Edward Stratemeyer

The Young Bridge-Tender or, Ralph Nelson's Upward Struggle
Go to page: 123456
"You are not telling the truth!" cried Ralph, indignantly. "It was you who
insulted me, and I gave you a good deal less than you deserved in the shape
of a whipping for doing it."

"Stop! stop!" stormed the squire. "I will have no quarrel in my house!
Nelson, don't you know it is all wrong to fight on the bridge?"

"I didn't fight. I stopped your son when he refused to pay toll, that was
all."

"I do not believe it."

"Believe it or not, it's true. But I came here for another purpose than to
speak of the quarrel, as you know. I want Percy to make good the twenty
dollars which belonged to me."

"I ain't got your twenty dollars--never had them!" blustered the
aristocratic bully. "If you say I have, I'll pitch you out of the house!"

"Gently, Percy----"

"I don't care, father. It makes me mad to have this upstart speak to me in
this fashion!"

"I know it does, but control yourself, my son. We will find a way to punish
him at another time."

"Can't you have him discharged? He ain't fit to be the tender of the
bridge; he's so insulting!"

"Perhaps," returned the squire, a sudden idea flashing across his mind.

It would assist his schemes wonderfully to have Ralph Nelson discharged.

"You had my twenty-dollar bill, and you paid it over to Mr. Dicks," said
Ralph. "You can't deny it."

At these words Percy staggered back, for the unexpected shot had struck
home.

"Who--who says I paid the bill over to Mr. Dicks?"

"Will Dicks himself. You bought cigarettes, and gave him the bill to
change."

"I gave him a twenty-dollar bill, but it wasn't yours."

"It was, and I can prove it."

"How?"

"By a grease spot in one corner, made by the butter on a sandwich I had."

"Is that all?" sneered Percy.

"I think that's enough."

"Well, hardly. I guess there are a good many bills with grease spots on
them floating around."

For the moment Ralph was nonplussed. The aristocratic bully saw it and went
on:

"You are afraid you are going to lose your place, and you want to get me
and my father in your power, so we can help you keep it. But it won't work,
will it, father?"

"Hardly, my son. We are not to be browbeaten in this style," remarked
Squire Paget, pompously.

"Then you do not intend to make good the amount?" asked Ralph, shortly,
disgusted at the way in which the squire stood up for Percy.

"I shall not give you twenty dollars when I don't owe it to you," said
Percy.

"Will you tell me where you got that twenty-dollar bill?"

"I got it in Chambersburgh last week. A man asked me to change it for him
and I did so."

Percy had thought out this falsehood before, and now he uttered it with the
greatest of ease.

"I believe my son speaks the truth," added Squire Paget. "You had better be
going and hunt for your money elsewhere."

"I don't believe he ever had twenty dollars, excepting he saved it out of
the toll money," sneered Percy, and he walked from the room.

Burning with indignation, but unable to help himself toward obtaining his
rights, Ralph arose and without another word left the squire's mansion. It
was too late to attempt to do more that night, and after some hesitation he
went home.

Squire Paget watched him leave the garden, and then locked the front door
and went back to the library.

"Ralph Nelson is getting too important, in his own estimation," he mused.
"I thought he was a mere youngster who could be twisted around one's
finger, but I was mistaken. I must get him out of his situation and compel
him to leave Westville, if possible. I can't do much while he is around
here."

Squire Paget sat for half an hour in his easy chair thinking over his
plans. Then he went to bed.

After breakfast he started out to pay a visit to Benjamin Hooker, the
village postmaster. Hooker, Dicks and the squire were close friends, and
they constituted a majority of the village board, which controlled the
bridge and other local matters.

"Well, squire, what brings you around this morning so early?" questioned
the postmaster, for it was an hour before regular mail time.

"I come to see you about committee matters," returned Squire Paget. "I have
got to report against Ralph Nelson, our bridge tender."

"What's he been a-doing, squire?"

"He insulted and assaulted my only son yesterday in a most outrageous
fashion, without provocation."

"You don't say so!" exclaimed the postmaster. "I thought Nelson was quite a
gentlemanly boy."

"I never did, Benjamin, never! He is nothing but a young tough."

"It's too bad."

"He isn't fit to have on the bridge any longer, and I move we give him a
week's notice," went on the squire. "We don't want passengers on the bridge
insulted on their way over."

"That's so, squire. But what caused the row?"

"Nothing at all, excepting that Nelson has taken a dislike to my son. And
he is such a wicked boy, too, Benjamin. Why, when he heard that my son was
going to proceed against him, what do you suppose he did?"

"What did he do?" questioned the postmaster, eagerly.

"Actually accused my son of stealing twenty dollars from him."

"Gracious!"

"Isn't that enough to provoke a saint, Benjamin? Do you wonder I wish to
take him in hand?"

"Not at all, squire; not at all."

"And you will vote to remove him, won't you?"

"Certainly--if you wish it," replied Benjamin Hooker, who was under
obligation to the squire, for money loaned. "But we can't remove him
without another vote in the board."

"I know that. Come with me to Uriah Dicks', and I'll tell him about the
matter. Uriah will stand by us, I know, in a case like this."

As there would be nothing to do in the office for at least half an hour,
the postmaster readily consented to accompany the squire, leaving the place
in charge of the clerk.

Five minutes later the two stepped into Uriah Dicks' general store. They
found the old man talking earnestly to Ralph and a stranger, who was none
other than Horace Kelsey.




CHAPTER IX.

AT THE GENERAL STORE.


Both Squire Paget and the postmaster were surprised to see Ralph in
conversation with Uriah Dicks and the young gentleman who was a stranger to
them.

The squire had expected to hold a quiet talk with the keeper of the general
store, and he was much disappointed to learn that this was to be denied to
him.

However, he put on a bold front, and approached Uriah without hesitation,
just as the latter looked up.

"Why, here is Squire Paget now!" exclaimed Uriah Dicks. "Squire, you are
just the man I want to see!"

"I can say the same for you," returned the squire, with a sharp glance at
Ralph.

"I got a twenty-dollar bill from your son yesterday, and it looks like it
was going to make trouble for me," went on the storekeeper.

"It has already made enough trouble for me," retorted the squire,
pointedly.

"Squire Paget, this is Mr. Kelsey, the gentleman that gave me the
twenty-dollar bill," put in Ralph.

"Humph! He might have given you a twenty-dollar bill, but this is not the
one," growled the squire.

"I believe it is, sir," said Horace Kelsey.

"You do?"

"Yes, sir. It is, as you see, a new one, issued by the First National Bank
of Chambersburgh. That is the bank at which I drew it."

"It's all rot!" roared the squire. "My son Percy received that bill, and in
Chambersburgh, too!" he added, suddenly. "He said so last night."

Again Ralph's hopes fell. He had felt almost certain that his city friend
would be able to prove the property, but now this supposed proof amounted
to little or nothing.

"But that grease spot----" he began.

"A story invented by yourself," interrupted Squire Paget. "It is more than
likely that the grease spot was on the bill when my son received it."

"Did your son receive the bill at the bank?" questioned Horace Kelsey.

"I don't know--I suppose he did," stammered the squire.

There was an awkward pause. Uriah Dicks drummed uneasily upon the counter,
where lay the bill in dispute.

"One thing is certain," said Uriah. "I took the bill in good faith, and I
ain't a-goin' to lose on it, mind that."

"You shan't lose on it, Uriah," replied the squire. "My son gave it to you,
and it was his bill. You keep it, and I'll take young Nelson in hand. He
has concocted this story for a purpose."

"A purpose, eh?" queried the storekeeper.

"Exactly. He knows that he is in danger of losing his situation, and it is
his endeavor to get me and my son in his power, so we will influence
others to help him keep him in his place."

"I don't see what I have done to lose the job on the bridge," said Ralph,
his cheeks growing red.

"I thought he was doin' well enough," put in Uriah.

"He is a regular rough!" burst out the squire, with a fine appearance of
wrath. "He insulted my son on the bridge and knocked him down. And he
insults every one he dares!"

"That is a gross untruth, Squire Paget!" burst out Ralph. "I insult
nobody----"

"He's a very impulsive youth," put in Postmaster Hooker, thinking it time
to bolster up the squire's remarks. "He is, I am afraid, too hot-headed to
have on the bridge, not to say anything about this attempt to--ahem!--cast
an unworthy reflection on the fair name of our squire's son."

And the postmaster looked as important as possible as he spoke.

Uriah Dicks caught the drift of the talk and looked perplexed, not knowing
exactly upon which side to cast his opinion.

But he soon made up his mind. Ralph was a poor boy, with little or no
influence, while the squire was rich and powerful.

"I don't know but what you are right, gentlemen," he said. "He certainly
talked putty sharp-like about Percy last night."

"I shall make him suffer for that, never fear," said the squire,
pointedly. "He shall not insult my son with impunity!"

Ralph was about to speak, but Horace Kelsey checked him.

"It will do you no good to talk," he said, in a low tone. "They are against
you, and we can prove nothing. Better drop the matter, at least until
something more in your favor turns up."

"But I am certain the bill is mine----"

"So am I, but it is one thing to know it and quite another to prove it."

"Hadn't you ought to be on the bridge now?" asked Uriah, sourly.

"Bob Sanderson is tending for me."

"Who give him that right?" asked Squire Paget.

"Certainly not the town committee."

"Mr. Foley said I might have him help me during slack hours," returned the
young bridge tender, mentioning the name of another of the committeemen.

"He ain't got no power," put in Uriah. "It wasn't never put to a vote."

"I must have some help."

"A young man that was really willing to work wouldn't need no help,"
grumbled the miserly storekeeper. "It is only on account of laziness you
need help."

"That's so," added the postmaster, willing to "pile it on" when there was
such a good chance. "Better get back to work at once!"

"I will," replied Ralph, and, not wishing to lose his job on the spot, he
left the store, followed by Horace Kelsey.

"It's a shame the way they treat you!" burst out the young man, as the two
walked toward the bridge. "I don't really see how they can do it."

"I suppose they will discharge me now," returned Ralph, bitterly. "And all
because I claim a bill that I am positive is my own!"

"If they discharge you, I would make that Percy Paget prove where he got
the bill. If he cannot prove it, that will be one point in your favor."

The two walked down to the bridge, and here the young man from the city
left Ralph, and went off with Bob Sanderson to see how the repairs to the
sloop were coming on.

Ralph was in no happy frame of mind when left alone. He had tried only to
assert his rights, but the future looked black in consequence.

Presently his mother came down from the cottage to talk matters over with
him. She knew her son had gone off with Horace Kelsey to Uriah Dicks'
store.

"The squire is certainly very unreasonable," she said, after Ralph had told
his story. "Every one around Westville knows that Percy is arrogant to the
last degree."

"That is so, mother, but, to the squire, Percy is perfection. I do not see
how he can be so blind."

"If you lose your position on the bridge, Ralph, what in the world will we
do? Times are so hard in Westville."

"I'll have to look for work in Eastport or Chambersburgh, I suppose,"
returned the son. "But I haven't lost the job yet," he added, as cheerfully
as he could.

"But if Uriah Dicks and the postmaster and the squire are against you, they
can put you out. There are only five in the committee, and three are a
majority."

Ralph was about to reply, but several passengers had to be waited on, and
he went on to collect the tolls. Then a whistle sounded from up Big Silver
Lake, notifying him that a steamboat wished to pass through the draw, and
the opening and closing of the bridge took ten minutes or more.

"If I were only bookkeeper enough to strike a job in one of the factories,
I wouldn't care whether I lost the place here or not," said Ralph, when he
was again at leisure. "This is a lazy sort of a job, and I would much
prefer office work."

"That is true, my son, but one must be thankful to get work of any kind
now," returned Mrs. Nelson.

"Oh, I know that, and I am not grumbling, mother, but the--what's that?"

Ralph broke off suddenly. A crash of glass, coming from the neighborhood of
the cottage, sounded in their ears. The first crash was followed by
half-a-dozen others in rapid succession.

"What in the world can that mean?" cried Mrs. Nelson, and, without waiting,
she ran from the bridge.

Ralph looked up and down to see if any one was coming across, and, sighting
none, followed.

On a run it did not take long to reach the little home by the side path.
As they neared it, Ralph pointed excitedly to the sitting-room windows.

"Look, mother," he cried, in deep indignation. "Some vandal has broken
nearly every pane of glass in the house!"

"Perhaps there are thieves around!" returned Mrs. Nelson, quickly.

"No, they wouldn't break glass needlessly. This was done out of pure
meanness."

They hurried around to the door and into the cottage. Alas! a single glance
around was enough. Fully half the panes of glass in the cottage were
smashed, and on the floors of the various rooms lay a dozen stones as big
as a man's hand.

"I know who did this!" ejaculated Ralph, in high anger. "Percy Paget, and
no one else!"

"Would he dare?" faltered Mrs. Nelson.

"Yes; and it is just in line with his sneak-like character. I am going to
see if I can find him."

Ralph dashed out of the cottage as rapidly as he had entered it. He made a
strict search about the grounds, up the road, and in the wood on the other
side. But it was of no avail; the person who had committed the contemptible
act had disappeared.




CHAPTER X.

RALPH IS GIVEN NOTICE.


Had it not been for his duties on the bridge, Ralph would have continued
his search still farther. But already several persons had passed over and
dropped their pennies on the counter of the little office, and now a horn
was blowing from the deck of the little schooner sailing up Silver Lake.

So telling his mother that he would be back as soon as possible, he hurried
to the bridge. Half-a-dozen boats wished to go through the draw, including
a string of canal boats, and it was nearly noon before he could leave the
spot.

Then Bob Sanderson came around the cove in the sloop _Magic_. Beside him
sat Horace Kelsey. The repairs to the _Magic_ were now completed, and the
little craft was practically as good as new.

"Hallo, Bob, come up here and tend for me, will you?" shouted Ralph, as
soon as he caught sight of the old man.

"All right, Ralph! What's up?"

"I must go home," returned the young bridge tender, and when the sloop was
tied up near by, he told the two occupants of what had occurred.

"I never heard the like!" burst out Bob Sanderson. "If it was really that
Paget boy, he ought to have a whip across his back!"

Horace Kelsey accompanied Ralph to the cottage to see the extent of the
damage done. The young man from New York was also of the opinion that the
guilty party ought to be brought to swift justice.

"But no one saw Percy, and we cannot prove anything," said Mrs. Nelson.

"Perhaps we can," said Ralph. "I'm going to hunt him up, if that is
possible."

Horace Kelsey did not feel able to remain longer at Westville, and so he
left when Ralph did. Before he went, however, he insisted on presenting
Ralph with another twenty-dollar bill, to replace the one lost.

"Here is my card," he said, on leaving. "If you ever come to New York, drop
in and see me."

"Thank you; I shall be very much pleased to," replied Ralph.

He noted that Horace Kelsey was in the insurance business, with an office
on Broadway, and then he placed the address carefully away in a drawer of
the old-fashioned desk in the sitting-room.

"Who knows, but if I am discharged here I may some day go to New York,"
thought the young bridge tender.

After taking another look about the cottage and through the wood, Ralph
started up the road leading to the center of the village. Presently he came
across a young man named Edgar Steiner, who was one of Percy Paget's
intimate friends.

"Steiner, do you know where Percy Paget is?" he asked.

"Percy has gone to Silver Cove," returned Steiner.

"When did he go?"

"Went early this morning. He drove down to see about a dog he is going to
buy from a sport who lives there."

Silver Cove was several miles below Westville, and the road to the place
would not have brought the aristocratic bully near the cottage by the
bridge.

"You are sure he went?"

"Yes. I saw him drive off. He wanted me to go along, but I couldn't very
well. Do you wish to see him?"

"Yes."

"I understand you and he had some trouble yesterday."

"We did have some trouble yesterday. But I want to see him about something
else now."

Steiner stared at Ralph. Then, thinking he had spent enough time on such a
poor lad as the bridge tender, he turned away and walked off, whistling a
merry concert-hall air.

Ralph stood still, undecided what to do next. If Percy had really gone to
Silver Cove, somebody else must be guilty of breaking the cottage windows.
But who? Ralph could not remember of having any other enemy.

While the boy was deliberating he saw three men coming toward him. They
were the squire, the postmaster, and Uriah Dicks.

"Why ain't you at the bridge?" asked Uriah, sourly.

"We have had trouble at the cottage, sir," replied Ralph. "Some vandal has
broken nearly all of our windows."

"It's a wonder you do not blame it on my son Percy!" sneered the squire.

"I do blame it on him," retorted Ralph. "He is the only enemy who would do
such a thing."

"More of the scheme to get my son into trouble. You see how it is,
gentlemen; he is a thorough young rascal!" exclaimed the squire.

"It's awful!" murmured Postmaster Hooker. "It's a good thing we intend to
act on this matter, squire."

"Yes, we can't let it rest another minute," returned Squire Paget.

And on the three men passed, leaving Ralph more bitter in heart than ever.

The young bridge tender returned to work, sending Bob Sanderson to the
cottage with instructions to buy what glass was needed, and put it in,
taking the money out of the twenty-dollar bill Horace Kelsey had given him
that morning.

The afternoon slipped by quietly, and at sundown Sanderson came back to
relieve Ralph as usual.

"The glass is all in, and here is the change," said he, and handed over
sixteen dollars and a half. "Had to pay three dollars and a half for glass,
tacks, and putty."

"But your pay, Mr. Sanderson----"

"That's all right, Ralph; I won't ask none on this job, exceptin' you catch
the chap as did it, and make him pony up, as the sayin' goes."

"You are very kind. I doubt if I am able to do anything in the matter,"
returned Ralph, hopelessly.

He had hardly reached home, when a knock was heard on the cottage door.
They opened it to admit Squire Paget's hired man.

"A letter for Ralph Nelson," the man said, and handed it over. "I don't
think there is any answer," he added, and bowed his way out.

"It must be from the squire," cried Mrs. Nelson. "Perhaps he has relented
of his harsh treatment----"

"Not he!" exclaimed Ralph. "It isn't in him."

The boy broke the seal of the letter, and drew out the document, which read
as follows:


MRS. RANDOLPH NELSON:--Owing to circumstances of which you are as
well aware as ourselves, we shall not require your services or
those of your son as bridge tender for Westville after the week
ending July 19.

                           THE WESTVILLE TOWNSHIP COMMITTEE,
                            Per Hon. Thomas Paget, Chairman.


"What is it, Ralph?" asked his mother, anxiously.

"Just as I thought, mother. My services as bridge tender will not be
required after this week," returned Ralph, bitterly.

"Let me see the letter." Mrs. Nelson took and read the epistle. "It is too
bad!"

"It's an outrage, mother, that's what it is! And all on account of that
aristocratic sneak, Percy Paget!"

"Do not call harsh names, Ralph!"

"I can't help it, mother; he is a sneak, and worse. He brought on the row,
took that money, and I am certain he broke our windows into the bargain!"

Mrs. Nelson did not reply. She thought in silence for a moment, and the
look of anxiety on her face deepened.

"What shall we do when you are out of work, Ralph?"

"I must try to obtain another job, mother."

"But if you are not successful?"

"Let us not anticipate, mother. I am sure to strike something. In the
meantime we will have a little money to fall back on--the balance of that
twenty-dollar bill, for instance."

"Yes, and we will have the other money we have saved," added Mrs. Nelson.
"But I would not like to touch that if it could be helped."

"We won't touch it. I'll find work before my week's wages and the sixteen
dollars and a half are gone. The one pity is we'll feel too poor just now
to advertise for those missing papers, and offer any reward for their
return."

"That is so," and Mrs. Nelson gave a long sigh.

Perhaps she saw the many disappointments in store for her son when he
should seek employment elsewhere.




CHAPTER XI.

THE RUNAWAY.


By the next morning Ralph felt better. He was able to take the matter of
his discharge philosophically, and he was even hopeful that the next week
would see him in a better situation than he now occupied.

He went at his duties with a willing spirit, resolved that there should be
no cause for complaint during his last days on the bridge. Only one thing
made him feel bad, and that was that he could not prove that Percy and not
himself had been to blame for the row.

But Ralph soon learned that many of the village folks who used the bridge
daily sided with him. Some of these were very outspoken in their opinion of
the committee's actions.

"Under the squire's thumb, all of 'em!" said Bart Haycock, the village
blacksmith. "We ought to have a new committee, and maybe we will have at
the coming election."

But all this talk did not help Ralph. He had received notice, and in three
days his duties on the bridge would come to an end. And the change would
also hurt Bob Sanderson, who would now have either to pay for his board or
go elsewhere.

"Who is to take your place?" asked Sanderson, when he came to relieve Ralph
in the evening.

"I don't know, Mr. Sanderson," returned the young bridge tender. "But I
hope, whoever it is, he keeps you as helper."

"Well, that depends," returned the old man. "I wouldn't care to work for
everybody, say Dan Pickley, for instance."

"Do you think Dan Pickley is after the job?" questioned Ralph, quickly.

"He was after it before, and he ain't doing much now."

"I imagine Squire Paget will give him the position if he wishes it," mused
Ralph. "He and the squire are quite thick."

"That's because Dan is willing to do any work the squire wishes done,"
responded Bob Sanderson. "That fellow will do anything for pay."

That evening Ralph and his mother had a talk, in which it was decided that
old Bob Sanderson should be allowed to remain at the cottage at the nominal
amount of a dollar per week for board, until he managed to obtain another
situation, or until jobs in his line became more numerous.

When Sanderson was told of this he was very grateful. As he had no other
boarding-place in view, he gladly accepted the offer, and promised that the
widow and her son should lose nothing by their kindness.

On the following morning Ralph was collecting toll, when a man approached
the bridge, and began to watch proceedings. The man was Dan Pickley.

"What brings you, Pickley?" asked Ralph, after the latter had been watching
him for some time.

"Came down to get the run of things," returned Pickley.

"Then you are to have the job after I leave?"

"Reckon I am. The squire said as much."

"The squire and you are rather thick," remarked the young bridge tender,
coolly.

"Oh, I don't know," returned the man, uneasily. "He knows a good hand to
hire when he wants him."

"It was you who were at the squire's house when I called, a few nights
ago."

"Yes; I had an errand for him."

As he uttered the last words, Dan Pickley looked at Ralph closely. He was
wondering if the boy had overheard much of the conversation which had
passed between Squire Paget and himself that night in the library.

Pickley sat down on the end of the bridge, and began to count the folks as
they passed over. Ralph saw that he was keeping track of the toll, but said
nothing.

"Let me help you turn the bridge," said Pickley when a horn sounded for the
draw to be opened.

"No, thank you; I can do it alone," replied Ralph.

"Don't you want me to take hold?"

"It is not needed. You will get enough of the work after I leave."

"You don't want to be a bit sociable," growled Pickley, and he turned away,
but still kept on counting the passengers as they crossed.

"I suppose he wants to make sure that I am not going to cheat the bridge
board out of its cash," mused Ralph, somewhat bitterly. "No doubt Squire
Paget fancies that, now I have my walking-papers, I will steal every penny
I can!"

During his odd moments Ralph threw several fishing-lines over, and the
catching of a mess of fish served to occupy his thoughts to a considerable
extent.

Pickley watched him fish for a while, but did not offer to resume the
conversation. But he kept a close tally of every cent taken in as toll.

At noon Bob Sanderson brought over Ralph's lunch.

"Well, I'm lucky anyway," he said. "I've got a job at building hot-bed
frames for Mr. Ford that will give me steady work for nigh onto three weeks
at good pay."

"I am glad to hear it," replied Ralph, with a smile. "Three weeks is a long
time, and something is sure to turn up in the meantime."

"I'm glad you have a job, too," put in Pickley, "for I am going to have
Andy Wilson help me."

"Then you've got the job?" said Sanderson.

"Yes, I go on as soon as Ralph quits."

While the young bridge tender was eating his lunch a steamboat whistle
sounded, and he had to leave it to open the draw. The steamboat passed
through, and then he noticed another boat coming down the lake, although
some distance off.

As there were just then no passengers wishing passage over the bridge,
Ralph decided to leave the draw open for a few minutes, until the boat had
time to go through.

He sat down to finish his lunch. He had just raised a bit of home-made
berry pie to his mouth, when a clatter on the Westville turnpike startled
him.

"My gracious! a runaway!" cried old Bob Sanderson.

Ralph leaped to his feet, and saw that his old helper was right. There,
tearing along the road that led from the village center was an elegant team
of black horses, attached to a large open carriage.

"It's Mrs. Carrington's team!" cried Pickley. "And blame me if the old lady
and her daughter ain't in the carriage!"

"The team is coming this way!" put in Bob Sanderson. "I wonder if we can't
stop them?"

"Not much!" roared Pickley. "Get out of the way, or you'll be knocked down
and killed!"

Sanderson was too old a man to attempt to subdue the fiery steeds, and he
quickly followed Pickley out of harm's way.

In the meantime Ralph stood undecided as to what to do. Should he run
forward, and try to bring the horses to a standstill before the bridge was
reached?

"It won't do," he muttered, half-aloud. "I might miss them, and then----"

He thought no further, but with a bound, sprang to the capstan bar, and
with might and main strove to swing the heavy bridge around into place,
thus closing the draw.

It was hard work, and the sweat poured from his face and down his chin. But
he kept at it, noting at each turn how close the steeds and the elegant
turnout were drawing.

At last, with a shock and a quiver, the draw-bridge reached its resting
piers. As it did so Ralph gave the bar and capstan a jerk from the hole in
which it worked. He threw it aside, just as the front hoofs of the runaways
struck the long planking at the end of the bridge.

[Illustration: "Coming on at breakneck speed." See page 72.]

"Help! help!" came in a female voice from the carriage, and the young
bridge tender saw that both Mrs. Carrington and her daughter were preparing
to leap out.

"Don't jump!" he screamed, and then made a dash for the horses' heads.

The fact that they had struck the bridge caused the team to slacken their
pace a bit. Taking advantage of this, Ralph caught them by both bridles.
They lifted him off his feet, but he clung fast, and by the time the
Eastport side was reached the team was conquered.

"Hold them, hold them, please!" cried Mrs. Carrington, who, by the way, was
one of the richest residents of Westville. "I will get out."

"They are all right now," returned Ralph. "But I will hold them, if you
wish."

And he did so while the lady and her daughter alighted.

"Oh, how thankful I am to you," said the lady.

"And I, too," added her daughter, with a grateful glance that caused Ralph
to blush. "Oh, mamma," she went on, "I wonder what became of Mr. Paget?"

"It's hard to tell," returned Mrs. Carrington, coldly.

"Mr. Paget!" cried Ralph. "Do you mean Percy Paget?"

"Yes," replied Julia Carrington.

"Was he with you?"

"He was," answered Mrs. Carrington. "But at the first signs of danger he
sprang out of the carriage and left us to our fate!"




CHAPTER XII.

RALPH'S REWARD.


Ralph was much surprised to learn that Percy Paget had been in the
carriage.

"Was he hurt when he sprang out?" he asked of Mrs. Carrington.

"I am sure I do not know," returned the lady.

"I don't think so," put in her daughter, a beautiful miss of sixteen. "He
landed in the middle of a blackberry bush when he sprang from the front
seat."

"Then he was driving?"

"Yes, and it was his fault that the team ran away," returned Mrs.
Carrington. "I told him that they were very spirited, but in order to make
them do their best, as he thought, he used the whip upon them."

"Such a team as that don't need the whip much," put in old Bob Sanderson,
who had come up during the conversation, followed by Dan Pickley. "They're
too high-minded."

"That is just it," said the lady.

"It was gritty of Ralph to shut the bridge and stop 'em for you," went on
the old man.

"Indeed it was!" cried Julia Carrington. "I shall never forget your
bravery," she went on to Ralph. "You have done what many a man would be
afraid to undertake."

"So he has," put in her mother. "You are Ralph Nelson, the bridge tender, I
believe."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I used to know your father fairly well. You have taken his place since he
died."

"Yes, ma'am--up to the end of this week. Then Mr. Pickley takes it," and
Ralph pointed to the fellow he had mentioned.

"And what are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet. I am going to look for work somewhere."

"I trust you find something suitable."

"I'll take anything that pays fair wages."

"And how is it you are going to leave here?" went on the lady, curiously.

"I got into a row with Percy Paget, and his father is chairman of the
village board, and he sided with his son."

"I see." Mrs. Carrington bit her lip. "Well, we must be going, Julia," she
said to her daughter. "I shall not forget you for your bravery, Ralph
Nelson."

"Thank you, ma'am; I only did what was my duty."

"It is more than that. I shall not forget you, remember."

The lady re-entered her carriage, and Ralph assisted the daughter to a seat
beside her.

In a moment more they continued on their way, leaving Ralph, Sanderson and
Pickley to gaze after them.

"My, but they're swell!" was Pickley's comment. "I wish I was in your
shoes, Ralph."

"She won't forget you, that's certain," said Sanderson. "She'll reward you
handsomelike, see if she don't, Ralph."

"They don't seem to care much about Percy Paget's condition," returned the
boy, by way of changing the subject.

"Well, who would--under the circumstances!" exclaimed the old man, in deep
disgust.

"Perhaps they don't give him the credit he deserves," said Pickley,
thinking he must say something in favor of the squire's son.

Ralph and Sanderson had their own opinion of Percy, and they did not care
to argue with Pickley on the subject. The young bridge tender went back to
his work, and Sanderson shuffled off to go at an odd job of boat-mending.
Pickley sat down to count the tolls as before.

Three minutes later Percy Paget came into sight. His hands and face were
scratched and his clothing torn.

"See anything of a runaway?" he cried, as he came up to Pickley.

"Yes; the team was stopped right here," replied the man.

"Who stopped 'em?"

"Ralph Nelson."

"You don't mean it?" gasped the young aristocrat.

"Yes, I do."

"Was he hurt?"

"Not a bit."

"I don't see how he could do it," grumbled Percy. "That team was going like
mad."

"So it was. Ralph not only stopped the team, but before that he worked
like lightning to close the draw so that they wouldn't go overboard."

"Humph!" mused Percy. "He must have done it in hopes of a reward. Most
likely he knew who was in the carriage."

"He did."

"What did Mrs. Carrington give him?"

"Nothing. But she said she would not forget him."

"She'll send him five dollars, or something like that, I guess. Did
she--she say anything about me?" went on Percy, hesitatingly.

"She said you leaped from the carriage as soon as the team started."

"That isn't so," replied the aristocratic bully, glibly. "I didn't jump at
all."

"You didn't."

"No, I was pitched out. I stood up to get a better hold on the reins, and
just then the carriage lurched, and out I went."

"Oh, well, then, that's different," replied Dan Pickley, who did not think
it to his advantage to question the veracity of Percy's explanation. "Mrs.
Carrington seemed to think you had jumped out because you were scared."

"And did her daughter seem to think so, too?" asked Percy, his anxiety
increasing.

"I don't know but what she did. You had better hunt them up and explain
matters."

"I will. I suppose the reason they didn't come back for me is because they
were in a hurry to get to Eastport and see Mr. Carrington before he went
off to Chambersburgh."

"They didn't say what they were in a hurry about," returned Dan Pickley.

Percy saw that Ralph was now approaching, and not wishing, for various
reasons, to encounter the young bridge tender while in such a woe-begone
condition, he turned on his heel and walked back toward Westville.

Ralph could not help but laugh at the discomfiture of the young bully. He
had overheard a good part of the conversation, and he was satisfied that
Percy was, for once at least, more than "taken down."

On the other hand, Percy was greatly chagrined to learn that Ralph had
played the part of the hero. His face drew dark, and his eyes flashed their
bitter hatred.

"It's too bad, that low upstart to stop the team!" he muttered to himself.
"I wonder if Julia Carrington spoke to him? Most likely she did, and now
he'll look at her as a special friend! It's a great shame! I'll have to
teach him his place if he tries to get too intimate with her!"

All of which went to prove that Percy's hopes in the direction of Julia
were more than of the ordinary kind.

Percy would have been more bitter than ever could he have witnessed the
scene in the Nelson cottage that evening, shortly after eight o'clock.

Five minutes before that time Ralph was sitting in the kitchen, telling his
mother of the stirring event of the day, to which the fond parent listened
with keen interest.

The son had just finished when there came a timid knock at the front door.

"Somebody's knocking, Ralph," said Mrs. Nelson. "Go and light the
sitting-room lamp and see who it is."

Ralph lit the lamp, and then opened the door. Before him stood Mrs.
Carrington and her daughter.

"Good-evening, Ralph; you did not expect to see me quite so soon, I
imagine," said Mrs. Carrington, with a smile, as she stepped in.

"Well, no," stammered the youth. "Won't you have a chair?" and he pushed a
seat forward for the lady and another for her daughter.

"Thank you, yes," returned Mrs. Carrington. "Is this Mrs. Nelson?" she went
on, as Ralph's mother appeared.

"Yes, madam," said the widow. "Pray, make yourself comfortable. Perhaps you
would prefer a rocker?"

"No, we won't stay but a minute. Has Ralph told you of his bravery this
noon?"

"He said he stopped your runaway team."

"He did nobly, and my daughter and I have come to offer him a slight reward
for his gallant deed."

"I was not looking for a reward," put in Ralph.

"But you deserve one, Ralph, and I trust you will accept what we have
brought. Julia!"

"Yes, mamma. Here it is," and from beneath her dress folds Julia Carrington
produced a small morocco-covered box. "Allow me to present this, Ralph
Nelson, with the compliments of my mother and myself," she said, turning to
the young bridge tender.

She held out the box.

"Thank you, but I--I really didn't expect anything," stammered Ralph, as he
took the offering.

"Open it, and let us see the kind gift Mrs. Carrington and her daughter
have made," said his mother.

There was a catch on one side of the small box. Ralph pressed upon this,
and up flew the lid, revealing to his astonished and pleased gaze a small
but neatly engraved gold watch, with chain and charm attached.

"A gold watch!" cried Ralph.

"And chain and all!" added Mrs. Nelson.

"Really, I--I can't accept this!" and Ralph blushed furiously. "I--I----"

"Oh, yes, you can," laughed Julia Carrington. "It is not as much as we
think you ought to have, but----"

"It is more, Miss Carrington."

"Do you like it, Ralph?" questioned the older lady.

"Very much indeed. I have always wanted a good watch. I have been using
father's old one, but that is about worn out, and can't be made to run with
much regularity."




CHAPTER XIII.

ON BIG SILVER LAKE.


The Carringtons remained at the Nelson cottage much longer than they
originally intended. It was ten o'clock when Ralph lit the way to where
their carriage was standing, in charge of a colored coachman. During the
visit the rich folks asked Mrs. Nelson and Ralph much about themselves.
Julia Carrington proved herself a very nice young lady, and when she went
away Ralph and his new acquaintances were warm friends.

"They are not stuck up a bit, mother," said the young bridge tender, as he
returned to the cottage after seeing them off.

"No, they are very kind-hearted as well as rich," returned Mrs. Nelson.
"Would Westville had more of such."

"What a difference between such folks and the Pagets and the Steiners. Why,
Mrs. Steiner and her daughter Maud wouldn't look at us if they stumbled
over us on the street, and neither would Mrs. Paget when she was alive."

"Well, we must remember that we do not belong to fashionable society,
Ralph. We belong to the poorer classes."

"So we do, but that doesn't make it right for some folks to look at us as
if we were the dust under their feet. I shall not forget the Carringtons'
kind ways, nor the beautiful present they made me," and Ralph fell to
examining the gold watch and chain anew.

It was truly a valuable gift, and the boy was more than delighted. He
resolved to wear it only when he needed a time-piece or when he was
"dressed up." It was too good to have about his old clothes constantly.

Ralph's remaining time as bridge tender went swiftly by, and on the day set
by the committee he was paid off by Squire Paget, and Dan Pickley was duly
installed in his place.

"What are you going to do now?" asked the squire, as he handed over Ralph's
salary.

"I don't know yet," returned the boy.

"Guess you'll find it rather hard to find work around Westville."

"I don't know. I haven't had any chance of looking around."

"Well, I'm sorry for you," went on Squire Paget, hypocritically. "I don't
like to see any one out of work."

"Really! It was yourself got me out of the job!" retorted Ralph.

"No, it wasn't, Nelson; it was your own hasty temper. If you hadn't
attacked Percy--but let that pass----"

"Percy was in the wrong--I shall always say so----" interrupted Ralph.

"There you go!" snarled the squire. "I was going to offer you a situation
on one of my canal boats, but I shan't do it now. You don't deserve it."

"I do not want any situation from you," replied the boy, with a sudden
show of spirit. "I would rather find my own employment."

"Going to be pig-headed, eh?"

"You can call it what you please. You did not treat me fairly, and I guess
I can get along without your aid."

And without another word Ralph pocketed his pay, and walked off.

"A regular young tartar!" mused the squire, as he gazed after him. "He
won't be easy to manage; that's certain. Too bad I couldn't get him on the
canal boat. I must find some way of getting him out of Westville--and his
mother, too. I can't do much while they are around."

Ralph had been paid off at the squire's office in the village, and now he
made his way to Uriah Dicks' store, to settle up the family account.

"How much do we owe you, Mr. Dicks?" he asked, as he walked up to Uriah,
who was poring over a very dirty ledger.

"Oh, so it's you, Ralph!" exclaimed the storekeeper. "Been up to the
squire's yet?"

"Yes."

"Did you get your pay?"

"Yes."

"And now you want to settle up?"

"Yes," replied Ralph, for a third time.

"I hope you ain't a-goin' to quit tradin' with me!" cried Uriah, in some
alarm.

"We are, Mr. Dicks. What can you expect, after the way you have treated
me?"

"I--I couldn't help votin' in the committee with the squire and Ben
Hooker," returned the storekeeper, lamely. "They said it was a clear case
against you."

"And therefore you wouldn't give me a chance to clear myself," said Ralph,
bitterly. "How much is the bill?"

"Three dollars and nineteen cents. I'll call it three dollars if you'll
keep on buying here," went on Uriah, desperately.

It made his heart fairly ache to see trade going to one of the rival
stores.

"I prefer to settle in full," rejoined the boy, coolly. "Take the three
dollars and nineteen cents out of this five-dollar bill."

With an inward groan, Uriah took out the amount, handed back the change,
and crossed the account from the book.

"Got anything to do?" he asked, a sudden idea flashing through his head.

"Not yet."

"I might take you on here--I need a boy."

"And what would you pay?" questioned Ralph, although he knew about what to
expect from the miserly man he was addressing.

"Well, I'd be willin' to pay a big boy like you two dollars and a half a
week. I wouldn't pay a small boy so much."

"Thank you, but I wouldn't work for that, even if I cared to work for you,
Mr. Dicks. Two dollars and a half wouldn't run our house."

"I would let you have your groceries at cost," said Uriah, as an extra
inducement.

The truth was, many of his customers had upbraided him for aiding in the
discharge of Ralph as bridge tender, and he wished to set himself right
with these folks.

"I do not care to work for you, sir. I think I can get work I will like
better and which will pay more elsewhere."

The storekeeper's face fell, and he closed the dirty ledger with a slam.

"All right, Ralph, suit yourself. But if you starve to death, don't lay it
at my door, mind that!"

"No fear of my starving," returned the boy, lightly, and he left the store.

Uriah watched him from behind the dirty windows of his place. He heaved a
big sigh as he saw Ralph enter the opposition store just across the way,
and groaned aloud when the youth came out with half-a-dozen packages under
his arm, and started for home.

"I guess I put my foot into it when I sided with the squire," he meditated.
"But it had to be done. Anyway, the squire's trade is bigger than the
Nelsons', so I'm better off than I might be," and, thus consoling himself,
he went back to his accounts.

To Uriah Dicks all such matters were questions of dollars and cents, not of
justice.

When Ralph arrived home, he told his mother of the storekeeper's offer.

"Do you think I did wrong in refusing?" he asked.

"No, Ralph; I would have done the same."

"I fancy I can strike a job that will pay better--anyway, I am going to
try."

Sunday of the week passed quietly enough, and on Monday morning Ralph
brushed up his every-day clothes, took along the lunch his mother put up
for him, and left the cottage to try his luck among the stores and
factories in Eastport.

"Don't be alarmed if I am not home until night, mother," he said. "I may
strike a situation in which they wish me at once."

"All right, Ralph," she returned. "Good luck to you."

But Ralph did not get to Eastport that day. As he was crossing the bridge a
young man on a small sailboat hailed him. It was Roy Parkhurst, a fellow
Ralph knew well.

"Hallo, Ralph!" he called out. "The job on the bridge and you have parted
company, I am told."

"Yes, Roy."

"Doing anything to-day?"

"No, I was just bound for Eastport to look for work."

"Then you are just the fellow I am looking for," said Parkhurst.

"What for?"

"I want to sail down to Martinton and have this boat taken back here. If
you'll undertake the job I'll give you a dollar."

"I'll go you," returned Ralph promptly. "I can put off looking for another
situation until to-morrow."

"Then jump in."

Parkhurst ran his boat close to the bridge, and Ralph sprang down on one
of the seats. Soon the two were moving down Silver Lake at all the speed
the little craft commanded.

It was a splendid day, with a stiff breeze blowing, and by noon Martinton
was reached. Then, giving Ralph directions as to where the boat was to be
left in Westville, Roy Parkhurst quit the boat, and, having eaten the
lunch, the boy started on the return, never dreaming of the excitement in
store for him.




CHAPTER XIV.

A STORMY TIME.


Like his father before him, Ralph had always liked the water. He was
perfectly familiar with the handling of all manner of small craft, and, had
it paid, would have liked nothing better than to follow a life on the
lakes.

But situations on the water which brought in a fair remuneration were
scarce in the vicinity of Westville, and so the boy did not attempt a
search for employment in that direction.

The half-day's job before him suited him exactly, and, after leaving
Martinton, he settled back with his hand on the tiller and his eyes on the
sails in great satisfaction.

"I wouldn't mind owning a boat like this," he thought, as the swift little
craft cut along through the water. "Perhaps I might do very well taking out
pleasure parties during the summer."

Inside of half an hour Martinton was left far behind. Then Ralph noted that
the fair sky was gradually becoming overcast.

"I wonder if we are going to have a blow," he soliloquized. "It more than
half looks like it."

About quarter of an hour later the breeze died out utterly. This was a bad
sign, and the boy prudently lowered the jib and took a couple of reefs in
the mainsail.

Presently came a low rumble of thunder from the southeast, and the sky grew
darker and darker. There was no longer any doubt that a severe
thunderstorm, preceded possibly by a squall, was close at hand.

Unwilling to take any risks in a boat not his own, Ralph lowered the
mainsail entirely. Hardly had he done so when a fierce wind swept up the
lake--a wind that presently raised itself almost to a hurricane.

The lightning began to flash all around him, followed by crash after crash
of thunder. The water was churned up in great violence, and he was
compelled to crouch low in the craft lest he be swept overboard and
drowned.

Driven by the wind, the boat moved across the lake, until Ralph grew
fearful that she would be driven up on the rocks and made a complete wreck.
At the risk of losing some canvas, he let out the mainsail a bit and
steered from the shore.

The rain came down by the bucketful, and it did not take much to soak him
to the skin. There was no way of protecting himself; he must take it as it
came. Fortunately it was warm, so he did not suffer so much as he might
otherwise have done.

A half-hour passed, and Ralph was just congratulating himself that the
worst was over, when a cry came out of the gloom to his left.

He strained his eyes in the direction, and after a few moments caught sight
of an immense hay barge bearing down upon him. The hay barge had been towed
by a steam tug, but the rope had parted, and the barge was now drifting at
the mercy of the wind and current.

There was a man on the hay barge, thoroughly frightened, and it was he who
was crying for assistance.

"Hullo, there! What's the matter?" cried Ralph, as he steered clear of the
moving mass, for the hay barge was loaded to the water's edge.

"Help me!" cried the man. "I am all alone on this barge."

"Where is the tug?"

"I don't know. I fancy she struck on a rock, for we lost our reckoning, and
ran too close to shore."

"I don't see how I can help you," returned Ralph. "My boat won't budge that
big barge."

"Then take me on board, will you?" returned the man, with a shiver. "I
ain't used to being out in the wind and rain."

"Yes, I'll take you in. Wait till I run up behind."

As best he could, Ralph swung his own craft around, and came up under the
stern of the hay barge. The man ran from the side, and lowered himself onto
the bow seat.
                
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