that swallows up the 
 strongest swimmer. If " white," however, the cap- 
 tain looked relieved and sang out to the pilot, " All 
 right ! Go ahead ! " That was before the war. Now 
 no questions are asked. It is " All right, go ahead," 
 any way. 
 
 These hard-worked members of the lowest class of 
 labor in the country (one of the best paid, however) 
 passed and repassed Ben, piling up the bags of grain, 
 tier upon tier, until they touched the bottom of the 
 deck above. On the front of the hull, out in the open 
 air, stood the battery of boilers, reaching back nearly 
 to the wheel-house, the few feet of intervening space 
 on the guards being occupied on the port side by the 
 kitchen, and on the larboard by the bakery. The 
 Argenta's culinary department numbering a little army 
 of thirty persons cooks, bakers, assistants and 
 waiters. There were a hundred head of new milch 
 cows on deck, each side of the battery of boilers, 
 going south where they would continue to give milk
 
 194 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 for two or three years, and then dry up like all cows 
 in the far south. Texas, a state with more cows in it 
 than all the rest of the Union combined, imports her 
 butter and cheese, and does without milk. Back, aft 
 of the wheel-houses, on the guards were a lot of Mis- 
 souri mules. These with a pet pig that followed the 
 roustabouts around, a few dogs belonging to passen- 
 gers, and several coops full of noisy chickens and 
 geese made the boat appear to Ben something like 
 Noah's ark. While he was amusing himself in ob- 
 serving these things, Tommy came to him. With his 
 usual business energy Tommy had been looking over 
 the vessel, selecting " stowing " places and informing 
 himself of the clerk's movements. 
 
 " We are all safe for below Cairo, any way, Ben," 
 said he. " The clerk don't come around until after 
 the boat leaves there ; he's too busy. We won't be 
 in Cairo until to-morrow, so we needn't mind keeping 
 out of the way until then. Let's go back aft and see 
 the fun." 
 
 Night had now settled on the waters. Lamps were 
 lit and lanterns hung about the boat. Back aft a 
 scene that Hogarth's pencil would have revelled in, 
 met them. Between the mountain load of grain 
 sacks that occupied the center of the boat and the 
 vessel's stern, was an open space about thirty feet 
 square. In the center of this stood a long sheet-iron 
 stove, and around this stove was gathered a motley 
 crowd of poverty-stricken humanity, roasting pota- 
 toes and parching corn, purloined from the sacks. 
 Care, want, dirt, and misery had established them- 
 selves on their pinched faces, and the one lantern that
 
 A NIGHT ON DECK. 195 
 
 hung in the open space giving light to the crowd 
 painted their tatterdemalion coverings with fantastic 
 effect. 
 
 " Those are dead-brokes, every one of 'era," said 
 Tommy, " going to try to beat the boat down. We 
 will have lots of company." 
 
 Too much, entirely too much, thought Ben. He could 
 have spared some of it. Walking about the narrow 
 limits and seated on bags, boxes, and the floor, were a 
 lot of migrative birds. Sailors from the Lakes, who, 
 having spent their summer on the great "unsalted 
 seas," were now going down to the Gulf to secure 
 berths on "wind-jammers." Laborers, going south 
 in search of work among the compresses and on the 
 levees. Other professional knights of the spade and 
 barrow, bound for the fascination of the " dumps " 
 and the festive "jiggers." There were several of the 
 gentler sex seated around. Not lone-lorn women, but 
 women in collusion with members of the sterner sex 
 who were there. Wives, perhaps. Charitably, per- 
 haps. The yoke of wedlock is not so hard to shift 
 on and off in a certain class of society as it is in that 
 to which the gentle reader belongs, perchance. 
 
 The lady voyagers were travelling on various busi' 
 nesses. To " keep shanty " at some levee camp ; or 
 pass the winter south with some friends not exactly 
 a visit of pleasure either. Rather antiquated and a 
 trifle worse for wear they were too. But the gentle- 
 men treated them gallantly. Passed them the circu- 
 lating bottle with a " Drink hearty, miss ! It's paid 
 for ! " and boiled coffee in pots and oyster cans for 
 them on the stove. Expectorating tobacco-juice and
 
 196 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 depositing superanuated quids outside the limits of 
 their immediate vicinity, and, in fact, " paid them 
 those thousand and one little attentions which are so 
 grateful to the gentler sex when coming from gentle- 
 men." (The last expression is in quotations on ac- 
 count of not being altogether original.) 
 
 There was one female present whom there could be 
 no doubts about, however, even had she not loudly 
 pronounced herself " A high old gal, you bet ! " sev- 
 eral times, greatly to the edification of the crowd 
 about the stove, and the virtuous indignation of the 
 members of her own sex, who carefully withdrew 
 their skirts from her. This woman, though young 
 and not ill-looking, was a "gun boat " fragment that 
 had drifted off and found herself on board the Ar- 
 genta. 
 
 Gun boats? In every large city there is a portion 
 of the town that visiting officials from other cities are 
 not driven through on aldermanic rides of courtesy. 
 Perhaps the local dignitaries would think it deroga- 
 tory to have a knowledge of them r perhaps they 
 leave their visitors to hunt up the town for themselves. 
 So have the water-ways of the west a floating life 
 upon them to which we are not anxious to introduce 
 the reader on this trip down the river. The young 
 lady in question circulated among the crowd with a 
 freedom and ease of deportment that astonished Ben. 
 
 " It is terrible," said he to Tommy. 
 
 " It's disgusting ! " replied Tom. 
 
 " And yet how many poor lost ones there are who 
 come down this low," continued Cleveland. 
 
 And Tommy, growing a little pale, and looking
 
 A NIGHT ON DECK. 197 
 
 upon the " fragment " with loathing and pity said 
 quietly : " Yes, man's victim has no half-way station 
 on the road to wreck and ruin," and the boy walked 
 away, to the forward part of the boat, where he sat 
 down on a coil of rope and gazed fixedly at the black 
 river. 
 
 There was much drinking and subdued carousing 
 being indulged in. Songs were sung and jigs were 
 danced, and the crowd seemed determined to inaug- 
 urate their pilgrimage by a general time of festivities. 
 The center of attraction, however, was a negro, black 
 as black could be, who was conducting the fascinating 
 game of chuck-a-luck in one corner; a cadaverous 
 countenanced, thin-lipped, hawk-nosed white man act- 
 ing as banker. The chuck-a-luck bank was not a 
 very extensive affair, consisting simply of an empty 
 cracker box mounted on a grain sack, with numerals 
 from one to six inscribed upon it with chalk. Be- 
 hind the box the black dealer manipulated the dice, 
 and at his side the white hawk drew in the nickels 
 and small change of those in front. Two short stumps 
 of tallow candles, permanently located in their own 
 grease, stood on the box and illuminated proceedings. 
 This scene, peculiar to the river, was a novel one to 
 Ben. It was full of life and full of vice. 
 
 As the night advanced the crowd thinned. Some 
 went to sleep on the mountain of grain sacks. Others 
 cleaned up a place on the floor and lay down, while 
 others went forward and crept under the. boilers, for 
 their warmth. Black and white lay down together. 
 Ben still watched the scene, which though quieted 
 down, was still attractive from its novelty. The gun-
 
 198 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 boat visitor having satisfied every one that she was a 
 " High old gal, you bet ! " borrowed a nickel from a 
 susceptible tourist and proceeded to invest in the 
 chuck-a luck bank. She won, and greeted her suc- 
 cess with a shout of triumph that startled the sleep- 
 ers. But luck soon turned against her and she be- 
 came peevish, abusive and belligerent ; claimed that 
 the black dealer " fingered " his dice, and suggested 
 the propriety of dispensing with his services and de- 
 voting his body to the flood. She became an annoy- 
 ance to the game, and the hawk tried to buy her off 
 with a bribe of two nickels, which she accepted, but 
 immediately staked them on the ace. The ace lost, 
 and with a whoop, the damsel sent the box spinning 
 toward the boiler-deck by a kick, scattering dice, can- 
 dles, nickels and small change in all directions. In 
 the crowd of tatterdemalions toasting potatoes, and 
 parching corn at the stove, were men of action men 
 who seize opportunities. The single lantern went out 
 in a twinkle, and in black darkness, Ben felt a writh- 
 ing, struggling, kicking mass of humanity on the floor. 
 Blows, yells, laughter, curses and groans filled the 
 confined limits of the "deck." A pistol was dis- 
 charged. Some one cried, "I'm shot!" And the 
 mate with half a dozen watchmen appeared with lan- 
 terns and clubs upon the scene. With the clubs they 
 untied the human knot on the floor. The gun boat 
 visitor being dragged from the bottom of the heap in 
 a sadly demoralized condition, but stoutly clutching a 
 handful of curly black wool. The tatterdemalions 
 looked still more tattered, but happy and contented, 
 as though they had enjoyed themselves. The hawk
 
 A NIGHT ON DECK. 199 
 
 and the banker arose bankrupt. All struggled to 
 their feet. No. Not all. One man did not move ; 
 not even after the mate kicked him several times. 
 They then rolled him over and pointed out the bullet 
 hole in his head. The man was dead. No one knew 
 who fired the shot, or why. No particular investiga- 
 tion was made. He was a deck passenger, and what 
 are deck passengers? Human live stock and not a 
 very choice breed either. So they rolled the dead 
 man off to one side and at Cairo he received about 
 fifteen minutes' attention from a coroner's jury, (who 
 made the discovery that he was killed by being shot) 
 and about twenty-five minutes from a jobbing under- 
 taker. The captain of the Argenta paid all expenses 
 rather than have the boat detained, and who the dead 
 man was or where he lived are secrets buried with him. 
 Ben climbed the mountain of grain sacks in com- 
 pany with Tommy, the two went to sleep immediately 
 under one of the exhaust pipes, where it was warm 
 and comfortable ; for the night air on the river grew 
 quite chilly.
 
 200 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK. 
 
 DAYLIGHT found the Argenta at Cairo, where a 
 few thousand more grain sacks were taken on 
 board and the dead man disposed of. At Cairo the 
 vessel also received quite a consignment of tramps, 
 bound South. Tramps coming in off of the great 
 Harvest Range, and tramps from Chicago and the 
 cities by the Lakes. It was preposterous to suppose, 
 for a moment, that the regiment of them now on the 
 steamer could be overlooked by the clerk, or manage 
 to stow out of sight where he could not find them. 
 Still they came, thinking that go so little a distance 
 as they might before being " bounced," it was never- 
 theless a step in the right direction. 
 
 Scarce had the Argenta left Cairo, and before the 
 new travellers had time to familiarize themselves with 
 their surroundings, when the clerk came down on- deck 
 and prepared for business. After running everybody 
 back aft, the deck-hands and roustabouts formed a 
 cordon across the boat, between the battery of boil- 
 ers and the pile of grain sacks, others going to the 
 stern and driving the deck passengers through a gap
 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK. 201 
 
 In the line where the clerk was ready to receive them. 
 When the passengers reached this gap the clerk ex- 
 amined their tickets, or collected the fare where no 
 tickets were produced. When neither tickets nor 
 money were forthcoming, the impecunious were placed 
 in a little group by themselves, under the surveillance 
 of some of the crew. Nothing harsh or unkind was 
 said to them. Indeed their presence there was ex- 
 pected and looked for. Every trip the boat made 
 there were delegations of them on board. 
 
 At last the inspection ended. The passengers who 
 had proved themselves all right were allowed to go 
 whithersoever they pleased, and the "bums" were 
 marshalled in a group up forward around the capstan, 
 strictly guarded, and the boat's head turned for Co- 
 lumbus, on the Kentucky shore. Strange to relate, 
 neither of our friends were among either party 
 the paid or unpaid. 
 
 Tommy, with sleeves rolled up and a gunny sack 
 apron on, was washing dishes in the cook's galley, in 
 peace, and security, and soap suds. How he had 
 accomplished this stragetic movement or ingratiated 
 himself into the esteem of the head cook we do not 
 know but there the boy was. Ben, on the other 
 hand, was not so pleasantly located. His person was 
 concealed beneath a pile of petticoats ! The fact was 
 two of the females in the rear were sitting on our 
 friend's body. During the morning, Ben had struck 
 up quite a friendship with an honest Celt in patched 
 corduroys and hickory shirt. In their conversation it 
 was discovered that the latter had worked an entire 
 summer for Mr. Algernon Smythe, at his Swiss chat-
 
 202 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 elet, away back on the sunny banks of Long Island 
 Sound, when that gentleman was first beautifying his 
 grounds. Ben adroitly mentioned that he knew Mr. 
 Smythe, having worked for that gentleman, himself. 
 A long overhauling of old times ensued, and a bond 
 of friendship was established. Our friend informed 
 his new acquaintance that it was an absolute necessity 
 for him to be in New Orleans on the second to meet 
 parties with whom he expected steady employment. 
 Having met with misfortunes he confessed that he was 
 beating his way, for which his new found friend ad- 
 mired him the more. Now it so happened that this 
 new acquaintance had established friendly relations 
 with two of his country-women, deck passengers also. 
 Two sisters they were, on their way south to meet 
 their husbands, and keep camp for them on the levee, 
 while the men worked out a sub-contract. These 
 ladies being introduced to Ben, and hearing his story, 
 and their sympathies being enlisted Ben's personal 
 appearance speaking loudly in his favor they kindly 
 offered, at the suggestion of their gentleman friend, 
 to sit upon him during the clerk's raid on deck. And 
 sit upon him they did with perfect success ; not being 
 required to go forward with the other passengers, but 
 sending their tickets to the clerk by a deputy. So it 
 happened that when the Argenta ran her great round 
 nose up to the bank at Columbus, and the gang of 
 captured " bums " were put on shore, the gun boat 
 visitor among them, loudly protesting that she was 
 " A high old gal, you bet ! " our friend did not bear 
 them company. 
 
 Whether it was the innate modesty peculiar to the
 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK. 203 
 
 sex, or whether it was that they thought all danger 
 over, we know not: But this we do know, that Ben 
 becoming somewhat restive under his burden, the 
 younger of the two remarked to her sister, with a 
 blush and a giggle, that she thought he might safely 
 be let up. The elder being comfortably seated, and 
 finding Ben's person a sort of spring cushion was not 
 disposed to move. But our hero giving another twist 
 to his cramped person caused the youngest one to 
 bound up with a low cry, followed by another blush, 
 and Ben emerged to thank the ladies for their kind- 
 ness. Unhappily, for him, the mud-clerk at that mo- 
 ment came aft. He had about passed Ben when some 
 fatality caused him to turn upon Cleveland and ask 
 him to show his ticket. Ben tried to enter into an 
 explanation ; searched his pockets industriously, and 
 at last, as the clerk became impatient, appealed to his 
 generosity and philanthropy, requesting to be allowed 
 to quietly remain and continue his ride. For an an- 
 swer the clerk hailed a deck hand and our hero was 
 unceremoniously marched to the bow. The stage had 
 been taken on board and hoisted, and the Argenta 
 was withdrawing her nose from the bank when the 
 mate cried to the pilot " Go slow, a moment ! " 
 
 " Now, young man, be quick, or you'll go into the 
 river ! " This exordium had reference to a stage- 
 plank, (a plank about eighteen inches wide) that, at 
 the mate's direction was stuck out from the guards 
 and weighted on the boat end by four roustabouts 
 the other end being in the air. Ben was to run out 
 on this plank and jump on shore. He had need to be 
 quick, for with the impetus already received the boat
 
 204 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 was fast drifting out in the stream and widening the 
 space between herself and the land. With another 
 sharp order to " Git! and git quick ! " he ran out on 
 the plank. 
 
 Whether it happened by accident or from an inher- 
 ent love of mischief, hereditary in a direct line from 
 their Darwinian ancestry, we know not, but just then 
 two of the roustabouts altered and fashioned Ben's 
 entire life by teetering each other off of the plank 
 just as our friend was about to spring to the shore 
 from the end of it. The heels of the two other make- 
 weights went into the air while their heads struck the 
 deck with a resonant thump. But Ben! He was 
 .gurgling and spluttering in the river, with the stage- 
 plank held in a close embrace. 
 
 " Man overboard ! " was the cry that brought all of 
 the cabin passengers who were loitering on their deck 
 near the gangway, to the front ; among them Captain 
 Sparbar. The mate would probably have allowed 
 Ben to get ashore or go to the bottom, as best he 
 might, but the plank was boat property and worth 
 saving. That worthy, undoubtedly, viewed it as un- 
 fortunate that in regaining one he was compelled to 
 save the other, but as Ben hung tenaciously to the 
 plank, both he and it were drawn on board by means 
 of a rope. And there he stood as wet as the river 
 itself the very picture of misery. 
 
 " Throw the hound on shore ! " cried the captain, 
 impatient at the delay. The captain had been both 
 mate and mud-clerk in his day, himself. 
 
 " All right, eir ! " responded the mate ; and then to 
 the man in the pilot-house : " Hold her nose to the 
 bank a minute, Mr. Hawkins ! "
 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK. 205 
 
 But at this moment a soft female voice was heard 
 saying : 
 
 " Oh, don't, captain. See, the poor fellow is nearly 
 drowned. Now as a favor to me, let him remain." 
 
 The captain was about to politely protest, when the 
 sweet voice silenced him, and the next moment he 
 called to the mate : 
 
 " Let the fellow remain, Mr. Blassfeme ! " 
 
 Then the bells jingled back by the engineers, and 
 the great boat sprang out into the stream. 
 
 Poor Ben, dripping with water, turned his eyes 
 gratefully to the deck above, and there stood the 
 owner of the great, glorious, grey eyes, and by her 
 side stood Blackoat, the captain, and a group of ad- 
 mirers. One glance she gave our hero, and a smile ; 
 but the glance bore no recognition, and the smile was 
 for his comical aspect. They were such notices as 
 she might have bestowed upon a persecuted animal, 
 rescued from the hands of its tormentors. 
 
 " Shan't I go down and bring your new friend up 
 and give him an introduction, Bertha? He has been 
 washed now, you know," said Blackoat, with a sneer. 
 
 " Thank you, Arthur," she replied; "you may 
 thank good fortune that it was not yourself that 
 needed a good word with Captain Sparbar." 
 
 " Why, Miss Bertha ? " inquired the captain. 
 
 " I think I should have let him go on the bank, 
 sir!" and with a ringing laugh, in which all joined 
 but Arthur, she disappeared from Ben's vision. 
 
 For a few moments Cleveland stood gazing vacantly 
 at the railing of the upper deck. He half wished 
 that they had left him in the river. Why, he could
 
 206 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 not reason, but lie felt that a greater barrier than ever 
 was now insurmountably raised between the idol of 
 his dreams and himself. Back he went to the bat- 
 tery of boilers, and with many a joke from the dusky 
 fireman dried himself quickly in the hot blast from 
 the fire-doors. This done he sought out Tommy, 
 who having been engaged in scouring dishes in the 
 cook's galley was unaware of what had transpired in 
 front. 
 
 After relating his late adventures he said : 
 
 44 Tommy, do you know who is on board of the 
 boat?" 
 
 " There are a great many people on board of her," 
 cautiously replied Tommy. 
 
 " But do you know of any friends of ours?" 
 
 44 No, I know of no friends of ours" replied the 
 boy sullenly. 
 
 44 The man that struck you in the street that even- 
 ing in New Jersey City is here," said Ben. 
 
 44 Well ? " answered Tom, not at all surprised at the 
 information. 
 
 44 And the young lady who was there with him, 
 is here also." 
 
 44 Very well. What of it ? " asked the lad, vigor- 
 ously polishing a plate. 
 
 44 You knew it ? " cried Ben in astonishment. 
 
 44 To be sure," coolly replied Tommy. ' 4 That is 
 why Jam here." 
 
 44 Tommy," he continued, after a pause in which he 
 had earnestly examined the face of his companion ; 
 44 Tommy, will you answer me a question ? " 
 
 44 That depends on what the question is," cautiously
 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK. 207 
 
 replied the other. " What is it you want to know ? " 
 
 " Are you following tins party ? " 
 
 " See here, Ben, the cook lost his wood-sawyer at 
 that last landing. He was bounced along with the 
 rest of the bums. You are in rare good luck, and 
 have secured a passage clear through to New Orleans. 
 All you want is to make yourself solid on the chuck 
 question. Go speak to the cook right off before any 
 fellow gets ahead of you, and tell him you want to 
 saw wood for your grub this trip. It's a splendid 
 chance ! " and Tommy shoved Ben toward the galley. 
 
 "But Tom, answer my question first; are you fol- 
 lowing this party ? " persisted our hero, his inquisi- 
 tiveness proof against the allurements of the wood 
 pile. 
 
 Tommy was about to leave him, but changed his 
 mind. 
 
 " Ben," he said, " if I answer that question, will 
 you promise never to ask me another concerning them 
 or me so long as we are together ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Never ; no matter what happens ? " 
 
 " I'll ask you no more, Tom, for I know it does not 
 concern me ; but tell me truly, are you following 
 them ? " 
 
 " To the death!" and the boy's hands clenched and 
 his hazel eyes glittered as he hissed the words. There 
 was such a concentrated hatred and bitterness in the 
 utterance that Ben started back and eyed him aghast. 
 
 "There; now youknow something that does not con- 
 cern you. I hope you arc satisfied. Furthermore the 
 meeting in New Jersey City was no accident. I fol-
 
 208 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 lowed them and ran against that that man with my 
 hat down, to learn when and where they were going. 
 Remember your promise, Ben. Don't trifle with me. 
 Don't break it. For I like you Bennie I I love 
 you. I do indeed, and I don't want to fall out with 
 you." Saying which, in a voice and manner that had 
 softened to the tenderness of a girl's, Tom ran into 
 the galley and resumed the polishing of plates. 
 
 Puzzled by the mystery surrounding his little friend, 
 Ben still remembered his suggestion, and on applying 
 to the head cook was duly installed as Lord of the 
 Buck-Saw to his sable Majesty. 
 
 Verily hath his lines fallen in pleasant places. A 
 rescue from the river, his ride to New Orleans secured, 
 and here, to cap the climax of his good fortune, here 
 he was living on the fat of the Argenta's larder, and 
 only exercise enough to give him an appetite. New 
 Orleans and the twenty thousand dollars appeared 
 already within his grasp. 
 
 Two days glided by in peace and plenty. The du- 
 ties of his new office were neither irksome nor confin- 
 ing. An hour or so's industrial manipulation of the 
 buck saw provided wood enough to last the cook all 
 day. In return for this service, he was called into the 
 galley and filled to repletion after the other members 
 of the cook's family were through. He was the envy 
 of all the " bums " and deck passengers, passing as a 
 bloated office-holder among them. One serious and 
 matter of fact " dead broke " to whom Ben surrepti- 
 tiously carried, biscuits from the galley earnestly ad- 
 vised him not to do too much at a time, but let each 
 day provide for itself, so that in case the boat blew up
 
 BEN WALKS THE PLANK. 209 
 
 or sunk he would not be a loser. Indeed Ben grafted 
 happy moments on the lives of many poor devils 
 by secreting victuals about his person while in the 
 galley and distributing them among the more starved 
 of the free-riders. There were still a goodly number 
 on board and every raid of the clerk landed three or 
 four. Where they managed to stow themselves so as 
 to escape observation was a mystery to him.
 
 210 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 OUR HERO TAKES A SWIM. 
 
 MEMPHIS was passed and numerous points of 
 historical interest. Points that had dyed the 
 river crimson in the days gone by. But the river 
 shows no stain let us sincerely hope the country 
 does not. The Argenta had passed Napoleon early 
 in the evening. Napoleon is situated in Arkansas 
 that is in the aqueous part of that commonwealth 
 for Napoleon lies at the bottom of the river. Some 
 years ago the stream made a highwater dinner off of 
 several plantations and then ate up Napoleon by way 
 of desert. 
 
 It was a lovely starlit night, and the soft, balmy 
 air of the southern country had a soothing lullaby in 
 it, that entranced our travellers as they lounged at 
 full length on the guards of the port side. Ben lay 
 with his elbow on a pile of ropes and his head resting 
 on his hand. Tommy had nestled close to him and 
 was softly humming a tune, all to himself. On the 
 deck above was heard the murmur of voices and rip- 
 ples of laughter proceeding from the cabin passengers, 
 as they also sat out enjoying the evening. Suddenly
 
 OUR H^RO TAKES A SWIM. 211 
 
 a rich soprano voice broke out in Foster's lovely mel- 
 ody, " Way down upon the S \vannee River," and the 
 notes went floating over the waters, and way off to 
 the dark line of timber that skirted the horizon of 
 their vision. In the chorus there mingled fine tenor 
 and bass voices. Ben lay entranced. He recognized 
 his infatuation from the first note. He listened for a 
 verse or two and then unconsciously joined in the re- 
 frain himself: 
 
 " All the world is sad and dreary, 
 Every where I roam ; 
 Oh, darkies, how " 
 
 The song was never finished. There was a harsh, 
 groaning, crunching noise ; the boat quivered from 
 stem to stem and lurched over like a drunken man ; 
 a crashing of timbers followed; and Ben found him-. 
 self hurled far out into the river. Even in his tran- 
 sit through the air he heard the cries of alarm and 
 shouts of fear that rent the stillness of the night. 
 Then the great river embraced him, and he commenced 
 battling for life. Down, down he sank, and when he 
 rose to the surface, his head struck against a plank 
 and he seized upon it, and found to his joy that it 
 would just about support his full weight. For an in- 
 stant the glare from the open fires of the boilers shot 
 a broad avenue of light over the waters, and there in 
 the center of the illuminated pathway, there flashed 
 from darkness into light and from light into darkness 
 again, the face of Tommy as he clung to one end of a 
 spar while at the other extremity was Blackout, his 
 countenance ghastly with a supernatural terror that 
 something worse than the fear of death had produced.
 
 212 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 It was but a moment that they were in view and then 
 the current had swept them into the gloom. But the 
 light had revealed another form to Ben. A form that 
 had turned a beseeching face toward him from the 
 cruel waters, and then sank beneath them. The next 
 instant he felt his limbs grasped from below, and 
 reaching down a hand to release himself it became 
 tangled in the meshes of a woman's hair. With an 
 effort he raised the body, and there in the cold star- 
 light was the countenance of Bertha facing him ! A 
 
 O O 
 
 thrill of joy even in that terrible moment shot through 
 his frame. He tried to draw her semi-insensible form 
 upon the plank, but found that it sank beneath their 
 united weights. "With an arm over the plank he slid 
 into the water, and after much exertion managed to 
 get her upon the preserver he had deserted. It not 
 only bore her weight, but allowed him to hang upon 
 it with his hands, and partially kept him up. Ben 
 was a good swimmer and with this support had a 
 chance for life. But the Argenta, their only hope of 
 rescue, where was she? Afar off it appeared to 
 Ben miles away her cabin lights were seen on the 
 waters ; and another light moving about in her near 
 vicinity that Ben surmised must be the steamer's 
 yawl boat searching for those thrown overboard. 
 
 Would they find him ? Could they hear him ? 
 Every moment the distance between rescue and him- 
 self was growing greater and greater. He shouted 
 with all his strength. Again and again he called for 
 help ! Alas ! The river and the night swallowed up 
 his cries. The plank with its precious freight drifted 
 swiftly away from succor.
 
 OUR HEHO TAKES A SWIM. 213 
 
 The causes leading to Cleveland's shipwreck are 
 briefly told. The Argent a was hugging a point on the 
 left bank, and just as she had made it arid was about 
 to shoot for the opposite bend, a long, slimy snag 
 caught in her larboard guard and went crashing 
 through to her " Texas," scattering to right and left 
 everything in its course, and throwing our two friends, 
 and the party of cabin passengers, sitting on the deck 
 above them, into the river. The headway of the boat 
 tore her loose from the snag with a loss of guards and 
 decking, but no serious injury to the craft's hull, and 
 the motion she was under carried her far out into the 
 stream before the engines could be reversed and her 
 headway checked. When she at last controlled her- 
 self the victims of the disaster were being rapidly 
 swept away, out of hearing and reach, by the point 
 current. The steamer's boat picked up one man 
 clinging to the end of a spar. His face was ashy, his 
 eyes wild, and his mouth set agape with a speechless 
 terror. When spoken to he did not answer, and they 
 were compelled to drag him forcibly from the spar 
 into the yawl. Fright had evidently overthrown rea- 
 son, and he remained in this dumb terrified state long 
 after the steamboat was regained. 
 
 It was Blackoat. 
 
 He was the only one found. The Argenta steamed 
 up and down and across the river in every direction. 
 But in vain. The flood surrendered no more, and at 
 last the captain was compelled to relinquish his search 
 and the vessel's head turned toward its destination. 
 
 But how fared our voyagers on the plank ? Ben 
 saw the Argenta's lights grow fainter and fainter with
 
 214 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 a sickening feeling of despair, and when at last they 
 faded entirely from view and he was left alone on the 
 face of the cruel flood his heart sank within him. 
 Like many another shipwrecked person he might 
 have lost strength when he lost heart, and quietly 
 surrendered himself to the remorseless waters. He 
 might have done so, and whispered to himself as he 
 relinquished life : " It's not worth an exertion," as 
 perhaps men have done before him. But there on the 
 plank, by which he buoyed himself, lay his whole 
 world. Life was dearer and sweeter to him at that 
 moment than ever before. His eyes tried to pierce 
 the gloom that surrounded them and discover a shore 
 that he might point the plank with its precious bur- 
 den toward. But the starlight gave him no aid. All 
 was black and dark. An impenetrable gloom en- 
 shrouded them. He had managed to arrange the 
 young woman's person on the plank so" that it upheld 
 her in safety, and to make assurance doubly sure he 
 took a scarf that was pinned about her shoulders and 
 bound her to the board while he trod water. 
 
 " Should I get cramped and go under, she may 
 float to some landing," he thought. 
 
 For half an hour this strange voyage continued in 
 silence, the swift river's current drifting them along 
 at a rapid speed. Then the form on the plank gave 
 evidence of returning consciousness and Bertha mur- 
 mured : 
 
 " For heaven's sake, where am I ? " 
 
 " There has been an accident. You and I are 
 floating on the river. Be calm. Cling to the plank. 
 We are all right. We will drift on shore or be picked 
 up. Be of good heart."
 
 OTJK HERO TAKES A SWIM. 215 
 
 " Oh, will you save me, will you save me ? I don't 
 want to drown I can't die so ! Oh, will you try 
 and save me ? " and in her flight she clutched Ben's 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will save you or die attempting to. 
 Compose yourself," replied Ben, earnestly. " There 
 is no immediate danger so long as you keep the plank. 
 Don't hang on to me so, please, or I will go under." 
 
 The girl withdrew her hand and laying her cold 
 wet cheek against his, he having his chin resting on 
 the plank, she murmured : 
 
 " You will save me, I know you will. You are so 
 good. Don't let me drown, will you ? " 
 
 " No," answered Ben, stoutly ; " you shall not 
 drown. We will drift somewhere soon where we can 
 be rescued. You shall be saved, fear not. Have con- 
 fidence in me, my darling, for I love you ! " 
 
 " I will, I do. I know that you will save me," she 
 earnestl}'- replied. 
 
 On, oil drifted this young couple through the dark- 
 ness. Now she would pray, long and earnestly, and 
 Ben would say amen. Then she would beg him not 
 to desert her, and he would valiantly protest that his 
 life was at her service. Between prayer and suppli- 
 cations they got tolerably well acquainted. She prom- 
 ised the love and gratitude of a life time, and he 
 vowed that to save her life at a sacrifice of his own 
 would be charming. 
 
 Though treading on the tail of Death's coat, strange 
 to say, Ben was happy. He caressed her, as well as 
 circumstances would permit, and now and then kissed 
 her hand and even her cheek, which she did not
 
 216 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 withdraw from him, but would arouse herself and ask : 
 ** Are we near the shore ? Do you see the shore 
 
 yet?" 
 
 " Not yet ; not quite. Be of good heart," he would 
 reply. 
 
 Then a silence would follow, broken again by her 
 pleadings : " Are we near the shore ? Do you see the 
 shore ? " 
 
 So several long dreary hours wore by. 
 
 " Are we near the shore ? " Do you see the 
 shore ? " 
 
 And Ben's voice grew weaker and weaker, and his 
 answers slower and slower, when he replied to her 
 supplications : 
 
 " Y-es, yes, dear ; near the shore. Near the shore, 
 I pray God," for there was a dead faintness and a loss 
 of energy coming over him. 
 
 He was growing exhausted and several times his 
 hold upon the plank grew so heavy that it sank deep 
 in the water ; at which Bertha would cry out that 
 she was drowning and call piteously upon him to save 
 her. Then mastering himself, for a time our hero 
 would strive to float without hanging to the board, 
 but each attempt grew shorter than the preceding one, 
 and he felt himself swiftly drifting into Eternity. 
 Once his hold on the plank loosened and he began to 
 sink. A spasmodic effort regained his buoy, but his 
 grasp caused it to sink, and with a shriek the maiden 
 implored him to save her! Her voice aroused his 
 drooping energies, and gave him new strength. But 
 presently it faded away, and death closed in upon him. 
 
 " Are we near the shore ? "
 
 OUK HEEO TAKES A SWIM. 217 
 
 " I hope so I pray God so," said Ben in a weak 
 Voice. " Will you will you kiss me just once ? " 
 
 She would have kissed him a thousand times had it 
 been possible. 
 
 " Thank you. God bless you, and save and pro- 
 tect you, darling. Cling tight to the plank. For I 
 feel myself going ; I I can't hold out, no, 
 not much longer. Don't let go good-bye; I 
 I always loved you. Good. Don't let go. Hang 
 tight. Good . What! Thank God! Thank 
 God ! We are saved ! Saved ! Saved ! Bertha we 
 are saved ! My feet touch the bottom ! I can walk ! " 
 
 It was indeed a joyful fact and one that was much 
 needed at that identical moment. A few seconds 
 later and Ben would have been too weak to keep his 
 feet. But now a new life and a new strength was 
 given him. 
 
 " Wait ; I will see if this is the shore," he said. 
 Then with his face close to the water he peered around 
 him. 
 
 " I cannot tell," he presently said. " There is a 
 dark line to the right and I will make for it. Hold 
 tight to the plank for should I step into deep water 
 you will need it." 
 
 Slowly pushing the plank in front of him he made 
 his way toward the dark line he had taken for the 
 shore. For several minutes he cautiously waded 
 through the flood, and the water fell from his chin to 
 his breast and from his breast to his thighs and then 
 he could see land ahead of him with bushes on it. At 
 this happy discovery he set up a great cry of joy, and 
 unlashing Bertha from the plank, took her in his arms
 
 218 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 and floundered through the shallow water to the 
 shore. And when they reached it they both went on 
 their knees, and prayed such a prayer of thanksgiv- 
 ing, with such heartfelt earnestness, that we are sorry 
 to reflect that it requires such severe causes to pro- 
 duce such commendable effects. 
 
 Ben arose from his knees first and stood looking 
 upon his beautiful companion. When she had com- 
 pleted her offering, she arose also, and taking both of 
 Ben's hands in both of hers, she kissed them passion- 
 ately. 
 
 " You saved my life," she said, " and I will never, 
 never forget it." 
 
 The words were music in his ears, but he modestly 
 protested that the services he had rendered were his 
 duty, and nothing more. 
 
 " No ! No ! " she exclaimed. " You and I have 
 been too near death's door to hold any reserve be- 
 tween us. You saved my life, and to my dying day I 
 will love you for it, and pray to my God that he will re- 
 ward your courage and goodness." 
 
 Ben actually thought then and there that it was 
 worth a dozen wrecks, and a score of close calls from 
 the Great Reaper to earn such a reward. 
 
 " I was fortunate in having the opportunity to do 
 you a service," he gallantly replied; "pray do not 
 again mention it. 1 suppose there are houses in the 
 vicinity, and if you will wait here I will make a search 
 for a road." 
 
 " No, rather let me go with you. It is so lonely 
 here and I am chilled; " and the unfortunate young 
 lady's teeth chattered in verification of the last state- 
 ment.
 
 OUR HERO TAKES A SWIM. 219 
 
 In spite of her protests, Ben took off his coat, and 
 wringing the water out of it as thoroughly as he could, 
 wrapped it around his fair companion's shoulders. 
 Then confidingly nestling her hand in his the casta- 
 ways started on a voyage of discovery.
 
 220 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE CASTAWAYS. 
 
 THEIR walk was not a long one. Forcing them- 
 selves through a thicket of young cottonwoods, 
 that scarce reached above Ben's head, a few rods 
 brought them to water on the opposite side. 
 
 " It must be a point," said Ben ; " a neck of land 
 jutting out into the river. Let us follow it up." 
 
 So hand in hand, like two full grown babes in the 
 woods, they walked down the sand that skirted the 
 cottonwood brake. In less than half a mile they 
 came to the end of the brake, and a rod farther 
 brought them again to water. Ben stood speechless. 
 Slowly he turned to his companion, whose wistful, 
 confiding gaze nearly unmanned him. 
 
 " Bertha," at last he said, huskily, " we are on an 
 island." 
 
 Bertha hid her face in her hands and bowed down 
 in grief at this dire information. 
 
 " Don't cry," said Ben simply and soothingly, and, 
 it must be confessed, wrapping his arms about her 
 drooping form, and soothing her head on his bosom 
 as gently as a mother could have caressed it. " Don't
 
 THE CASTAWAYS. 221 
 
 cry. The Hand that brought us here can take us off 
 again. The river has spared us ; fear not but we will 
 get off of the island safely." 
 
 And with many gentle endearments and soothing 
 speeches he restored her. 
 
 " You are shivering with the cold, Miss Bertha," 
 he said. 
 
 " I am cold, ver} r cold, dear friend," she replied ; 
 " but so are you. Think of yourself. Put on your 
 coat again. Morning cannot be far off, and then the 
 sun will dry and warm us." 
 
 But Ben refused the coat, and knew that morning 
 was some hours distant, and that the coldest portion 
 of the night was yet to come upon them, before the 
 sun arose and warmed all nature back to life. So he 
 drew Bertha into the centre of the cotton wood brake, 
 that protected them from the night breeze now keenly 
 felt sweeping down the river. Then he prepared a 
 bed out of twigs and leaves, and bidding her lie down 
 he spread his coat over her and piled leaves and 
 boughs high up around her. Ere long his labors were 
 rewarded by hearing her draw the deep, regular 
 breath of slumber. Then he laid down beside her, 
 and exhausted nature courted sleep, despite the shiv- 
 e rings of his cold wet body. 
 
 When our hero awoke the sun was shining down 
 upon him from a cloudless sky. There were also 
 shining upon him two great, glorious, grey eyes, as 
 Bertha sat a short distance away, contemplating him 
 sadly. He noticed with a thrill of pleasure that she 
 had carefully covered him with the coat, and heaped 
 the twigs and boughs, that had formed her own bed,
 
 222 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 about him. The young lady must have been awake 
 some time, for with the instinct predominant in her 
 sex, she had made some futile attempts at a toilet. 
 Her dishevelled and sand-ladened hair was coiled in a 
 mass of not unpleasing snarls, and over it she had 
 tied her dainty lace handkerchief, having had no hat 
 on her head at the time of the catastrophe. The 
 drapery of her rich dress was sadly creased and 
 wrinkled, and she wore all the appearance of a young 
 lady that had taken an involuntary bath, and then 
 been only partially wrung out. A memory of the 
 array of good taste, wealth and fashion that passed 
 him on Olive Street, in St. Louis, flitted through 
 Ben's mind, and in spite of himself he smiled at the 
 contrast. She evidently understood what was upper- 
 most in his mind, for returning smile for smile, she 
 said: 
 
 " My experience on the river has not been condu- 
 cive to good appearances. You must be gentle in 
 your criticisms." 
 
 But Ben vowed she never had looked so lovely in 
 all her life. Which, indeed, she had not ; for there 
 was a touching grace in the way she bore her distress 
 that enhanced the charms of a naturally beautiful 
 woman. 
 
 "Your clothes are not dry," said Ben. 
 
 "Not quite," she replied, "but I think they soon 
 will be." A look of misery crossed her face as she 
 said so, however, plainly indicating that the wet sand- 
 ladened garments she had slept in, and which were 
 now clinging to her person were any thing but congen- 
 ial to physical comfort.
 
 THE CASTAWAYS. 223 
 
 " Remain here for a few moments while I take a 
 look at our island and discover .some means of escape 
 from it, if possible," said Ben. 
 
 It did not take him long to become familiar with 
 the topography of his new location. It was simply a 
 sand bar half a mile long, and from four to five rods 
 broad, standing in the middle of an old channel. The 
 centre of the bar was but two or three feet above the 
 river's surface, but was already covered with that 
 dense and rapid cottonwood growth peculiar to the 
 river country of the south. Off to the west, half a 
 mile away, was another, but a much longer island, 
 also covered with small trees. On the east a deep, 
 swift channel separated the castaways from a wide 
 expanse of the everlasting cottonwood brakes that 
 stretched a mile inland and appeared joined in the 
 back ground to a heavy forest. To the north and 
 south two points of land, heavily timbered, ran far 
 out into the- river and closed up the horizon. 
 
 Ignorant as Ben was of the shifting nature of the 
 Mississippi, he could easily surmise that in no distant 
 past the river had swept around the point above him 
 and formed the bay in which his island, and the other 
 stretches of sand flats, lay. 
 
 It was not then a bay, but a bend. Then there had 
 come a change. Perhaps it was a " wash-out " miles 
 up the river, or a caving of bank nearer at hand. Or 
 perchance a farmer in scouring his plow ran it through 
 some narrow neck of sand, miles away, and the river 
 had made its bed in the furrow, leaving whole town- 
 ships inland, and putting other whole townships to 
 soak. Whatever the cause of it, the current had evi-
 
 H24 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 dently at a comparatively recent date been shot 
 straight out from the point, instead of circling around 
 it. The deep bay had filled with sand and cotton- 
 wood timber sprouted upon it. Left to itself a cen- 
 tury and the cotton woods on the sandbar would have 
 grown to great trees, and been thrown to earth by the 
 stronger arms and more powerful growth of oak, ash, 
 and sycamore. Another century and the oak, ash, 
 and sycamore would have bowed to the woodman's 
 axe. The plow would have turned up their foothold. 
 Broad acres, rich with cotton and corn, would have 
 flourished on the captured domain. A " corner " gro- 
 cery would have started. Then another, and another, 
 and another. First a hamlet, then a borough, then a 
 city. Then the iron horse would make his way in the 
 young metropolis, and it would grow with a wondrous' 
 growth. Mayors, and churches, and rings, and sub- 
 sidies, and aldermen, and defaulters, and debts, and 
 boards-of-trade, and societies, and "bosses," and 
 all the paraphernalia that goes to make up a great 
 city, would be grown on that sandbar where Ben 
 stood. 
 
 But these things were not to be. There had been 
 another " wash-out," another cave-in, or another plow 
 furrow, somewhere else, and the river was slowly 
 coming back to its first love, and if no " wash-outs " 
 or furrows intervened the island Ben stood upon would 
 in a few years again be the river's channel. 
 
 Although all of this was not surmised by him he, 
 saw enough to fill his mind with dark forebodings. 
 He knew no boats would come that way, for even as 
 he looked a steamer's smoke curled over the point of
 
 THE CASTAWAYS. 225 
 
 woodland, miles to the north of him, and disappeared 
 without ever once allowing him to catch a glimpse of 
 the vessel it issued from. The land side was evidently 
 as uninhabited as the long island on the west, and 
 both separated him in their lonely barrenness from 
 succor. Had they then been rescued from the river 
 only to die a lingering death of starvation and expos- 
 ures ! Not a match to light a fire with. Not a 
 stranded log to float from their island prison upon. 
 Their rescuing plank drifted off. Not strength enough 
 to breast three yards of the swift current that swept 
 by them. Nothing but to face fate, and die ! The 
 position was horrible. Had he been by himself he 
 thought he could have borne its terrors composedly. 
 Nay, he was no coward, and when the worst came to 
 the worst and he was no longer able to bear the pangs 
 of hunger and the miseries of loneliness, he could 
 have consigned his body to the river without a shud- 
 der. But to see her, the idol of his existence, the 
 woman he adored, perish inch by inch, moment by 
 moment, and not be able to extend a single aid that 
 made his heart tremble. Slowly and with down cast 
 eyes he made his way back to where Bertha sat. 
 
 " "Well," she said, greeting him with a smile, " is 
 this Crusoe land ? " 
 
 For a moment he thought of hiding the real facts 
 of the case, but on reflecting that she must shortly 
 discover them herself, he made known their deplor- 
 able position to her. Before the recital was over she 
 was weeping bitterly. 
 
 " Don't, don't, please don't, Miss Bertha," said Ben, 
 piteously. " You quite unman me. It may not be
 
 226 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 so bad after all. Some boat might come tins way, or 
 we may be able to make our presence known to those 
 who can rescue us. While there is life there is hope. 
 The Hand that drew us hither, will not leave us here 
 to perish, be assured." 
 
 Bertha arose and placing both hands on his breast 
 looked him mournfully in the face, as she controlled 
 her feelings, and said : 
 
 " I have confidence in Him, my good friend, and if 
 I give way to weakness you must remember the 
 dreadful trials we have passed through ; nay, that we 
 are now passing through, and that have made me 
 physically weak, and oh ! " and the lips quivered 
 and the grey eyes again filled with tears ; "I I feel 
 so wretched ! " 
 
 Now by all authorities that is, written authori- 
 ties, Benjamin Cleveland should have drawn him- 
 self apart from the innocent being fate had cast him 
 alone upon this island sand bar with, and been too high- 
 minded to take advantage of circumstances. He 
 should have occupied a high moral plane, in which 
 even a platonic passion would have found no existence, 
 and consoled her with dull platitudes and stilted 
 phraseology. They all do it that way in the nov- 
 els. Alas, Ben did nothing of the sort. He acted 
 on impulse. He wound his arms about the fair form 
 and pressed it close to his breast, and as she pillowed 
 her head on his shoulder he kissed her hair, her fore- 
 head, her cheeks times innumerable. And she liked 
 it ; she felt better ! ! 
 
 He said not a word, for he had nothing to say, but 
 he petted her like a mother would her child, until her
 
 THE CASTAWAYS. 227 
 
 drooping spirits revived and she smiled at his endeav- 
 ors in her behalf. From his own condition he readily 
 appreciated the feelings of his companion. There 
 was a growling, discontented vacuum loud in its de- 
 mands to be filled ; that sick, weak feeling of hunger 
 that succeeds exertion and exposure. They were both 
 hungry very hungry ; for hunger makes louder de- 
 mands at .the commencement of privations than it does 
 after time has allowed the muscles of the system to 
 contract and close with a tight grip upon starvation's 
 emptiness. Added to their unappeased appetites, was 
 the miserable, creeping, disgusting feeling occasioned 
 by wet clothes filled with irritating sand. These are 
 humble details, we will admit ; but they were the gi- 
 gantic realities of the moment to the castaways. Ben. 
 realized the facts and actively engaged his mind in 
 search of a remedy. 
 
 u Miss Bertha," he said, " let us at least make our- 
 selves as comfortable as circumstances will permit. 
 These wet and stiffening clothes, filled with river sand, 
 are unbearable. Listen to me. I will go to the other 
 end of the island and wash the sand out of mine, and 
 do you remain here on the sunny end and do the same. 
 Hang them on the cottonwood bushes until they are 
 thoroughly dry, and keep yourself in the warm sun- 
 shine. Exercise too run, jump, or do what you 
 please so as to keep the blood in circulation ; it is pos- 
 itively necessary for us to do all in our power to court 
 health and comfort, or we will sink down under ex- 
 posure. I will not be back for two hours." 
 
 In her loneliness she was loth to part with him at 
 all, but he said reassuringly :
 
 228 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " I will be within hail, and as there is not a living 
 thing on the island, you need not fear intrusion," and 
 then kissing her tenderly, (for he had got into that 
 pleasant fashion and his caresses had never yet so 
 much as brought the faintest blush to her cheek or 
 his) Ben walked to the upper end of the sandbar, be- 
 hind the cottonwoods, and there disrobed. 
 
 While seated on the sand, his wardrobe adorning 
 the neighboring bushes, he reflected on the gravity of 
 their position.
 
 CRUSOE LIFE. 229 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 CRUSOE LIFE. 
 
 AS has been stated, the smoke of a steamboat had 
 been seen at the point above, without the boat 
 coming in view, and during the forenoon another went 
 by opposite. He could hear the beat of her paddles, 
 and see the long, thin line of smoke hanging in the 
 heavens over beyond the low island in the west. But 
 the vessel never came in sight. Evidently the main 
 current set across from the point to a bend, probably 
 miles away, in the opposite shore, and boats going 
 down stream took the current, while those coming up 
 hugged the bend to avoid it. Quite likely the near- 
 est the passing crafts came to the castaways was the 
 point above, at least three miles to the north. It was 
 plainly evident that they could not make their pres- 
 ence known to these. 
 
 Once while seated on the sands he thought he 
 heard the faint echo of hounds, baying in the dark 
 grey timbers that stood bold against the sky in the 
 east. But what of that? There was a long cotton- 
 wood sand flat between his island's channel and the 
 timbers, and who could tell the number of other chan-
 
 230 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 nels and deep lagoons that intervened before the tim- 
 bers were reached ? The more he reflected upon the 
 matter the more was he convinced that an escape from 
 the sandbar depended entirely upon their own exer- 
 tions, and sincerely regretted that he had allowed the 
 plank to drift away the previous night. 
 
 What was to be done ? That was the momentous 
 question ; for whatever was to be done, would have 
 to be done quickly, while strength lasted. All Ben's 
 latent ingenuity was taxed for relief stimulated by 
 the cravings of his empty stomach. At last he struck 
 upon the following plan, the only one appearing 
 feasible or practicable. The cottonwood brake that 
 covered the bar, was of two or three years' growth, 
 with the shoots as thick as a man's wrist at the butts, 
 and standing seven or eight feet high. Rather slen- 
 der poles to use, but with his pocket-knife and the 
 help of Bertha he hoped to get enough of them to- 
 gether to make a raft that would bear their united 
 weights. He knew it would take a large number, but 
 it was their only hope, and they could continue piling 
 tier upon tier, until they made a serviceable float. 
 When their raft could bear them, he would await a 
 favorable breeze from the west, and with a skirt of 
 his coat for a sail, take to the current and try to make 
 the wooded point four or five miles below. Should 
 they miss a landing, there was the open river to be 
 gained, and a chance of being picked up by some boat, 
 while where they were none but Death would come to 
 the rescue. 
 
 The sun had mounted to meridian and was on its 
 way to the western horizon before Ben's clothes were
 
 CKTJSOE LIFE. 231 
 
 dry. In the interim he employed himself in building 
 a hut out of the cotton woods. With his hands he 
 scraped a hole a foot deep and four feet square in the 
 sandy soil of the brake. Around this he propped up 
 a thick wall of the young trees and covered it with a 
 roof of the same. After placing a heavy carpet of 
 twigs and leaves on the floor, the hut was compara- 
 tively comfortable. It would give them a shelter dur- 
 ing the day and protect them from the river breeze at 
 night. He now dressed himself, and noticed for the 
 first time an alteration in his person, a sooner discov- 
 ery of which would have afforded him much comfort. 
 His skin had grown red as a boiled lobster and was 
 painfully sensitive the moment his clothes touched it. 
 While the sun had been drying his clothes it had been 
 baking him. Despite the pain he remembered with a 
 pang of remorseful apprehension the advice he had 
 given Bertha, and was filled with alarm lest she had 
 literally obeyed him, and was now in a similar predic- 
 ament only worse. 
 
 When they met he cautiously advanced the matter 
 by delicately intimating his own broiled condition, 
 and apologetically inquiring as to her state. But 
 Bertha only laughed and said, " What an idea ! " from 
 which he inferred that his unfortunate advice had not 
 been religiously observed. 
 
 Then the young couple walked to their new house. 
 
 " We will go to housekeeping here," said Ben, 
 pleasantly ; and Bertha blushed, that time. 
 
 Both evidently felt much improved in their dry 
 clothes, and though ravenously hungry, the first pangs 
 of emptiness had modified themselves.
 
 232 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " We will have to issue cards," continued our hero 
 merrily. " At home, September 26th, Mr. and Mrs. 
 
 Benjamin Cleveland, nee Bertha ," and there he 
 
 suddenly stopped. 
 
 " My name is Ford," said Bertha quietly, though 
 not unpleased at her companion's facetiousness. 
 " Bertha Ford, and I infer from what I have just 
 heard that I may address you as Mr. Benjamin Cleve- 
 land ? " 
 
 " No, indeed, you may not," exclaimed Ben, warmly. 
 " You must call me ' Ben.' I have earned that privi- 
 lege, have I not ? " 
 
 " Indeed, indeed I'll call you any thing you wish 
 dear Ben if you want me to ; for did you not save my 
 life ! " and with two soft, white little hands in his, she 
 looked so winsomely grateful into his face that Ben 
 blushed in ecstasy, stammered and said he 
 knew not what. 
 
 At all events it was arranged that they should call 
 each other by their Christian names, and this danger- 
 ous precedent established, there is no telling how far 
 circumstances and surroundings might have carried 
 their intimacy, was it not that on the one side there 
 was the bright honor of a first and picturesque love, 
 that would no more have allowed an evil thought to 
 sully it, than it would have permitted an injury to be 
 done to the object of its adoration ; and on the maid- 
 en's part were innocence and purity needing no 
 bulwarks and for which twin virtues the convention- 
 alities of society were never builded. 
 
 Having examined the hut Ben told her of his plan 
 to escape, and she flushed with hope and was anxious
 
 CRUSOE LIFE. 233 
 
 to commence the work immediately. So at it the two 
 went. He cut down the young trees and she carried 
 them in armfuls down to the water's edge, where it 
 was proposed to build the raft. When night over- 
 took their labors, quite a pile of the cotton woods had 
 been accumulated on the strand to reward their indus- 
 try. Ben's hands were blistered and Bertha's arms 
 were tired and sore, but both felt the elasticity of 
 hope. During the early part of the afternoon's labors 
 much laughter was occasioned at the young lady's ap- 
 pearance. To see a very pretty young woman with 
 white jewelled hands and diamond -draped ears pack- 
 ing brushwood through the sand, the long heavy trail 
 of a rich dress sweeping behind her, was ludicrous. 
 After sweeping a few furrows, Bertha came after her 
 load without the trail, and things progressed better. 
 They said but little, and what was said was only to 
 encourage each other at their labors. 
 
 As it grew chilly with the evening breeze sweeping 
 down the river they retired to the protection of the 
 hut, and there (though it was no doubt highly inde- 
 corous) seated on the carpet of boughs the head of 
 Bertha found Ben's shoulder and his own stout arms 
 wound about her form. Ben afterward stated that 
 had it not been for the fact of his being everlastingly 
 hungry, he would consider it the happiest moment of 
 all his life. 
 
 " Ben ! " suddenly said the young lady. 
 
 " What is it, Bertha ? " he asked. 
 
 " Do you know it seems to me as though I had known 
 you for ages, instead of for only a single day. Is it 
 *iot strange ? "
 
 234 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Now Ben did not think this so very strange. He 
 had no cogitation with himself about the fellowship 
 of misery, but he did know that during the entire af- 
 ternoon when she came up from the strand after her 
 load of trees and he had freighted her with them, 
 they had looked into one another's eyes in a confiden- 
 tial manner that had deeply impressed him. And 
 sometimes when his cuttings had not accumulated fast 
 enough to furnish a load, she had stood by his side 
 and in a soft, caressing way had patted his back and 
 shoulders encouragingly, and when he looked up there 
 was a smile on her lips and a great wide eyed look of 
 confidence and gratitude beaming down upon him. 
 When their eyes met they spoke not in a language 
 of vowel sounds and consonants, (which same vowels 
 and consonants when they have an opportunity of 
 materializing rush and tumble over one another, and 
 cram themselves in where there is no earthly use for 
 them) they spoke not by breath shaped into philolog- 
 ical mysteries, but in the old, old tongue, that has 
 been spoken since Adam first held converse with Eve, 
 and several years before that event, perhaps. 
 
 " Does it seem strange to you, Bertha ? It don't 
 to me. I feel as if I had known you always and 
 that I will know you forever ! " 
 
 Bertha was silent. 
 
 "Do you hear me, Bertha forever!" 
 
 " Bertha, 1 love you! I love you, dearly and truly. 
 I love you ! " 
 
 Before he could finish Bertha had withdrawn from 
 his arms, and now sat a little apart, trying to look 
 kindly into his face through the darkness, and holding 
 both of his hands in hers.
 
 CKUSOE LIFE. 235 
 
 " Ben, dear Ben, don't love me that way," she simply 
 said. " Love me as a sister. Love me as a very, very 
 dear friend, but do not think of a nearer or closer re- 
 lationship, Ben. I know I owe my life to you, and I 
 would gladly do any thing for you that lay in my 
 power ; love you, I do, I do ! So dearly that I would 
 die for you. But Ben I can not marry you. I am 
 to be the wife of another. It is settled! " 
 
 There was a sorrowful cadence in the last three 
 words that made Ben forget his own misery in com- 
 passion for his gentle companion. 
 
 " Settled, Bertha ! Do you love him ? " he asked, 
 not just at that moment reflecting that it was none of 
 his business, and that the question was an imperti- 
 nance and an insult. 
 
 But instead of answering his question, she said 
 with tears in her voice : 
 
 " Listen, my kind, dear friend, while I tell you the 
 little there is to my life. I was born eighteen years 
 ago. When but little more than four years old my 
 father died, leaving my mother in straitened cir- 
 cumstances with two children ; myself and a little 
 baby sister. Ben " and she softly placed a hand 
 on his arm, " that little sister has never risen from her 
 bed. She is now fourteen years old, and all those 
 fourteen years have been spent in patient suffering. 
 
 " When I had grown to be quite a girl, a bachelor 
 uncle, my mother's brother, adopted me, and all the 
 advantages that wealth could offer I had. Two years 
 ago this uncle died leaving a singular will. His prop- 
 erty, amounting to some three hundred thousand dol- 
 lars, must remain undivided, and yet he wished it
 
 236 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 shared between a nephew and myself. To accomplish 
 this the will directs that I am to marry my cousin 
 within two months after attaining the age of eighteen. 
 In case either refuses to enter into the alliance, the 
 entire estate is to go to the one agreeing to it the 
 other to be left unnoticed. Or in case of either mar- 
 rying other persons than those specified in the will 
 the property goes to the one remaining single. Should 
 both marry, the property is to be divided up among a 
 number of charities. Both my cousin and myself 
 have emplo} r ed able legal talent, but they all agree 
 that the will is drawn up in a manner that, absolutely 
 prevents any other disposition of the property, than 
 those specified. My dear friend, I have a darling 
 mother who has seen many hardships and trials ; one 
 who has loved and watched over me, and sacrificed 
 and suffered for me as only a mother can. I have a 
 poor, helpless, little sister bed-ridden for life. The 
 income I now receive from my share of my uncle's 
 property provides them with a comfortable home, and 
 furnishes those necessities, both little and great, with- 
 out which life, under the best of circumstances, is 
 hard. How much more then would it be for a poor 
 helpless little invalid ? Tell me Ben tell me my 
 good friend have I a right to refuse my cousin's 
 proffered hand ? Have I a right to take from those 
 two dear ones the only support they have ? Is my 
 life or person my own ? Tell me, you who are so no- 
 ble and brave ; you who would have given up your 
 life for me tell me, am I right? For, Ben, I feel 
 that I owe my life to you, and would now be a corpse 
 at the bottom of the cruel waters if you had not
 
 CRUSOE LIFE. 237 
 
 freely risked your own existence for mine. I feel this, 
 and feeling it I give myself to you ; it is the least re- 
 turn I can make. You have heard my story ; you 
 know my position ; would you have me break my en- 
 gagement ? " 
 
 Poor Ben ! Alas, poor Ben ! Stone by stone the 
 temple had gone up. Column, and coigne, and archi- 
 trave ; tower, and entablature, and dome. And here 
 lay the fairy castle all tumbled at his feet! Built 
 of air, and into air it bad vanished. Bad, black, sel- 
 fish thoughts strolled over the ruins. Every one for 
 himself. What should he care for a mother he had 
 never seen, and a sick sister he did not know ? What 
 were their ease and comfort to him. The girl by his 
 side had confessed that she loved him. True the con- 
 fession may have emanated from an overwhelming 
 sense of gratitude that subverted all other responsi- 
 bilities. But what of that ? Evidently from the 
 plenitude of her heart and innocence she felt as she 
 had spoken that he had saved her life, and that it 
 was his. Why should he not claim it ? 
 
 Poor Ben. It was so hard to see his castles tumbled 
 down. So hard to find his daydreams so near a reali- 
 zation and then to give her up. He could not, he 
 would not. Not until that moment did he know how 
 completely this love had taken possession of him. 
 Day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute, during 
 all the long miles of his tramp it had been subtly per- 
 meating every sense of his body. And must he now 
 pluck it out? He hid his face in his hands. Then a 
 soft little hand stole over his head and a warm arm 
 about his neck, while in low accents she said :
 
 238 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 "Tell me Ben, am I right ? " 
 
 There was good stuff in those hard-headed and stub- 
 born-minded people who first set Christian foot upon 
 Plymouth Rock. There was good stuff in this their 
 descendant. 
 
 He raised his head and taking both of her hands in 
 his, said slowly even solemnly : 
 
 " Yes, darling, you are right ! But, oh, you do not 
 know how hard it is to give you up for I love you so 
 much ! But you are right, God bless you, you are 
 right ! The service I rendered was one my manhood 
 owed to humanity no more. It would ill become 
 that manhood that it claim as a reward that you de- 
 sert the paths of duty to those loved ones. Kiss me, 
 Bertha ; you may do that. There now, sister, lie 
 down and sleep, for I know you need rest," and he 
 covered her with his coat and piled the leaves and 
 brush about her form. 
 
 Then hour after hour Ben sat and held bitter com- 
 munion with himself.
 
 DEATH SHAKES HANDS WITH THE CASTAWAYS. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 DEATH SHAKES HANDS WITH THE CASTAWAYS. 
 
 THE castaways arose on the following morning 
 weaker, but refreshed. Their hunger was not so 
 pressing as upon the previous day, but their steps 
 were slower, and their vitality had decreased. No 
 reference was made by either to the conversation of 
 the previous evening. Ben's face wore a look of 
 great sorrow he could not conceal, and Bertha by nu- 
 merous little attentions and pretty little ways, that 
 are the sole property of her sex, tried to assuage his 
 woes. Alas, the dear girl did not know that the balm 
 she appKed to our friend's wounds made them grow 
 the deeper and break out afresh. 
 
 Cleveland exerted himself among the cottonwoods 
 and Bertha carried them to the river. During the 
 morning he told her of his own life, and the nature 
 of the tramp that had led him to his present unfortu- 
 nate position. It was then for the first time she knew 
 that Ben was the boy's champion in Jersey City, and 
 also the stowaway whose passage her intercessions had 
 secured at Columbus. So little had he occupied her 
 attention on those occasions that had he not informed
 
 240 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 her she would have remained ignorant of the fact 
 that he was Blackoat's antagonist, or the subject of 
 Mr. Blassfeme's aquatic attentions. 
 
 " So then our wreck was not your first acquaintance 
 with the river," she said, laughing. 
 
 " No," he replied, " that was my second bath." 
 
 Later in the day Ben, after both had been for some 
 time engaged in silence at work on the raft, asked 
 suddenly : 
 
 " Bertha, what is your cousin's name ? " 
 
 "Arthur Blackoat," she replied. 
 
 " Arthur Blackoat ! " exclaimed he in a voice of ap- 
 prehension. " Why " and then he stopped. 
 
 She waited for him to continue, but he said no 
 more, and both resumed their work in silence. 
 
 By tearing up one of the young lady's skirts into 
 strips and twisting these, they made cables with which 
 Ben bound the layers of cottonwood firmly together 
 at the corners, and in the centre. The raft being 
 made in the style of a " mattrass " such as the cele- 
 brated jettie cribs rest upon at the mouth of the river, 
 and which are to take Nature by the ears and show 
 the old Dame how she should walk the straight and 
 narrow path. Before the middle of the afternoon it 
 would uphold Ben, and by sundown both could safely 
 float upon it. 
 
 " We will not start in the dark," said he, " for we 
 need daylight for the attempt, and a breeze that will 
 give us a chance to reach the point below. Early in 
 the morning we will give up Crusoe life, and surren- 
 der our domain back to solitude." 
 
 Both retired to the hut in high hopes of the mor-
 
 DEATH SHAKES HANDS WITH THE CASTAWAYS. 2-il 
 
 row's relief, and ere thoy slept an earnest prayer of 
 thanks for their safety and supplications for the suc- 
 cess of their efforts was sent to Him who holds the 
 whole world in the hollow of his hand. 
 
 Then they slept soundly, if not sweetly for 
 both were exhausted. 
 
 Slept while the great river went rolling by on its 
 way to the sea. 
 
 Slept while from the north, from the east, from 
 the west, from thousands of meadow brooks and 
 mountain torrents, from hundreds of springs and rills, 
 from woodland and from moor, the dragoons of Death 
 rode out on the flood and bore down upon them ! 
 
 Ben awoke with a cry of alarm. He was wet 
 through, and the floor of their hut was flooded ! With 
 wild thoughts surging through his brain and horrible 
 fears pals} r ing his heart, he sprang to his feet and 
 looked out. And there before his eyes, glistening in 
 the morning sunlight, lay one vast expanse of water ! 
 The island was already submerged by the flood, and 
 the raft gone ! 
 
 What words can depict the horrors of that moment ! 
 Hope ? There was no hope, nothing but despair ! 
 Great, gigantic, crushing despair ! Man was power- 
 less he could not push back the hand of God ! 
 
 The fall rains had swollen the northern rivers, and 
 they had discharged their superabundance into the 
 Mississippi, and that stream was now rising at the rate 
 of a foot an hour. Already it was over the island 
 and the cotton wood brake stood in a field of water. 
 Ben would have been aroused sooner were it not that 
 he had located his hut on a little knoll in the sand,
 
 212 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 higher by a foot than its surroundings. Bertha, re- 
 posing upon an elevation of boughs within still slspt, 
 but the hungry river was now licking her garments, 
 impatient for its prey. For an instant he thought to 
 plunge into the flood and end his miseries at once and 
 for ever. Then he looked at the sleeping girl and the 
 prayer sprang to his lips : " Oh God ! Take me but 
 spare her ! " and kneeling by her side he gazed so 
 fondly yet so sorrowfully into her face, and then waked 
 her with a kiss. She looked up with a smile. But 
 the smile quickly turned to a look of terror, at the 
 words quietly but earnestly uttered : 
 
 " Bertha, we must die. There is no help for us 
 now. The river is rising. It has covered the island. 
 Our raft is gone. Death will be upon us soon." 
 
 With a wild cry the girl bounded to her feet and 
 rushed from the hut. The turbid flood stretched all 
 around her, and she stood in water over her feet. 
 She turned and looked at Ben, so pityingly, as if for 
 relief. Oh, the helpless agony of that look ! He 
 turned away his head with a groan, and did not dare 
 to look at her again. So he stood, bowed down by 
 unutterable woe, for some moments ; the cruel Avaters 
 steadily and stealthily oh, how stealthily creeping, 
 creeping, creeping, with a low plash, plash, plash, like 
 the dull senseless whisper of a devil rising around 
 him. Then a little hand was placed in his, and an 
 arm laid upon his neck : " Our Father who art in 
 Heaven, fallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come 
 thy will be done ." He raised his head and looked 
 at her beside him. There was no fear there now, no 
 tremor. The face upturned to heaven was the face
 
 DEATH SHAKES HANDS WITH THE CASTAWAYS. 243 
 
 of an angel. " Thy will be done on earth as it is in 
 Heaven." Then in a clear, silvery voice, that neither 
 trembled or quavered, the souls of both were confided 
 to the mercy of Him above, and His protection and 
 care invoked for those who should remain upon earth. 
 There was no supplication for life, for all hope now 
 left was a hope for the life immortal. Long did that 
 lovely being appeal to the Most High, and ere she 
 was through, a strange quiet of mind and peace of 
 heart had come to Ben. 
 
 When the prayer was ended they locked their arms 
 about one another and stood waiting for death. 
 
 Slowly, but how awfully sure, the waters rose 
 around them. Already the ripples reached their hands 
 as they stood erect. Soon they would be up to their 
 breasts. A slight current was already agitating the 
 eddy that covered the bar, and it caused the tops of 
 the cotton woods to nod and bend in the water. A 
 little while longer and the current would become a 
 torrent, irresistible in its might and fury. Once she 
 looked up in his face, and said : 
 
 " Is it not hard to die, dear friend ? " 
 
 And Ben answered : " No, perhaps it is best," and 
 he thought death was a relief. It had lost its terrors 
 and he did not fear it. * 
 
 "Bertha," he said, " it cannot matter now, but 
 it would be a last earthly happiness to me tell 
 me, do you love me ? " 
 
 " With all my heart," she replied. 
 
 " God bless you, my darling," he cried. 
 
 " God bless us both," she said. " Good-bye," and 
 they kissed one another a last farewell, forever.
 
 244 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Slowly, slowly, oil how terrible and slow, the wa- 
 ters crept, up, up, up ! The current grew in strength. 
 The cottonwoods no longer nodded their heads, but 
 bent down in the flood. The feet of the castaways 
 refused their hold upon the crumbling sand. Ben 
 surged with all his strength against the tide. It was 
 of no avail. Their feet slipped from under them. 
 The river grasped them. One piercing shriek, one 
 loud cry and they were swept away, linked in one 
 another's arms I
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " ROARER." 245 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE "ROARER." 
 
 IN Bordeaux a man in cap and blouse rolls great 
 wine pipes from great warehouses down to great 
 vessels that lie at the quay. These vessels take the 
 great pipes on board and bear them to the four cor- 
 ners of the earth. 
 
 Away up in the wilds of Arkansas a woodman 
 swings his axe, and the great oak topples and falls, 
 with a roll of thunder, to the ground. 
 
 The man in the blouse on the docks of Bordeaux 
 has never seen, nor does he know of the existence of 
 the man who swings his axe in the uninhabited tim- 
 bers of the White River bottoms. They do not speak 
 the same language ; they do not worship from the 
 same religion ; they know nothing of one another ; 
 care nothing. And yet should the woodman stop 
 swinging his axe the man in the blouse would stop 
 rolling barrels ; for the iron bands that girt the great 
 wine pipes bind together a mutual interest of these 
 two humble workmen, so many thousand miles apart. 
 And so the woodman in the forest of Arkansas fells 
 the tall white oak for the man in the blouse, in Bor-
 
 246 , A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 deaux. Tell him so and he will laugh "at you. Ex- 
 plain it to him and he will say the reasoning is brought 
 from a distance. But stop his axe and the man in 
 Bordeaux will stop rolling the pipes of wine ! For it 
 is the staves from the mighty oak on the White River 
 bottom lands that hold the wine on the docks of Bor- 
 deaux. 
 
 The stave timber of America is being rapidly ex- 
 hausted. It has been, and it is a source of much 
 wealth. But a few years ago, Ohio, Indiana and 
 Michigan produced good staves in large quantities. 
 Now their production is very limited, and they have 
 none for export. Indeed they import from other 
 states. A few years ago Northern Michigan sent 
 staves to Cadiz, Spain ; but her timber is rapidly dis- 
 appearing. The oak forests of Arkansas and Tennes- 
 see are still comparatively fresh, and supply many 
 staves to Europe. The most available timber is that 
 located on some of the waterways traversing the for- 
 est, on which they may be rafted to the Mississippi or 
 put in flat boats at their " banking " and sent to New 
 Orleans direct. The forest of Eastern Europe, Rus- 
 sia and Hungary, still furnish some staves ; but their 
 trees have been culled over these centuries past, and 
 the New World must be looked to for a steady supply. 
 
 The "Mary Jane, No. 2" had originally left the 
 Virginia shore, a short distance below Wheeling, 
 freighted with jugs and crocks. 
 
 The " Mary Jane, No. 2 " was square in front and 
 square behind, and much resembled an enormous dr}'- 
 goods box loaded with pottery. A stovepipe stuck 
 from her deck, "back aft" when that end was up
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " ROARER." 247 
 
 stream, and " up for'ard " when she had swapped 
 ends ; which she frequently did. An oar with a blade 
 sixteen feet long and a stem fifty feet, hung over the 
 end opposite the stovepipe. This was the "gouger." 
 A similar one, but with a much shorter stem, hung at 
 the stovepipe end, and worked, back and forth, above 
 that article. That was the " Steer'n o'r." Two short 
 heavy-stemmed sweeps, with long blades, were hung 
 one on each side. They were all pivoted on iron pins, 
 and had planks laid on the rounding roof of the craft 
 for the crew to walk upon as they worked them with 
 arms extended above their heads. The three last 
 named " oars " were not difficult for a stout man to 
 handle. But the " gouger," though a child could lift 
 the stem and dip the blade, would have felled an ox 
 with the rebound, unless the ox knew how to catch it 
 and hold it up. 
 
 Such was the " Mary Jane, No. 2 " ; looking, on 
 the river, with her long, leg-like sweeps, not unlike a 
 pre-historic June bug. From Wheeling to Memphis 
 she supplied the inhabitants with brown receptacles 
 for their corn juice, and at Memphis her trip ended 
 and she was dismantled. This last being accomplished 
 by taking the stove out of her " cabin " and remov- 
 ing the planks of her decking. Then the " Mary 
 Jane, No. 2 " lay peacefully soaking in the waters of 
 Wolf River for many days, until the acquisitive eyes 
 of Cap'u Willum Smiff, (pronounced with a clear 
 nose and a mouth unchoked with tobacco-juice, Wil- 
 liam Smith') fell upon her. When she engaged the 
 attention of those orbs a change came over the peace- 
 ful life of the " Mary Jane." The name " Mary
 
 248 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Jane, No. 2 " passed into history, and the more robust 
 and sounding title of " Roarer " adorned her stern. 
 With the new nomenclature came a new existence. 
 With Cap'n Willum Smiff at the " steer'n o'r " and 
 Lieutenant Jeremiah Jarphly at the " gouger " the 
 " Roarer " sailed for the St. Francis river and was 
 cordelled a short distance up that stream. There she 
 loaded with pipe and barrel staves for the man in the 
 blouse on the quay in Bordeaux. The stovepipe was 
 transferred to the centre of the craft, where it stuck 
 up belching smoke and fire like a juvenile Popocata- 
 petl. Beneath the stack was now a dirty little cabin, 
 twelve feet square, with bunks on three sides, the 
 stove in the centre, and a home-made wooden table 
 with two similarly constructed stools for furniture. 
 Both cabin and bunks were formed of tiers of staves. 
 She carried a crew of six men besides Cap'n Willum 
 Smiff and Lieutenant Jeremiah Jarphly ; and the 
 " Roarer " cast off her lines and set sail for New Or- 
 leans. 
 
 When Cap'n Willum Smiff appeared " on deck " 
 that morning, after a short nap on a coil of rope, he 
 said "How'dy" to Lieutenant Jarphly and gracefully 
 tilted a jug to his lips ; the body of the vessel repos- 
 ing on his elbow a feat that Cap'n Smiff was quite 
 proud of. Then Lieutenant Jarphly tilted it like- 
 wise, and as he rubbed his mouth on his shirt sleeve, 
 said : 
 
 " River's risin', Cap'n." 
 
 " Yas, by ginger ! " replied Cap'n Smiff. " Risin' 
 a boomin', by ginger ! Driftwood comin' down a skal- 
 lehutin', by ginger ! Whar air we, Jerry ? "
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " ROARER." 249 
 
 " Wuthin a few miles uv Frenchman's pint," replied 
 his Lieutenant. 
 
 " Sho as yoh live, by ginger ! " said Cap'n Smiff , 
 and then he and Lieutenant Jarphly took a long and 
 meditative look at the river and their surroundings. 
 
 " Jerry, how much's she riz ? " presently asked the 
 commander. 
 
 " 'Bout five fut, I reckon." 
 
 " By ginger ! " 
 
 Then followed another meditation and contempla- 
 tion. 
 
 " Jerry doh yoh know wot I've a mind toh doh ? " 
 asked the Cap'n, and Mr. Jarphly confessing an igno- 
 rance of his intentions Cap'n Smiff continued : 
 
 " I've a right smart notion of tryin' Nigger Head 
 chute ! " 
 
 " No ! Go way ! " said Jerry. 
 
 " Sho as yoh live, I'll be ginger-gingered to ginger 
 ef I aint! See here, by ginger. Las' time I wus 
 down I noticed a powerful strong kerrent settin' in 
 'round Frenchman's pint, inter the old channel. 
 'Taint morn ten yars ago sense we yosed toh go that 
 channel, Jerry. Hit wus right arter the spring flood 
 of sixty-six, when the river cut thro' up at Bordens, 
 thet the kerrent shot off the pint instead of a goin' 
 around hit, an' left thet great, big san' flat thar, five 
 miles wide. Now thet she's bruk thro' onto Hem- 
 pen's Landin' the kerrent's changin' agin, an' when I 
 kern up on the Bismark frum thet las' trip I was down, 
 I wus up in the pilot house 'long with Jeff Neff, an' I 
 pinted it out to Jeff, an' Jeff sed as how he 'lowed 
 thar'd be the channel agin afore nex' spring! I've 
 a heap mind toh try it ; by ginger ! "
 
 250 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 But Lieutenant Jarphly was averse to the experi- 
 ment. For the reason, perhaps, that with nautical 
 prescience, he knew that it involved some extra ex- 
 ertions upon the gouger. The more he objected, 
 however, the more Cap'u Srniff was determined upon 
 the undertaking. 
 
 " By ginger ! I'll doh it, I swar I will ! See here, 
 Jerry, less see wot luck's in hit," and he picked up a 
 broad stave, and expectorating a puddle of tobacco- 
 juice on one side of it, remarked : 
 
 " No fur hit, Jerry ; chute or no chute wet or 
 dry ? Sing out ! " and he whirled the stave in the 
 air. 
 
 " Dry ! " cried Jerry. 
 
 t; Wet she is, by ginger ! " said Cap'n Srniff, con- 
 templating his sign manual, and little dreaming that 
 the lives of two human beings had hung upon the re- 
 sult. 
 
 " Wet she is; and the chute we take. Oars!" 
 
 This last brought the crew from their slumbers to 
 the sweeps, and with steady strokes they commenced 
 propelling the " Roarer " toward the distant point. 
 
 " I want toh hug the pint, near as I kin," explained 
 Cap'n Smiff. " Ef we stan' toh fur out the kerrent 
 will take us over to the bend, an' we'll never make 
 the chute." 
 
 But the " oars " were well manned and whatever 
 else his ignorance, Captain Smith was a thorough flat 
 boat's man, and understood the river. He certainly 
 ought to have been for from boy to man he had de- 
 voted forty years of his life to the study of the sci- 
 ence, and all in the world he had to show for it was
 
 THE CRUISE OF THE " KOAEEE." 
 
 the greasy clothes on his Lack. The " Roarer " and 
 cargo belonged to a Memphis firm that employed 
 Cap'n Smiff when he was sober. Still Cap'n Sniiff 
 was a happier man, in his way, than many whose pos- 
 sessions are much more extensive. His wants wefe 
 small, and his vices cheap. 
 
 As they hugged the point, he called out to Jarphly : 
 
 " Give her the gouger, Jerry ! " and two of the 
 crew leaving the sweeps, went to Jerry's assistance, 
 for the gouger was too much for one man. 
 
 " Ram hit toh her ! Cram hit toll her! Slam hit 
 toll her ! Jam hit toh her ! " yelled Cap'n Smiff, who 
 was executing a nervous hornpipe with the " steer'n 
 o'r " between his legs. 
 
 " She takes hit ! Now she takes hit ! Thar ! 
 That'll do," and the great box swung around the 
 point, and headed for the chute the first vessel to 
 cruise the old roadway for ten years ! That was the 
 feather Cap'n Willum Smiff wanted to stick in his 
 nautical cap. 
 
 And now that the " Roarer " was headed right, the 
 men bridled their oars and lounged lazily on the 
 staves. 
 
 Suddenly one arose with a shout and cried to his 
 companions : 
 
 " What's that ? Look there ! For God's sake, 
 look! Look!" 
 
 " Whar? " asked Cap'n Smiff. 
 
 " There ! There ! " and the man's eyes started as 
 he pointed down the chute. 
 
 " Great Jehovah ! " cried the captain, " Git in the 
 skiff an' go after them, quick, quick ! " and before his
 
 252 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 commands could be executed be himself was seated 
 in the skiff that was being towed along side of the 
 flat boat, and in another moment was shooting down 
 the stream, the boat springing like a race horse under 
 the powerful strokes of his oars. And he was none 
 too quick none too soon. For as he reached the 
 man and woman clinging together in the center of a 
 sea of waters, their feet went from under them, and 
 the next instant, torn asunder, they would have been 
 beyond the reach of Cap'n Smith's powerful arm. 
 He seized the woman by the hair and dragged her 
 into the skiff, the man clinging to the gunwale until 
 she was safely on board, and then crawling over him- 
 self. Both lay in a dead faint on the bottom of the 
 boat, while Cap'n Smiff, with great beads of cold 
 sweat starting from his forehead and rolling down 
 over his furrowed countenance, sat with his arms 
 hanging limp and lifeless by his side, and with eyes 
 blankly staring at the two forms before him, muttered 
 over and over : 
 
 " Great Jehovah ! Great Jehovah ! " 
 
 And let you and I, gentle reader, echo the words, 
 
 though in a different humor : 
 
 i 
 " Great JEHOVAH ! '
 
 BEN LOSES HOPE AND TURNS NAVIGATOR. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 BEN LOSES HOPE AND TURNS NAVIGATOR. 
 
 WHEN the captain regained the " Roarer " and 
 Bertha and Ben were safely stowed in the 
 little stave-cabin, with kind faces bending over and 
 kind hands ministering to them, Cap'n Willum Snuff 
 walked slowly toward Lieutenant Jeremiah Jarphly 
 and said : 
 
 " Jerry, yoh recommember this morn' when we 
 tossed thet thar stave fur the chute or agin hit ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Well, Jerry, thet wus a bowed stave, an' I spit on 
 the bowed side of hit, an' by rights the bowed side 
 oughter hev cum down but hit did't, Jerry." 
 
 "No." 
 
 . Then Cap'n Smiff looked hard at his Lieutenant, 
 as though he was trying to shape some unfamiliar 
 thoughts into words. 
 
 "No, hit didn't, Jerry. The bent side didn't come 
 down it come up. An' it war agin science, Jerry ; 
 but hit come up an' we tuk toll the chute, an' an' 
 mought hev sumthin' thar mought somebody I 
 dunno I swarl dunno !" and, as though the unfa-
 
 254 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 miliar thoughts were muddling his brain, Cap'n Wil- 
 lum Smiff walked back to the stem of the " steer'n 
 o'r," and slowly straddling it, deluged his surroundings 
 in tobacco juice, while he lost himself in profound med- 
 itation. 
 
 There are others than unsophisticated Captain Wil- 
 liam Smith who have pondered deeply on the same 
 subject, and been lost at sea far from the lighthouse 
 of FAITH. 
 
 That evening found the " Roarer " with a line out 
 to a check post on the levee below the city of Vicks- 
 burg. On parting from the crew of the flatboat Ber- 
 tha had distributed all she had of value about her 
 person among them, and bestowed upon Cap'n Smith 
 a glittering diamond cluster ring from off her hand. 
 Cap'n Willum Smiff at first refused to take it, but 
 comprehending that he would hurt the young lady's 
 feelings by refusing longer, he suspended the jewel 
 with a piece of tow about his neck, and vowed that 
 there it should stay 'till death did them part. Alas, 
 for the fragile nature of human vows ! In less than 
 a week the diamonds glistened on the person of a New 
 Orleans bar-tender ; hypothecated for drinks ; while 
 Cap'n Willum Smiff and Lieutenant Jarphly were on 
 one of their " Reglar Pelican Sprees ! A howlin' 
 Wilderness ! You bet ! " 
 
 After Bertha had been comfortably cared for in bed 
 at the hotel, where she immediately retired under the 
 direction of a physician, Ben, first refreshing him- 
 self with a good meal, which she insisted upon his 
 eating, went to the telegraph office and sent the fol- 
 lowing message to Mr. Charles Braster of the firm of
 
 BEX LOSES HOPE AND TURNS NAVIGATOR. 255 
 
 B raster & Chetwick, Poydras S.treet, New Orleans: 
 " Your niece is here safe. Is Mr. Braster in the 
 city ? " And then with a heating heart lie awaited a 
 reply. For Ben had formed new hopes, and thought 
 that perhaps the disaster on the Argenta might after 
 all have been a stroke of good fortune in his favor. 
 In the course of half an hour an answer was returned, 
 and as the boy delivered it to him, he had not the 
 courage to look at it. He unfolded the dispatch, 
 trembled, then folding it up again without reading, 
 placed it in his pocket and hastened toward the hotel. 
 Having walked a block he gained heart, and slowly 
 taking the dispatch from his pocket, unfolded it and 
 read: 
 
 "Thank God. Arthur and myself are both here 
 safe. Come down on the Natchez to-night." 
 
 (signed) " CHARLES BRASTER." 
 
 That was all. But it was quite enough. His last 
 hope lay in the dust. " Arthur and myself are here 
 safe." He read it again as if hoping against hope. 
 Blackoat was saved ! Blackoat was safe and the idol 
 of his life had passed from his grasp. 
 
 He could not meet her again ; he dared not. Seat- 
 ing himself in the office of the hotel he wrote the fol- 
 lowing note : 
 
 DEAR Miss BERTHA : I wish you joy. Both of 
 your relatives are safe. Oh, Bertha, I dare not see 
 you again, my darling, my darling. Pardon my weak- 
 ness, but if you only knew how sore my heart is you 
 would pity me. We will probably never meet again. 
 May your life be one of joy and happiness. You will 
 do your duty nobly I will, please God, try to do
 
 250 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 mine. God bless you, my darling, God bless you. 
 May your future be as full of sunlight as the labor of 
 my life would have made it. Again farewell 
 Heaven bless you. BEX." 
 
 Having dispatched this to Bertha with the telegram 
 he walked out into the street again a tramp. And 
 a tramp with a sad, sad heart. 
 
 It was the last day of September. He was two 
 hundred miles by land and twice as many by river 
 from New Orleans, and had but a day more and a por- 
 tion of October the 2d to win his wager in. His 
 chances looked desperate. But he was indifferent 
 whether he won or lost. A dull, dead apathy to 
 everything had taken possession of him. He felt that 
 it was a luxury to be a vagabond, an outcast, a tramp, 
 and half inclined not to go to New Orleans at all, but 
 to start off on a roving career, and ramble,. ramble, 
 ramble, trying to get away from himself. 
 
 " Ye're a stout looking lad ; can ye handle a barry ? 
 If ye can I'm taking down a gang of fifty min the 
 night to Burk's work on the levee fifteen mile this 
 side of Baton Rouge, and if yez wants to come along, 
 a dollar a day and four jiggers is the pay," and the 
 stout florid man who addressed him asked : 
 
 " Will 'yez go or not ? Make yer answer quick, for 
 I'm in a hurry." 
 
 " Yes, I'm in for a job, and ready," replied Ben, 
 seizing the opportunity to 1 ave Vicksburg. 
 
 " Very well," said the man. " Go down and get 
 aboord the Rodcty for she'll be laving in an hour. I 
 will see ye on boord and pass yez down." 
 
 So on board the Roddy went Ben, and before she
 
 BEN LOSES HOPE AND TURNS NAVIGATOR. 257 
 
 started forty more men engaged for the levee squad 
 had joined him. In ten minutes' conversation with 
 these he discovered that not one half of them had any 
 intention of working on the levee. They were simply 
 travelling. Some were, like himself, on their way to 
 New Orleans. Others were off of the great Harvest 
 Range, and had already stole their way thus far and 
 were simply " putting in the winter." That is, drift- 
 ing from place to place as sweet fancy directed them. 
 They would stop at the levee camp and live off of its 
 rations until hunted out, after which they would take 
 up their line of tramping without an object in view 
 or an ambition to prompt them. As they went down 
 stream now, so the spring would see them going up, 
 and the summer months find them scattered through 
 the northern states. Had one of them been termed 
 a professional tramp or " dead beat " he would have 
 repelled the insinuation with indignation. They were 
 after work but never caught up with it. There were 
 some Americans in the crowd on the boat but the ma- 
 jority were foreigners. 
 
 " Why don't you stay and work at the levee ? " 
 Ben asked one of them ; " you can earn a dollar a 
 day at it." 
 
 " I'm a brick mason," he replied. " I can not do 
 levee work. Neither can you, as you'll find out if 
 you stop and try it." 
 
 " But is there no other work save leveeing in the 
 country ? " asked Ben. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; there's cotton picking. Lots of the 
 bums work all winter at it. They get from seventy- 
 five cents to a dollar and a quarter a hundred, and can
 
 258 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 earn from one to two dollars a clay. But the living is 
 beastly ! The southern people mean well enough, but 
 they have no idea how a laboring man is treated up 
 north, and they use you just the same as they do the 
 niggers ; give you rations a peck of corn meal, five 
 pounds of salt pork and a pound of salt a week. 
 You take this and cook it the best way you can, and 
 sleep in the cotton pen, or any where you please 
 that's your lookout. Working for the niggers, a man 
 gets treated a great deal better than he does working 
 for the white people. The niggers feed you better 
 and they are surer pay." 
 
 " What ! " cried Ben ; " Do the colored people em- 
 ploy white men ? " 
 
 " Do they ? Well I should say. Thousands of 
 'em every winter. A good many of the blacks own 
 land and are well fixed, while nearly all of them that 
 don't own no land of their own, work land on shares." 
 
 Ben shortly found a clean spot on the deck and ly- 
 ing down took a much needed sleep. 
 
 It was early morning, and still dark, when they dis- 
 embarked at the camp. The men were all up, how- 
 ever, and as he passed through one of the sheds he 
 had an opportunity for investigating the mysteries of 
 a levee camp. There was not much to see. A long 
 line of rough board bunks, two tier high, were ranged 
 on both sides of the shanty, that was supposed to ac- 
 commodate four hundred men. That was all. No 
 other furniture, no other necessaries or comfort. Ben 
 thought it a close approach to a stable. Which in- 
 deed it was, only the animals cared for were human. 
 While looking about him a bell rang, at sound of
 
 BEN LOSES HOPE AND TUEN3 NAVIGATOE. 2o9 
 
 which there was a general cry of " Jiggers ! Jiggers ! " 
 and a rush by the four hundred for the outside, where 
 they surged in impatience about a man mounted on a 
 barrel, who was dealing out whiskey to them in a small 
 tin cup. This was the " Jigger boss," and four of 
 these cupfuls of the liquor were a man's daily rations. 
 After all had received their jiggers, the cry of 
 "grub pile ! gnib pile ! " was taken up by the crowd, 
 and a rush made for a long line of tables standing un- 
 der another shed. These were loaded with tin plates 
 and pannikins, iron forks and knives, stacks of sno wy 
 wheat bread, (for the levees have as fine bread as 
 there is in the country) juvenile mountains of smok- 
 ing "salt-horse," and immense platters of the fruit 
 known as the " spud laurel," while great pots of a 
 dirty brown liquid, facetiously termed " coffee-" were 
 liberally scattered about. This constituted breakfast. 
 Our hero ate heartily, aided in his gastronomic efforts 
 by a number of tallow dips stuck in their own grease 
 along the tables at intervals, and which were continu- 
 ally being knocked over by the banqueters as they 
 passed along the food. The repast finished Ben went 
 with the crowd to the levee, just as it became light 
 enough to see to work. There he became proprietor 
 of a shovel and wheelbarrow, and was stationed in a 
 line with twelve others ; similar squads occupying the 
 levee-line for a distance of half a mile. Scarce had 
 he thrown three shovels full of dirt into his vehicle, 
 when a shrill little voice piped out, " up all ! " and 
 the line began to wheel their barrows up a steep in- 
 cline of planks, on to the broad " dump " that consti- 
 tuted the levee they were building.
 
 260 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 " Oye, ye little dyvil, yez is at it airly ! " shouted 
 one. 
 
 " He haven't a spoonful of dirt in his barry ! " said 
 another. 
 
 " Be jazez, we'll chuck him into the drink ! " said 
 a third. 
 
 " And the dyvil fly away wid the bones of the little 
 ferrit ! " cried a fourth. 
 
 These remarks were directed at a little withered-up 
 old man who was " fore-barrow man," or leader of the 
 gang. 
 
 " If McCarty don't take that lad and put him to 
 sturring pots in the soup house, we'll murther him ! " 
 exclaimed an exasperated levee builder in the line. 
 
 " Can't he purt a dacent man that'll do a dacent 
 day's wurruk in the lade, and not be havin' that ca- 
 nary there killin' of the rnin wid his ' up alls ' an' his 
 own barry without the bottom of it covered ? " 
 
 " Dyvil blow McCarty and dyvil blow little Dinny, 
 but I'll crish the skull av him in wid a blow of me 
 shovel if he don't be loadin his barry, and not run- 
 ning the feet off av us ! " 
 
 The little man treated the remarks with dignified 
 indifference, and his " up alls " continued to be a 
 theme of hot maledictions. He was a little used up 
 old levee builder, whose only usefulness now consisted 
 in his being able to hurry the rest of the gang, as a 
 " fore-barrow " ; a position that no good laborer would 
 have cared to have filled with the intention of impos- 
 ing on his co-laborers. 
 
 The third time Ben wheeled his "buggy" up the 
 steep incline of planks, he wheeled it off, and both he
 
 BEN LOSES HOPE AND TURNS NAVIGATOR. 261 
 
 and the barrow had a fall of six feet much to the hi- 
 larity of the gang. This happened to him twice in 
 succession, and as he was ascending the third time off 
 he went,' and toppled the plank over with him, bring- 
 ing three other barrows and their navigators to the 
 ground. A loud howl of execrations greeted this 
 catastrophe. Our hero was called a " watchmaker ! " 
 "a flute-player !" "a dancing-master!" "a mud- 
 clark ! " " a ' sodden ' ! " " To go tip the plank over 
 on the min ! " " Waz it their loif he waz afther ! " 
 " Sure it's graves he should be using his shovel at, 
 and not livyin' ! " 
 
 The howlings attracted the walking-boss to the spot. 
 
 " What the dyvil did yez go for to tip the plank 
 over on the rnin for ? " he asked. 
 
 Ben replied that it was an accident. 
 
 " An Occident ! Howly Mother ! An wazn't the 
 plank afoor yer nose ? Would yez want a barn flure 
 to roll the barry on ? " 
 
 Ben mollified the boss's wrath by telling him of his 
 late shipwreck and the weakness caused thereby. 
 
 " Well, ye poor dyvil, yez doan't want to be stop- 
 pin' on the livy. Every year there do be rigirnints 
 of min that's not fit to shovel sawdust, come tramping 
 along, and aten' the camps up. But you've been 
 missfourtinate. The best yez'll do for yersel will be 
 to get to New Orleans and pick up a job yez 'ud be 
 more used to. Go yez now to the cook's shanty and 
 tell thini to give yez bread and mate ; that'll stay by 
 yez till ye make Baton Rouge, and then yez can get 
 on a boat the night and be in New Orleans in the 
 mornin'."
 
 262 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Ben thanked the kind hearted boss, and started 
 down the levee with a big package of bread and 
 " salt-horse " under his arm. He arrived at Baton 
 Rouge, the former capital of the State of Louisiana, 
 after dusk, and during the evening, crawled in among 
 the cotton bales of a Yazoo River stern-wheel freight- 
 boat. No one was on the lookout for passengers, as 
 the boat carried none, so he was left undisturbed, 
 and soon fell into a sound sleep. 
 
 Daylight was beaming upon him when he was 
 awakened by a rough shake. 
 
 " Git up boss, git up. We muss have dis yere bale 
 ob cotton ! " 
 
 He awoke to find the boat stopped, and a gang of 
 black long-shore men unloading her. 
 
 " Where am I ? " he asked. 
 
 " Whare are yere ? Why yere at New Oil'ns, ob 
 course ! " 
 
 New Orleans ! 
 
 The tramp was done ! 
 
 The wager won ! 
 
 New Orleans I
 
 NEW ORLEANS, 10 A. M., OCT. 2D. 263 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, 10 A. M., OCT. 2D. 
 
 OUR hero could scarcely realize that he was at 
 last in New Orleans. That New Orleans, so 
 pregnant with his hopes and attainings. New Or- 
 leans, his thought by day and dream by night. New 
 Orleans, the first accomplishment of his life ! 
 
 Yet so it was. He was safely landed in New Or- 
 leans, and it was the morning of the second of Octo- 
 ber ! 
 
 " What time is it ? " he asked, as he sprang on 
 shore. 
 
 " Nine o'clock," replied a gentleman looking at his 
 watch. 
 
 Nine o'clock ! And at ten o'clock Srnythe would 
 be awaiting his telegram in New York City ! 
 
 Twenty thousand dollars, fairly won ! And then 
 came a dull, dead pain that nipped his exultations. 
 What if it were twenty times twenty thousand dol- 
 lars ? The money could not give him happiness. He 
 had lost what money could not recover. What was 
 the vile stuff but a tantalization? An allurement 
 that promised everything and was empty of fulfill- 
 ments ?
 
 264 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 Plold on, friend Ben, don't speak disrespectfully of 
 money. Money is the lever that moves the world, 
 and love the fulcrum it rests upon. Had you a for- 
 tune would not the lady of your affections be within 
 your reach? Is she not selling herself to Arthur 
 Blackoat, and would she not much rather effect the 
 sale with you ? The sale is to be a sacrifice, Ben, a 
 sacrifice the highest bidder takes her. 
 
 Then a great flash of hope illuminated his counte- 
 nance. She had confessed she loved him. Aye, had 
 given herself to him, and he had sacrificed her him- 
 self on the altar of Mammon for the good of her 
 mother and that little bed-ridden sister. But circum- 
 stances were altered. He was now possessed of a 
 small fortune. Twenty thousand dollars awaited his 
 call in New York City, while four hundred, had, per 
 agreement, been sent to a correspondent at New Or- 
 leans and Avas now subject to his order. Twenty 
 thousand four hundred dollars ! It was quite a sum 
 of money. Twenty thousand dollars, judiciously in- 
 vested, would afford an income of twelve or fifteen 
 hundred dollars per annum. Enough for two persons 
 to live quite comfortably on. He would give the 
 whole -of it to Bertha's mother and sister. He would 
 present them with the twenty thousand dollars, and 
 keeping the four hundred for a start in life, marry the 
 girl he loved and be happy. 
 
 Remember, gentle reader, Ben was young and san- 
 guine, and unmarried. His mother-in-law, at the time, 
 was in embryo. V/e older heads look at these things 
 differently. 
 
 What a wonderful change the face of nature wore
 
 NEW ORLEANS, 10 A. M., OCT. 2D. 265 
 
 after these bright hopes and satisfactory intentions 
 had possession of him. Everything was light, airy, 
 joyous, happy. He could fairly have shouted aloud 
 in the fullness of his heart, and offered up many a 
 mental thanksgiving as he hurried up Canal Street. 
 Had his feelings not been so surcharged with resur- 
 rected hopes he might have noticed that he was on 
 the handsomest thoroughfare in the world. A street 
 that has not its equal in any city on the globe. The 
 beauties of architecture that line it are not prominent 
 (with the exception of one of the most ornate pieces 
 of iron architecture in America, that stood at the foot 
 of it and in the very centre of the street. It is now 
 demolished, but a few years ago was one of the curi- 
 osities of the city.) It is not the buildings that make 
 Canal Street the thing of beauty it is, but it is the 
 great, wide picturesque street itself, with its tram- 
 ways and grass-plots and trees and banquettes in the 
 very centre of it, and its broad roadways on each 
 side. A noble artery for the great city. 
 
 But Ben cared little about streets or cities just 
 then. His mind and body were alive with new pro- 
 jects for a gladsome future. He passed a jeweller's 
 and learned the time. It was exactly twenty-five 
 minutes past nine. The time was exact. Regulated 
 to a second from the observatory at Washington daily. 
 In five minutes more he had turned down St. Charles 
 Street and entered the rotunda of the St. Charles ho- 
 tel. He quivered with suppressed excitement as he 
 wrote : 
 
 "New Orleans, Oct. 2d, 9.30 A. M., St. Charles 
 Hotel.
 
 266 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 ''I am here. Answer immediately. 
 
 " Benjamin Cleveland. 
 
 " To Algernon Smythe, Esq., Park Row, New 
 York City." 
 
 When he had handed this to the operator, and seen 
 him tick it off upon his wonderful little instrument, 
 he felt quieter, and sat down to await the reply. 
 
 We will not attempt to depict Ben's thoughts as he 
 sat there. Suffice it for us to know that they were 
 one great swell of triumph, and the pictures of fu- 
 ture happiness that floated before his fancy were gor- 
 geous with crimson and gold. Just as the hands of 
 the clock announced ten o'clock, the operator called to 
 him, and with the remark that the matter had been 
 expeditiously attended to, handed him the following 
 dispatch : 
 
 " Park Row, New York City, ) 
 October 2d, 10.45 A. M. } 
 
 " Dear boy, we all sympathize with you. Your 
 dispatch came to hand fifteen minutes ago. You have 
 lost by thirty minutes. Money has been paid to 
 Smythe. 
 
 " John Hough, stake-holder. 
 
 " Augustus Wasson, referee." 
 
 Ben read it, and reread it, and read it over and over 
 again. The date caught his eye, "10.45 A. M." He 
 looked at the clock in the rotunda ; it was but ten 
 o'clock and five minutes then. He called the operator's 
 attention to it. 
 
 " Oh, yes ; you see the difference between New 
 York and New Orleans time is sixty-two minutes. 
 When it is nine-thirty here, it is a little past ten-thirty
 
 NEW ORLEANS, 10 A. M., OCT. 2D. 267 
 
 there. A great many people who don't think of this, 
 are surprised to receive dispatches ahead of time, as 
 they think. And it's laughable to see their astonish- 
 ment sometimes." And the clerk laughed in verifi- 
 cation of it. 
 
 But Ben heard him not. His mind was in a whirl. 
 His body trembled. His legs refused their support 
 and he would have fallen to the floor had not an at- 
 tendant caught him. 
 
 " You 'pears to be sick, sah. Bettah take some 
 fresh air, sah." 
 
 "Lost! Lost! Lost!" he cried. "Everything 
 LOST!"
 
 268 
 
 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 THE LITTLE PARTNER. 
 
 IT was a lovely sunny afternoon, two days after the 
 occurrence narrated in the preceding chapter. 
 Canal Street was crowded with the wealth and beauty 
 and fashion of the Crescent City. Fair-haired daugh- 
 ters of the North swept by in pleasing contrast to the 
 black-eyed beauties of the far South. Men lounged 
 through the crowd who looked like pictures from some 
 old canvas ; with dark, swarthy, oval faces, and eyes 
 of midnight darkness. The delicate physique of the 
 octoroon, the creamy tint of a still lighter-tainted 
 blood, the voluptuous forms of the griff, the olive- 
 hued creole, and the clear pink and white of the An- 
 glo-Saxon southron, blended in an ever-moving, ever- 
 shifting panorama of life that entranced the eye and 
 bewildered the sense of the stranger within the city's 
 gates. 
 
 A tall, square-shouldered, handsome young man 
 floated along in the living stream. He was dressed 
 in the height of fashion, yet with the pleasing restric- 
 tions of good taste and good sense. He strolled along 
 with the easy careless step of one accustomed to see-
 
 THE LITTLE PARTNER. 269 
 
 ing and being seen. Many were the admiring flashes 
 dark voluptuous eyes cast upon him, many the smiles 
 he received. But he paid but little heed to the hom- 
 age. His face, though bronzed, was pale, and there 
 was a weary, restless, unsatisfied look in his eye that 
 illy comported with his bearing. 
 
 It was our friend, Benjamin Cleveland, rehabilitated, 
 revamped, repolished, reset, rehumanized, and re- 
 stored to society. So much for good clothes. Clothes 
 do not make the man, but a man is unmade without 
 them. They introduce him to society and keep him 
 in it afterward. We like to rebel against their 
 tyranny, and say contemptuous things about them, but 
 we fear, honor, and obey them all the same. It is a 
 pity he could not have clothed that restless, unsatisfied 
 eye. For it but too plainly indicated that our hero's 
 thoughts were not pleasant or satisfactory ones. 
 Which indeed they were not, for at that identical mo- 
 ment Ben was wishing himself at the Hotel de Log, 
 in the old livery of poverty and trampdom, and the 
 old liberty of vagabondage. He sighed for the " foot- 
 path." He longed to be a tramp again. His good 
 clothes felt queer and uncomfortable. They were 
 shackles upon his actions. He did not possess them, 
 but they possessed him. In his rags he could have 
 sat on the curbstone and taken a rest, with no one to 
 give him particular notice. He daretj not do it now. 
 As a tatterdemalion he could have stuck his hands in^ 
 his pockets, leaned against a lamppost with crossed 
 legs and enjoyed the scene. Now he was on exhibi- 
 tion himself. The first night he attempted to sleep in a 
 bed he laid awake a long time, and ultimately had to
 
 270 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 get up and roll himself in a blanket on the floor, with 
 the washbasin for a pillow, before sleep would come 
 to him. He had no hopes, no aspirations, no prompt- 
 ings to be or to do. He seriously thought of resum- 
 ing tramping as a profession. A panacea for a mind 
 diseased. A balm for the wounds of his disappoint- 
 ments. A trunk full of his clothing had been for- 
 warded to New Orleans, and his wardrobe was satis- 
 factory. He had four hundred dollars in his pocket. 
 All the money he had in the world. What was he to 
 do ? He did not know, and did not care. He had 
 lost the woman he loved for whom had he to labor ? 
 Himself ? Bah ! The u foot-path " was a luxury and 
 a release. He was half inclined to lock his trunk 
 and send it to some charitable institution for the ben- 
 efit of the inmates, go on one tremendous spree with 
 his four hundred dollars, and when the last cent was 
 used up start out on the tramp. 
 
 While these thoughts were looking out of his eyes 
 he nearly ran against a ragged boy, who was lounging 
 on the sidewalk. 
 
 " Why, Tommy ! " he cried in surprise. " You here 
 in New Orleans ! " 
 
 But Tommy drew back and looked at him distrust- 
 fully. 
 
 " Why Tom, don't you know me ? Are you going 
 back on an old friend ? I am Ben, your old friend 
 .Ben." 
 
 " I'll be bio wed ! " and Tommy said no more, 
 but gazed upon him in astonishment. 
 
 " Come Tommy, shake hands, little partner." 
 
 " Great guns ! The prodigal's got home, the calf s
 
 THE LITTLE PARTNER. 271 
 
 been slaughtered, he's got his ring on, and Ben is 
 it you ? " 
 
 ' Me for a fact, Tommy. Do I look so mnch al- 
 tered?" 
 
 "Altered! Why you are a regular swell. Who'd 
 ever think you'd been a tramp ! " and Tommy was 
 again lost in astonishment. Then in the old familiar 
 tone, he said, seizing Ben's hand and caressing it in 
 his own peculiar way, " but I'm so glad Bennie, so 
 glad you are in luck. Do you live here ? Do your 
 folks live here ? " 
 
 " No, Tommy dear, I do not live here nor have I 
 any relatives here nor am I in luck. But never 
 mind that, I want you to come with me and get a new 
 suit of clothes." 
 
 " Oh, never mind my togs, Ben, these will do very 
 well," and Tommy blushed, and laughed a little. 
 " This suit I'm used to and it suits me. I want you 
 to walk over there to a bench in the park, and we 
 will sit down and have a long chat." 
 
 After they had seated themselves the boy said : 
 
 " I never expected to see you again, Ben, and I've 
 cried night after night thinking about you. I thought 
 von were drowned. When we were thrown into the 
 
 / 
 
 water I caught hold of a spar, but a piece of timber 
 struck against it and knocked me off. I got hold of 
 the timber, however, and was picked up by another 
 boat, an Arkansas River packet, and brought clear 
 down here. Now tell me how it all happened with 
 you." 
 
 Ben related the adventures already known to the 
 reader and moreover told Tommy of the object of his
 
 272 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 tramp to New Orleans, and how he had lost his wager. 
 
 " It's all up with me now, Tom," said he sorrow- 
 fully. " I have a great mind to put on the old clothes, 
 and you and I will go tramping again." 
 
 " No, no, Bennie, don't do that. . Do something no- 
 ble and worthy of yourself. You are young, the 
 world is before you ; it has honors and happiness for 
 those who earn them ; be true to yourself, Ben, dear. 
 Don't sink to the horrid level of an outcast, a tramp, 
 when you may live to honor yourself and do good to 
 your fellowmen." 
 
 Ben gazed at him in blank amazement. He could 
 not believe his ears. 
 
 " Tommy, what what in the world's come over 
 you ? You speak like like the top line of a copy 
 book ! " 
 
 " Ben," and he gently laid a hand on Ben's arm j 
 "Ben, I speak what I feel. I like you, Ben more 
 than you know or understand. I want to see you 
 worthy of yourself, so that I may be proud of you. 
 And then, sometime, maybe, when the little tramp 
 comes to you and says : ' Hi, Benuie, old boy ; re- 
 member old times ? ' you'll think kindly of your little 
 partner that once was perhaps, rmiybe, you'll 
 love him, just a little bit, for the sake of old times, 
 aud and " 
 
 " Why Tommy, what are you crying about ? My 
 dear boy, there's something wrong with you. Tell 
 me what it is. If money can be of any assistance, 
 Tom, I've four hundred dollars and you're welcome to 
 the whole of it." 
 
 "No, no, Ben," said Tommy, checking his tears,
 
 THE LITTLE 1'AllTJsEK. 273 
 
 41 1 do not want money. I I want you to like me 
 Ben to to Ben, I haven't any one to love me ! " 
 and the tears came again. 
 
 " There, there, my dear boy, don't give way that 
 way. I love you, Tommy, and I always will. Why 
 little one, I have nobody to love me. I'm alone in 
 the world myself. And and " 
 
 "'And' what, Ben?" 
 
 " And I always expect to be," he concluded bit- 
 terly. 
 
 " Oh, you will find some one to love, Benjamin," 
 said the lad more cheerfully. " Where there's a Jack 
 there's a Jill, you know. And didn't you improve the 
 chances of your wreck on the sandbar ? I thought 
 you were smitten, Ben?" 
 
 " Hold on, Tommy. Don't speak that way. I love 
 that dear girl more than words can express. She is 
 an angel, Tom, and " 
 
 44 Oh, bah ! Angel nothing. She's just a pretty, 
 simpering, bread-and-butter do-nothing " 
 
 " Tommy, stop ! I won't have it. I will not allow 
 you to speak so of that young lady." 
 
 44 But I say she is. She's a flirt ! She just is and 
 nothing more ! " 
 
 44 Why Thomas, what in the name of Heaven has 
 come over you ? You look and speak so strange. 
 You vilify this young lady whom you do not know, 
 and whom I so love. You " 
 
 44 She ain't worthy of you, Ben, indeed and 'deed 
 she aiut," and Tommy's voice softened and the tears 
 commenced to flow again. 
 
 Ben looked at him anxiously. He is sick, he
 
 274 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 thought. Troubles and privations and the terrors of 
 the wreck on the river have exhausted and worried 
 him into illness. 
 
 " Poor, little fellow," said he, putting his arm about 
 the boy's body and drawing him close to him. " You 
 aint well, Tommy, and I know it. There, there 
 never mind what you said. I know you meant noth- 
 ing rude. You are only mistaken, Tommy. Bertha 
 is one of the noblest girls that lives. Why do you 
 know she is about to marry a man, whom I know she 
 despises, so that she can give her widowed mother and 
 poor bed-ridden little sister a home ? " 
 
 "No! Is that so?" and Tommy stared incredu- 
 lously at Ben. 
 
 " It is Tommy.- She is to marry her cousin to se- 
 cure a home for her mother and sister," and Ben re- 
 lated to the boy what Bertha Ford had told him rela- 
 tive to her uncle's will. 
 
 "And he, does he love her? " 
 
 "From the conversation we both overheard in 
 Pittsburg I should say not. I think he only marries 
 her to secure the money." 
 
 " Her fate will be terrible,'" and the boy shuddered. 
 
 " Terrible indeed, Tommy. We speak about wo- 
 men selling themselves, who of us knows the fearful 
 yet noble sacrifices they may be making in their sale ? " 
 
 " Good, Ben, good ! That shows your heart in the 
 right place, my boy, and please God it stay there," 
 said Tommy, very earnestly. " But she little knows 
 the man she is about to marry." 
 
 " Do you know him, Tom ? " 
 
 " Ben," said the boy speaking sharp and quick,
 
 THE LITTLE PAKTNER. 275 
 
 " Listen to me before I change my mind. What you 
 have told me has has altered some intentions of my 
 own. You love this girl ; does she love you? " 
 
 " I know she does." 
 
 " Very well. Now don't ask me a question ; don't 
 say a word to me. There is to be a wedding to-mor- 
 row at St. Martin's Church, Georges Street. Her 
 wedding. You attend it. Don't fail. You shall have 
 her. I, Tommy, your little tramp friend, will make 
 her your wife ; but oh, Bennie, Bennie " and 
 frantically throwing his arm's around Ben's neck, he 
 kissed our hero's lips, and breaking from him, rushed 
 away. 
 
 Long, Ben sat, lost in astonishment. Stupefied. 
 Then he slowly made his way back to his hotel.
 
 276 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 IN AT THE DEATH. 
 
 ST. Martin's Church did not wear a very festival 
 appearance. It looks more like a funeral than 
 a marriage, that is about to take place, said Ben to 
 himself, as he quietly entered that edifice on the fol- 
 lowing morning and seated himself in the dark corner 
 of a dark pew, where he could observe what trans- 
 pired without being himself noticed. 
 
 A few idlers, evidently people who seeing a church 
 door open thought it as good a place to sit down and 
 rest as any that would offer, dropped in and sat in the 
 rear seats. One had several bundles, evidently a 
 clerk taking a purchase to the home of a customer 
 who sought the opportunity to rest his arms and legs 
 among the cushions of St. Martin's. Some well 
 dressed people, probably strangers in the city, sat in 
 respectful silence while they examined the edifice with 
 their eyes. A country couple chatted pleasantly to- 
 gether, and now and then indulged in a little laugh, 
 followed by a great deal of whispering. Near them a 
 man sat down with a large paper of peanuts, which he 
 was contentedly devouring when the sexton politely
 
 IN" AT THE DEATH. 277 
 
 suggested that he either put them up or swallow the 
 shells. 
 
 It was evidently to be a private affair. The church 
 was dark and gloomy, and only the shutters of the 
 chancel windows were opened, throwing a faint, mys- 
 terious light upon the long queer-looking line of empty 
 pews. 
 
 Presently the officiating minister entered the chan- 
 cel from a door in the rear, clothed in his long white 
 surplice, and sat down while his eyes investigated the 
 inside of a prayer-book, and kept glancing over the 
 top of it and down the main aisle as though impatient 
 for their coming. Then the sound of wheels were 
 heard without, the organ startled those within by 
 breaking out in a peal of sacred melody, and through 
 the open doors came the bridal party. Bertha leaned 
 on the arm of her uncle. She was dressed richly, 
 but quietly, in a travelling suit, as though the inten- 
 tion was to commence the wedding tour at the chan- 
 cel railing. She was very, very pale, and the great, 
 glorious, grey eyes seemed to cover her whole face, 
 and looked black in their intensity. But her Jiead was 
 erect and her step firm. She knew what she was 
 doing, she had counted the cost. She was accepting 
 a lifetime of misery that she might give a home to 
 those she loved. Ben's breath came short and thick, 
 and his hands worked nervously as his eyes were fas- 
 tened upon her. An elderly lady, the aunt of Miss 
 Ford, was brought in on the arm of Arthur Blackoat. 
 Blackoat looked triumphant. He was a trifle pale, 
 and his swarthy countenance in the dim light looked 
 sallow. But his dark eye flashed out the " success "
 
 278 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 that was crowning his desires, and he looked impa- 
 tient for the ceremony to proceed. A dozen ladies 
 and gentlemen, friends of the Blasters, had entered 
 the church with them, and among them Ben was sur- 
 prised to see none other than Mr. Jonah Nipper, in 
 company with a very well dressed dignified gentleman 
 of middle age. These two sat a little apart from the 
 rest. 
 
 Presently Bertha Ford and Arthur Blackoat stood 
 at the chancel railing alone and the beautiful marriage 
 service of the Episcopal Church was commenced by 
 the officiating clergyman. 
 
 Ben could hardly comprehend what was taking 
 place ; could hardly realize that the woman he so 
 adored was being every moment separated farther and 
 farther from him by a chasm that could never be 
 bridged over for his hopes to cross on. Then his ears 
 caught the solemn words : 
 
 " Into this holy estate these two persons come now 
 to be joined. If any man can show just cause why 
 they may not be lawfully joined together let him now 
 speak oi\else hereafter forever hold his peace." 
 
 Cleveland could hardly restrain himself from shout- 
 ing out : 
 
 " I do ! The woman loves me ! " 
 
 Bah, Ben. Don't make a fool of yourself. That 
 is not a "just cause." 
 
 There being no interruption the clergyman con- 
 tinued : 
 
 " I require and charge you both, as ye will answer 
 at the dreadful day of judgment, when the secrets of 
 all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you
 
 IN AT THE DEATH. 279 
 
 know any impediment why ye may not be lawfully 
 joined together in matrimony ye do now confess it. 
 (Blackoat was steadying himself with one hand on 
 the chancel railing.) For be ye well assured that if 
 any persons are joined together otherwise than as God's 
 word doth allow their marriage is not lawful." 
 
 Blackoat released the railing and stood erect, but 
 his face was very pale and his eyes rested steadily on 
 his feet. Turning to him the minister asked : 
 
 " Wilt thou have this woman to be thy wedded 
 wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the 
 holy state of matrimony ? Wilt thou love her, com- 
 fort her, honor her and keep her in sickness and in 
 health, and forsaking all others keep thee only unto 
 her, so long as ye both shall live ? " 
 
 And Blackoat answered : 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " You LIE ! " 
 
 The words rang out clear and sharp. They re- 
 sounded through the edifice. Echoed along the gal- 
 leries. Rebounded back from the chancel, and filled 
 the whole interior with a cold, metallic startling ring. 
 All present sprang to their feet and looked in amaze- 
 ment down the main aisle. Blackoat, of all there, 
 did not turn his head. Had he been cast of bronze 
 he could not have been more motionless, more dead. 
 
 " Who interrupts the ceremony ? " asked the minis- 
 ter recovering from his surprise. 
 
 " I do ! " and a lithe form in male attire bounded 
 up the aisle and stood in front of the chancel rail. 
 "I do ! His LAWFUL WIFE ! " 
 
 It was TOMMY !
 
 280 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 To his dying day Ben will never forget the horror 
 his eyes then saw. The church had the stillness of 
 death. Not a muscle moved of those there gathered. 
 Eyes starting from their sockets reached for the mass 
 at the chancel rail, but motion there was none. All 
 might have been chiselled out of stone. Pale as 
 death the figure clad in male attire stood between the 
 woman and man, a hand extended repelling the one, 
 a hand upraised denouncing the other, two glittering 
 brown eyes fastened on the man's face. And the 
 man slowly he turned upon his feet, as though 
 some mechanism moved an inanimate object. Slowly 
 came he round and faced the glittering eyes. The 
 eyes of the dead! And as he faced them the sallow 
 of his countenance turned to the white of clay, his 
 jaw dropped upon his breast, revealing, in ghastly 
 display, his white teeth. And up, up, up, from the 
 ground came his eyes, until they rested on the white 
 face before him. Then in a yell that called a respon- 
 sive shriek from all present, he shrieked, " GOD AL- 
 MIGHTY I " and fell back DEAD.
 
 CONCLUSION. 281 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 READER, we thank you for your kind attention. 
 Our tale is told, and we shall impose upon it 
 but a moment longer. It would not probably inter- 
 est you to know that the twenty thousand dollars 
 worth of forged notes, forged by the dead man, still 
 remain in the hands of Mr. Jonah Nipper and are 
 likely so to do for all time to come. During the first 
 three years of their married life, Ben and his beauti- 
 ful wife received a letter without a signature. It 
 told of a young girl that had been betrayed by a 
 heartless man, and persuaded by him to leave her 
 humble home. Harassed by her importunities in a 
 moment of weakness to his cold, crafty self, he had 
 allowed a marriage ceremony to be performed. 
 Shortly after, the man's uncle died leaving provisions 
 in his will that made the man hate the poor helpless 
 being he found himself tied to. Her death was his 
 only release. A dark night on a Hudson River 
 steamer, a blow and a splash in the waters, and he 
 thought himself a free man. But the girl lived. 
 Lived to hunt him down with the fury of a tigress.
 
 282 A TIGHT SQUEEZE. 
 
 In poverty she pursued her revenge. As a tramp, in 
 male attire, she tracked her would be murderer. At 
 last revenge seemed to come within her reach. She 
 would wait until he had violated the law, and then 
 crush him and his hopes, as a bigamist. But mean- 
 while the love that had died blossomed anew. She 
 thought to live, and love once more. It was not to be. 
 The object of her new love had given his heart to an- 
 other. Still she loved him, and as a last offering of 
 her love placed within his reach the idol of his heart, 
 all unsullied. 
 
 Both Bertha and Ben strove to discover her where- 
 abouts. From that day to this, " Tommy " has been 
 neither seen nor heard of by them. They live in all 
 the luxury wealth can offer. As happy as happy can 
 be. Smythe, Hough and Wasson were at the wed- 
 ding, and all claim to have provided Ben with this 
 terrestrial paradise by sending him on that trip to 
 New Orleans. The Cleveland's house is known to 
 the fraternity of the fcot-path far and wide. There 
 is not a vagabond of them but knows that a hearty 
 meal and substantial help await all who knock at that 
 door. And their calls are numerous and frequent.
 
 No.l 
 
 Always Get the Best. 50 of the Choicest Selections in the 
 
 Reading Club and Handy Speaker, 
 
 Edited by GEORGE M. BAKKR. 
 
 Price, cloth, 60 cents; paper, 16 cents. 
 
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 The Red Jacket George M. Baker. 
 
 Old Age 
 
 Mahmoud Leigh Hunt. 
 
 The Closet Scene from " Hamlet" . 
 
 How he saved St. Michael's . . . Aldine. 
 
 Mr. Caudle and bis Second Wife . . Douglu* Jerrold's Fireside Saint* 
 
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 The Doorstep . C. Stedman. 
 
 Old Fanner Gray gets photographed . 
 
 Mr 'le 3 a'nih 1 g gller ' 8 . Thr . ee ^^ * i Capt. Marryat. 
 
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 ' The Boofer Lady " Dickens's " Mutual Friend." 
 
 Defiance of Harold the Dauntless . . S<-ott. 
 
 Battle Hymn Kiimer. 
 
 The Story of the Faithful Soul . . Adelaide Procter. 
 
 " Curfew must not ring To-Isight " . 
 
 The Showman's Courtship . . . 
 
 How Terry saved his Bacon ... 
 
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 Overthrow of Belshazzar . . . Barry Cornwall. 
 
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 The Squire's Story John Phoenix. 
 
 The Happiest Couple . . . . Sheridan. 
 
 Godiva ....... Tennyson. 
 
 Farmer Bent's Sheep- Washing . . 
 
 The Deutsch Maud Muller . . . Carl Pretzel. 
 
 Charles Sumner Carl Schurz. 
 
 The Bricklayers . . . . G. II. Barnes. 
 
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 The Voices at the Throne . . . /. Westicood. 
 
 Hans Breitmann's Party .... Charles G. Leland. 
 
 Rob Roy MacGregor .... Walter Scott. 
 
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 The Yankee and the Dutchman's Dog . 
 Popping the Question .... 
 The Bumpkin's Courtship ... 
 
 The Happy Life Sir ffennj Wotton. 
 
 At the Soldiers' Graves .... Ifobert Collyer. 
 
 Xobmly there . . . . . . Anonymous. 
 
 The Factory-Girl's Diary . . . Morton. 
 In the Tunnel 
 
 " Jones "....... 
 
 Tin- Whistler 
 
 " Good and Better " .... 
 
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 The Pickwickians on Ice IUckens. 
 
 A Picture Mrs. If. A. Bingham, 
 
 Tobe's Monument ...... Elizabeth Kilham. 
 
 The Two Anchors R. II. Ktoddard. 
 
 The Old Ways and the New .... John II. Yates. 
 
 By the Alma River J/m Mil loch. 
 
 Trial Scene from " Merchant of Venice " . Shakttneart. 
 
 The Sisters John G. Whittier. 
 
 Farm- Yard Song 
 
 The Fortune-Hunter John G. Saxe. 
 
 Curing a Cold Mark Twain. 
 
 In the Bottom Drawer 
 
 Two Irish Idyls Alfred Perceval (,'raM. 
 
 Over the River Priest. 
 
 The Modest Cousin Sheridan Knowlet. 
 
 Biddy's Troubles 
 
 The Man with a Cold in his Head . 
 
 Harry and I 
 
 The Shadow on the Wall .... 
 
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 A Traveller's Evening Song .... Mrs. Ilemans. 
 Calling a Boy in the Morning .... 
 
 Cooking and Courting Tom to Ned. 
 
 A Tragical Tale of the Tropics ... 
 
 The Paddock Elms B. E. Woolf. 
 
 The Bobolink Aldine. 
 
 Toothache 
 
 The Opening of the Piano .... Atlantic Monthly. 
 
 Press On Park Benjamin. 
 
 The Beauty of Youth ..... Theodore Parker. 
 
 Queen Mab '....... Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 A Militia General Thomas Concin. 
 
 Address of Spottycus ..... 
 
 Our Visitor, and what he came for 
 
 " What's the Matter with that Nose? " . . Our Fat Contributor. 
 
 Workers and Thinkers ..... Ituakin. 
 
 The Last Ride ....... Nora Perry. 
 
 Baby Atlas 
 
 Possession Oioen Meredith. 
 
 There is no Death Sir E. Bidwer Lytton. 
 
 rhe Learned Negro ...... Congregutionalist. 
 
 Nearer, my God, to Thee . ' . . . Sarah F. Adam*. 
 
 A Short Sermon . Not lit/ a Hard-Shell Baptist 
 
 &oin" Home To-day ..*.... W. M. Carleton. 
 
 The Broken Pitcher ...... Anonymous. 
 
 \ Baby's Soliloquy ...... 
 
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 Sunday Morning ...... George A. Baker, jun. 
 
 The Quaker Meeting Samuel Lover. 
 
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 The First Snow-Fail James Russell Lowell. 
 
 The Countess and the Serf . . . , J. Sheridan Knowles. 
 
 Aurelia's Unfortunate Young Man . . Mark Twain. 
 
 Losses Francis Browne. 
 
 Mad Luce , . All the Year Round. 
 
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 Pat and the Oysters 
 
 Twilight Spanish Gypsy. 
 
 The Singer Alice Williams. 
 
 Speech of the Hon. Pervese Peabody on 
 
 the Acquisition of Cuba 
 
 Bunker Hill George IT. Culvert. 
 
 Two Births Charles J, Sprague. 
 
 The Old Fogy Man 
 
 Auction Mad 
 
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 Schneider's Tomatoes Cltarles f. Adams. 
 
 The Wolves J. T. Trowbridge. 
 
 The Ballad of the Oysterman . . . Oliver Wendell Holmes. 
 The Deck-Hand and the Mule . 
 
 A Lay of Real Life Tom Hood. 
 
 Riding Down Nora Perry. 
 
 The Minute-men of '75 .... George William Curtis. 
 
 Uncle Reuben's Baptism .... Vickuburg Herald. 
 
 How Persimmons took Cah ob der Baby . St. Nicholas. 
 
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 Scenes from the School of Reform . . Thomas Morion. 
 
 Ambition Henry Clay. 
 
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 Appeal in Behalf of American Liberty . Story. 
 
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 The Roman Soldier. Destruction of Her- 1 A ,,../,., 
 
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 Temperance Wendell Phillips. 
 
 Roast Pig. A Bit of Lamb Charles Lamb. 
 
 Himilm Similibus 
 
 Two Loves and a Life William, Sawyer. 
 
 The Recantation of Galileo .... frauds E. Raleigh. 
 
 Mosquitoes K. K. 
 
 The Law of Kindness; or, The Old Wo- \ P/ ., . 
 
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 Decoration T. W. Higginwn. 
 
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 Scene from " The Hunchback "... Sheridan Knowles. 
 
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 Robert of Lincoln Bryant. 
 
 Daddy Worthless Lizzie W. Champney. 
 
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 William Tell 
 
 Mary Maloney's Philosophy .... Philadelphia Bulletin. 
 
 Custer's Last Charge Frederick Whittaker. 
 
 Mother's Pool 
 
 The Little Black-Eyed Rebel .... Will Carleton. 
 " The Palace o' the King " . William Mitchell. 
 
 Grandfather Theodore Parker. 
 
 " Business " in Mississippi , . . . Chronicle, Augusta, Ga. 
 
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 Cuddle Doon Alexander Anderson. 
 
 The Hot Roasted Chestnut . . . .J.Ed. Milliken. 
 
 St. John the Aged 
 
 The Bell of Atri Longfellow. 
 
 Mr. O'Hoolahan's Mistake .... 
 
 The Little Hero 
 
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 He Giveth His Beloved Sleep 
 
 The Dignity of Labor Rev. Nev)man Hall. 
 
 A Little Shoe 
 
 " The Penny Ye Meant to Qi'e " . . . H. II. 
 
 A Question 
 
 The Cobbler's Secret 
 
 The Lost Cats 
 
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 Leedle Yaweob Strauss Charles F. Adams. 
 
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 The Ballad of Ronald Clare . 
 The Scotchman at the Play . . 
 The Dead Doll .... 
 A Charge with Prince Rupert 
 An Irish Wake .... 
 The Honest Deacon . . . 
 Tact and Talent .... 
 The Two Glasses .... 
 Whistling in Heaven 
 Noble Revenge .... 
 Dot Baby off Mine. (By permission) 
 The Amateur Spelling-Match 
 Why Biddy and Pat got Married . 
 Art-Matters in Indiana . . . 
 Mis.s Edith helps Things along 
 The Flood and the Ark . 
 Not Dead, but Risen 
 Ballad of a Baker .... 
 
 Five 
 
 Uncle Remus' Revival Hymn . 
 A Mysterious Disappearance . 
 An Indignation-Meeting. 
 Something Spilt .... 
 From the Sublime to the Ridiculous 
 
 " 'tis but a Step "... 
 Scene from " The Marble Heart" . 
 The Seven Ages .... 
 A Watch that " wanted cleaning." 
 
 (By permission) ... 
 
 Tired Mothers 
 
 Good-by Frank Foxcroft. 
 
 " One of the Boys " .... 
 
 The Bridge H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 A Rhine Legend Curtis Guild. 
 
 The Little Shoes did it 
 Burdock's Goat 
 Faithful Little Peter 
 Blue and Gray . 
 Mollie, or Sadie? . 
 Butterwick's Weakness 
 Between the Lines . 
 Somebody's Mother 
 The Ballad of Constance 
 Failed 
 
 The Canteen C. G. Ualpine 
 
 A Blessing on the Dance . . . Jrwin Kussell. 
 An Exciting Contest .... 
 
 The Last Redoubt Alfred Austin. 
 
 "If We Knew" 
 
 Bcene from "London Assurance" . Htucicault. 
 
 The Kaiser's Feast 
 
 Sideways 
 
 Suld by all booksellers and newsdealers, and sent by mail, postpaid, on 
 receipt of price. 
 
 LEE & SHEPARD, Publishers, Boston. 
 
 Thomas S. Collier. 
 " Maiixie Waitrh." 
 Margaret Vandegrift. 
 T. W. Uigginson. 
 
 London Atlas. 
 Harper's Magazine. 
 
 Charles Fallen Adams. 
 FAirl Marble. 
 R. H. Stoddard. 
 
 Bret Harte. 
 
 Charles Dickens' Pickwick Papers. 
 
 Charles Selby. 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 J. T. Fields. 
 
 William Winter.
 
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